A Passage from Middle-earth

Volume One of Beyond the War of the Ring:

The sequel/conclusion to The Lord of the Rings,

The Silmarillion and The Hobbit by J. R. R. Tolkien

Approximate Word count: 111,111

Author's Note:

With the exception of locations, proper names, and some song lyric

(which have been translated where applicably appropriate)

all forms of communication have been rendered in modern English.

A Passage from Middle-earth

Homeward

(The Song of Samwise)

I stood upon a mountain

and I thought about the wind

and how I wish that I could simply

fly to you, my friend

I sat beside a fountain

and I thought about the spray,

how in their rush some droplets

by the breeze are swept away

I'm coming home to you

There're just a few things that I must do

I'm hoping you'll understand

that I must complete the Task at hand

Sometimes the paths that we must take

are not those we would choose

Sometimes the things at stake

are not the ones that we can lose

But still in all I know the One

who holds us in His hand

And so I have to trust that all

will turn out as He planned

One day we'll be together

And it will be forever

I'm coming home to you

There're just a few things that I must do

A Passage from Middle-earth

Chapter One: Hallowed Ground

"This must be what it feels like to be an Elf," Samwise quietly observed. "You watch all of the things you love pass away while you remain."

He took no notice of the sudden concern in the eyes of his companions as they quickly fastened upon the trembling form of their friend. All he could see was the stark interruption in the blanket of grass before them, the mound under which his beloved Rosie, after many long decades of blissful marriage, now lay. The newly awakened blades already sparkled like shamrocks in the swift Shire spring. But his gardener's gaze uncharacteristically took no notice of the arriving life, only of the departing one. His friends spent the next several moments searching for something appropriate to say.

"No one can hold onto any of it," Pippin finally said softly, his statement revealing the wisdom that long reflection on their adventures had produced. "But I have to wonder if maybe even the parting won't last forever. Gandalf once spoke to me of the Far Shore. And it sounded to me like it was a mutual destination, an eternal gathering. I think we'll see all of our friends again there one day."

Pippin did not mention Frodo by name, and Merry took instant notice of this. It occurred to him that his friend was trying to comfort the one-time Ring Bearer without being too specific about the other losses they had experienced over the years.

On their way back from the trip they had taken, decades before, to attend the marriage of Faramir and Eowyn in Edoras, the trio passed through the gap of Rohan on its northernmost side. He and Pippin had wanted to introduce Samwise to Treebeard. In the course of their visit, they had all shared large cups of Entwash. Not only had the Ents' mysterious beverage added inches to the heights of each diminutive recipient, but it was becoming clear that additional years had been added to their lives as well. They were outliving all their friends. Of the trio from the fabled Fellowship, the spouse of Samwise was the last to pass. They had no way to tell if they would now live, like trees, into their hundreds; but Merry understood only too well the sentiment his bereft companion was trying to express. And he could see why the Elves had finally chosen to leave Middle-earth. Such had become the topic of their far too numerous, graveside conversations.

Pippin politely reminded his friends that a large meal had been prepared for Rosie's wake. Samwise hardly looked hungry, but he allowed himself to be ushered along the idyllic walkway that led out of the cemetery. The rest of his family had already vanished up the path.

Upon reaching the house, they found that numerous staples and delicacies had already been laid out. It was in fact the most food Sam had ever seen in his kitchen at once. Apparently, he thought, his children were afraid that, if he were left to his own devices, he would starve to death and waste away. A large number of the items had also been presented in ways that would facilitate easy storage and long keeping.

No one had known if he would want to sit down for a formal dinner, and the grandchildren had been anxious, so the youngsters were already digging in. Indicating the bounty spread around the kitchen as he passed through it on his way to a sitting room at the back of the hobbit hole, Sam simply nodded his permission for everyone else to follow suit. Merry and Pippin paused just long enough to hurriedly fill plates before they quickly followed after him.

As they watched him cross the living room, his two closest companions noted that there was much conversation in the normally quiet home. But as Sam passed by each of the ones who were doing the talking, they would abruptly pause. They seemed uncertain as to whether they should attempt to include the widower in their discourse or if they should respect his solitude. Merry and Pippin however had spent considerable time, before the ceremony, discussing ways to handle their grieving friend. Reminiscing about their old adventures, they had concluded, seemed to be the most reasonable course of action, even though they knew it was also fraught with many potential pitfalls.

With one hand, Merry managed to secure the handles of two mugs of ale. The second was intended for their host. Sam had never really been much of a drinker, especially of late. But Merry doubted that he would abstain, especially if encouraged not to. They were not trying to lead him to drown his sorrows, as if Sam would ever resort to such things, but his friends did want to see him relax. And it did seem reasonable to conclude that a pint or two might help him get in the mood to share in the storytelling. They particularly liked hearing him recall those desperate moments when he had taken up Sting and the Light of Earendil and served as the Ring Bearer himself, rescuing Frodo from a monstrous spider and a tower full of Orcs. Their plan was to persuade him to dwell for awhile in such legendary personal history.

If that did not work, they might have to try and recruit him for a journey. Oftentimes Merry and Pippin had slipped out of the Shire, usually just for short jaunts. Occasionally they would travel to the west and visit the Grey Havens where they had said farewell to Frodo, Gandalf, and the Elven Ring Bearers. More often they would journey east to the village of Bree, staying the night. On the way back they would cross through the Barrow Downs, entering the Old Forest. And there they would visit Old Tom Bombadil and Goldberry.

Being both a devoted husband and father, Samwise had never elected to participate in these adventures. Merry and Pippin knew that they might have to try and assuage the sorrow of their friend with a change of scenery, possibly even taking him all the way to Gondor to visit Elessar, the Elven name adopted by High King Aragorn, and High Queen Arwen. But they also understood that a fair amount of convincing would probably have to be done to secure such enlistment. And that was the other reason for the ale.

Sam accepted the ale, but he then did not seem particularly compliant with their request that he entertain them with the required tale. Since he was the only one not eating, Merry and Pippin had to rise to the challenge of maintaining the conversation while emptying their plates. Recent history seemed to be the most relevant subject, as obtained through their Seeing Stone of which Pippin was the official Keeper.

One of the Seeing Stones had been recovered from Isengard. Another had been discovered among the ruins of the fallen Dark Tower in Mordor. High King Elessar had also found one in the White Tower, apparently used by the late Steward, Denethor, and responsible for driving him mad. A fourth had been unearthed in Moria. They were now in the White Tower of Gondor, Isengard in Rohan, Moria, and the Shire respectively.

