The prancing hero.

.oOo.

SR. 1422, early september, in a pasture of Father Cotton…

I am happy in my prairie. I gallop there at ease. I mark the moles' clods. I sniff the bark of my apple trees - I like apples! I scout the boundaries of my field. It is a rich pasture, there is a bit of everything - clover, tall grass... And in winter, I have haystacks in my cabin. It is a reassuring and comfortable little hut. That is my master who built it. I love him, my master. I'm expecting him, he's coming.

My master, he gave me a treasure. He is proud of me, my master! He said to me:

- "Bill, my boy, I plant two rows of tatters! These are my best! You eat alfalfa, but no tatters! And then you guard them! Nobody touches the precious tatters! "

So I guard the tatters for him, my master! I'm expecting him, he's coming.

At first I urinated on the tatters ... Yeah, if not, who knows I'm guarding them? But my master was not happy about that... So I do it no more. Nice master! Good master, my savior! I'm expecting him, he's coming. What is he doing?

Sometimes he takes his tiny one with him. It is so small and cute! It's scaring at first, it moves and screams! But I smelled it - a sweet scent of milk and anise, firm and laughing, as tender as a foal! I love him, my master. He's coming, I'm expecting him. What is he doing?

My master loves his tiny one even more than his treasure, so I guard it for him too! My master puts it on my back, while keeping it in his arms. I neigh softly when the tiny one clings to my mane. That would be nice, foals all over my meadow...

Ah! I can hear him, here he is! I recognize his august step, regular on the way, with his tiny one on his shoulders and his spade in hand!

.oOo.

This evening, Master Samwise visits Bill, his adventure companion. Neighing, pawing and small prancing around the proudly guarded treasure. Elanor laughs for fear and delight while giving an apple to the big glutton, even obtaining a smile from pale Frodo.

Tiny One bareback riding, the fine team is climbing up the hill trail, under the glow of the conniving moon. The evening mists are more intoxicating, earth scents are more exciting than usual - a youth and adventure perfume invigorates the burdened walk of a pampered and fatty pony.

The small company is sinking at dusk under the foliage of the green hills. Soon the road winds on the hillside, at Bill's peaceful rhythm under Elanor's delighted babble. Frodo comes forward, his face gaunt under the pale moon. He knows Sam oversees him with the corner of his eye - a bad memory is so quickly revived...

A yelp startles men and beast! The pale moon veils her face with quivering clouds. So sweating Frodo draws from his breast, a little white stone on a chain... but an elven singing rises, piercing the shadows with its limpid eternity.

Soon, surrounded by fireflies, the company walks on the imperishable flowers under the vesperal lights of another age the world. Bathed in pine scents and relaxing their feet on the foam lining the running water, the hobbits satiate with light in the eyes of their host.

Elven maidens form a touching choir around the hobbit child, marveling at this little elf lost in a mortal family. Her innocent chirping wakes a round of caressing hymns. Under the astonished blue gaze of the tiny one, the graceful and expert hands of the maidens, weave her short blond hair as a bright sunshine.

Sam surrenders to the wonders of this daydream, so moved to share it with his daughter. He could never tell this unspeakable bliss. Leaving the clearing's grass and the fruits of the High Elves' strange seasons, Bill perks up its ears to the sounds of reed pipes and glorious tales of yore. Frodo, panting and grateful, lets the balm of elven voices and lyrics spread on the wounds of his scarred soul.

Under the blessed foliage, weary from their labors on these marred lands, the Noldor let go off the last torches of their pride. Gildor and his people long for the secular homes of their kin overseas, radiating with a hope inaccessible to mortals. Yet the Elf Lord's serious forehead, nods kindly at the pleas of Frodo, who already bears his troubled look beyond the days of this world.

At dawn, that lights lilac pearls in the indistinct gray of the night, the elves leave to prepare their final journey.

On the threshold of the clearing, Bill the pony, that watches over the sleeping hobbits, addresses a last neigh for the Noldor.

So Gildor hums in its ear, a tune of serenity, longevity and hope. Then, giving him elven waybread, he blessed the pony and said:

"My four-legs fellow, may you help your Master and his family in their last test, when only the faithful Friend can bear the burden of the old days..."

A few days later, Bilbo, Frodo, Gandalf, Galadriel, Elrond and many elves are to embark at the havens... Then Bill brings Sam back to the fold, supporting with all the love of a pony, the burden of his dear Master and his heartbreak.

.oOo.

SR. 1432 Spring, on the way from Green Fields to lake Nenuial…

- "Your Majesty, Hobbitkind expresses its most friendly feelings and calls for the successful establishment of the King in his northern mansions!"

