Chapter 13. We consider our course – along with various watercourses

As my companion promised, the tufts of grass which were sparse and scattered have appeared in ever-increasing abundance as we have followed the Sun across this deserted land. I have no idea how travelling towards where the Sun goes to her rest will lead me to that marvellous Valley which, to my senses, lies to my rear and somewhat to one side of me.

But the Voices insist that we must go here to end up there, in a manner of speaking. The matter is beyond my understanding.

At last I stop and let the great horse come up on one side of me. He has had little to say as we've walked through the better part of the afternoon. Even now, as he stops beside me and swings his head over and lowers his nose to mine, he says only, What is it?

I might ask him the same. Instead, I raise my nose higher and whuffle at him, inquiring, Are you sure we are going the right way?

He raises his head, arches his neck, and snorts softly and thoughtfully. Lowering his head again, he asks, Has something given you reason to believe we are going the wrong way?

I shake my head. I do not know, I tell him. But the Valley lies behind us, that much I do know!

My Rider is somewhere behind us, he mutters, but then he rocks his nose forward and backward, much as if he has plunged it into a pool of clear water and is relishing in the cool delight before drinking.

And then he answers, Behind us is no grass and little or no water, but plentiful dangers such as wolves and orcs and, perhaps, worse things. There are even Men to be found in the Wilderlands who have no uses for horses but see us as prey – food for their bellies.

I shiver at such an idea. For the first time I wonder if my companions might have seen me as food on the hoof, should their own supplies run out. But then I shake myself vigorously to rid myself of such a dark thought. In truth, when there was no more grass for the grazing and not even bushes or trees with bark I might tear and chew, they all shared with me out of their dwindling supplies, a slice of dried apple, some nutmeats, a few sultanas from the palm of one or another hand... Even the Dwarf offered to share from his water flask for my benefit near the end of our journey together and said a few gruff words about "our plucky pony".

And, from what I know of hunting and the actions that hunters take following a successful hunt, my companions (whose supplies were running low, or so I gathered) might have slaughtered me there at the Doorstep and carved me into pieces to carry with them into that dark place.

But instead, Tall Hat gave me the Voices and a blessing to go my own way.

There is grass here, I say slowly. And we have splashed across several more rivulets that have emptied themselves in the Gate-stream such that it actually flows now, a shallow shadow of its former self, considering the wide curve of the mostly-empty streambed, but it runs, providing a ready source of water for the drinking as we continue to make our way towards the setting Sun. Nonetheless, every step takes us farther away...

There is also the matter of rivers and crossings, my companion continues. Ahead of us is a large marshland that would be dangerous to traverse – to travel across, he clarifies, in case I do not know the meaning of "traverse".

He raises his head and scans the horizon on all sides, then lowers it again and says, In a manner of speaking, we are hemmed about by rivers...

You might've fooled me, what with the scarcity of water I have seen in these lands, I say.

He briefly lays back his ears in wry acknowledgement and then pricks them forward again.

Nevertheless, he insists, 'twould be most disheartening to walk for league upon league, only to fetch up against an uncrossable river that bars us from the path we wish to take.

I think on this, and then I nod uncertainly.

He nudges me gently. And so, he says, we are making our way for a ford in the ruins of an ancient city...

A ford? I say. 

The sceptical set of my ears reveals my doubt, for he says more firmly, A ford.

I glance at the shallow water running nearby, barely ankle-deep, but he shakes his head at me. This stream joins with a much larger river not too far ahead of where we are now, he says.

So if we cross it now... I am trying to think through the problem. I think of the (not always)-Merry-hobbit saying, "We'll cross that stream when we come to it", as well as my Sam's unvarying reaction to the idea. Though the (not always)-Merry-hobbit has little difficulty with streams and boats and bridges and such, my other hobbits are never quite comfortable with such talk for some reason. Would that not be a solution? Would we still need this ford you speak of?

We will still face the problem of the larger river whether we wait until this stream joins it, or go to meet it beforehand, he says. The ford by the ruined city crosses the larger stream after this one joins it, in point of fact.

But won't that put us on the wrong side of the river? I ask, thinking more deeply. You would have us travelling ever farther away from the Valley I would seek...

Crossing at the ford will lead us through grassy lands and, at last, to the Road, he says.

This statement makes absolutely no sense to me as all my senses tell me we are travelling away from the Road that led us from Bree to the Valley. (But a part of me questions whether that is such an ill choice, considering the Fear we encountered along that way...)

And that Road will lead us northward, to another ford, as a matter of fact, that we must find, for there is no other crossing within our reach, if we are to reach the Bree-land, even, much less the Valley you seek beyond it, my companion concludes.

That Road. So perhaps he speaks of another Road, and not the one whose terrors are seared into my memory.

Very well, I say, adding (perhaps unfairly since I was the one who stopped walking in the first place), What are we waiting for, then?

And so we walk on, though I know little more than I did before, and understand it even less.

***