The Keepers served as the Eyes of the King in the far reaches of his realm. And for a time there had been many regularly scheduled meetings conducted with the use of the Seeing Stones. As the years had gone by however it had gradually come to the point where the only scheduled conference was held on midsummer's day. Occasionally Pippin would encounter another of the Keepers if he looked into the Palantir between the appointed meetings. But he attempted its use only infrequently now. Some of the others, the High King and Queen in particular, seemed to have the ability to bend the Seeing Stones to their will and make them reveal whatever was required. Pippin was not that adept. And he was somewhat embarrassed by this failing since he was called a Keeper.

Between mouthfuls of food Merry and Pippin talked about how marvelous it was that Gimli and the Dwarves had been able to retake Moria. Clandestinely they were trying to sow seeds of interest on the part of their host. They talked about the rebuilding of the Bridge of Khazad Dum and how, after expelling the Orcs, the Dwarves had resumed their extraction of the only deposit of Mithril known to exist anywhere. Merry went so far as to fantasize about the royal welcome they would surely receive if they were ever to make such a journey.

For many long years Gimli had been the Lord of the Glittering Caves of Aglarond. But at last his heart had been stirred to retake the fastness of Khazad Dum. Dwalin's son, Dwain, had come of age. To him, Gimli had diffidently passed the responsibility for maintaining the Citadel of Flowering Stones. King Eomer was saddened to hear that the Dwarf Lord, his good friend and compatriot, was passing beyond his realm, for Moria lay north of the borders of Rohan at Nimrodel. But he was glad that their alliance was being honored by a remaining Dwarfish presence in the caverns behind Helm's Deep.

Pippin took the opportunity to mention that during their most recent communication with Gimli, through the Palantir, an effort on the part of the Dwarves to find an alternate location, where they could open a doorway in the west side of the Misty Mountains, had been referenced. There were a number of relatively unexplored tunnels that led to the north of where the old backdoor had been located, and they were in the process of trying to determine whether one of these might lead them close enough to the western face of the range to enable excavating through. Pippin suggested that, if they had succeeded, a journey to Moria would require crossing far less distance now than even a journey to the Gap of Rohan.

Neither of Sam's disappointed companions detected the slightest spark of interest in the possibility of such a journey. But they kept shoving mugs of ale into his hand as they continued their discussion late into the evening. Merry made a final comment about how the Dwarves were not really much taller than hobbits, and how it would be good to visit an old friend that did not tower over them. This, to his surprise, actually produced a chuckle from their host. Despite not having actually intended to do so, it was quite apparent that they had succeeded in seriously inebriating their friend. If not for the fact that he was obviously incapable of thinking about his recent loss coherently enough to be depressed about it, they might have felt badly. Instead, Pippin was grinning stupidly, winking at Merry, as they managed to be the last guests to leave. As the door of Sam's hobbit hole finally closed behind them, they turned to amble imprecisely in the direction of their respective homes.

Having not partaken in the veritable banquet, but having put all that ale into a nearly empty stomach, Sam was staggering badly by the time he finally dismissed his guests at the doorway. Finding his way back to the bedroom, which took much longer than usual, he collapsed in a heap on the bed. His head was swimming with alcohol, and his mind was filled with jumbled images of Gimli and the Dwarves, as he drifted off into a highly intoxicated sleep.

As he dreamt, the visions of the night began to take on a strangely precise focus. He felt as if he were actually standing among such bearded companions. They were in the process of trying to extend a passage that went to the left, which he somehow knew to be westward. It was Gimli that stepped back as he wiped the sweat from his brow and leaned his pickax against the side of the tunnel. The entire group noticed the hollow sound that the strike of the tool's handle produced as it smacked against the rock wall.

The Dwarves furiously attacked the rocky partition, collapsing it in only a matter of minutes. As the dust of their assault settled, an immense chamber was revealed before them. Sam seemed to automatically move with him as Gimli, with torch in hand, stepped through first. Waving his torch from side to side, it began to be apparent that they were not the first visitors to the horrifying hall. Shackles dangled from the walls, some of them complete with skeletal remains. Sam heard Gimli gasp as the Dwarf Lord suddenly realized the legendary location upon which he had chanced.

"Angband," Gimli whispered into the seemingly determined darkness before him. The very shadows appeared to cling like living things around the edges of his torchlight. Somehow bereft of the ability to order his own movements, Sam stood helplessly beside him, listening as the Dwarf Lord added a hushed warning to his companions. "We dare not stay long in here, lads," he said gruffly.

Sam was deeply relieved when the stocky figure of his friend finally began to retreat towards the gash, which they had made in the nightmarish chamber's back wall. But the other Dwarf, with whom Gimli had entered, was still swinging his torch back and forth, trying to identify the room's sinister contents. And his question stayed their backward progress.

"What is that thing?" he hissed.

There were a number of weapons and implements of torture strewn about the floor. But one large, dark object occupied its center. As both torches were held out in its direction, the combined light revealed that it, too, was a weapon; but it was immense. It looked to Sam like a war hammer, but it was far bigger than even the bludgeon with which the Cave Troll had attacked them when the Fellowship passed through Moria before. Gimli however seemed to know what they had found as he motioned for the other Dwarves to enter and retrieve it. The shadowed expression on the Dwarf Lord's face seemed to imply that it was a trophy of particular significance. But only a single word ushered from his lips as he helped his companions pull the huge artifact out of the chamber and down the passage.

"Grond," he said in an excited whisper.

Sam was left standing at the entrance, peering into the darkness from which the apparently legendary object had been removed. He seemed to be paralyzed. But it was not so much out of fear as it was from premonition. And although it cast no light through the darkness at the room's other end, he was certain that he began to hear the sound of flame moving in the background. It was with a start that he awakened.

He was drenched with sweat and trembling. The effects of the alcohol had been overridden by the adrenaline that was now coursing through his veins. He attempted to bolt out of the bed; but he fell to the floor, tangled in the bedclothes. As he rushed from his home and out into the night, he never even paused to consider how fortunate it was that he had fallen asleep fully dressed.

Several sustained minutes of pounding on Pippin's door produced no response, except from his neighbors. But when they recognized the offending party, they seemed to reconsider their outrage, disappearing again behind their doors and curtains. Sam considered how unseasonably warm the spring night was and wondered if he might find Pippin's bedroom window open. Luckily, he did.

Pippin was extremely difficult to rouse. And even after Sam managed to awaken him, Pippin was so groggy that he kept trying to nod back off. Each time Sam turned his attention away from him to light another of the household lamps; he would have to wake Pippin up all over again. He finally grabbed his host by the back of his pajama shirt, physically lifted him from the bed, and half carried him into the room with the Seeing Stone. The Keeper however seemed unable to either retain the information that was being shared with him or to understand what his unexpected guest was asking him to do. And Sam's fearful desperation was quickly turning into impatient anger.