Sam, wearing a loose jacket of crimson taffeta, over one of Bilbo's old silk jacket, is profusely sweating under his green feather hat. With bombast and awkwardness, he browses the parchment speech written by Merry, and looks at his audience with apprehension.

Pippin laughs:

- "For pity's sake, Sam, at least take off this ridiculous lace collar! Even the Old Took had abandoned it! "

Sam feels like a minnow in the bucket of a kitchen boy, as they say in Frogmorton - ready for the pan. He would rather be thirty leagues away, at home alongside Rose, Elanor and Frodo, his youngest.

Merry suppresses a smile and comes by:

- "You do not need to dress with your full garb, in order to repeat, my dear Sam! For curtsy, just remove your headgear this way, then simply bow down, like this.

- If my poor old gaffer could see me, he would certainly complain about such trinkets and antics!

- When heading to Annúminas, the King's capital in the North, to attend a ceremony confirming the Shire's granting, you must indulge in some sartorial effort, Mayor Gamgee!

- What a pity for me to be the mayor! I'm like cut in half: seeing Strider again would be such a joy, but I cannot learn all this etiquette in three days! "

The most famous gardener of the Shire, embarrassed by his rapier and irritated by his laces, waddles like a faulty butler. At his side, Bill grazes conscientiously fatty clovers between the hobbits' packages, chasing flies with his black tail.

- "As for the etiquette, exclaims Pippin, leave it to me and just try to imitate me, my natural charisma will do for both of us! After all, one cannot require a pony to match the king's horse in a single day!1 "

Recently, some success with his cousin Diamond somehow turned the Tuckburrough's cockerel's head. Merry is about to talk him down, but Bill indulges itself in bringing the young Thain to more modesty, by urinating on his package!

Ignoring the rain of complaints, Sam flatters the neck of his old companion with a smirk:

- "My dear Bill is naturally pretty clever too! Sometimes I get the impression he understands everything is said... Anyway, this official trip has restored him! "

.oOo.

SR 1443 Spring, somewhere on the road from Minas Tirith to Imloth Melui…

For this royal house party, the guards of the citadel ride at a respectful distance.

Aragorn - "I am very surprised that you were able to take him along for this long journey! He must get old!

Sam - You might as well call it magic! No doubt my Bill is now the Shire's ponies' dean! We didn't mean to take him... He had a very swollen fetlock the day of our departure, but he rushed into his box like a madponey and escaped to join us. I didn't have the heart to leave him behind... "

Elanor gently flatters the neck of her old mount:

Elanor – "His health improved once we hit the road! Now he seems like a dashing stallion of the year! The ideal mount for a lady companion of the Queen!".

Sam raises an eyebrow. Perhaps the young Hobbit wishes the Pony to be offered to her? His ears listening, Bill stops at the edge of the road and, to his riders' annoyance, quietly begins to graze. The king smiles:

Aragorn - "But like any good veteran, he never misses an opportunity for a tasty meal along the way!"

The Queen glances a fervent and bright look at her husband:

Arwen - "I understand this brave little soldier! Staying back when those you love run for adventure, is an unbearable ordeal for a brave heart! "

Then she nods thoughtfully and adds, as if to herself:

Arwen - "He has a duty towards his master, and will never let you leave him behind! "

.oOo.

SR. 1482 winter, after Rosie Cotton's death…

I'm uncomfortable in my prairie. The clods of moles invaded the valuable tatters' square. For idleness, I nibbled the bark of apple trees and have them burst. It is rich, my pasture, but I lost my appetite. I tossed and turned around my cabin. It does not reassure me any more to take refuge. That is my master who had built it. I love him, my master. I expect him, he no longer comes.

I feel he is gone, far away... He would not leave without his Bill, would he? I'm afraid he took the road to the West... I can feel it...

The last time I saw him, my master was not himself. I really felt he was terribly unhappy. His eyes saw off me. He absently stared at the emptiness, holding in his fists an old wreath of dried flowers.

When I came for a caress, my master began to cry, his face buried in my mane. He cried all night, as stubbornly as the mist that covered us.

In the early morning, his oldest daughter Elanor found us. She looked frightened and angry, so I made her understand that the Master was safe with me. But she pushed me back into my hut and called me "old ass!"

Then she said to the master: "Come, Daddy! You must not stay alone! You're coming with us to the Tower Hills. The whole Greenholm family will be glad to welcome you!"

I'm not as stout as before, but I cannot leave my master alone for his last journey! I promised!

.oOo.

At Elanor Gardner and Fastred Greenholm's mansion, at tower hills

Fastred - "How is he?

Elanor - He did not sleep very well... And he remained motionless all day long, and in the afternoon his face turned towards the setting sun through the window.

Fastred - Provide him with some of your tatters pie! He loves them!

