Chapter 15. To shoe or not to shoe?

I ought to feel better after resting – alternating sleeping and grazing through the dark hours. Indeed, it is a puzzle to me that I do not... 

Is it possible that walking through the night, stopping to graze on occasion, would have been the better choice? I do not know.

When the full light of day reveals my companion to me in all his glory, he lifts his head and tail high as he turns his back on the sunrise, looking quite cheerful. Well, he says, that was refreshing! Well-rested as we are, we ought to be able to cover a good distance today... all the way to the ford, I should think, and some way past.

If this is how well-rested feels, then I have not, perhaps, understood the term correctly before now. But I am only...

Do not say you are only a pony! the Voices remind me.

I sigh and shake my head. When my companion turns a curious eye towards me, I merely reply, Let us move on.

That's the spirit! my companion nickers – softly, of course – and he begins to walk.

My hoofs feel curiously heavy as I lift them one at a time and put them down again. I wonder if this is what it feels like to be shod?

My thoughts go back to that marvellous Valley where Merrylegs still grazes.

In my heart, I can hear Youngest begin another seemingly endless string of questions. D'you think the Elves will give our Bill shoes?

What makes you think the pony needs shoes? the Merry hobbit answers. I can almost begin to believe his name is actually 'Merry', strange as it may seem, for the long stretch of days here has done him a great deal of good. He has put on weight, I think – all my hobbits have – and his face is no longer thin and white and strained. His cheeks have filled out and have a healthy colour once more, and his eyes sparkle much of the time.

I do believe that life amongst the Elves suits him. I wonder, after he has finished following the Master all over Middle-earth, if he will choose to join the old pet here?

Perhaps all my hobbits will choose to live out their days in the Valley.

Looking up, I see I am falling behind despite the slow pace my companion has set. I break into a trot, jarring my sore shoulder, and so I fall back to a walk as soon as I catch up.

At the sound of my hoofbeats, my companion's head swings around. Would you like me to walk behind you? he inquires, pricking attentive ears towards me.

No need, I tell him. I was wool-gathering and did not notice I was falling behind.

As if I am a sheep! my companion laughs.

I chuckle dutifully and respond in kind. I would have to walk very slowly indeed to gather any wool from the likes of you, horse-lord! And even then, I'd probably not find enough to fill even a thimble!

I know what a thimble is, for my Sam carries what he calls a sewing kit in his bag, and I have seen him sew on buttons and stitch up holes since the clothes we're wearing'll have to last us all the way to there...

And back again! Youngest always exclaims whenever the topic arises.

The Rohirrim are the ones who call themselves horse-lords, my companion corrects, tossing his head.

Forgive me, I say (and rather cheekily for a pony, I'll admit). Lord of Horses, then?

He snorts, turns his face forward and shakes his head so that his mane flies up and must settle again on his neck. But there was more of humour than offended dignity in that snort, so I take no alarm.

This small exchange has lifted my spirits, and I find the walking easier for a time. My thoughts return to my hobbits.

I remember how a slight tinge of anxiety floats on the air to me from my Sam as my hobbit asks, D'you think he needs shoes, then? And is there enough time for him to be shod, between now and...?

Youngest then interrupts, as I recall, saying, For the farrier rode out with some of the scouts the Lord Elrond sent out, and who knows how long it will take for them all to return again with their reports...?

I hope it'll take them a good long time, my Sam says under his breath, and I wonder what objection he might hold against my having shoes.

But the Merry hobbit puts his hand on Youngest's arm and says in his most reassuring tone (though from the smell of him, I think he rather agrees with my Sam about wishing the scouts will take a good long time in returning from where ever it is they may roam), Have no worries on Bill's account, Pip! Shoes are fine and good when a farrier is nigh, ready to spring into action should a pony lose one of them! But there are no farriers where we are going, I deem, and Bill has gone well enough without, up to this point...

Why do ponies wear shoes at all, then? Youngest asks. If they can get on fine without them, then why should they not do as hobbits do?

Proper shoes can correct a fault or flaw, the Merry hobbit answers, or keep hoofs from wearing down too fast on rocky ground, or even provide better footing on slippery ground.

Then why...? Youngest begins. 

But the Merry hobbit seems to know exactly what he's asking before he asks it. If Bill were shod to give him better footing or protect his hoofs from wear, that would all be fine and good... until he lost a shoe. But walking with shoes on only three of his feet would likely unbalance him and cause him to tire more quickly. He might even go lame!

We cannot have that! Youngest protests.

No, we cannot, comes Master's voice from behind the other hobbits. They startle, but I do not, for I saw him walk up behind them. I reach out my nose to him, and he gently scratches under my jaw. We want only the best for our Bill.

Then let Bill go on as hobbits do! Youngest proclaims.

Master laughs and combs my forelock with his fingers. I don't think he'll have any problem with that! Why, he's half-a-hobbit already!

Which half? Youngest inquires, eyes dancing with mischief.

While the Merry hobbit covers his mouth to hide a chortle, Master fixes Youngest with a firm stare. Never you mind, Pip! he says. But then he cannot seem to help himself; he laughs, and all the others laugh with him, even my Sam.

Yes, perhaps all my hobbits will decide to settle in the Valley. And that is why I must find my way there. Perhaps they are there already...

Ignoring my too-heavy hoofs and the occasional twinge I feel in my shoulder, I press on a little faster. It is just as well, for I was beginning to fall behind again despite my companion's easy pace.

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