Читать книгу The Return of the Shadow - Christopher Tolkien - Страница 15
ОглавлениеThe third of the original consecutive chapters exists in complete form only in a typescript, where it bears the number ‘III’ but has no title; there are also however incomplete and very rough manuscript drafts, which were filled out and improved in the typescript but in all essentials left unchanged. Near the end the typescript ceases (note 16), not at the foot of a page, and the remainder of the chapter is in manuscript; for this part also rough drafting exists.
I again give the text in full, since in this chapter the original narrative was far removed from what finally went into print. Subsequent emendation was here very slight. I take up into the text a few manuscript changes that seem to me to be in all probability contemporary with the making of the typescript.
The end of the chapter corresponds to FR Chapter 5 ‘A Conspiracy Unmasked’; at this stage there was no conspiracy.
III
In the morning Bingo woke refreshed. He was lying in a bower made by a living tree with branches laced and drooping to the ground; his bed was of fern and grass, deep and soft and strangely fragrant. The sun was shining through the fluttering leaves, which were still green upon the tree. He jumped up and went out.
Odo and Frodo were sitting on the grass near the edge of the wood; there was no sign of any elves.
‘They have left us fruit and drink, and bread,’ said Odo. ‘Come and have breakfast! The bread tastes almost as good as last night.’
Bingo sat down beside them. ‘Well?’ said Odo. ‘Did you find anything out?’
‘No, nothing,’ said Bingo. ‘Only hints and riddles. But as far as I could make them out, it seems to me that Gildor thinks there are several Riders; that they are after me; that they are now ahead and behind and on both sides of us; that it is no use going back (at least not for me); that we ought to make for Rivendell as quickly as possible, and if we find Gandalf there so much the better; and that we shall have an exciting and dangerous time getting there.’
‘I call that a lot more than nothing,’ said Odo. ‘But what about the sniffing?’
‘We did not discuss it,’ said Bingo with his mouth full.
‘You should have,’ said Odo. ‘I am sure it is very important.’
‘In that case I am sure Gildor would have told me nothing about it. But he did say that he thought you might as well come with me. I gathered that the riders are not after you, and that you rather bother them.’
‘Splendid! Odo and Frodo are to take care of Uncle Bingo. They won’t let him be sniffed at.’
‘All right!’ said Bingo. ‘That’s settled. What about the method of advance?’
‘What do you mean?’ said Odo. ‘Shall we hop, skip, run, crawl on our stomachs, or just walk singing along?’
‘Exactly. And shall we follow the road, or risk a cross-country cut? There is no choice in the matter of time; we must go in daylight, because Marmaduke is expecting us to-night. In fact we must get off as soon as possible; we have slept late, and there are still quite eighteen miles to go.’
‘You have slept late, you mean,’ said Odo. ‘We have been up a long time.’
So far Frodo had said nothing. He was looking out over the treetops eastward. He now turned towards them. ‘I vote for striking across country,’ he said. ‘The land is not so wild between here and the River. It ought not to be difficult to mark our direction before we leave this hill, and to keep pretty well to it. Buckland is almost exactly south-east from Woodhall1 down there in the trees. We should cut off quite a corner, because the road bears away to the left – you can see a bit of it over there – and then sweeps round south when it gets nearer to the River.2 We could strike it above Buckland before it gets really dark.’
‘Short cuts make long delays,’ said Odo; ‘and I don’t see that a Rider is any worse on the road than in the woods.’
‘Except that he probably won’t be able to see so well, and may not be able to ride so fast,’ said Bingo. ‘I am also in favour of leaving the road.’
‘All right!’ said Odo. ‘I will follow you into every bog and ditch. You two are as bad as Marmaduke. I suppose I shall be outvoted by three to one, instead of two to one, when we collect him, if we ever do.’
The sun was now hot again; but clouds were beginning to come up from the West. It looked likely to turn to rain, if the wind fell. The hobbits scrambled down a steep green bank and struck into the trees below. Their line was taken to leave Woodhall on their left, and there was some thickish wood immediately in front of them, though after a mile or two it had looked from above as if the land became more open. There was a good deal of undergrowth, and they did not get on very fast. At the bottom of the slope they found a stream running in a deeply dug bed with steep slippery banks overhung with brambles. They could not jump across, and they had the choice of going back and taking a new line, or of turning aside to the left and following the stream until it became easier to cross. Odo looked back. Through the trees they could see the top of the bank which fell from the high green which they had just left. ‘Look!’ he said, clutching Bingo by the arm. On the top of the slope a black rider sat on a horse; he seemed to be swaying from side to side, as if sweeping all the land eastward with his gaze.
The hobbits gave up any idea of going back, and plunged quickly and silently into the thickest bushes by the stream. They were cut off from the West wind down in the hollow, and very soon they were hot and tired. Bushes, brambles, rough ground, and their packs, all did what they could to hold them back.
‘Whew!’ said Bingo. ‘Both parties were right! The short cut has gone crooked; but we got under cover only just in time. Yours are the sharpest ears, Frodo. Can you hear – can you hear anything behind?’
They stopped and looked and listened; but there was no sign or sound of pursuit. They went on again, until the banks of the stream sank and its bed became broad and shallow. They waded across and hurried into the wood on the other side, no longer quite sure of the line they should take. There were no paths, but the ground was fairly level and open. A tall growth of young oaks, mixed with ash and elm, was all round them, so that they could not see far. The leaves of the trees blew upwards in sudden gusts, and spots of rain began to fall; then the wind died away, and the rain came down steadily.
They trudged along fast through thick leaves, while all about them the rain pattered and trickled; they did not talk, but kept glancing from side to side, and sometimes behind. After about an hour Frodo said: ‘I suppose we have not struck too much to the south, and are not walking longwise through this wood? From above it looked like a narrow belt, and we ought to have crossed it by now, I should have thought.’
