Mrs. Maggot wouldn’t like it, he knew, for all he’d told her before they left was that he was dropping the hobbits off at the Ferry.  But after he’d turned away, Maggot doubled back.  He couldn’t be wholly sure, but he reckoned this was the exact sort of thing Bombadil would want to know about.

Well, it wasn’t like he was going to pop down for a visit—it was terribly late, after all.  No, just drop off a message where Old Tom would be sure to pick it up, just as he’d been told to long years before.  The last time he’d done it, he’d politely informed Tom of his impending wedding, but for all the years that had gone by since, Maggot still remembered how it went.  He stopped the cart at the ferry, then looked at the river in dismay.  The boat was on the other side, for of course his guests had crossed it earlier!

The lamps on the other side were lit, though, and maybe someone else was fool enough to tarry this late at night.

“Ferry ahoy!” cried Maggot.

“Hoy!” came a faint cry back, and within a few minutes, the ferry docked at the landing.  Maggot thanked the hobbit who’d brought it over and tipped him generously.

“You’re in luck,” he said.  “I was about to retire for the night!”

“Well, I can bring myself back across the river,” said Maggot, “though I shouldn’t be an hour.”

“Got to have a word with your friends on the other side, eh, Maggot?  Why don’t you just move to Buckland and be done with it, already?”

“I like Bamfurlong,” said Maggot.

“Ay, and so do the lads of Brandy Hall!”  They both laughed, and the ferryhobbit promised him he’d stay out anyhow, though he might be dozing when Maggot got back.

From there, it was a short walk to the edge of the Old Forest, even though Maggot was avoiding Brandy Hall this time around.

Under the eaves that hung over the High Hay, he looked up and saw an owl, who was giving him his best “you are not welcome here” look.  Maggot stuck his chin out and spoke—he was not particularly good at poetry when Old Tom wasn’t around, but the birds seemed to remember poetry better.

“Hear me, tawny owl, carry out this message!

Tall men cloaked in black through the Shire take passage!
They’ve come knockabout, asking after Baggins,
I just drove him to Buckland in my waggon.
Baggins seems to know that the riders want him,
Fear he may do aught dangerous if they daunt him.
Keep an eye on him, He with Boots of Yellow,
If you should see of him—he’s a decent fellow!”

The owl clicked his beak at Maggot.  “And yes,” he said, “I am a friend of Bombadil’s, and if he finds out you’ve been withholding a message he’ll roast you on a willow-spit.  So you’d best hurry!”

The owl clicked his beak again, and flew into the forest.  Satisfied, Maggot made his way back.

*  *  *

Tom was wakened by a tap on the windowpane, and was slightly concerned when he saw Tawny Owl perched there.  Carefully, so as not to disturb his wife, he crept out of bed, opened it, and whispered:

“Hey now, Tawny Owl, why are you a-tapping?
It’s so dark at night, decent folk are napping!”

The owl relayed Maggot’s message, and as he listened to it, Tom felt his age.

“Go, now,” he said, “and glut yourself on mice.  You have more than done your duty this night.”