As Sam was recounting the elements of his dream yet again, Pippin suddenly exclaimed, "Grond? That's what the Orcs called the battering ram that was used against the gate of Minas Tirith. But Gandalf told me it was a name borrowed from history. That's all I know. And I won't be able to contact anyone for you with the Palantir unless they're already on, which I doubt at this hour."

"Fine!" Sam concluded. "Just tell me how to work this thing and I'll do it myself."

Pippin stared at him blankly for a moment before candidly admitting, "But I don't know how to work it."

"What?" demanded Sam in confused disbelief. "What are you saying? I've seen you work it!"

"No, you haven't; not really," was Pippin's embarrassed reply. "You've seen me put my hands on it, announcing my presence. But if none of the other Keepers are already there, I just have to wait. I can't make it do anything else."

"But High King Elessar and High Queen Arwen can make theirs show them anything they want!" Sam objected. "I've seen them do it!"

"Don't you think I know that?" asked Pippin dejectedly. "I'm not really much of a Keeper. It's like having an unsharpened blade; it's really nothing more than a ceremonial possession. I can't do what you're asking. I don't know how."

"Pip, something is terribly wrong," Sam went on, unrelentingly. "And the Seeing Stone is the only tool we have that can show us what's happening. Does Merry know how to make it work?"

"I really don't think so," he sadly replied. But anxious not to remain the sole focus of Sam's impatient insistence, he suggested, "But maybe he'd have some idea of what we should do. I've always gone to him for advice."

Sam was momentarily tempted to reward that admission with ridicule, but he knew that there might be a slight chance of Merry having a worthwhile proposition. He could not afford to casually dismiss the possibility that the Esquire of Rohan, who had smote the Lord of the Ring Wraiths, could be of some assistance, even if Merry had not actually achieved the deed single-handedly.

Sam's growing sense of desperation insisted that he do something. Standing around and berating Pippin simply was not accomplishing anything. Determinedly dragging his bleary friend along with him out into the dimly lit wisps of the Shire morning, Samwise proceeded in the direction of the hobbit hole that belonged to Merry.

Merry actually answered the door, but seemed to peer at the pair before him for several long moments before recognition finally set in. Sighing with exasperation, Sam brusquely heaved the circular door aside, sweeping Pippin's stumbling form along with him, without even waiting to be invited in. In confusion, Merry elected to simply step out of the way.

Minutes later, Sam was repeating the events of his dream to his host for the third time while Merry fumbling made coffee. Pippin sat at the kitchen table with his head in his hands the whole time. Sam kept glancing at him to make sure he was still awake. And he appeared to be; unless, like Gandalf, he was able to sleep with his eyes open. His gaze did slowly drift towards the cup however as their host placed it if front of Pippin and then sat down at his side.

"If I really understand what it is you want," said Merry, pausing to blow across the steaming liquid in his own mug, "then I'm afraid Pippin is right. I know less about the Seeing Stone than he does. I'm sure I wouldn't be able to make it do anything that he can't. And I really don't think it's a matter of knowledge. I think King Elessar and Queen Arwen have some kind of innate ability that we, quite simply, do not."

"Then it's hopeless," Sam concluded despondently. "It would take a couple of months for us to get to them, at least. And we don't have that kind of time."

"We may not have a couple of months," Merry agreed. "But we have a couple of days at the very least, I should think. Isn't it a four-day journey from one side of Moria to the other? Shouldn't that give us enough time to do something?"

"But what?" Sam demanded. "What could we possibly do in that short a time?"

"Besides the royal couple," Merry replied, thinking out loud; "the only other person in Middle-earth whom I'm reasonably sure could work the Palantir actually lives only a few days away."

Pippin's interest seemed to be roused by the anticipated suggestion as he stopped his noisy sipping long enough to ask, "Do you mean?"

"Tom Bombadil," answered Merry, nodding.

"Of course!" Samwise boisterously agreed. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Because you're not an Esquire of Rohan or a Guard of the Citadel," Pippin replied teasingly, apparently now much more fully awake. "You just used to be a Ring Bearer."

"You're not really a Guard of the Citadel anymore either, Pip," said Merry as he elbowed his friend and nearly made him spill his coffee. "But you're supposed to be the Eyes of the King; if you can just keep them open, that is!"

"Yeah, and not crossed," Sam chimed in, reaching across the table and waving his finger in front of Pippin's nose.

"Well, I'm not going anywhere without breakfast," stated Pippin flatly. "You can't start a trip on an empty stomach."

"You drank as much as either one of us. How can you even feel your stomach, Pip?" asked Merry incredulously. He then paused, as if suddenly remembering something, and said, "Now hold on a moment. We might not even have to go anywhere. Pippin, you recall the words of his song, don't you?"

Sam nodded appreciatively when, after a second's pause, his friends began to sing,

"Ho! Tom Bombadil, Tom Bombadillo!

By water, wood and hill, by the reed and willow,

By fire, sun and moon, harken now and hear us!

Come, Tom Bombadil, for our need is near us!"

After the passage of several minutes, during which nothing happened, Merry finally suggested, "Perhaps we're just too far away, or maybe it will take him awhile to respond. The Barrow Downs are right next to the Old Forest, but Hobbiton is much further away. If he doesn't show up soon, I guess we had better plan on making the trip ourselves; or, perhaps we will meet him on the way."

"There's still a lot of food at my place and most of it would be easy to pack for the road too," said Samwise. "Merry, you should stay here just in case he shows up, while Pippin and I go and get our things together. We'll come back here and have a proper breakfast before we start out. But we should be sure to bring anything we might need. If something is as wrong as I fear, we may actually need to take that trip to Gondor. And if so, there probably won't be time to double back for anything we've left behind."

After hurriedly finishing their coffee, they briefly parted company. Sam and Pippin headed off in different directions. But the one-time Ring Bearer did not head immediately for his home. There was a more pressing matter to which he needed to attend.

The sun was just hugging the hazy horizon, sending forth beams of glistening gold over the startling shamrock of the Shire, as Sam arrived at the doorway of his eldest daughter's family. He could tell, by the lights through the windows and the whistle of the kettle, that she was already up and about. He knocked softly, trying not to wake the children for whom, he knew, she was busily fixing breakfast. Her golden hair suddenly betrayed her presence as she poked her head through a nearby window to identify the unexpected, early morning guest. She brightened visibly as she recognized her father. The fact that she rushed to the door was evidenced by how immediately it opened.