‘It is no good starting going in zigzags now,’ said Bingo. ‘Let’s keep on. The clouds seem to be breaking, and we may get a helpful glimpse of the sun again before long.’
He was right. By the time they had gone another mile, the sun gleamed out of ragged clouds; and they saw that they were in fact heading too much to the south. They bore a little to their left; but before long they decided by their feelings as much as by the sun that it was time for a mid-day halt and some food.
The rain was still falling at intervals; so they sat under an elm-tree, whose leaves were still thick, though they were fast turning yellow. They found that the Elves had filled their water-bottles with some clear golden drink: it had the scent rather than the taste of honey made of many flowers, and was mightily refreshing. They made a merry meal, and soon were laughing and snapping their fingers at rain and black riders. The next few miles they felt would soon be put behind them. With his back to the tree-trunk Odo began to sing softly to himself:
Ho! ho! ho! To my bottle I go
To heal my heart and drown my woe.
Rain may fall and wind may blow,
And many miles be still to go,
But under the elm-tree I will lie
And let the clouds go sailing by!
Ho! ho! ho!———
It will never be known whether the next verse was any better than the first; for just at the moment there was a noise like a sneeze or a sniff. Odo never finished his song. The noise came again: sniff, sniff, sniff; it seemed to be quite close. They sprang to their feet, and looked quickly about; but there was nothing to be seen anywhere near their tree.3
Odo had no more thought of lying and watching the clouds go by. He was the first to be packed and ready to start. In a few minutes from the last sniff they were off again as fast as they could go. The wood soon came to an end; but they were not particularly pleased, for the land became soft and boggy, and hobbits (even on a Journey) don’t like mud and clay on their feet. The sun was shining again, and they felt both too hot and too exposed to view away from the trees. Far back now behind them lay the high green where they had breakfasted; every time they looked back towards it they expected to see the distant figure of a horseman against the sky. But none appeared; and as they went on the land about them got steadily more tame. There were hedges and gates and dikes for drainage; everything looked quiet and peaceful, just an ordinary corner of the Shire.
‘I think I recognize these fields,’ said Frodo suddenly. ‘They belong to old Farmer Maggot,4 unless I am quite lost. There ought to be a lane somewhere near, that leads from his place into the road a mile or two above Buckland.’5
‘Does he live in a hole or a house?’ asked Odo, who did not know this part of the country.
It was a curious thing about the hobbits of those days that this was an important distinction. All hobbits had, of course, originally lived in holes; but now only the best and the poorest hobbits did so, as a rule. Important hobbits lived in luxurious versions of the simple holes of olden times; but the sites for really good hobbit-holes were not to be found everywhere. Even in Hobbiton, one of the most important villages, there were houses. These were specially favoured by the farmers, millers, blacksmiths, carpenters, and people of that sort. The custom of building houses was supposed to have started among the hobbits of the woody riverside regions, where the land was heavy and wet and had no good hills or convenient banks. They began making artificial holes of mud (and later of brick), roofed with thatch in imitation of natural grass. That was a long time ago, and on the edge of history; but houses were still considered an innovation. The poorest hobbits still lived in holes of the most ancient sort – in fact just holes, with only one window, or even none.6 But Odo was not thinking about hobbit-history. He merely wanted to know where to look for the farm. If Farmer Maggot had lived in a hole, there would have been rising ground somewhere near; but the land ahead looked perfectly flat.
‘He lives in a house,’ answered Frodo. ‘There are very few holes in these parts. They say houses were invented here. Of course the Brandybucks have that great burrow of theirs at Bucklebury in the high bank across the River; but most of their people live in houses. There are lots of those new-fashioned brick houses – not too bad, I suppose, in their way; though they look very naked, if you know what I mean: no decent turf-covering, all bare and bony.’
‘Fancy climbing upstairs to bed!’ said Odo. ‘That seems to me most inconvenient. Hobbits aren’t birds.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Bingo. ‘It isn’t as bad as it sounds; though personally I never like looking out of upstairs windows, it makes me a bit giddy. There are some houses that have three stages, bedrooms above bedrooms. I slept in one once long ago on a holiday; the wind kept me awake all night.’
‘What a nuisance, if you want a handkerchief or something when you are downstairs, and find it is upstairs,’ said Odo.
‘You could keep handkerchiefs downstairs, if you wished,’ said Frodo.
‘You could, but I don’t believe anybody does.’
‘That is not the houses’ fault,’ said Bingo; ‘it is just the silliness of the hobbits that live in them. The old tales tell that the Wise Elves used to build tall towers; and only went up their long stairs when they wished to sing or look out of the windows at the sky, or even perhaps the sea. They kept everything downstairs, or in deep halls dug beneath the feet of the towers. I have always fancied that the idea of building came largely from the Elves, though we use it very differently. There used to be three elftowers standing in the land away west beyond the edge of the Shire. I saw them once. They shone white in the Moon. The tallest was furthest away, standing alone on a hill. It was told that you could see the sea from the top of that tower; but I don’t believe any hobbit has ever climbed it.7 If ever I live in a house, I shall keep everything I want downstairs, and only go up when I don’t want anything; or perhaps I shall have a cold supper upstairs in the dark on a starry night.’
‘And have to carry plates and things downstairs, if you don’t fall all the way down,’ laughed Odo.
‘No!’ said Bingo. ‘I shall have wooden plates and bowls, and throw them out of the window. There will be thick grass all round my house.’
‘But you would still have to carry your supper upstairs,’ said Odo.
‘O well then, perhaps I should not have supper upstairs,’ said Bingo. ‘It was only just an idea. I don’t suppose I shall ever live in a house. As far as I can see, I am going to be just a wandering beggar.’
This very hobbit-like conversation went on for some time. It shows that the three were beginning to feel quite comfortable again, as they got back into tame and familiar country. But even invisible sniffs could not damp for long the spirits of these excellent and peculiarly adventurous hobbits, not in any kind of country.
