yesboss21: Thanks for being so faithful to the story. I must confess your speculation caught me off-guard. I did not even know at the time when I was writing the chapter that Sam and Maggot were in-laws. It might however very well be that if Sam ever visits the farmer, he might tell him a strange tale of what happened to him one night the year the four Shire-hobbits returned...
V. Wolves and Dogs in Bamfurlong
The way was not steep and exhausting, much more was the winding and the up-and-down of the road a pleasant change from the twisty and evil roads of the Old Forest without being tiring on the grounds of going always straight. They wandered with the sky over their heads, silent and fast like ghosts, while the stars rose and sunk over on the sky and when the Sickle was hanging over them, Sauron felt a cold shiver running down his spine, but the night stayed quiet and peaceful. Finally, they came to a farmhouse surrounded by a great fence. In the middle between the fences, a road broad enough for a horse-cart led up to a farmhouse. There were flowerbeds and little patches where pumpkins and turnips as well as mushrooms and strawberries grew, their bright colours dimmed by the night.
Sauron followed him. They passed through a wooden gate and suddenly, a ferocious, three-voiced barking cut through the silence.
"They have heard us, as expected," Tom said without worry when the lights in the dark farmhouse came on and the barking got louder. "Now, I fear that Maggot does not think very highly of the Big Folk and he pays close attention to who he lets over his threshold. He is a Hobbit of Buckland and therefore more suspicious by nature. He does, however, take more kindly to everything which has four legs and good manners, so I suggest you change into a more appropriate form for this visit."
"Change? How would I change?" Sauron asked, his voice acerbic. "I lost the power to change my shape."
Tom Bombadil winked. "What has been lost can be found again, but Old Tom can help you if you want." He clapped his hands in front of Sauron's face.
Startled, he blinked and stepped backwards, and when he opened his eyes again he became aware that he was sitting on his haunches. He turned his head and found himself in the shape of a big wolf the colour of sand. He looked up at Tom Bombadil who was smiling down at him and bared his teeth in a snarl.
He was, however, distracted when three big shadows came running down the road between two fences, barking and growling.
Sauron stood and his fur bristled. His head was nearly of a height with Tom Bombadil's shoulder and his size must have taken the three dogs by surprise because they stopped a few fathoms in front of them, eyes flashing and growling, but dared not come closer. The brown dog showed his fangs, his muzzle drawn up in a menacing grimace. Sauron bared his own teeth without making a sound and the brown dog laid his ears flat against his head and made a step backwards.
"Ho dol, Merry dot! Where are Maggot's brave boys?" Tom Bombadil made a step forward and to Sauron's surprise the ferocious dogs did not try to bite him, but they sat back and looked up at him. "Attentive as always! Good lads!" He reached out for the head of the big grey beast that looked more like a wolf than a dog.
"Grip, Fang, Wolf!" a voice called suddenly. "Back to me!"
The dogs' ears perked up and with a last suspicious glance at Sauron, they turned around and ran back the way they came.
In their place, a curious creature appeared. He bore the semblance of an old man carrying a lantern in his right hand and a long pitchfork in his left, but he was even shorter than Tom and did not wear shoes. Instead there was a patch of hair covering the back of his (for his size, at least) impressively big feet. He was wearing a white shirt and brown trousers and a pointed night cap. His face was brown and wrinkled and his eyes were dark and hard, but when he recognised Tom Bombadil, his eyebrows raised in surprise.
"Now that is unexpected! Tom Bombadil!" Maggot set his pitchfork on the ground. "Forgive the rough welcome, but you cannot be careful enough these days. I thought the Wizard of Bag End had sent some of his men again! They like to come here in the dead of the night and steal my crop, but my lads have been able to chase them off until now. I'd never thought I'd say it, but I miss the time when it was just Bagginses, Brandybucks and Tooks getting up to mischief in my fields. They, at least, left my crop in peace at night. What do you want? And what is it with the wolf sitting next to you?"
Farmer Maggot's eyes turned to Sauron, who was still sitting on his haunches and stared back without blinking.
