Chapter 48. My companion and I part at last 

My companion touches his nose to mine for a long moment. May you find your heart's desire, he whispers.

May you find safe paths to tread, grass that is green and fresh to strengthen you on your way, sparkling water to quench all thirst, and your heart's desire at the end of your journey, I reply. A Man or Hobbit without any understanding of equine speech would likely hear only a long, low exhalation.

You're certain? he asks.

Go to him, I say, pushing at his nose with mine, and then I add, Greet him for me? Give him my thanks for the Words he gave to me...

Lifting his head, the great horse snorts and nods.

Our Ranger-guide steps closer. I did not see him dismount, but here he is, and he has something to say.

'You were travelling together,' he says, speaking slowly for my benefit, I think. 'What is the pony to do now?' The look he turns on me tells me that he has heard and understood the thoughts that passed between us just now.

The great horse whickers softly and turns his head to address our Ranger-guide. May this one – whom the Wise have named "Greatheart" – travel with you?

'To the Angle?' the Man says, cocking his head in a quizzical manner. 'Is that where he desires to go?'

I push at the great horse's shoulder. The Angle? What is that?

But my companion only shakes his head at me, and then he speaks to the Man again. He must go on to Imladris. If I am remembering right, that is the place my hobbits call Rivendell. I know it as the marvellous Valley where, if all is well, Merrylegs grazes still. It is also my destination – the place where I have set my aim to go.

But our Ranger-guide shakes his head. I have not the luxury of time, he says, taking pains to talk in such a way that I will understand him clearly. We must go on from there to Rohan without delay... 

I look from one to the other while listening to the Voices that whisper behind my own thoughts. With an effort, I calm my thinking in order to hear Them better. What is it...? I lower my head and half-close my eyes in my effort to concentrate.

At the Man's feather-touch on my neck, I raise my head to find Man and Horse staring at me in concern. The almost-elves have also dismounted, and now they stand behind our Ranger guide, listening quietly but intently.

My companion paws at the ground, then stills himself and asks, Is it well with you, my friend?

I am well indeed, I reply. Then I look to my companion and say, My Sam and I met in Bree. It is my understanding that he and my other hobbits must pass through Bree to return to their home in the Shire. I can meet them in Bree as well as the hidden Valley. 

He snorts and nods his head. I will take you there, he says, pawing the ground once more.

But I cannot agree. You must go, and make all speed, I say, if you are to come on time.

Where is he to come on time? the Man says, perhaps confused.

To where his Rider will await him, I answer. To them both, along with the almost-Elves still standing behind our Ranger-guide, I say, I know this Road. I can make my own way to Bree. It seems to me to be the best solution, and the right way for me to go.

The great horse shakes his head stubbornly – and so vigorously that his mane flies up, revealing his perturbation.

But it is the Man who speaks. I will escort my lord Greatheart to Bree, he says, addressing us both. He changes to the speech of Men to convey the rather un-equine thoughts that follow, but I have learned much in my time away, and I understand most of what he says. 'Since it appears to be Mithrandir's will that the pony should come safely to his chosen destination, and my Chieftain has left standing orders to render all aid to the Grey Wizard as needed, I will go with him.'

Before either my companion or I can protest, he turns to the almost-Elves behind him. 'Take charge,' he says. 'I will catch up with you when my task is done.' 

They nod and move to their horses, waiting nearby. After mounting quickly and gracefully, one rides to the front of the double-column; the other quietly sits his horse nearby, here at the rear of the Company, and as the travelling Rangers resume their journey, he "brings up the tail" (as I have heard Men and Hobbits say, one of their more practical turns of phrase).

To us, the Man says, These days, dark and dreadful foes lurk in the Chetwood and prowl outside the Dike and Hedge. I will see the pony safely inside the Gate before I take my leave of the Bree-land.

In truth, I cannot argue with him. All too recently, the dark shapes I saw, hiding in the trees, made my blood run cold, even amidst the heat of the battle with the wolves.

The great horse bows to our Ranger-guide. I thank you, he says simply. He touches his nose to mine a last time, turns away, and begins plunging through the deep snow that borders the Road as my Ranger-guide and I watch.

At the top of the low ridge to the south of the East-West Road, my erstwhile companion rears high in the air – a farewell of sorts. Then he comes down on all fours once more, looks back at us (the long double column of Rangers already fading into the distance, and my Ranger-guide and his horse and I, that is) and then turns his face forward again, moving his head from one side to the other as if he is surveying the landscape before he stills and stares straight ahead. The wind catches his mane and tail as he stands still for a moment, head high.

And so I gather that his course to Tall Hat lies straight southwards, and I am struck by a sudden thought, wondering if my hobbits might be with him? Ought I to follow?

Not that way, the Voices remind me. Your course has already been decided. It is the right way to go, as you yourself have already observed.

I hear a noise beside me – the creak of leather, I think, but all my attention is on the great horse, silhouetted against the winter sky. I can afford this momentary luxury because of the promise my Ranger-guide has just voiced, and I will thank him for it, and rather sooner than later. But now, I watch the great horse pause only a moment longer before plunging down the other side of the low ridge, forging his way through the heavy snows. Soon he is lost to sight.

When I look over to the Man, I see him already in the saddle, confirming the sound I heard when he mounted his horse. A smile blooms on his grim face, lighting his countenance. A memory comes to my mind of the Sun shining out from a break in heavy clouds; in this moment, his face is as fair as that of Our Big Man when I saw him walking with the Lady in that marvellous Valley. 

Shall we? he says with a gracious, welcoming gesture towards the stretch of the Chetwood that separates us from the town of Bree.

With a suddenly lighter heart, I nod my head to my knees and toss it high again. After you! I say.

His laughter is delightful, even in the midst of our urgent circumstances. At last, he inclines his head and touches his forehead; then, as he looks up, he says, Shall we go together?

His horse tosses its head impatiently. Let us do!

Let us do, I agree.

Of one accord, the three of us turn our faces towards the westering Sun, towards the Chetwood and the Bree-hill beyond. My Ranger-guide's horse shortens his stride so that we may trot together, and so, with this pleasantry, we are on our way.

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