When he went to attend the marriage of Faramir and Eowyn, King Elessar and Queen Arwen had insisted that he visit them, however briefly, in Gondor. He had taken the opportunity to procure special gifts for every member of his family. It seemed like the least thing he could do to make up for the extended absence. The housecoat, which had eventually passed from Rosie to their eldest daughter, had actually been fashioned for a human child. But it gave the figure before him an almost Elven appearance as she stepped back to usher him into her dwelling. The light in her eyes added to the effect, as did the beatific smile on her face. In her adulthood, he had been stunned to realize that she often reminded him of the Lady of the Wood. And her uncanny ability to see what was on a person's mind also reminded Sam of that fabled figure, as it did now.

"You've come to tell me that you're leaving," said Elanor softly. "And you don't know if you'll be coming back. We've actually been expecting that it would come to this ever since Mom first got sick."

He had been trying to figure out what he was going to say to her, and had failed to come up with the right words; so, upon suddenly realizing that the moment had been long foreseen, he immediately choked up. She saw that his composure was slipping. And desperately wishing to foreshorten the uncomfortable situation since they had both just experienced a deeply personal loss, she simply leaned forward and embraced him. Her eyes were wet as she finally backed away. But she was still smiling.

"How did you know?" he brokenly asked her.

"Bilbo left. Frodo left. And your friends have barely been able to stay in the Shire," she gently replied. "I'd thought we might be able to keep you around for a few days, maybe even a couple of weeks. The fact that you're here so early tells me that this choice has been forced on you. There is something important you have to do. And it won't wait. My father is rushing off to save the world again."

He was shaking his head in disbelief at her intuitive ability as he finally said, "Yes, something like that. You'll tell everyone, won't you?"

Despite her best efforts, the tears began to fall as she smiled again and replied, "Of course, I already did."

"Of course you did," he laughingly agreed through the tears that overflowed his face. He paused to take her chin in his hand and kiss her on the forehead. Then he smiled, as reassuringly as he could, and hesitantly turned from the familiar comfort of her dwelling.

Somehow she must have mastered her emotions because, by the time he passed through the flowered gate and back out into the carefully tended lane, he could hear her clear voice wafting through the windows at the front of the hobbit hole.

"The road goes ever on and on," she beautifully sang, "down from the door, where it began. Now far ahead the road has gone, and I must follow if I can."

Frodo had left Bag End to Samwise; however, he had not lived there long. Instead, he let it pass back to a Baggins, one of Frodo's more distant relatives, and split the proceeds with Merry and Pippin. Between what they got from that sale, and the stipend they each received from the kings of Rohan and Gondor, the trio had been able to comfortably raise their respective families. And the offices in which they served had also supplemented their incomes.

Samwise had been Mayor for a grand total of seven times and had accordingly lived in Michelle Delving. At his request, the Thain, Peregrin Took, had also made Fastred, Elanor's husband, Warden of Westmarch. But as Rosie became increasingly unwell, and it also became harder for their few surviving friends to travel, Sam finally refused to run for reelection. Everyone, including the Thain and the Master of Buckland, moved to the more centralized location of Hobbiton, although it became necessary for all officiating to be conducted by courier. With the death of Rosie, Samwise knew Fastred and Elanor would soon return to Westmarch.

After collecting his things, he returned to Merry's. Pippin arrived shortly after he did. Tom Bombadil had not materialized in the interim. To Samwise, neither of his friends looked particularly prepared for the long journey ahead. He could only hope that a good breakfast would help them. While he prepared coffee, he had each of them recite to him the items they were bringing along. Pippin was of course bringing the Palantir. Along with other personal items and changes of clothes, he also had brought along his sword and uniform of office. Merry had laid out his battle attire, including the sword that he had been given as a replacement. His original blade had disintegrated when he used it to smite the Lord of the Ring Wraiths. But he had also brought along the hilt of that weapon, saying it was his good luck charm and he never went on a journey without it. Both of them wanted to change into their warrior garb before taking to the road. Sam told them that they would be able to do that while he repacked. Breakfast, not unexpectedly, turned into an extended affair.

While Merry and Pippin changed clothes, Sam prepared the provisions for the road. He also took the opportunity to repack his things. Into his pack he placed the Phial that Galadriel had given to Frodo. The Ring Bearer had borne the enchanted vessel into the West; of that, Samwise was certain. But one year to the day after Frodo was spirited away from Middle-earth, Samwise had felt compelled to return to the Grey Havens. Arriving at sunset, his attention had been immediately drawn to a strange light on the shore. The Phial was lying there in the sand with the tide washing up around it. There were no tracks. And as the waves began to overflow the Phial, it failed to float. He had no idea how it had arrived. But it was his first indication of unfinished business. Its light faded as he picked it up, and it had never shown since. But he believed it had been sent back to him for such an hour as this. With the Phial he also took Sting. Along with the Red Book, the record of their adventure, Frodo had passed the enchanted Elven blade into his keeping. It had been years since he had unsheathed it, but it still gleamed as he slipped it from its scabbard to examine it. He shook his head silently, reminiscing.

With Merry dressed as an Esquire of Rohan and Pippin dressed as a Guard of the Citadel, it made Sam, who was dressed in his usual traveling gear, look as if he were the friar of the group. Pippin jokingly asked him if he would say a blessing over their journey. He surprised the Keeper by complying.

Leaving Hobbiton, they set out along the Great East Road. Passing Bywater on the left, they made their way across the Brandywine Bridge. Buckland, of which Merry had been made the Master, was to their south. He deeply regretted that he had not recently visited his old digs, since it seemed uncertain if they would have an opportunity to return. He and Pippin, the Thain, were both counted as Counselors of the North Kingdom and had left papers indicating their abdication from those offices. Finally no longer the Mayor, Samwise was free of any such responsibility. There is some dissention as to the exact date of their departure, even the precise year.

(Since it was not necessary for Sam to abandon an office in order to undertake the expedition, and there was no paper trail to follow, some historians have apparently failed to place him in the company of his friends. I must ask the reader to be forgiving if aware of any alternate accounts. Since Elanor and her family almost immediately moved back to Westmarch, and Samwise had just lost Rosie, many hobbits erroneously assumed that the widower relocated with them. Tradition holds that he left Middle-earth in the same year that Rosie passed away, yet while his friends from the Fellowship were still in the Shire. This is as untrue as it is unlikely. The truth is that they all left the Shire in 1482. It simply took two years for the offices, which had been abandoned by Merry and Pippin, to finally be effectively filled. Exhaustive investigation has ultimately exposed the following, incontrovertible account. The manner in which the Red Book finally returned to Westmarch will be recounted later in this report.)