While they talked they plodded steadily on. It was already late afternoon when they saw the roof of a house peeping out of a clump of trees ahead and to their left.
‘There is Farmer Maggot’s!’ said Frodo.
‘I think we will go round it,’ said Bingo, ‘and strike the lane on the far side of the house. I am supposed to have vanished, and I would rather not be seen sneaking off in the direction of Buckland, even by good Farmer Maggot.’
They went on, leaving the farmhouse away on their left, hidden in the trees several fields away. Suddenly a small dog came through a gap in a hedge, and ran barking towards them.
‘Here! Here! Gip! Gip!’ said a voice. Bingo slipped on his ring. There was no chance for the others to hide. Over the top of the low hedge appeared a large round hobbit-face.
‘Hullo! Hullo! And who may you be, and what may you be doing?’ he asked.
‘Good evening, Farmer Maggot!’ said Frodo. ‘Just a couple of Tooks, from away back yonder; and doing no harm, I hope.’
‘Well now, let me see – you’ll be Mr Frodo Took, Mr Folco Took’s son, if I’m not mistook (and I seldom am: I’ve a rare memory for faces). You used to stay with young Mr Marmaduke. Any friend of Mr Marmaduke Brandybuck is welcome. You’ll excuse my speaking sharp, before I recognized you. We get some strange folk in these parts at times. Too near the river,’ he said, jerking back his head. ‘There’s been a very funny customer round here only an hour back. That’s why I’m out with the dog.’
‘What kind of a customer?’ asked Frodo.
‘A funny customer and asking funny questions,’ said Farmer Maggot, shaking his head. ‘Come along to my house and have a drink and we’ll pass the news more comfortably like, if you and your friend are willing, Mr Took.’
It seemed plain that Farmer Maggot would only pass the news in his own time and place, and they guessed that it might be interesting; so Frodo and Odo went along with him. The dog remained behind jumping and frisking round Bingo to his annoyance.
‘What’s come to the dog?’ said the farmer, looking back. ‘Here, Gip! Heel!’ he called. To Bingo’s relief the dog obeyed, though it turned back once and barked.
‘What’s the matter with you?’ growled Farmer Maggot. ‘There seems to be something queer abroad this day. Gip went near off his head when that stranger came along, and now you’d think he could see or smell something that ain’t there.’
They went into the farmer’s kitchen and sat by the wide fireplace. Mrs Maggot brought them beer in large earthenware mugs. It was a good brew, and Odo found himself wishing that they were going to stay the night in the house.
‘I hear there have been fine goings on up Hobbiton way,’ said Farmer Maggot. ‘Fireworks and all; and this Mr Bolger-Baggins disappearing, and giving everything away. Oddest thing I have heard tell of in my time. I suppose it all comes of living with that Mr Bilbo Baggins. My mother used to tell me queer tales of him, when I was a boy: not but what he seemed a very nice gentleman. I have seen him wandering down this way many a time when I was a lad, and that Mr Bingo with him. Now we take an interest in him in these parts, seeing as he belongs here, being half Brandybuck, as you might say. We never thought any good would come of his going away to Hobbiton, and folk are a bit queer back there, if you’ll pardon me. I was forgetting you come from those parts.’
‘O, folk are queer enough in Hobbiton – and Tookland,’ said Frodo. ‘We don’t mind. But we know, I mean knew, Mr Bingo very well. I don’t think any harm’s come to him. It really was a very marvellous party, and I can’t see that anyone has anything to complain of.’ He gave the farmer a full and amusing account of the proceedings, which pleased him mightily. He stamped his feet and slapped his legs, and called for more beer; and made them tell his wife most of the tale over again, especially about the fireworks. Neither of the Maggots had ever seen fireworks.
‘It must be a sight to do your eyes good,’ said the farmer.
‘No dragons for me!’ said Mrs Maggot, ‘But I would have liked to have been at that supper. Let’s hope old Mr Rory Brandybuck will take the idea and give a party down in these parts for his next birthday. – And what did you say has become of Mr Bolger-Baggins?’ she said, turning to Frodo.
‘Well – er, well, he’s vanished, don’t you know,’ said Frodo. He half thought he heard the ghost of a chuckle somewhere not far from his ear, but he was not sure.
‘There now – that reminds me!’ said Farmer Maggot. ‘What do you think that funny customer said?’
‘What?’ said Odo and Frodo together.
‘Well, he comes riding in at the gate and up to the door on a big black horse; all black he was himself too, and cloaked and hooded up as if he didn’t want to be known. “Good Heavens!” I said to myself. “Here’s one of the Big People! Now what in the Shire can he want?” We don’t see many of the Big People down here, though they come over the River at times; but I’ve never heard tell of any like this black chap. “Good day to you,” I says. “This lane don’t go no further, and wherever you be going your quickest way will be back to the road.” I did not like the look of him, and when Gip came out he took one sniff and let out a howl as if he had been bitten; he put down his tail and bolted howling all the way.
‘“I come from over yonder,” he answered stiff and slow like, pointing back West, over my fields, Woodhall-way. “Have you ever seen Mist-er Bolg-er Bagg-ins?” he asked in a queer voice and bent down towards me, but I could see no face, his hood fell so low. I had a sort of shiver down my back; but I didn’t see why he should come riding so bold over my land. “Be off!” I said. “Mr Bolger-Baggins has vanished, disappeared, if you take my meaning: gone into the blue, and you can follow him!”
‘He gave a sort of hiss, seeming angry and startled like, it seemed to me; and he spurred his great horse right at me. I was standing by the gate, but I jumped out of the way mighty quick, and he rode through it and down the lane like mad. What do you think of that?’
‘I don’t know what to think,’ said Frodo.
