Chapter 10 Rescue Party


Samwise found the two Elves were still sat in the two comfortable armchairs in which he had left them the previous night. He was less than certain he was happy with the situation, elves were, in his experience gaye folk and these two were particularly sombre almost surly and impatient. Silently he prepared tea and breakfast bringing the plates and tray to the table then invited his guests to join him for breakfast.

Politely they refused, but watched him as he prepared toast.

"Sure you won't join me?" He asked. "It's not the fancy fare you Elves provide. But. Well no Hobbit likes to eat alone?"

The Elves finally submitted and joined him in a slices of toast and tea, until he was satisifed and led them back into the parlour.

"Been thinking," he admitted. "Is there a reason why we can't send news to the King? He can have real soldiers here in three months."

"These are the Hobbit Homelands," Malindron pointed out quietly. "Won't they defend their land?"

Sam thought for a moment and shook his head sadly. "They would try," he admitted. "But only when their part of the Shire is threatened. In that case I suppose we ought to see the Thain. Old Master Peregrin, he created a Militia to protect Tookland and the Shire after his adventures. Perhaps he can lend you some. Shouldn't take more'n a few days?"

"That is too much time," Othmeil decreed stonily. "We need to return to Evendum. If we are not to late."

"Perhaps you could send word?" Malindron suggested. "We can meet them at the head of the road into the hills. Where the valley divides?"

"And you expect me to come with you?" Sam asked.

"Gandalf the White spoke highly of you," Malindron coaxed. "They said 'if there was ever a sturdy Hobbit with a head on his shoulders it was Samwise Gamgee'."

"And it is displaying it. By wanting to keep feet separating it from the floor!" Sam snapped. He relented a little at their expectant faces. "Aye. Well 'appen all I'll get today is old Will Whitlow, an' it has been quiet without the young uns. Appen I can come as far as Evendum with you. Least I can tell Master Perrigrin where you went."

He wrote the note, carefully and left it on the dining table. Rose would find it when she came to 'do for him'. He hoped, as he selected a stout walking stick from the rack, it would find its way to Tookborough quickly.

The path was easier than he had imagined. The late summer sun was warming and the grass over which they walked was soft and springy and for a while he forgot his age and started to hum the old walking song that Frodo had used to sing when they had wandered the Shire. It was easy to ignore the swifter progress of the two elves as they shuttled ahead and back, keeping him on the right track. They were always tireless and quick. He remembered that clearly.

But after a few hours progress did start to slow. Finally he sank slowly to the floor.

"It's no good," he complained. "Old Hobbit legs don't carry as far as young uns and not as far as Elves, especially when it is before a proper breakfast. I need to rest!"

"Time is limited, Master Gamgee!" Othmeil disputed impatiently. "And it is a war your people cannot win that we are attempting to prevent."

"If it's all so pressing then you go on and deal with it! I'll wait here!" Sam snapped. He was starting to take a decided dislike to the elf. Nearly as much as she seemed to dislike his presence.

"Othmeil is correct. The need to hurry is great, for everybody's sake," Malindron eased softly, handing a water skin to Sam. "We do not know when or if the Dwarves will break the seal. But we forget that age befalls others. We can rest a short period."

"What is in this?" Sam asked in wide eyed surprise after taking a draft of the sweet fluid and finding the tiredness in his limbs lifting.

"It is a simple drink," Malindron assured him. "You are able to walk on?"

Sam rose and tested his legs. "Feel as fresh as when we started," he agreed.

"What do I do if there is any fighting?" he asked curiously as they started off again.

"We hope there will be no fighting, Master Gamgee," Malindron assured him with a wan smile. "I do not think the dwarves will be violent."

From the pouch at his waist he drew a small phial which he pressed into Sam's hand. "This will give you some protection, better than swords and bows," he offered.

With care, Sam examined the item that had been placed in his hand. It was a small phial, barely 4" in length and 1" in diameter it pulsed dully in the morning light.

"What is safer than the Lady's light in a dark place?" Malindron asked. "Keep it safe."

Taking the recommendation, Sam tucked it deep into his jacket. "Well suppose we'd better get on with it then." Gamely he lengthened his stride a little to attempt to keep Othmiel insight.