"Someone I am taking care of," Tom Bombadil replied. "He came down from the mountains, starved and lost and Tom and Goldberry took him in to give him time to rest. He was eager to get out of Withywindle Valley, so he and Tom took a walk and came here."
"He doesn't look very starved," Maggot said, inclining his head and the look in his eyes was shrewd and suspicious. "He reminds me of how my father described the wolves that came into the Shire during the Fell Winter. Big beasts, yellow eyes and teeth as long as fingers. Be glad that my boys haven't attacked him; then again, maybe they are smarter than that."
"He's well-behaved," Tom said, "and he will not cause trouble. But it looks like a lot has happened in the Shire since we last talked and we, on the other hand, have wandered for a bit and Tom wonders whether you have some honeyed milk for him and his friend."
Maggot leaned on his staff and snorted. "It would be too much to ask you to appear at sensible times of the day, wouldn't it? Ah, what does it matter? You know I told you you could come whenever you wanted although I honestly hoped you wouldn't take it so literally." He threw Sauron another glance. "And keep your wolf-dog reined in. My boys will behave as long as he does, but I will not call them back if your friend thinks he must start a hurly-burly."
"That he will not do."
Sauron saw Tom looking at him, but he kept his gaze straight ahead and merely a twitch of his left ear betrayed that he had been listening.
They walked down the road toward the house which looked like an ordinary house built by Men, except a bit smaller and with lower ceilings. Halfway, they were joined by the tree big dogs which kept circling Sauron and Tom, giving the wolf distrustful and the gleeful small man elated glances. Maggot let them into a hallway that ran off to the back of the building, with a lot of doors going off left and right. The first room on the left was a dining room with wooden ceiling and floor, which held a heavy wooden table and a corner-bench and in a corner a small pot-belly stove of cast iron. It looked lived-in and comfortable, and in this it was quite different from the dwellings of Men he had seen. While Maggot lit a few candles and kindled a fire in the oven, the three dogs immediately slipped under the table and curled up in the darkness under the bench, only the glow of their alert eyes betraying their presence.
Then, a hobbit-woman entered the room. Farmer Maggot's wife seemed just as unsurprised to find Tom Bombadil in her house in the middle of the night as her husband. When she saw Sauron, however, who was standing at the edge of the flickering circle of candlelight surrounding the table, head lowered and eyes reflecting the orange sheen of the flame, she ran back out into the hallway with a scream. Maggot went to bring her back and after she had been calmed, she entered the room again and welcomed Tom and busied herself with heating up milk and slicing bread in the kitchen.
Meanwhile, Tom and Maggot took out their pipes and filled them with dried leaves.
"Old Toby," Maggot said, "the best leaf of the South-Farthing."
Tom Bombadil laughed, his cheeks red and his eyes crinkling. "That it is!" Then his face turned serious again. "How are the things standing in the Shire? There is a wizard under the Hill now?"
Maggot blew out a puff of smoke. "Things are dire, as far as I know. The Wizard came half a year ago and he brought lots of Big Folk with him. They took governing the Shire into their own dirty hands; even went so far as to throw the mayor of Michel Delving out of his own town-hall! The Wizard took up his seat in Hobbiton and things have been getting worse ever since. He's all cooped up in there like an old badger and never leaves, but his spies and enforcers are everywhere and see to it that the Wizard's will is done. There is not enough crop to feed them and the Hobbits, so they roam the lands and steal where food is not given willingly. But the worst are the hobbits who think they are better off cooperating with the Wizard instead of putting their foot down." Maggot chewed on the mouth piece of his pipe. "Lotho Sackville-Baggins and Tim Sandyman, may your dead mothers have mercy on you when I get my hands on you!"
Tom Bombadil frowned, but did not look overly concerned which surprised Sauron. "The south wind has brought new tidings," he said and winked at Sauron who flattened his ears and averted his gaze, glowering. "They came into my valley not long ago and believe old Tom, my friend, when he says that things are about to change very soon."