‘Well, I’ll tell you what to think,’ said the farmer. ‘This Mr Bingo has got himself mixed up in some trouble, and disappeared a purpose. There are plainly some folk as are mighty eager to find him. Mark my words, it’ll all be along of some of those doings of old Mr Bilbo’s. He ought to have stuck at Bolger and not gone tacking on Baggins. They are queer folk up Hobbiton way, begging your pardon. It’s the Baggins that has got him into trouble, mark my words!’
‘That certainly is an idea,’ said Frodo. ‘Very interesting, what you tell us. I suppose you’ve never seen any of these – er – black chaps before?’
‘Not that I remember,’ said Farmer Maggot, ‘and I don’t want to see any again. Now I hope you and your friend will stay and have a bite and a sup with me and the wife.’
‘Thank you very much!’ said Odo regretfully, ‘but I am afraid we ought to go on.’
‘Yes,’ said Frodo, ‘we have some way to go before night, and really we have already rested too long. But it is very kind of you all the same.’
‘Well! Here’s your health and good luck!’ said the farmer, reaching for his mug. But at that moment the mug left the table, rose, tilted in the air, and then returned empty to its place.
‘Help and save us!’ cried the farmer jumping up. ‘Did you see that? This is a queer day and no mistake. First the dog and then me seeing things that ain’t.’
‘Oh, I saw the mug too,’ said Odo, unable to hide a grin.
‘You did, did you!’ said the farmer. ‘I don’t see no cause to laugh.’ He looked quickly and queerly at Odo and Frodo, and now seemed only too glad that they were going. They said good-bye politely but hurriedly, and ran down the steps and out of the gate. Farmer Maggot and his wife stood whispering at their door and watched them out of sight.
‘What did you want to play that silly trick for?’ said Odo when the farmhouse was well behind. ‘The old man had done you a good turn with that Rider, or so it seemed to me.’
‘I daresay,’ said a voice behind him. ‘But you did me a pretty poor turn, going inside and drinking and talking, and leaving me in the cold. As it was I only got half a mug. And now we are late. I shall make you trot after this.’
‘Show us how to trot!’ said Odo.
Bingo immediately reappeared and went off as fast as he could down the lane. The others hurried after him. ‘Look!’ said Frodo pointing to one side. Along the edge of the lane, in the mud made by the day’s rain, there were deep hoofmarks.
‘Never mind!’ said Bingo. ‘We knew from old Maggot’s talk that he went this way. It can’t be helped. Come along!’
They met nothing in the lane. The afternoon faded and the sun went down into low clouds behind them. The light was already failing when they reached the end of the lane and came at last back to the road.8 It was growing chilly and thin strands of mist were crawling over the fields. The twilight was clammy.
‘Not too bad,’ said Frodo. ‘It is four miles from here to the landing stage opposite Bucklebury. We shall make it before it is quite dark.’
They now turned right along the road, which here ran quite straight, drawing steadily nearer to the River. There was no sign of any other traveller upon the way. Soon they could see lights in the distance ahead and to their left, beyond the dim line of the shadowy willow-trees along the borders of the river, where the far bank rose almost into a low hill.
‘There’s Bucklebury!’ said Frodo.
‘Thank goodness!’ said Odo. ‘My feet are sore, sticky, and mud-tired. Also it is getting chilly.’ He stumbled into a puddle and splashed up a fountain of dirty water. ‘Drat it!’ he said. ‘I’ve nearly had enough of to-day’s walk. Do you think there is any chance of a bath to-night?’ Without waiting for an answer he suddenly began a hobbit bathroom song.
O Water warm and water hot!
O Water boiled in pan and pot!
O Water blue and water green,
O Water silver-clear and clean,
Of bath I sing my song!
O praise the steam expectant nose!
O bless the tub my weary toes!
O happy fingers come and play!
O arms and legs, you here may stay,
And wallow warm and long!
Put mire away! Forget the clay!
Shut out the night! Wash off the day!
In water lapping chin and knees,
In water kind now lie at ease,
Until the dinner gong!
‘Really you might wait till you are in the bath!’ said Frodo.
‘I warn you,’ added Bingo, ‘that you will have yours last, or else you will not wallow very long.’
‘Very well,’ said Odo; ‘only I warn you that if you go first you must not take all the hot water, or I shall drown you in your own bath. I want a hot bath and a clean one.’
‘You may not get any,’ said Bingo. ‘I don’t know what Marmaduke has arranged, or where we are sleeping. I didn’t order baths, and if we get them they will be our last for some time, I expect.’
Their talk flagged. They were now getting really tired, and went along with their chins down and their eyes in front of their toes. They were quite startled when suddenly a voice behind them cried: ‘Hi!’ It then burst into a loud song:
As I was sitting by the way,
I saw three hobbits walking:
One was dumb with naught to say,
The others were not talking.
‘Good night!’ I said. ‘Good night to you!’
They heeded not my greeting:
One was deaf like the other two.
It was a merry meeting!
‘Marmaduke!’ cried Bingo turning round. ‘Where did you spring from?’
‘You passed me sitting at the road-side,’ said Marmaduke. ‘Perhaps I ought to have lain down in the road; but then you would have just trodden on me and passed gaily on.’
‘We are tired,’ said Bingo.
‘So it seems. I told you you would be – but you were so proud and stiff. “Ponies! Pooh!” you said. “Just a little leg-stretcher before the real business begins.’”
‘As it happens ponies would not have helped much,’ said Bingo. ‘We have been having adventures.’ He stopped suddenly and looked up and down the dark road. ‘We will tell you later.’
‘Bless me!’ said Marmaduke. ‘But how mean of you! You shouldn’t have adventures without me. And what are you peering about for? Are there some big bad rabbits loose?’
‘Don’t be so Marmadukish all at once! I can’t bear it at the end of the day,’ said Odo. ‘Let’s get off our legs and have some food, and then you shall hear a tale. Can I have a bath?’