Elanor - My brother Merry wrote me that Daddy's old pony has run away... I do not dare to tell him – he loved it so much, it could be a terrible choc."

But that very evening, a meager equine walks down the hill and into the farmyard to collapse there, exhausted.

Master Samwise draws his eyes up from the evening mist and rushes to rescue his old friend.

That night, finally, the two elders, hobbit and pony, sleep deeply, both huddled in the straw. The next and following days, the last ringbearer, confused by the loyalty, endurance and longevity of his quadruped companion, found appetite and courage in himself, to perk it up.

Under the amazed eyes of Elanor, Fastred and their family, the old pony recovers and the grandfather gains back some desire for living. Every morning - when it does not rain - Elanor allows a walk on the moors, to the ancient tower of the elves.

When she learns that after these escapades, his father climbs to the top of the silver tower to contemplate the west, while Bill sports with small white horses of the ancient elven havens, Elanor gets angry at her husband. The Warden of WestMarch has lent the tower key to her father - forty-four and hundred steps, at his age!

Elanor then surrounds her father and the old pony with attention, petting, supervision, careful grooming, often inviting the Thain and the Master of Buckland, spying, and preventing their every need.

Yet Elanor knows in her heart she cannot indefinitely fight the long defeat. When Sam entrusts her with the red book of WestMarch, the last chapter of which is covered with his diligent handwriting, his eldest daughter hides her fears and sadness.

.oOo.

This morning, the east wind lashes across the estuary. Gray ragged flock from beyond the towers, bellowing at my companions' worried ears.

But I'm not afraid. I followed many tracks. I overcame many hills. I went through many wild deserts. I fought and distanced wolves. I found my Master back.

Today, under the evil hiss of the storm, my Master Sam straddles me for our last adventure. The lightning strikes his murderous lightnings, but my Master clings to my mane. Today it's Me leading my dear Master. My young mare-friends surround and guide me. I fly faster than the threatening winds.

.oOo.

Raindrops mingle with Elanor's tears as she rushes under the storm. Sam and Bill have disappeared. She thinks where to find them and climbs the hill. When she finally reaches the tall white tower, lightning falls on its top in a deafening roar. Elanor gets back up, trembling, and calls on the threshold of the immemorial tower. Only thunder rolls reply. Then her anxiety gives way to despair.

After long hours of walking, Elanor reaches the coastline. There is nothing on the gray shores. Shipwrights' workshops are deserted. The docks, swept by rain, are empty.

Yet a small herd of white mares lingers at the edge of the waves, beating the pebbles with their hooves and neighing in the wind.

As Elanor joins them, the rain's dullness tears off the Gulf of Lhûn2. Far from the shore, the sun pierces the western sea ablaze with bloody fires, while the wind inflates a large white sail. The very last elven ship has left Mithlond.

.oOo.

The following summer, the herd of Tower Hills expands with many foals, mottled white and brown.

This solid race will be deemed very intelligent and gentle with children. They love apples and this weakness will be used to the train. Hobbits even say that they are capable of fighting wolves.

Meriadoc Brandybuck, Master of Buckland, who has conducted extensive studies on the land of Bree - its population, its pipe-weed, its language, its equine herd, etc. – will establish that herds of Tower Hills are related to the hardy Bree ponies.

Peregrin Took, the Thain, will therefore suggest that this remarkable race would be named "Pony Ferny" in memory, he says with a smile, for a famous apples-lover that once lived in Bree, and who indulged in the business of selling ponies.

But in the Gardner family, Bill's lineage will be known as the "Prancing Ponies".

.oOo.

NOTES

Chronology (SR– Shire Reckoning)

The recorded history of bipedals, leaves little room to their faithful companions of toil and travel...

Elanor is born on march 25, 1421

On september 22, 1421, Frodo, Bilbo, Gandalf and elves leave Middle Earth at Mithlond

1436 Elanor becomes one of the lady companion of Queen Arwen.

1442 Sam and family visit Aragorn in Gondor.

1451 Elanor weds Fastred of Greenholm. WestMarch, land of hills and moors, is annexed to the Shire by royal decision.

1455 At Sam's request, the Kings entrusts Fastred with the duty of Warden of the Towers, in WestMarch.

1482 Passing of Rose Cotton, Sam's spouse.

1483 Sam gives Elanor Bilbo and Frodo's book, now called « The red Book of WestMarch », and goes to Mithlond for his last trip with Bill.

1 Expression from Tuckburrough, which suggests that high competence may not be acquired without hard work and innate abilities.

2 River Lhûn : rises at the eastern slopes of the northern Blue Mountains, then skirts them southward, before crossing them and flowing into a large gulf on the western sea.