After they crossed the Bridge, they began moving along the northern edge of the Old Forest. On their first trip into those perilous woods, they had entered of necessity from approximately the middle backside, just east of Buckland. They had departed, with the assistance of Tom Bombadil, through the Barrow Downs, headed eastward. He had instructed them to come and go along that route whenever they wished to visit him, so their intention was to leave the road and turn southward once they reached the Barrow Downs. Traveling along the eastern edge of the Old forest, they would eventually reach the Withywindle. By following it, they knew they could find the house of Tom Bombadil.

Whether because of their diminutive stature or their peculiarly mixed garb, they received odd looks from some of the folk they met on the road once they had crossed the Brandywine Bridge. But they encountered no difficulties, and they finally reached the Downs just before the evening of the second day of their journey. They planned to camp under the shadow of the Old Forest and were hoping to reach their destination by the evening of the next day. To that end, they pushed southward until well after dusk before they finally made camp.

Upon waking, they elected to reach the headwaters of the Withywindle before breaking fast. It was a particularly sweet stream that, especially to Merry and Pippin, had a taste reminiscent of Entwash. By the time it was in sight however they realized that they could just espy a figure between two of the lower hills to the east. It looked, curiously, like Tom Bombadil.

Abandoning the cover of the forest's edge, they began to cautiously move in the direction of the faintly familiar form. And the closer they got, the more certain they became that it was in fact their old friend. Until they drew very near however they were mystified by both his presence and his industry. They were stunned to realize that he was putting the Downs to their ancient use, as the fresh mound of dirt before him clearly suggested. From the delicately hewn headstone, they suddenly understood that it was Goldberry's grave.

"Not you too," said Samwise involuntarily, shaking his head. Abruptly understanding why Tom had not responded, he added, "So this is why the song failed to summon you."

The figure suddenly spun around. It had been decades since Samwise had seen Bombadil, so he was even more amazed than Merry and Pippin by how little the man appeared to have aged. There was a strange light in his eyes. But whether it betrayed the passage of time, or simply the passage of his wife, the hobbits could not tell. He regarded the trio before him for several moments before he finally addressed them.

"My friends," he said softy. "It's a sad day that you've picked for a visit. I'm sorry that I'm not really prepared to receive guests today, as I'm sure you can see."

"I put Rosie to rest only a couple of days ago myself," said Samwise heavily. "This isn't just a social call, or I wouldn't even be here. And the timing is not of our choosing, but we don't intend to impose on you. If you can please just help us understand what we might have to do, then we'll be on our way."

"What you might have to do?" Bombadil echoed in confusion. "About what?"

Samwise quickly recounted the elements of his dream. He could see that the name of Angband had a profound effect on the countenance of their already troubled friend. When Samwise mentioned Grond, Bombadil actually winced. It was obvious that they had found someone who could provide insight into the vision, although it seemed equally apparent that it was going to be extremely bad news. Explaining how the limitations of the Keeper prevented them from investigating the matter themselves, Sam asked Pippin to produce the Palantir. The look of amazement and recognition, which swept across their friend's face, was a sight to behold.

"One of the lost Seeing Stones!" he exclaimed.

"Can you use this to find out what's happening in Moria?" asked Samwise.

Bombadil swept his gaze across the Downs before replying, "I'd rather not use this here. We should go back to my house. The Palantir is sensitive to its surroundings, and you should be allowed to rest from your journey. If you would please, pack that back up and follow me."

Following the bank of the Withywindle, Bombadil quickly led them out of the Barrow Downs and into the Old Forest. As sylvan as were the hobbits, even they had great difficulty keeping up with the fleetly fleeing figure. Despite the passage of time, Old Tom Bombadil still seemed to be as swift and spry as a mountain goat. But truthfully, the Halflings had wonderful fun making a game of trying to catch him.

Hurriedly stumbling through the open doorway and into the living room, they found Bombadil drawing the curtains. Perceiving that his guests had yet to break their fast, he encouraged them to do so. As they were producing the provender from their packs, he asked Pippin for the Palantir. The Keeper gladly surrendered the burden, which their host then placed on the large table near the room's center. The hobbits brought along their selected edibles and joined him.

Laying his arms along the tabletop, Bombadil held out his hands in the direction of the orb. It was only a moment before images began to form. They rushed by in such rapid succession that it was difficult for the hobbits to tell exactly what they were seeing. But then the view suddenly dove underground. They recognized the stone corridors of Moria. The rock passages seemed as if they were illuminated by the very energies that first had formed them. They swept by so quickly; it was like watching the view from some type of projectile.

Torchlight abruptly became visible in the quickly approaching distance. The shifting perspective of the magical view suddenly came to a halt as Bombadil caused it to hold its position. A large group of Dwarves, all bearing torches, went rushing by. From the viewpoint of the observers, they seemed to pass by on either side of the Palantir. A large object was slung between them, which they carried as they hurried by. Gimli was at the head of the column, and they were all breathing heavily from the exertion. They ran as if the devil himself were behind them.

For a moment, the view spun all the way around, revealing the retreating forms from behind. From this angle, it was clear that the object was the same war hammer that Sam had seen being extracted from the newly opened, horrific chamber. He understood that Bombadil had simply been confirming this. The view returned again to the direction from which the Dwarves had come, and then began racing down the passageway again. It was not long before some other form of firelight became visible, also rushing to meet their spectral perspective. This illumination however had a single source. And it was one the hobbits each recognized in horror.

"A Balrog!" Samwise exclaimed in terrified disbelief as Bombadil mercifully elected to let the dreadful image fade.

"But Gandalf killed the Balrog!" Pippin loudly objected. "How can there be another one?"

"And he is not just any Balrog," Bombadil gently informed him. "He is Nargurth, the lieutenant of Gothmog. His name in the Sindarin tongue means fire of death, or flaming death. Before being slain, during the fall of Gondolin, Gothmog was the Lord of the Balrogs. He and a very mighty Elf named Ecthelion, after whom the tower of Minas Tirith and the grandfather of Faramir are named, killed each other in combat. I'd hoped that his lieutenant had perished when the Valar destroyed Angband. This is the worst of possible developments."

"Who are the Valar? What was Angband?" demanded Samwise, shakily. "And what in the world is Grond?"

"Hurry and finish your breakfast; we need to return to the Downs," Tom Bombadil replied unexpectedly.

Pippin looked hesitantly back and forth between the food in his hand and the now darkened Seeing Stone, seeming to have unbelievably lost his appetite. But Merry was the one who raised the expected objection.

"But we've only just arrived!" he stammered. And then, emulating an expression of Gandalf the Grey, he quietly concluded, "The courtesy of your hall is somewhat lessened of late."

"There's something I must do, and it requires a large clearing," Bombadil explained. "Also, your questions deserve answers. But the trees of the Old Forest do not need to hear such a tale, and Barrow Wights already know it. Bring all of your things, we will not be returning here. There's no time for an explanation now; if we do not hurry, there may soon be no time left for anything."