‘What?’ said Marmaduke. ‘A bath? That would put you right out of training again. A bath! I am surprised at such a question. Now lift up your chins and follow me!’
A few yards further on there was a turning to the left. They went down a path, neat and well-kept and edged with large white stones. It led them quickly to the river-bank. There there was a landing-stage big enough for several boats. Its white posts glimmered in the gloom. The mists were beginning to gather almost hedge-high in the fields, but the water before them was dark with only a few curling wisps of grey like steam among the reeds at the sides. The Brandywine River flowed slow and broad. On the other side two lamps twinkled upon another landing-stage with many steps going up the high bank beyond. Behind it the low hill loomed, and out of the hill through stray strands of mist shone many round hobbit-windows, red and yellow. They were the lights of Brandy Hall, the ancient home of the Brandybucks.
Long, long ago the Brandybucks had crossed the River (the original boundary of the Shire on this side), attracted by the high bank and the drier rolling ground behind. But their family (one of the oldest hobbit families) grew, and grew, until Brandy Hall occupied the whole of the low hill, and had three large front doors, several back doors, and at least fifty windows. The Brandybucks and their numerous dependants then began to burrow and later to build all round about. That was the origin of the village of Bucklebury-by-the-River. A great deal of the land on the west side of the river still belonged to the family, almost as far as Woodhall, but most of the actual Brandybucks lived in Buckland: a thickly inhabited strip between the River and the Old Forest, a sort of colony from the old Shire.
The people of the old Shire, of course, told strange tales of the Bucklanders; but as a matter of fact the Bucklanders were hobbits, and not really very different from other hobbits of the North, South, or West – except in one point: they were fond of boats and some of them could swim. Also they were unprotected from the East except by a hedge, THE HEDGE. It had been planted ages ago. It now ran all the way from Brandywine Bridge to Haysend in a big loop, furthest from the River behind Bucklebury, something like forty miles from end to end.9 It was thick and tall, and was constantly tended. But of course it was not a complete protection. The Bucklanders kept their doors locked, and that also was not usual in the Shire.
Marmaduke helped his friends into a small boat that lay at the stage. He then cast off and taking a pair of oars pulled across the river. Frodo and Bingo had often been to Buckland before. Bingo’s mother was a Brandybuck. Marmaduke was Frodo’s cousin, since his mother Yolanda was Folco Took’s sister, and Folco was Frodo’s father. Marmaduke was thus Took plus Brandybuck, and that was apt to be a lively blend.10 But Odo had never been so far East before. He had a queer feeling as they crossed the slow silent river, as if he had now at last started, as if he was crossing a boundary and leaving his old life on the other shore.
They stepped quietly out of the boat. Marmaduke was tying it up, when Frodo said suddenly in a whisper: ‘I say, look back! Do you see anything?’
On the stage they had left they seemed to see a dark black bundle sitting in the gloom; it seemed to be peering, or sniffing, this way and that at the ground they had trodden.
‘What in the Shire is that?’ said Marmaduke.
‘Our Adventure, that we have been and left behind on the other side; or at least I hope so,’ said Bingo. ‘Can horses get across the River?’
‘What have horses got to do with it? They can get across, I suppose, if they can swim; but I have never seen them do it here. There are bridges. But what have horses to do with it?’
‘A great deal!’ said Bingo. ‘But let’s get away!’ He took Marmaduke by the arm and hurried him up the steps on to the path above the landing. Frodo looked back, but the far shore was now shrouded in mist and nothing more could be seen.
‘Where are you taking us for the night?’ asked Odo. ‘Not to Brandy Hall?’
‘Indeed not!’ said Marmaduke. ‘It’s crowded. And anyway I thought you wanted to be secret. I am taking you to a nice little house on the far side of Bucklebury. It’s a mile more, I am afraid, but it is quite cosy and out of the way. I don’t expect anyone will notice us. You wouldn’t want to meet old Rory just now, Bingo! He is in a ramping mood still, about your behaviour. They treated him badly at the inn at Bywater on the party night (they were more full up than Brandy Hall); and then his carriage broke down on the way home, on the hill above Woodhall, and he blames you for these accidents as well.’
‘I don’t want to see him, and I don’t much mind what he says or thinks,’ said Bingo. ‘I wanted to get out of the Shire unseen, just to complete the joke, but now I have other reasons for wanting to be secret. Let’s hurry.’
They came at length to a little low one-storied house. It was an old-fashioned building, as much like a hobbit-hole as possible: it had a round door and round windows and a low rounded roof of turf. It was reached by a narrow green path, and surrounded by a circle of green lawn, round which close bushes grew. It showed no lights.
Marmaduke unlocked the door, and light streamed out in friendly fashion. They slipped quickly in, and shut the light and themselves inside. They were in a wide hall from which several doors opened. ‘Here we are!’ said Marmaduke. ‘Not a bad little place. We often use it for guests, since Brandy Hall is so frightfully full of Brandybucks. I have got it quietly ready in the last day or two.’
‘Splendid fellow!’ said Bingo. ‘I was dreadfully sorry you had to miss that supper.’
‘So was I,’ said Marmaduke. ‘And after hearing the accounts of Rory and Melissa11 (both entirely different, but I expect equally true), I am sorrier still. But I had a merry ride with Gandalf and the dwarves and Elves.12 We met some more Elves on the way,13 and there was some fine singing. I have never heard anything like it before.’
‘Did Gandalf send me any message?’ asked Bingo.
‘No, nothing special. I asked him, when we got to Brandywine Bridge, if he wouldn’t come along with me and wait for you, so as to be a guide and helping hand. But he said he was in a hurry. In fact, if you want to know, he said: “Bingo is now old enough and foolish enough to look after himself for a bit.”’14
“I hope he is right,’ said Bingo.
