Chapter 21. To sleep, perchance to dream

It is not until I run into a solid yet soft-and-yielding wall that I realise my companion has been speaking to me for some time – a long time or a short one, I do not know.

Halt...! Halt now, Greatheart! We will rest for the next little while...

Our kind can (and often do) sleep while standing up on our feet, though it is not half as restful as when conditions allow us to feel safe enough to lower our bodies to the ground, stretch out, and relax. I do not think our kind can sleep-walk, as I have heard my hobbits tease each other about, but in truth, I have no memory of walking.

Now stopped, I blink and raise my head. To my surprise, bright daylight dazzles my eyes, and no ruins are in sight. The soft, warm wall that blocks my progress happens to be my companion's shoulder, for he has placed himself in front of me as if to block my path.

What...? I ask in my confusion. How...?

My brave and plucky small friend, my companion soothes. Bless your great and courageous heart. Though I would not have credited it, we have walked through the rest of the night and well into the morning. The ruins and their ghosts are well behind us.

Are they? I say dully, and allow my head to droop once more. In truth, I'm not sure I could lift it for any length of time at all.

Rest now, my companion says. Will you lie yourself down?

My thoughts flow sluggish, rather like that noisome little stream that is dimming in my memory, the one near the once-again-hidden Doors that separate me from my hobbits. But at last, I shake my head slightly. I am not sure I could rise again, were I to lie myself down.

I feel a touch on my neck and force my eyes to focus once more. My companion is bending close, tense with worry. But my head is too heavy to lift on my weary neck.

Somehow the great horse understands. He lips softly at my neck. The sensation is much as if one of my hobbits is standing beside me, quietly stroking my hide with gentle fingers.

Rest, he breathes. I will keep watch.

'Twould take too much effort to nod, I deem, and so I simply stand and rest. I am nothing if not obedient, as Youngest likes to say to his older cousins, followed by a laugh as he ducks away from their hands. I have never seen any of my hobbits strike another, though sometimes one of the older cousins will pretend to cuff Youngest about the head and ears.

Even when he does not duck away, the threatened blow never lands. If it does not miss, it transforms into a gentle ruffling of his curls.

It is a wonder to me that hobbits can play so. To my mind, a feigned blow is as frightening as a real one, though perhaps less physically painful. It must be that my hobbits have absolute trust in one another, and more. For while I have learnt to trust my hobbits, my instincts will still cause me to shy away if one of them makes a sudden movement.

They seem to understand this weakness of mine, for it was very early in our acquaintance that I heard Master pull Youngest aside and take him to task. He spoke in a low tone, that the others might not hear him, but so serious was his tone that Youngest (who is hardly ever still, even in sleep) stilled to listen. Go gently, Pip! From what I understand, Bill has known only blows and curses under that miserable Ferny. I don't want you to startle him into kicking you!

As if I ever would!

But on second thought... o' course I would. Instincts are so much quicker than thoughts. I might snap or strike without meaning to, the harm already done before my thoughts can catch up and restrain me. The Master and the sometimes-Merry hobbit have understood this failing of mine, even from the start. Youngest has had to learn, yet so wide and tender is his heart that he learnt the lesson, learnt it so quickly and thoroughly that I do not recall his startling me with a careless motion after that early warning on the Master's part. Bless my hobbits where ever their feet may be leading them now.

I wonder if they might be sleeping in the middle of the day, as has been our custom since leaving that marvellous Valley where, if all is as I fondly remember, Merrylegs grazes under the smiling Sun. If that is the case – if they are sleeping at this moment, even as I am now, for my thoughts are slow and dreamy – then it is almost as if we are together again in this moment, all resting and sleeping and gathering strength. Making ready for the effort of wakening and moving on again.

Together...

What was that? I must have spoken aloud, for I sense rather than see my companion lower his head to mine. He nuzzles at my neck and raises his head again to keep watch on our surroundings, much like I remember the Fair One or the Other Big Man (the one with the shield) watching over the Company as we slept.

As my thoughts dissolve into nothingness, I hold tight to the feeling of being together with my hobbits, with the Elf and Dwarf and Big Men and, yes, the Wizard as well.

The last thing I hear is my companion's whispered, Rest now, little one. It might be the Other Big Man whispering to me, or so my dream imagines.

And my hobbits are only a dream away.

***