When Strider roused the hobbits the next morning, the sun was just beginning to rise. They had also rested very little the previous night. Fear of the black riders had made sure of that, and there was much yawning and rubbing of eyes as the hobbits got dressed. On their way downstairs, they passed their room and, when they saw the state it was in, they were glad they had listened to Strider. It looked as if it had been the site of some drunken quarrel that got horribly out of control. The beds were overturned, the pillows were slashed upon the floor, their feathers scattered everywhere like confetti, and the windows were open and swinging in the wind.
While Bridie prepared a light breakfast for the hobbits, Strider went out into the village with Barliman in search of a pony to carry their luggage. The only one they could find that was for sale was a scrawny, underfed animal whose owner wanted twelve silver pennies for it, which was at least twice its worth. Barliman paid for the pony himself, although it was a sore blow for him. After the hobbits had eaten, he and Bridie helped them to pack and gather further supplies for their journey. Barliman wished them good luck and safe travels, casting wary looks at Strider all the while.
"You know your own business, maybe," he said to the hobbits, "but, if I were you, I wouldn't take up with a ranger."
"Then who would you take up with?" asked Strider. "A fat innkeeper who remembers nothing except his name because it is shouted at him all day?"
If looks could kill, Bridie's indignant face would have struck the ranger dead then and there. She opened her mouth to chide him, but Barliman stopped her, laying a hand on her shoulder.
"Sir, I'll thank you to watch your tongue in front of my daughter." His tone was even but there was a warning look in his eyes.
"My apologies," said Strider with a curt nod to Bridie. "The fact is they cannot stay here forever, especially after what happened last night. But take heart, Mister Butterbur; though the days are darkening, for the present you may be left in peace when you have got rid of us."
The hobbits now began preparing to leave. The pony – whose name was Bill – was laden with as much of their luggage as they had the heart to give him, but he already looked less dejected, as if he approved of his change in his fortunes. As Bridie helped the hobbits load their bags onto the pony's back, she gave him a pitying look. She dreaded to think what he had been through to look so wretched and her heart went out to the poor animal.
"You'll look after him, won't you?" she asked Strider, running her hand through the pony's mane.
Strider smiled. "I can assure you, he will be in good hands, as will the hobbits. They are going to the safest place in Middle Earth."
"Oh. Where's that?"
"To Rivendell, the house of Lord Elrond."
Bride's heart skipped a beat. Rivendell? Didn't Gandalf mention something about that place? She pondered. Words from her last conversation with the wizard rang in her ears. "...That was one of the greatest deeds he ever did, when he took your mother to Rivendell and raised her as his own". If what Gandalf had said was true and Rivendell was indeed where her mother had been raised, surely someone there must remember her. Bertha had never told Bridie of her childhood, but perhaps there was someone in Rivendell who could tell her and, perhaps, much else. This thought continued to circle around in her head like a caged bird as she watched the small company depart, and even as she climbed the stairs to her bedroom. From her window she could see the hobbits, Bill, and Strider hurrying through the village.
A tiny voice in the back of Bridie's head whispered to her. "This is your chance. It is not too late to catch them." The girl hesitated for a moment, chewing her lower lip. Then she made her decision.
Grabbing a bag from her wardrobe, she filled it with spare clothes and other essentials, then pulled on her cloak and boots. Then, from under her bed, she pulled out the box containing her bow an quiver and strapped them both to her back. Creeping back downstairs with the bag on her shoulder, she cringed at every squeak the floorboards made, fearful that Barliman would hear. She stood in the common room, her back to the door, and surveyed the place that she had called home for her whole life. It was anybody's guess when (and if) she would see it again. She knew this could very well be something she would end up regretting, but she eased the door open and slipped outside.
The travelling party were only just out of the village when Bridie found them. Sam brought up the rear, leading the pony, while Strider led the way towards the South Gate which would take them out of Bree and into the woods beyond. Bridie quickened her pace, eager to catch up before they reached the forest and she lost sight of them, along with her one hope of reaching Rivendell.
"Wait!" she called out to them. "Please, wait!"
The sound of Bridie's voice brought the group to an abrupt standstill. They all turned around in unison and were surprised to see her sprinting towards them.
"Miss Butterbur!" Sam exclaimed as she came to a stop before them, panting.
"What are you doing outside of the village?" Strider demanded. "Does Barliman know you're out here?"
"Did we forget something?" asked Pippin.
Bridie took a moment to compose herself, then declared "I want to go to Rivendell."
Strider's eyes widened a little, then he shook his head. "No, Bridie. I cannot allow that. This journey will be dangerous, and your father would have my head for a vase if something happened to you. I am sorry but you cannot come."
"Why do you want to, anyway?" Pippin asked, gazing at Bridie curiously.
There was no other excuse Bridie could conjure at that moment, nor any way she could think of to sugar-coat her true intention, so she explained, bluntly but hesitantly.
"I know that my mother was raised in Rivendell and that…that Barliman is not my real father". (Gasps from the hobbits at this). "I thought that perhaps…perhaps in Rivendell I might be able to…well, possibly learn more about her and maybe even…find out who my father is."
As she said the last of these words, she could not help thinking herself foolish for having entertained such an idea, though she could not explain why.
The hobbits all stared up at her, eyes wide and mouths agape at the revelation. Strider simply shook his head again. "Bridie, you do not know what you are asking. Though I now understand you better, it will not make the journey any safer if you join us. I would not have you endure the hardships of life in the wild. You should not have left the inn after last night's attack. I beg you to return while you still can."
Bridie sighed and hung her head. She had suspected that Strider would say something of the kind. But she would not be discouraged so easily.
"Sir," she replied, looking him in the eye, "I'm no fool. I know journeys in the wild are not all fun and games, or Gandalf's stories are only a mad man's prattling. But, please, give me a chance. I can shoot a bow and arrow, so you've seen, and I know a little about healing. I'll admit, I know nothing about hunting and surviving in the wild, but I'm willing to learn if you'll teach me. Please sir, let me come. You're the only person in all of Bree who knows the way to Rivendell, and if I don't go now, I may never have another chance."
She stepped closer to the ranger, a beseeching look etched onto her young face. She had nothing except her words and she prayed they would be enough to convince him. The hobbits merely stood by, watching the exchange anxiously, their gaze switching from the girl to the ranger, and back. Strider stared long and hard at Bridie, and it seemed to his companions that something in him changed. They were unsure what, but it seemed that something in him softened, like a frost yielding to the first warmth of spring. Strider had seen that look before many years ago on a young woman, not much older than Bridie. The look of an orphan child, grieving yet steadfast, and determined to make her own way. In Bridie, he saw a reflection of the girl's mother.
Finally, Strider sighed. "Very well. But I warn you, this journey will not be an easy one, and until we reach Rivendell, I cannot guarantee your safety."
As ominous as Strider's warning sounded, Bridie refused to be deterred. She promised she would give them no trouble and assist them in any way she could. And so the six travellers turned away from the village, leaving the last sign of civilisation behind them as they departed Bree, into the wild.