The hobbits hung up their cloaks and sticks, and piled their packs on the floor. Marmaduke went forward and flung open a closed door. Firelight came out and a puff of steam.
‘Bath!’ cried Odo. ‘O blessed Marmaduke!’
‘Which way shall we go: eldest first, or quickest first? You will be last either way, Odo,’ said Frodo.
‘Ha! ha!’ said Marmaduke. ‘What kind of an innkeeper do you think I am? In that room there are three tubs; and also a copper over a merry furnace that seems to be nearly on the boil. There are also towels, soap, mats, jugs, and what not. Get inside!’
The three rushed in and shut the door. Marmaduke went into the kitchen, and while he was busy there he heard snatches of competing songs mixed with the sound of splashing and wallowing. Over all the rest Odo’s voice suddenly rose in a chant:
Bless the water O my feet and toes!
Bless it O my ten fingers!
Bless the water, O Odo!
And praise the name of Marmaduke! 15
Marmaduke knocked on the door. ‘All Bucklebury will know you have arrived before long,’ he said. ‘Also there is such a thing as supper. I cannot live on praise much longer.’
Bingo came out. ‘Lawks!’ said Marmaduke looking in. The stone floor was all in pools. Frodo was drying in front of the fire; Odo was still wallowing.
‘Come on, Bingo!’ said Marmaduke. ‘Let’s begin supper, and leave them!’
They had supper in the kitchen on a table near the open fire. The others soon arrived. Odo was the last, but he quickly made up for lost time. When they had finished Marmaduke pushed back the table, and drew chairs round the fire. ‘We’ll clear up later,’ he said. ‘Now tell me all about it!’16
Bingo stretched his legs and yawned. ‘It’s easy in here,’ he said, ‘and somehow our adventure seems rather absurd, and not so important as it did out there. But this is what happened. A Black Rider came up behind us yesterday afternoon (it seems a week ago), and I am sure he was looking for us, or me. After that he kept on reappearing (always behind). Let me see, yes, we saw him four times altogether, counting the figure on the landing-stage, and once we heard his horse,17 and once we thought we heard just a sniff.’
‘What are you talking about?’ said Marmaduke. ‘What is a black rider?’
‘A black figure on a horse,’ said Bingo. ‘But I will tell you all about it.’ He gave a pretty good account of their journey, with occasional additions and interruptions by Frodo and Odo. Only Odo was still positive that the sniff they thought they heard was really part of the mystery.
‘I should think you were making it all up, if I had not seen that queer shape this evening,’ said Marmaduke. ‘What is it all about, I wonder?’
‘So do we!’ said Frodo. ‘Do you think anything of Farmer Maggot’s guess, that it has something to do with Bilbo?’
‘Well, it was only a guess anyway,’ said Bingo. ‘I am sure old Maggot does not know anything. I should have expected the Elves to tell me, if the Riders had anything to do with Bilbo’s adventures.’
‘Old Maggot is rather a shrewd fellow,’ said Marmaduke. ‘A good deal goes on behind his round face which does not come out in his talk. He used to go into the Old Forest at one time, and had the reputation of knowing a thing or two outside the Shire. Anyway I can guess no better. What are you going to do about it?’
‘There is nothing to do,’ said Bingo, ‘except to go home. Which is difficult for me, as I haven’t got one now. I shall just have to go on, as the Elves advised. But you need not come, of course.’
‘Of course not,’ said Marmaduke. ‘I joined the party just for fun, and I am certainly not going to leave it now. Besides, you will need me. Three’s company, but four’s more. And if the hints of the Elves mean what you think, there are at least four Riders, not to mention an invisible sniff, and a black bundle on the landing-stage. My advice is: let us start off even earlier tomorrow than we planned, and see if we can’t get a good start. I rather fancy Riders will have to go round by the bridges to get across the River.’
‘But we shall have to go much the same way,’ said Bingo. ‘We shall have to strike the East Road near Brandywine Bridge.’
‘That’s not my idea,’ said Marmaduke. ‘I think we should avoid the road at present. It’s a waste of time. We should actually be going back westward if we made for the road-meeting near the Bridge. We must make a short cut north-east through the Old Forest. I will guide you.’
‘How can you?’ asked Odo. ‘Have you ever been there?’
‘O yes,’ said Marmaduke. ‘All the Brandybucks go there occasionally, when the fit takes them. I often go – only in daylight, of course, when the woods are fairly quiet and sleepy. Still I know my way about. If we start early and push along we ought to be quite safe and clear of the Forest before tomorrow night. I have got five good ponies waiting – sturdy little beasts: not speedy of course, but good for a long day’s work. They’re stabled in a shed out in the fields behind this house.’
‘I don’t like the idea at all,’ said Odo. ‘I would rather meet these Riders (if we must meet them) on a road, where there is a chance of meeting ordinary honest travellers as well. I don’t like woods, and I have heard queer tales of the Old Forest. I think Black Riders will be very much more at home there than we shall.’
‘But we shall probably be out of it again before they get in,’ said Marmaduke. ‘It seems to me silly, anyway, when you are beginning an adventurous journey to start by going back and jogging along a dull river-side road – in full view of all the numerous hobbits of Buckland.18 Perhaps you would like to call and take leave of old Rory at the Hall. It would be polite and proper; and he might lend you a carriage.’
‘I knew you would propose something rash,’ said Odo. ‘But I am not going to argue any more, if the others agree. Let’s vote – though I am sure I shall be the odd man out.’
He was – though Bingo and Frodo took some time to make up their minds.
‘There you are!’ said Odo. ‘What did I say this morning? Three to one! Well, I only hope it comes off all right.’
‘Now that’s settled,’ said Marmaduke, ‘we had better get to bed. But first we must clear up, and do all the packing we can. Come on!’
