Authors Note: Remember, if I've done anything wrong, be it grammar, canon, or anything else, let me know so that I can try to fix it.
After that, there was a long week of packing during which everybody ran up and down the stairs carrying things and yelling.
Finally, all was ready. After much deliberation among all of Hobbiton, as it was the custom for everyone to meddle in and comment on each others affairs, they had decided to take five ponies: one for Sam, one for Frodo, one for Elanor and Rose to share, since Rosie couldn't ride without help, and two for the baggage. Two baggage ponies were needed because there was no need to go quickly and quietly, so they might as well be comfortable and comfortable, for hobbits, meant at least one pony load of food. The other pony would carry all of the clothes and equipment as well as the many items needed for traveling with small children. He would be heavily burdened.
Somehow, they finished packing and were ready to set out. A good number of friends showed up to wish them good luck, as well as the usual skeptics who said that they really didn't know why decent, respectable Hobbits who were perfectly comfortable in Hobbiton should go gallivanting off into the Wild. No amount of explanation could persuade them that Rivendell was hardly the Wild, so the Gardners ignored the warnings and advice as they mounted their ponies.
They were all happy as they set off: Sam, because it made him remember back when Master Frodo was still here; Elanor because she would see "real live Elves;" Frodo, because it was an adventure and Rosie, just because everyone else was happy.
They rode for several hours without any excitement. They were nearing Bree, and Frodo was starting to worry that it wouldn't be a real adventure, when suddenly, Sam sensed something. He never did find out how he sensed it, but it was a lucky thing he did.
He steered his pony into the trees at the side of the rode and motioned to the children to do the same. They were just safely concealed in the trees when they heard a noise that Sam had hoped never to hear again; a noise that brought back memories of long marches, and pursuit, and carrying his master through Mordor.
We are the fighting Uruk-hai!
It was the sound of Orcs on the march. And not just any Orcs: these were the dangerous Uruks themselves.