Frightened and confused, the hobbits hurriedly repacked. While they did, Bombadil gathered his own personal effects. In a matter of minutes, they were racing back up the path by which they had just come. This time however Bombadil demonstrated an even greater speed than before, soon outdistancing them. When they finally reached the edge of the forest, by passing along the banks of the Withywindle, they discovered that he had already climbed one of the nearer hills out in the vast expanse of the Barrow Downs.

They soon realized that the considerable distance, which he had put between them, was actually for their benefit. If they had been standing close at hand, the volume of the screech, which suddenly erupted from the far-flung figure, would almost certainly have injured them. Baffled and concerned that the performance might be repeated, they remained at the forest's edge and waited. It seemed as if Tom Bombadil was awaiting a response.

Only moments later, his cry was echoed from somewhere up in the sky. Samwise had been unconscious when the Great Eagles rescued the Ring Bearers from the side of Mount Doom. He had never before set eyes on one of the Lords of the Air. Merry and Pippin had seen them in combat with the flying mounts of the Ring Wraiths when King Elessar led the armies of Gondor and Rohan to the Black Gate of Mordor. But many decades had passed by since they beheld one of these dreadnaughts of the sky gracing the heavens with its presence.

It seemed unthinkable that a mere mortal should be able to converse with such a seemingly supernatural creature. And yet, that is precisely what appeared to take place. In fact, it looked like Bombadil and the winged spectacle had a protracted discussion. At the end of it, the Great Eagle quickly mounted up into the heavens with a speed that defied belief. It cried out as it went, and its calls were answered. Others of its kind joined it as it speedily flew almost directly into the east.

The three hobbits rushed across the interposing distance, joining Bombadil as he arrived at the base of the hill. He seemed lost in thought; and he was not immediately forthcoming about the meaning of the meeting they had just witnessed. But initially the hobbits were too out of breath to formulate a question. As his faraway gaze finally came to rest upon them, his statement did not yield the explanation they sought.

"I may have bought us a little time," he said, "but the race is now on in earnest. We must go."

"Go where?" wheezed a bewildered Samwise. "What did you just do?"

"To Mordor," replied Bombadil heavily. "I have sent the Great Eagles to the east side of Moria. The Balrog has wings and can fly, but I've charged them with keeping it on the ground. So, there's at least a chance that we might get there before it does. So great is our need, I even considered having a few of them bear us directly there. But there just aren't many of them left, and I had to be sure their number was sufficient to keep the enemy grounded."

"Bilbo and Frodo used to say that Gandalf was a veritable fountain of information, if only they could figure out what he was talking about!" panted Samwise. "This must be what they meant! But I'm not a Baggins, and you're not Gandalf!"

"But you are a Ring Bearer and I am a Wizard," replied Old Tom Bombadil to the astonishment of the hobbits. "Five of us came from the West to help unify the races of Middle-earth against Sauron. In his youth in the West, the Wizard you call Gandalf was Olorin; but the people of Gondor know him as Mithrandir. Saruman was also known by different names. When I served as a member of the White Council, also consisting of Elrond and Galadriel, I was known as Radagast the Brown. I stayed here in Middle-earth when the others of my order, the Istari, returned into the West. I had married a mortal woman who would not have been able to accompany me: Goldberry. And I took a name that would help me to move among her kind."

Pippin was obviously too stunned to say anything, but Merry seemed almost outraged as he accusingly said, "In all the times Pip and I visited you, you never said any of this to us!"

"I'm sorry," Radagast softly responded. "It was not for lack of friendship. There was no need. Things have changed."

"I'm still trying to understand how much has changed and why," Sam interjected. "Why is the Balrog such a threat? Where did it come from? And why on earth are we going back to Mordor?"

"If I'm truly going to explain all of this to you, then I suppose I must start at the very beginning," he answered. He then paused. His voice took on a wistful tone, as if he were envisioning the things he described, as he continued, "In the beginning there was Eru, the One, also known by the Elves as Iluvatar. To you, He would be called God. He it was who created the Ainur, or the Powers, also known to the Elves as the Valar. They are mighty beings, able to take physical form at will, and they also possess great power. And He created the Maiar. They are much like the Valar, except their power is of a lesser degree, for the most part. The Istari, or Wizards, are of the Maiar. Eru presented all of them with a powerful theme, the music that began the Song of Creation. He invited them to join in.

"Many beautiful themes were introduced by the Valar. And the Maiar also helped. But as the Song progressed, the mightiest of the Valar, Melkor, began trying to take control of the Song. He introduced many dissonant and contrary themes. And in order to maintain his own composition in the face of the beautiful music he was attempting to subvert, his themes became repetitive and monotonous. Some of the Maiar joined in with him and his attempt to thwart the melodies that the other Valar were creating with Iluvatar. At length, the intrusion of Melkor abruptly came to an end. But some of the evil Maiar, which had joined in with him, continued to odiously echo its diabolically disruptive themes.

"Iluvatar then revealed Arda, the world, and showed them what they had all helped to create. And the Valar and the Maiar then entered into this creation to see how the themes all played out. The Valar founded Valinor in the West, the Blessed Realm. But Melkor departed from them into Middle-earth, along with all the evil Maiar that had joined with him. Taking shapes consistent with their temperament, most of these became the Balrogs of whom Gothmog and Nargurth may have been the mightiest. But there were two others who were the most powerful of all the fallen Maiar. The worst of these was a ravenous force called Ungoliant. And the other was Melkor's lieutenant, Sauron the Deceiver.

"Twice the Valar rallied against Melkor, destroying his fortress in the north of Middle-earth. The first time, they merely imprisoned him. Upon his release, he craftily feigned rehabilitation. The Queen of the Valar had created the Two Trees to light Valinor, for the sun and the moon had not yet been formed. And Middle-earth was illuminated only by starlight, which is why the Elves hold it in such high regard. For they, the firstborn of the Children of Iluvatar, had come into the world. And one of them, a mighty Elf named Feanor, managed to capture light from the Two Trees in Three Sacred Jewels, the Silmarils.

"With the help of the spider-like, darkness-spinning Ungoliant, Melkor attacked Valinor during festival, destroying the Two Trees, stealing the Silmarils, and then fleeing again into Middle-earth. The allocation of the life forces that became the sun and the moon was in response to this terrible loss. And all that was left of that original light was in the Silmarils. After that, Melkor was known to the Elves as Morgoth, the Great Enemy. They pursued him into Middle-earth, intent on regaining the lost Silmarils. They fought many wars with his forces; until at last the Valar were entreated to finally and utterly defeat the Great Enemy. Morgoth's dungeon-fortress in the north of Middle-earth was called Angband, and the Valar attacked it with such fury that the world was broken in the process and many lands fell beneath the sea.