It was some time before the hobbits finished putting things away, tidying up, and packing what they needed in the way of stores for their journey. At last they went to bed – and slept in proper beds (but without sheets) for the last time for many a long day.19 Bingo could not go to sleep for some time: his legs ached. He was glad he was riding in the morning. At last he fell asleep into a vague dream, in which he seemed to be lying under a window that looked out into a sea of tangled trees: outside there was a snuffling.
NOTES
1 It is at first sight puzzling that Frodo should say that ‘Buckland is almost exactly south-east from Woodhall’, and again immediately below that they could strike the road again ‘above Buckland’, since later in this chapter (p. 100) Buckland is described as ‘a thickly inhabited strip between the River and the Old Forest’, defended by the Hedge some forty miles long – clearly too large an area to be described as ‘almost exactly south-east from Woodhall’. The explanation must be, however, that my father changed the meaning of the name Buckland in the course of the chapter. At first Buckland was a place, a village, rather than a region (at its first occurrence it replaced Bury Underwood, which in turn replaced Wood Eaton, p. 35 note 5), and it still was so here; but further on in the chapter the village of Bucklebury-by-the-River emerged (p. 92), and Buckland then became the name of the Brandybucks’ land beyond the River. See note 5, and the note on the Shire Map, p. 107.
2 See the note on the Shire Map, p. 107.
3 A hastily pencilled note on the typescript here reads: ‘Sound of hoofs going by not far off.’ See p. 287.
4 Maggot was later struck out in pencil and replaced by Puddifoot, but only in this one instance. On the earliest map of the Shire (see p. 107) the farm is marked, in ink, Puddifoot, changed in pencil to Maggot. The Puddifoots of Stock are mentioned in FR, p. 101.
5 Here again Buckland still signifies the village (see note 1); but Bucklebury appears shortly after (p. 92), the name being typed over an erasure.
6 The substance of this passage about hobbit-holes and hobbit-houses was afterwards placed in the Prologue. See further pp. 294, 312.
7 Towers built on the western coasts of Middle-earth by exiles of Númenor are mentioned in the second version of The Fall of Númenor (V.28, 30). – The substance of this passage was also afterwards placed in the Prologue (see note 6), and there also the towers are called ‘Elf-towers’. Cf. Of the Rings of Power in The Silmarillion, p. 292: ‘It is said that the towers of Emyn Beraid were not built indeed by the exiles of Númenor, but were raised by Gilgalad for Elendil, his friend.’
8 came at last back to the road: this is of course the road they had been walking on originally, ‘the road to Buckland’; at this time there was no causeway road running south from the Brandywine Bridge on the west bank of the river (and no village of Stock).
9 In FR (p. 109) the distance is ‘well over twenty miles from end to end.’ See p. 298.
10 This genealogy was afterwards wholly abandoned, of course, but the mother of Meriadoc (Marmaduke) remained a Took (Esmeralda, who married Saradoc Brandybuck, known as ‘Scattergold’).
11 Melissa Brandybuck appeared in the fourth version of ‘A Long-expected Party’, on which occasion she danced on a table with Prospero Took (p. 38).
12 Bingo told Gildor (p. 63) that Gandalf ‘went off with the dwarves and the Rivendell elves as soon as the fireworks were over.’ This is the first appearance of the story that Marmaduke/Meriadoc had been at Hobbiton but had left early.
13 We met some more Elves on the way: these were the Elves of Gildor’s company, who thus already knew about the Party when Bingo, Frodo and Odo encountered them (p. 68, note 17).
14 Cf. the note cited on p. 41: ‘Where is G[andalf] asks Odo – said I was old and foolish enough now to take care of myself said B.’
15 This ‘chant’ was emended on the typescript thus:
Bless the water, O my feet and toes!
Praise the bath, O my ten fingers!
Bless the water, O my knees and shoulders!
Praise the bath, O my ribs, and rejoice!
Let Odo praise the house of Brandybuck,
And praise the name of Marmaduke for ever.
This new version belongs to the time of the manuscript portion at the end of the chapter (note 16).
16 Here the typescript ends, and the remainder is in manuscript; see p. 109.
17 and once we heard his horse: this is a reference to the revised passage in the second chapter, where it is told that a Black Rider stopped his horse for a moment on the road beside the tree in which the hobbits were sitting (p. 55 and note 11).
18 This is a reference to the road within Buckland. Cf. p. 53: ‘the ordinary way to Buckland was along the East Road to the meeting of the Water and the Brandywine River, where there was a bridge, and then south along the River.’
19 It is clear from this that my father had not yet foreseen the hobbits’ visit to the house of Tom Bombadil.
Note on the Shire Map
There are four extant maps of the Shire made by my father, and two which I made, but only one of them, I think, can contain an element or layer that goes back to the time when these chapters were written (the first months of 1938). This is however a convenient place to give some indications concerning all of them.
I An extremely rough map (reproduced as the frontispiece), built up in stages, and done in pencil and red, blue, and black inks; extending from Hobbiton in the West to the Barrow-downs in the East. In its inception this was the first, or at least the first that survives. Some features were first marked in pencil and then inked over.
II A map on a smaller scale in faint pencil and blue and red chalks, extending to the Far Downs in the West, but showing little more than the courses of roads and rivers.
III A map of roads and rivers on a larger scale than II, extending from Michel Delving in the West to the Hedge of Buckland, but without any names (see on map V below).
IV A small scale map extending from the Green Hill Country to Bree, carefully drawn in ink and coloured chalks, but soon abandoned and marking only a few features.
V An elaborate map in pencil and coloured chalks which I made in 1943 (see p. 200), for which III (showing only the courses of roads and rivers) was very clearly the basis and which I followed closely. No doubt III was made by my father for this purpose.
VI The map which was published in The Fellowship of the Ring; this I made not long before its publication (that is to say, some ten years after map V).
In what follows I consider only certain features arising in the course of this chapter.