Maggot leaned back in his chair, one eyebrow raised. "And how would you know that? I am not sorry for asking this, since you barely leave your valley and it has been years since you set out foot of the forest."
"I listen," Tom Bombadil replied simply.
Maggot shook his head. "If I didn't know you so well, I would not believe you. Still, the times are stranger than ever. Wizards under the Hill and wolves as big as calves in Withywindle Valley and now under my roof, too! Are you sure this beast hasn't come creeping straight out of the barrows of the Downs?" He looked at Sauron and his bushy eyebrows knit together. "His eyes alone are enough to send a brave hobbit running."
"He is a wolf and thus wild and untamed, but he is smart enough to learn when it is better to keep his paws still."
"So it is a wolf?" Maggot drew on his pipe. "I won't lie; were it not for our friendship, Tom, I would have had the lads chase him out as soon as you both came here. His eyes are unsettling. I don't like the way he is watching me."
Tom looked at Sauron who met his eyes without blinking.
"You were so tired you wanted to lie down and sleep in the middle of the forest not so long ago," Tom said. "Go over to the oven, warm yourself and rest, but keep your ears open. We will talk about interesting things before the night is over!"
Sauron sent him a morose glance, but walked over to the oven wherein the wood was cracking and spitting. The orange glow of the fire seeped out through slits in the hatch. Warmth was already beginning to emanate from the iron pot-belly and laid itself about his shoulders like a blanket. There was a knotted rug on the floor in front of the oven and there Sauron lay down and curled up until his bushy tail covered his muzzle. His eyes, however, stayed open and he watched Maggot's back and Tom Bombadil. Then his glare wandered lower at the three pairs of eyes underneath the table. He stared at them until all of the dogs blinked and turned their heads away, only then did he look up at the hobbit and Tom again.
They talked about this and that, over Hobbits and Men, pipe-weed and Saruman, who had apparently made himself a home in a town called Hobbiton. This surprised Sauron. As far as he knew Saruman, he held an even greater dislike for acres and open fields than Sauron himself. That he would flee so far in order to hide among Hobbits in the Shire amused him.
Maybe he tried to escape my wrath after Isengard fell and it seemed wise to him to hide in an unlikely place. It may well have been clever, seeing how I overlooked Hobbits and their existence until it was too late.
At one time Farmer Maggot's wife came in and brought milk, cheese and bread and honey for Tom and a bowl of honeyed milk with soaked clumps of bread for the dogs which she carefully placed near the oven. Sauron did not move, but watched her as she quickly and cautiously retreated, then his empty stomach won out over his pride and he lapped up the bowl, keeping the other three dogs away with a low growl and a warning look. The dogs who had hopefully peeked out from under the table turned tail and slunk between the table legs again. When he was done, he returned to his place on the rug and rested his head on his fore-paws while the fire in the oven behind him warmed the fur at his back. The crackling and spitting of the wood made him drowsy. He closed his eyes, but kept his ears open at Tom's suggestion.
The talk came back to matters at hand and Tom wanted to know about how Maggot was doing. Maggot in turn seemed to be a shrewd hobbit indeed, for the questions he asked were concise and pointed and the to questions he did not want to reply he gave no answer and none of Tom's skipping and dancing which he did even while making conversation could bring him to reveal what he didn't wish to.
At last, Tom asked about the dogs who were still lurking beneath the table, their eyes fixed on Sauron as long as he wasn't looking and quickly slinking back into darkness whenever he opened his eyes and glared in their direction.
"Wolf was a right and proper beast to deal with when he was younger," Maggot said. "Kept chasing around the delivery-boy who brought the news from Michel Delving every week. The boy was fast, mind you, and he escaped every time; but it made Wolf only more intent on catching him. I tried to rein him in of course, but you know how young dogs are. I leashed him, but he managed to slip out time and time again just so he could chase the boy. A single-minded fool, he was. Makes you wonder why it was so important for him, then again, I don't believe a dog thinks much about these things. It's the hunt and nothing else they want. Well, you would not believe with what kind of schemes a dog is able to come up with. He kept to his kennel and pretended to be chained and when the boy came, he slipped out of his collar and hunted him down."
