Walk On

Part 7: Survival

Note: I have officially concluded that this story will be seventeen chapters long, so you have plenty of "Walk On" to enjoy yet. :) And to whoever commented (sorry, can't remember the name): There will be no custody battle between Griffo and Bilbo. But there is still plenty of Frodo-angst left. So, I shall leave you with that to ponder…on with the story! :D

Frodo stayed in the log for several hours. He was too afraid to even move. He could scarcely believe that he had escaped from Griffo. It hardly seemed real.

Finally, when dawn was creeping over the forest, Frodo knew that he had to rise. Griffo would be looking for him with all his power, and in the light of day he would catch him where he lie. He would have to hurry, since he needed to get as far away from the Boffins's home as he possibly could.

He crawled out of the log, the bruises and scrapes on his body aching worse than ever. It hadn't been wise to stay in the log all night. His joints were throbbing with pain and his ankle seemed to be burning with pain. He wondered if there was some way that he could bind it up.

He supported himself again a tall oak tree and pulled his aching feet to the ground. It was, as he had thought, nearly dawn. He could hear nothing, save for the animals that scurried in the underbrush. He would have time to escape Griffo if he hurried.

As far as he knew, Uncle Bilbo's lay to the south of Bindbole Forest. He recalled Bilbo's maps of the Shire, and knew that it couldn't be too far.

Of course, he intended to go to Bag-End. He had no where else to go, did he? Suddenly he felt as if he must be a large burden upon Bilbo's shoulders, and felt very guilty about (seemingly) always being at Bilbo's feet for help.

But he couldn't think about that now. He had to run. Or at least try to run. He found that lying in a cramped position for nearly five hours had not helped his body any. He had to walk, for it would do no good to further injure himself (since the bout of running last night had obviously not helped him either). But he had to walk at a steady pace - rather, a quick pace.

He started down the crude path of the forest floor. Luckily, he had gone hiking with Bilbo more than once, so he knew how to survive in a forest environment. The crucial word was survive…he wasn't sure if he'd be able to make a fire (if that was really necessary) or hunt wild game, but he'd be able to live.

He knew that he had to go south. Quite honestly, he couldn't remember what the terrain after the Bindbole Forest would be. He had looked at Bilbo's maps before, but he found that he couldn't remember much.

He did remember, however, that the distance between the two points couldn't be too great. After all, the Shire wasn't that great of an area…and it had taken less than a day to get to Bag-End with a wagon. He wouldn't have to fend for himself for very long.

The path that Frodo was following was rather rustic and not well travelled on. In several places it stopped altogether. About an hour after Frodo had started, it stopped and didn't continue. Since Frodo wasn't quite sure that he was even going in the right direction, this proved to be frustrating. Now he had to pick his own path in the thick underbrush.

So Frodo picked his way through the forest, the sun shining hot above him, and twigs catching in his foot hair below him. It got to be so hot that Frodo shed his cloak and rolled up his shirtsleeves.

Another two hours passed. Surely this forest could not go on much farther. The heat was being to affect Frodo terribly; sweat was pouring down his face and neck. Then again, he thought to himself, not daring to speak, he should be thankful of the forest – without its cover he certainly would have been caught by Griffo already. Griffo probably had organised a searching party – he had a great deal of friends all over.

Frodo continued to walk until he guessed that it must have been noontime. He was famished and his throat felt scratchy. He stopped in an area that was well shaded and had some gooseberry plants growing in a large thicket. He picked several berries and sat on the roots of a tree to eat. He was unbelievably hungry. He would have eaten some of his Uncle Rory's (a relation from Brandy Hall) disgusting pudding had he been given the choice.

He finished the last of his berries and stood up. He was contemplating whether he should bring berries for the rest of the journey or no when he heard the noise. Animal, he thought to himself quickly. He was too deep in the forest to be caught by anyone.

Nonetheless, he set off right away and didn't bother to pick berries. He would more than likely run into more berry bushes along the way.

He reached the edge of the forest six hours later. The forest must have been larger than he thought. Either that or he had taken a few wrong turns. He couldn't be sure.

He felt strangely happy when he broke through the trees into the open. He never wanted to see trees again. He hated them.

He was so hot. By this time, he was completely drenched in sweat. He wished that he had packed different clothes, or at least worn lighter clothes. But he hadn't known that he would be running.