Buckland is almost exactly south-east from Woodhall (p. 89). Buckland was still here the name of the village (see note 1 above); Bucklebury first appears on p. 92. On map I Bucklebury does indeed lie south-east (or strictly east-south-east) from Woodhall, but on map II the Ferry is due east, and on III it is east-north-east, whence the representation on my maps V and VI. In the original edition of FR (p. 97) the text had here ‘The Ferry is south-east from Woodhall’, which was corrected to ‘east’ in the revised edition (second impression 1967) when my father observed the discrepancy with the published map. The shifting had clearly come about unintentionally. (It may be noticed incidentally that all the maps show Woodhall on a side road (the ‘lane’) going off from that to Buckland; see p. 66, note 10).
The road bears away to the left … and then sweeps round south when it gets nearer to the River (p. 89). This southward sweep is strongly marked on map I (and repeated on map II), where the Buckland road joins the causeway road above the village of Stock (as Frodo says in FR, p. 97: ‘It goes round the north end of the Marish so as to strike the causeway from the Bridge above Stock’). At the time when this chapter was written there was no causeway road (note 8). This is another case where the text of FR accords with map I, but not with the published map (VI); in this case, however, my father did not correct the text. On map III the Buckland road does not ‘sweep round south’: but after bearing away to the left or north (before reaching Woodhall) it runs in a straight line due east to meet the road from the Bridge. This I followed on my map V; but the village of Stock was not marked on III, which only shows roads and rivers, and I placed the road-meeting actually in the village, not to the north of it. Although, as I clearly recollect, map V was made in his study and in conversation with him, my father cannot have noticed my error in this point. The published map simply follows V.
One other point may be noticed here. Marmaduke twice (pp. 100, 103) refers to ‘bridges’ over the Brandywine, but none of the maps shows any other bridge but that which carried the East Road, the Brandywine Bridge.
My father’s letter to Stanley Unwin quoted on page 44 shows that he had finished this chapter by 4 March 1938. Three months later, on 4 June 1938, he wrote to Stanley Unwin saying:
I meant long ago to have thanked Rayner for bothering to read the tentative chapters, and for his excellent criticism. It agrees strikingly with Mr Lewis’, which is therefore confirmed. I must plainly bow to my two chief (and most well-disposed) critics. The trouble is that ‘hobbit talk’* amuses me privately (and to a certain degree also my boy Christopher) more than adventures; but I must curb this severely. Although longing to do so, I have not had a chance to touch any story-writing since the Christmas vacation.
And he added that he could not ‘see any loophole left for months.’ On 24 July he said in a letter to Charles Furth at Allen and Unwin:
The sequel to the Hobbit has remained where it stopped. It has lost my favour, and I have no idea what to do with it. For one thing the original Hobbit was never intended to have a sequel – Bilbo ‘remained very happy to the end of his days and those were extraordinarily long’: a sentence I find an almost insuperable obstacle to a satisfactory link. For another nearly all the ‘motives’ that I can use were packed into the original book, so that a sequel will appear either ‘thinner’ or merely repetitional. For a third: I am personally immensely amused by hobbits as such, and can contemplate them eating and making their rather fatuous jokes indefinitely; but I find that is not the case with even my most devoted ‘fans’ (such as Mr Lewis, and ?Rayner Unwin). Mr Lewis says hobbits are only amusing when in unhobbitlike situations. For a last: my mind on the ‘story’ side is really preoccupied with the ‘pure’ fairy stories or mythologies of the Silmarillion, into which even Mr Baggins got dragged against my original will, and I do not think I shall be able to move much outside it – unless it is finished (and perhaps published) – which has a releasing effect.
At the beginning of this extract my father was repeating what he had said in his letters of 17 and 18 February quoted on pp. 43–4, when he had written no more than ‘A Long-expected Party’. But it is very hard to see why he said here that he found the sentence in The Hobbit, that Bilbo ‘remained very happy to the end of his days and those were extraordinarily long’, ‘an almost insuperable obstacle to a satisfactory link’; since what he had written at this stage was not about Bilbo but about his ‘nephew’ Bingo, and in so far as Bilbo was mentioned nothing had been said to show that he did not remain happy till the end of his extraordinarily long days.
This then is where the narrative stopped, and stayed stopped through some six months or more. With abundant ‘hobbit-talk’ on the way, he had got Bingo, Frodo, and Odo to Buckland on the way to Rivendell, whither Gandalf had preceded them. They had encountered the Black Riders, Gildor and his company of Elves, and Farmer Maggot, where their visit ended in a much less satisfactory way than it would do later, through an outrageous practical joke on Bingo’s part (the comic potential of which had by no means been exhausted); they had crossed the Brandywine, and arrived at the little house prepared for them by Marmaduke Brandybuck. In his letter to Charles Furth just cited he said that he had ‘no idea what to do with it’; but Tom Bombadil, the Willowman and the Barrow-wights were already envisaged as possibilities (see pp. 42–3).
On 31 August 1938 he wrote again to Charles Furth, and now a great change had taken place:
In the last two or three days … I have begun again on the sequel to the ‘Hobbit’ – The Lord of the Ring. It is now flowing along, and getting quite out of hand. It has reached about Chapter VII and progresses towards quite unforeseen goals.
He said ‘about Chapter VII’ on account of uncertainty over chapter-divisions (see p. 132).
The passage in manuscript at the end of the present chapter (see note 16 above) was (I feel certain) added to the typescript at this time, and was the beginning of this new burst of narrative energy. My father had now decided that the hobbits’ journey would take them into the Old Forest, that ‘dubious region’ which had appeared in the third version of ‘A Long-expected Party’ (p. 29), and where he had already suggested in early notes (p. 43) that the hobbits should become lost and caught by the Willow-man. And ‘the sequel to The Hobbit’ is given – for the first time, it seems – a title: The Lord of the Ring (see p. 74 and note 3).