"But Morgoth was a coward to the end. He could have issued forth to meet them in combat with his mighty weapon: Grond, the Hammer of the Underworld. But he retreated into the vast pits of his domain and attempted to elude them in his labyrinths. And although they rent the world in digging him out and expelling him, so focused was their intent on the objective that they failed to rid the world of the other evils that managed to remain hidden there. Many of the Orcs, which he'd made from the hapless Elves that wandered into his snares, managed to escape through those tunnels. Some of the Dragons, which he had also created, did likewise; as also, apparently, did a couple of Balrogs. And Sauron fled before the wrath of the Valar. Of him you know only too well."

"But I still don't understand why you think it's going to Mordor," Samwise interjected. "And I'm not sure I see why you can't meet this one in combat yourself, like Gandalf did."

"I am only Radagast the Brown; he was Gandalf the Grey," Bombadil replied. "I do not wield the same power. He was also armed with a mighty Elf sword, Glamdring. And he was aided in no small part by one of the Three Elf Rings, for he was the Keeper of Narya, the Ring of Fire. Despite all of this, he still perished as a result of that conflict. He was sent back by the Valar. Even if the High King were to loan me his sword, Anduril, I could not hope to best such a foe. I would be slain, and the Flame of the West would be swallowed up in the Flame of Udun. It would be folly."

"But why is it going to Mordor?" Sam asked insistently. "And what is the danger?"

"The Balrog is capable of entering the fiery chasm in Mount Doom, summoning the power of, and remaking the One Ring," Radagast finally admitted to his obviously horrified audience. "When we looked through the Palantir, I also saw his mind. If Nargurth can succeed in clothing himself with even a remnant of the evil force that was Sauron, he will become an unstoppable enemy."

"But if neither you nor King Elessar can stop him, and even the Great Eagles can do nothing but slow him down, isn't it hopeless?" Merry finally found the voice to ask.

"There is always hope," Radagast replied, sounding remarkably like another Wizard they all used to know.

"And what hope is there?" asked Samwise quietly.

"When the strength of Wizards and of Kings will not suffice with the available armament," he replied, "then it is time to fashion a better Weapon."

"And how, pray tell, do we do that?" Pippin inquired.

"By turning the craft of the enemy against him," answered Radagast. "All of the other Rings became dependent on the power of the One. When it was unmade, they were rendered useless. If it is restored, there may be an opportunity to use them in defense if they can all be refashioned according to our design. The only three Dwarf Rings, which are still in existence, were recovered from the ruins of the Dark Tower along with one of the lost Palantiri. The Crown and Ring of the Lord of the Ring Wraiths were recovered from the battlefield after his demise. They're now on display in the White Tower. High King Elessar uses them to remind himself of how easily Men can fall into shadow, and to be ever vigilant. But the other Rings of Men are all in Mordor between the Black Gate and Mount Doom, where they fell. They were not destroyed when Mount Doom erupted, as is commonly reported. That rumor was allowed to spread so as to discourage the undesirables who might have taken up residence in the Black Land in order to look for them. Those Rings must be retrieved. And Mordor is now riddled with pits and crevices into which some of them have fallen. Many are far too narrow to be entered by Men or even Dwarves. But the three of you should be small enough to accomplish this task. You are carrying the Phial that Galadriel gave to Frodo, Samwise?"

"Yes, I am," answered Sam. Remembering Elanor and her enigmatic insight, he rhetorically asked, "How'd you know?"

"Hey now! I know the rhyme! I thought there were Seven Rings for the Dwarf Lords!" interjected Pippin before Radagast could respond. "What happened to the others?"

"The Dragons greedily consumed them," Radagast thoughtfully replied, "a further example of one evil being used to destroy another."

"And what's the best way to get to Mordor from here?" asked Merry, considering the logistics of their situation. "Pippin and I have been to both Edoras and Gondor a couple of times, and we've always taken the South Road out of Bree through the Gap of Rohan. But is that our best option? It is a very long journey by foot."

"Speed is of the essence," answered Radagast. "I would recommend that we take the Great East Road all the way to the Misty Mountains and cross the High Pass above Rivendell. Once we make it to the River Anduin, we can travel by boat all the way to the outskirts of Mordor. And we should have safe passage and be able to make excellent time once we're on the river. I should also be able to purchase a cart and a couple of horses or ponies in Bree to help us cross the initial leg of our journey. But we should be going now."

As they turned to follow their newly revealed guide toward the Great East Road, Pippin said, "There are a few things from your story I'm not clear on. Was the Great Enemy, Morgoth, totally destroyed? And why weren't all of the other evils, which had either joined with or been created by him, destroyed as well?"

"Morgoth himself will never trouble the world again, Pippin," Radagast assured him. "He was cast through the Door of Night beyond the Walls of the World into the Timeless Void. As for those things that were allowed to remain, I cannot answer for the Valar. I do not pretend to comprehend all of their purposes; nor, perhaps, am I supposed to. But despite all the evil that befell before his destruction, the Istari, whom they sent, and with the aid of every race of Middle-earth, did finally accomplish Sauron's downfall. And I do not believe it to be merely a coincidence that one of us remained yet in Middle-earth to face this final threat from the One Ring. Except for the little bit of help I afforded your company before, I now perceive that I've yet to play my part as their emissary in this drama."

"And just when it was beginning to seem like there was nothing left in the world for us to care about," ventured Samwise.

Radagast actually paused in his determined, steadfast amble just long enough to turn to the one-time Ring Bearer, in sober agreement, saying, "Precisely."

"I'm afraid there's also something I don't understand," said Samwise as the group continued its trek across the Barrow Downs. "I was there at the Council of Elrond, when Frodo volunteered to take the Ring to Mordor. There was some discussion concerning you. You are apparently one of the oldest beings in existence. And a number of different names were mentioned as belonging to you. But none of those names were Radagast. I didn't understand your apparent association with the power of the earth, nor did I get the feeling that Gandalf held you in particularly high esteem. I know we have a history that goes back a long way, and you certainly saved our lives before. But if you expect us to trust you in all of this, I think we deserve a full disclosure."

"Well said, Master Gamgee. And you shall have it, though it pains me think upon my current circumstances and the history that has placed me within them," Radagast slowly replied. "The Valar and the Maiar are the oldest living beings in the world, for we existed before the earth was made. And those Maiar who became the Istari did not all come into Middle-earth at the same time. I have been here since the very earliest Elder days, long before the others came over, which makes me a special mystery to the Elves. It was for love of Goldberry that I surrendered my place on the White Council. And I was deceived into believing that I did so with the blessing of the head of our order, Saruman the White.