He was quite surprised that he hadn't run into Griffo. Griffo always found a way to spoil things when they were looking up for Frodo. An example would be his showing up at Bag-End a few days ago, or when Griffo took him to live with him. Griffo always found a way to ruin him and eat his heart out.

But it didn't matter anymore, he thought with an odd smile. Griffo…Griffo would never be able to get to him again. He swooned a little.

He had to rest before he went on. Perhaps if he rested now, he could continue outside the forest in the cover of darkness.

Yes. He walked back into the forest and lay on the ground. He was far enough in so that hopefully no one outside could see him.

He fell into an uneasy sleep.

He woke several hours later. He yawned and sat up. His vision was blurred, and it was rather cold out. He shivered and drew his cloak around his shoulders. The sweat on his body only made it seem colder. His ankle throbbed painfully, and his eye could hardly open. He lifted his hand and touched it gingerly. It felt soft and it was swollen. Griffo must have punched him there as well. He had not noticed it before. How strange.

He got to his feet and walked out of the forest. He could see no edible berries anywhere around him. He was rather hungry, having only eaten berries. It was most certainly not good for a young hobbit's stomach. But he had not the time to search about the forest for food. He had to go on. He had already lost time sleeping. It was past midnight. He no longer had to cover of the forest. He would be spotted more easily by Griffo (and his search party…if he had organised one, which Frodo could not be sure of). Frodo couldn't even be sure if they would be this far south. Frodo wasn't even sure where he was.

He looked up to the sky and concluded that, by the position of the stars, he was indeed going south. That was good. He strained his mind and remembered that the town of Overhill was directly south of the Bindbole Wood. He would continue due south.

The country here was grassy and almost bare of all trees. As far as he knew, there was not a settlement for miles.

His stomach rumbled painfully, and Frodo knew that he had to find something to eat. He felt faint already; he had only been walking for a few minutes. He needed something to eat. He couldn't go back to the forest, for he wasn't sure if there even was anything in there. He suddenly wished that he had stopped and picked berries at noon. Oh well. What was done was done. He simply would have to go without food for a time. He would come across more in time, no doubt.

The hours crawled by, and Frodo grew more and more weary and faint. Finally, after what could have been no more than three hours, Frodo had to rest. He stopped and sat down in a tall patch of grass. It came over his head. He could rest here for awhile and not be caught, he thought to himself.

He spread himself on the ground and closed his eyes. He felt dizzy…and nauseated. That was funny. He hadn't eaten since noon…well, actually his last meal had been a day ago. He must have been weak.

Though he felt nauseated, he did not vomit, thankfully. The dizziness faded a little as he lay…but yet it remained. His head also throbbed painfully, and the various other aches in his body sprang into action. He wondered why that always happened when he wasn't moving, he thought to himself in annoyance. When he walked, his ankle was in pain, but since he was limping and not putting any pressure on it at all, it didn't hurt as badly as it did when he was resting. Perhaps that meant that he should start moving. After all, he should probably move more during the night than during the day…he didn't want to be caught by Griffo.

He rose to the ground and limped off again. It was probably four in the morning, he mused. If there were farmers in the area, they would be waking soon to start their harvesting. It was, after all, nearly August. Perhaps he should stop at the next smial he saw and ask for some food. But no…that was ridiculous. What if they were in league with Griffo? Frodo laughed suddenly; everyone was in league with Griffo, weren't they? Everyone was against him…he laughed again. He wondered if he was going mad. He certainly felt it.

He squinted. In the distance he saw something. It looked like a sign. Curious, he walked towards it. It was a sign…he walked close enough that he could read it.

THE WEST FARTHING

Is what it said. Frodo laughed again. If it had taken him so very long to get to the West Farthing from the Bindbole Forest, then he must be truly going very slowly.

He walked into the West Farthing. He couldn't be more than a few hours' walk from Overhill. That meant that he couldn't be too far from Hobbitton.

He looked up to sky. Dawn was beginning to break, but it was clouded. Dark clouds were gathering in the sky; it would probably rain. Well, at least it would be a warm rain.

But there were things about nature that Frodo did not know, and one of them was that weather could change on you so suddenly that you were caught rather off guard.

To Be Continued