I used some of my practically-nonexistent savings to buy myself a horse
that had seen better days and took off for the Shire again. There was
something that had been nagging me ever since I'd overheard the
conversation with Gandalf. I needed to see the inside of Bag End.
This visit to Hobbiton was completely different from my first one. I left my horse tethered in the woods outside town and snuck in late one night, avoiding the night watchmen.
Bag End was quiet as a grave when I got there, and even less inhabited. I picked the lock and welcomed myself in before I so much as lit my lantern. After I satisfied myself that there really wasn't anyone there, I took my time exploring things.
As far as I could tell, nothing had changed from when Frodo had left. There were still empty drawers hanging open and cold tea in half-empty mugs on the kitchen table. I was in and out of every room that night, and if someone was hiding a dragon's hoard, they managed to hide it from me.
One thing did bring me up short: Bilbo's study. It was a mess. Not the kind of mess you get from someone ransacking the place; the kind of mess that came from someone working very hard on something and not paying attention to the amount of paper on the floor. There were bits and pieces of a manuscript, probably the book I'd heard about, a few miniatures of the Baggins family, including one of Bilbo, and there were maps. Mirkwood, the Misty Mountains, the Shire, and Rivendell, all of them with notes written in somebody's spidery handwriting.
I took the miniature of Bilbo and the map with a route to Rivendell marked on it and left with most of my questions still unanswered. If the Sackville-Bagginses hadn't claimed Bag End already, that meant they didn't realize how long Frodo would probably be gone. My guess was that he left a message, maybe with Sam's family, that he'd be back soon. That meant that they couldn't be working with Gandalf to get Frodo out of the house, but I'd already discarded that theory. Whatever was happening was bigger than just a property dispute.
I set out for Rivendell the next morning, sticking to the main roads. I had my trusty sword tucked under my cloak just in case I ran into trouble on the road, but no one I met offered me any. All of 'em seemed wrapped up in what they were doing, just like me.
My luck held for a little over a month. The road was getting rougher, and the weather was getting unfriendlier, but that wasn't what finally drove me off the main roads and almost made me re-think going to Rivendell.
That happened the night I was awakened by the same, Morgoth-damned screams I'd heard in Bree. Not much scares a man like me. I've seen it all and heard it all in half of Middle-earth, I've fought orcs and wargs, I got married three times, I've been on the bad end of too many grudges held by too many men to count, but those Black Riders just about made me piss myself. I didn't sleep the rest of the night, and come morning, all I wanted to do was saddle my horse and gallop the other way.
By now, though, I was more than halfway to Rivendell. I figured the elves wouldn't take any more kindly to those things than I did, and elves have their ways of keeping things they don't like out of their territory. I checked my map and left the road, figuring I could save time going cross- country.
Stupid decision, even for me. My horse refused to go through the Midgewater Marshes, which meant I had to go around for a few miles, getting eaten by bugs the whole time. I wondered if the hobbits had come this way, and if so, if the mosquitoes hadn't up and carried off a few of 'em. By the time I hit the Fords of Beruin, my horse was almost as disgusted with me as I was. I've done dumb things in my life, but this had to beat all.
That's probably what the first elf to catch me was thinking, too. I'd barely stepped out of the river when I found an arrow pointed right at my face.
"Hold there, stranger," said the elf, a dark-haired fellow who reminded me of my first wife, right down to the disapproving glare he gave me. "What is your business in Imladris?"
Time to try my bluff and see how it flew. "I've got a message for Bilbo Baggins from his relatives. I understand he's staying here?"
"He is," said the elf. He lowered his bow. "Dismount, and come with me."
This was it. I was finally going to meet the guy who started all this. I just hoped he could answer my questions.
Next time: Bilbo Baggins, Hobbit at Large!
This visit to Hobbiton was completely different from my first one. I left my horse tethered in the woods outside town and snuck in late one night, avoiding the night watchmen.
Bag End was quiet as a grave when I got there, and even less inhabited. I picked the lock and welcomed myself in before I so much as lit my lantern. After I satisfied myself that there really wasn't anyone there, I took my time exploring things.
As far as I could tell, nothing had changed from when Frodo had left. There were still empty drawers hanging open and cold tea in half-empty mugs on the kitchen table. I was in and out of every room that night, and if someone was hiding a dragon's hoard, they managed to hide it from me.
One thing did bring me up short: Bilbo's study. It was a mess. Not the kind of mess you get from someone ransacking the place; the kind of mess that came from someone working very hard on something and not paying attention to the amount of paper on the floor. There were bits and pieces of a manuscript, probably the book I'd heard about, a few miniatures of the Baggins family, including one of Bilbo, and there were maps. Mirkwood, the Misty Mountains, the Shire, and Rivendell, all of them with notes written in somebody's spidery handwriting.
I took the miniature of Bilbo and the map with a route to Rivendell marked on it and left with most of my questions still unanswered. If the Sackville-Bagginses hadn't claimed Bag End already, that meant they didn't realize how long Frodo would probably be gone. My guess was that he left a message, maybe with Sam's family, that he'd be back soon. That meant that they couldn't be working with Gandalf to get Frodo out of the house, but I'd already discarded that theory. Whatever was happening was bigger than just a property dispute.
I set out for Rivendell the next morning, sticking to the main roads. I had my trusty sword tucked under my cloak just in case I ran into trouble on the road, but no one I met offered me any. All of 'em seemed wrapped up in what they were doing, just like me.
My luck held for a little over a month. The road was getting rougher, and the weather was getting unfriendlier, but that wasn't what finally drove me off the main roads and almost made me re-think going to Rivendell.
That happened the night I was awakened by the same, Morgoth-damned screams I'd heard in Bree. Not much scares a man like me. I've seen it all and heard it all in half of Middle-earth, I've fought orcs and wargs, I got married three times, I've been on the bad end of too many grudges held by too many men to count, but those Black Riders just about made me piss myself. I didn't sleep the rest of the night, and come morning, all I wanted to do was saddle my horse and gallop the other way.
By now, though, I was more than halfway to Rivendell. I figured the elves wouldn't take any more kindly to those things than I did, and elves have their ways of keeping things they don't like out of their territory. I checked my map and left the road, figuring I could save time going cross- country.
Stupid decision, even for me. My horse refused to go through the Midgewater Marshes, which meant I had to go around for a few miles, getting eaten by bugs the whole time. I wondered if the hobbits had come this way, and if so, if the mosquitoes hadn't up and carried off a few of 'em. By the time I hit the Fords of Beruin, my horse was almost as disgusted with me as I was. I've done dumb things in my life, but this had to beat all.
That's probably what the first elf to catch me was thinking, too. I'd barely stepped out of the river when I found an arrow pointed right at my face.
"Hold there, stranger," said the elf, a dark-haired fellow who reminded me of my first wife, right down to the disapproving glare he gave me. "What is your business in Imladris?"
Time to try my bluff and see how it flew. "I've got a message for Bilbo Baggins from his relatives. I understand he's staying here?"
"He is," said the elf. He lowered his bow. "Dismount, and come with me."
This was it. I was finally going to meet the guy who started all this. I just hoped he could answer my questions.
Next time: Bilbo Baggins, Hobbit at Large!