"The forms, which we wear, represent our earthly power. The power, which we wield from Above, tends to go with us in an externalized form. And I had surrendered my Staff. I didn't just change my name in order to be with my beloved; in a very fundamental way, I actually changed my identity. And Lord Elrond didn't know I had changed my name from Radagast to Bombadil; for, unlike the other names you may have heard, this one I authored myself. I'm afraid Gandalf didn't understand my love for a mortal woman or the deception that had enabled our marriage. Between Saruman of Many Colors and the Shadow of the Deceiver, I fear he was convinced, at least at the time, that I had simply abandoned the Task. And I think this same attitude also rules the mind of High King Elessar. But I will have to deal with that in due course. And in order to make sure that you understand the narrow escape, which this diminishment enabled; it was for lack of the Power of my Staff that I was immune to the wiles of the One Ring."

On a number of occasions, Merry and Pippin had traveled to Bree, spent the night, and then stopped at the house of Tom Bombadil on the way back to the Shire. But not since their fearsome flight through the Old Forest, being hunted by Ring Wraiths, had they made the journey out of the woods and eastwards across the Barrow Downs. They were all, Samwise included, forcefully reminded of that first, fateful adventure. But the sun was shining brightly in the mid-afternoon sky. And with Radagast in the lead, the dreadful Downs seemed not to be all that imposing. They soon found themselves of the Great East Road again, without incident.

Having eaten a late breakfast, they did not stop again for a meal until late afternoon. Pippin was not at all happy about having to wait, but Radagast promised to buy him a large dinner in town to help make up for it. They arrived at Bree just before nightfall. It felt quite strange to the three hobbits to be dining at the Prancing Pony again, although the innkeeper immediately recognized Merry and Pippin from their previous visits and treated them like valued, regular customers. Their familiarity with the owner allowed Radagast to make some inquiries regarding the availability of the form of transportation that he was hoping to purchase. As it turned out, the innkeeper also owned the stables, situated behind the main facility, and was able to economically fill the Wizard's order.

Knowing that it could be a very long while indeed before they would enjoy sleeping in beds again, the hobbits wisely chose to turn in early. Upon rising, they consumed a tremendous breakfast. It was a wide-eyed cook and his assistant who piled the orders before the anxious customers. And while the hobbits enjoyed a process to which they refer as filling up the corners, Radagast paid for their transportation and the additional supplies, which they would now be able to carry on their cart. As everyone was climbing aboard, he introduced them to their draft ponies, Barley and Sugarloaf. He laughingly said that, since their names so clearly referred to food, their original owners must have been hobbits. Pippin was particularly amused by this joke.

During their trip to the house of Tom Bombadil, the hobbits had stopped frequently. This had been done so that Pippin could use the Palantir to see if any of the other Keepers were available. At the time, they had been desperate to determine what was happening in Moria. Now that they had a cart, which facilitated such an arrangement, Radagast insisted that, as much as possible, Pippin stay in contact with the Palantir at all times. It was absolutely imperative that they give warning of the approaching menace, especially to the people of Gondor. Radagast also fully expected that Gimli would use his Seeing Stone as soon as he and his group were out of the mines and not fleeing directly before the danger. And the Wizard desperately needed to give the Dwarves counsel concerning their next course of action.

None of the hobbits had ever taken the road east out of Bree. Only their first journey had led in that direction. And Aragorn, trying to outmaneuver the Ring Wraiths, had led them through the wilderness. That had been an extremely arduous and desperate flight. And everyone, except for the Ring Bearer after he was injured on Weathertop, had been forced to accomplish it entirely on foot. Being whisked along the road in a drawn wagon made the members of that original Fellowship feel more like tourists on holiday instead of the pursued vagabonds they had felt like before. They knew their mission was equally desperate, but traveling over the open road as full-fledged emissaries of the kingdom made the experience altogether different. Only their driver seemed to be visibly anxious about the journey. It was as if they could actually see the face of Radagast aging before their eyes.

Having unsuccessfully attempted to cross the Misty Mountains once before, none of the hobbits were particularly thrilled at facing the prospect again. However, they were all very excited about Rivendell lying along their proposed route. The Elves had left Middle-earth many long years before. But High King Elessar and High Queen Arwen had sent a contingent of the King's Guard and their families to live in the abandoned village. They were charged with maintaining it and protecting it from any vandals. And even if none of them actually recognized Pippin, they would most certainly give due honor to the uniform that he wore; so, they knew their group would be treated as royal guests, literally. And getting to spend the night in the lingering magic of the place, even if the Elves had long since departed, was something to be highly anticipated.

They made such excellent time that by evening they had almost put Chetwood, on the left, behind them. They could just begin to descry the place where Midgewater began stretching out along the north side of the road. To their far right, they could also make out the distant South Downs, but just barely. Weathertop was still too far to the east to be seen. Radagast told them it was still at least a couple of days away, even as quickly as they were traveling. He added that, in the following mornings, they might see it as the rising sun silhouetted it. And each of the three secretly hoped to only see that location by sunlight anyway.

Radagast also told the hobbits that Gimli and his group should finally escape from Moria by the following morning. He was increasingly concerned by the fact that none of the other Keepers had consulted their Seeing Stones. It seemed unlikely to him that no one else had experienced any disturbing dreams, especially High King Elessar and High Queen Arwen. The fact that Pippin's Palantir had remained quiet all day was obviously distressing to him. He was clearly desperate to contact the fleeing Dwarves and advise them regarding their next immediate course of action. His unease should probably have been contagious. But despite having ridden in the cart all day, except for brief breaks, the hobbits surprisingly had no trouble going to sleep, nor did they have any disturbing dreams.

When they awoke, Pippin suggested an extended breakfast before taking again to the road. He said Gimli could use the Palantir at any minute, and it would be difficult for him to feed himself in the cart while trying to stay in contact with it. But Radagast insisted that they load up and eat their breakfast on the road. The fact that it was still early spring was made quite evident by the morning chill, and Pippin had also been hoping to start the day with a hot meal. Muttering his disappointment, he reluctantly climbed aboard.

Despite the how early in the year it was, the smell of Midgewater caused them to take only a short breakfast. Thoroughly disgusted at the development, and complaining about how cold it had turned, Pippin covered up with several blankets and consequently went back to sleep. The deep voice, suddenly issuing from within the coverings, startled him even more than it did the other occupants of the wagon. Reflexively pulling back the scarf, which he had used to wrap his hand to the Palantir, he saw the haggard face from which it had issued. So bedraggled in fact was the visage in the Seeing Stone that it took him a moment to recognize it as belonging to Gimli.