Tom listened intently, but at this part his blue eyes flitted over to meet Sauron's eyes and the big wolf looked up and tilted his head sideways to listen more closely.
"That was when I came out of the barn and saw them and for a moment I was thinking, 'My, now the boy really is in trouble,' but do you know what happened next?" Maggot leaned back in his seat and spread his arms. "Nothing. The dumb dog had finally caught the boy, but he didn't know what to do with him once he had him. He just walked around him, then he lost interest and slunk off. 'Foolish dog,", I remember saying, 'all this time you wasted your head and energy for this?' And I swear he understood that, looked right ashamed that day. 'Well,' I said, 'I'll find another task for you to put your thick head to.' And find one I did. Not much later, Grip and Fang were born and I trained them as guard dogs. They've been calmer and easier to rein in ever since. Needed a task, they did. As long as they didn't have one, they would get up to all sorts of foolishness, but afterwards they were usable and good dogs. I dare say it did them good." Maggot blew out a smoke ring. "Sometimes they need a good whack over the head to beat some sense into it and something to keep them occupied. Whelps and hobbit-boys are alike, in that respect. I'd know, I have three sons myself."
"Not only dogs and young hobbits," Tom Bombadil laughed, but the underlying meaning was not lost on Sauron. "As always, it is a joy to hear you talk. You are old and wise in a way none of the more ancient races are. The old saying still holds true that if you're in need to hear some common sense, you have to talk to a Hobbit."
"Do they say so?" Maggot folded his arms. "Well, with what is going on in the Shire right now, one would not think it. There's little common hobbit-sense left there." He shook his head.
"Smile, my friend, and think no longer of darkness!" Tom stood and clapped his hands. "I told you that change is near, nearer than you might maybe think. A pebble at the peak of the mountain may yet be enough to cause an avalanche at its foot. A great many pebbles have been moving in Middle-earth recently and some of them will not halt before the Shire."
"Hopefully the change will be for the better," Maggot replied dourly. "I don't know what could be worse than a wizard governing the Shire, but if it doesn't get better fast, I will burn down the High Hay myself and lean back and watch when whatever comes creeping out of the Old Forest hopefully takes the Wizard with it."
Why, and I would hold the torch if it was in order to set Saruman's cloak on fire, Sauron thought. And then we will see how proud the White Wizard will be when he has been thoroughly roasted.
He eyed the old hobbit with grudging respect.
"No need for that, my friend," Tom Bombadil said. "The winds from west and south are rising and you won't have to wait for much longer. But now, derry dol, we shall leave you and your wife. Thank you for your food and your open door, although I advise you to keep it closed after we have gone. The night is not over and you might find some sleep yet."
"Is it not?" Maggot looked out of the window at the still-dark sky, strewn with stars. "Strange, I could have sworn that we have been talking for a long time."
"The nights of autumn are long," Tom Bombadil said. "We shall leave now." He turned to Sauron. "Ho, my friend, I know you like the warm stove, but come now; we have a ways to go before the sun rises."
Maggot stood and watched as the big wolf slowly stood, stretched and yawned languidly before he trotted over to stand beside Tom Bombadil. "He doesn't have a name?" he asked.
"No. Like all other masterless beings, he doesn't," Tom said. "But he nevertheless knows when he is being spoken to."
Maggot extinguished the candle in the sitting room and accompanied them to the gate, carrying once more his lantern. His wife saluted them from the doorstep, while the three big dogs trailed along, keeping a safe distance from Sauron. At the gate, with Maggot's friendly home behind them and nightly Buckland ahead of them, they stopped.
"It may be useless to tell you this," Maggot said, "but be careful when you walk through Buckland. Keep off the main roads, at least as long as it is dark. There are strangers patrolling the big streets who you wouldn't like to meet, not even in broad daylight."
"Your worry is kind, but unneeded," Tom said. "No one has ever caught and held Tom Bombadil. