Farrimer returned to Bag End a week later. "I stabled four ponies in the old guard house on the Bywater road. They'll be safe for the night there. Is everything else ready?"
"Aye. We got almost everything and Rose has made a good pack," Bilbo greeted him happily. "We can start soon after breakast. Tom's just bedding stuff in the garden."
It came as a sharp reminder to Farrimer Took that the Gamgee household were, inspite of their inherited wealth and history, still a family of gardeners at heart. It was a heart that was maintained by the Gaffer with some firmness with his occasionally rebellious sons. "Tom still worried about going?" He asked.
"Tom's always worried," Bilbo declared cheerfully. "He'll be grand once we're on the road. Now if you're ready, there be a bath an' such ready. It could be the last chance for a while. An' the last of a proper bed.
Dinner was a quiet but not sombre affair, as Hobbit meals often are, the discussion ranging far and wide, except their journey. After which they sat in deep stuffed armchairs, smoking their pipes in contented peace.
"You don't want to go looking for no trouble," Samwise suddenly broke out. "Dwarves is all right, just don't provoke them."
The others looked on the elderly Hobbit in surprise and he nodded in contentment.
"My ears ain't strangers, as my old Gaffer used to say," he continued, "and I still see plenty. Getting Mr Frodo's things from Micheal Delving, then there has been your little discussions. Still I ain't going to try and stop you. I did my travelling with Mr Frodo. No sense in doing more." With that he nodded off to sleep.
Farrimer Took was woken by the repeated thumping on the door. "Come on, sleepy head!" Bilbo called gaily. "Or we'll have eaten your breakfast as well!"
"Just you wait!" Farrimer retorted, levering himself from a cosey bed.
A glance from the porthole window showed the dawn starting to break in a sea of gold and red over the hills to the East. In the garden he could see the Marigolds nodding gently, their heads heavy with dew. It promised a fine and sunny day with just enough breeze to stop things overheating. In short the ideal travelling weather
It was therefore with rather more enthusiasm he emerged for breakfast.
From his bedroom window Samwise Gamgee watched the three budding explorers leave Bag End with mixed feelings. Whilst their departure was far from hurried, certainly compared to Mister Frodo's all those years ago. He could not shake the feeling that things were going to be less than easy. Still it was their turn and he did not begrudge them the chance of adventure, or that it may not be as dangerous on the surface as his own flight.
The four ponies, three bays and a pie, Farrimer had brought with him from Tookland were classic Hobbit mounts. Short in the leg and broad in body. Sturdy mounts for the less adventurous, that could travel far, if slowly. And were quickly saddled and packed.
"Just one problem. Tom's never been on a horse afor!" Bilbo laughed at his far from secure brother as he sat upon a sturdy bay.
"Bonny is a steady pony," Farrimer grinned, securing the last of their packs to Green Leaf. "Nobody has ever fallen from her."
"Still I suppose there is always a first time," he added, taking at look at the decidedly green looking Hobbit. "We aren't looking to race, so if you just get the hang of sitting still, you'll be fine!"
Moving about the last thing on Tom's mind, unless it was to get off. His seat felt decidedly loose as his steed shifted its weight. Given a free choice he would much have preferred to walk, though he had not relished the idea of carrying the packs either.
Once he had got the idea that his mount was as docile as he had been told and was not going to launch itself at the world with unexpected glee, he settled to become nothing more than a passenger and enjoy the scenery as it wobbled past. It was at this point he fell off, much to the glee of his fellow travellers.
"Can't you see it's time for elevenses," he grumbled, glowing in embarrassment.
"We've only been going an hour," Farrimer laughed.
Still the idea had appeal and they settled on the grassy verge for a comfortable snack from the bottled beer, bread and jams, before they dozed.
By the time they awoke again it was too close to lunch to set off, so by unanimous agreement they settled for an early one. Breaking out more bread and potted meats.
"How long will it take?" Bilbo queried settling back as he finished his fill.
"At this rate, a month," Farrimer grumbled. "I reckon it's about forty leagues to the foothills. We've done one. And we will have to cross the moor after the Turkey Turnpike. There are supposed to be paths, but I don't know them."
"Suppose we ought to get going then?" Tom grumbled, still less than enthusiastic about remounting, but determined to finish what had been started. "Or it'll be time for tea before we've done another. 'Sides we can stay in the Bay and Horse for the night, if we get that far. Do a grand ale, so young Butterblow say."
Another well received idea. Whilst the day bode well for an equally pleasant evening and night, Hobbits always preferred a cosy bed. If nothing else it also meant an easy morning and relaxed breakfast.
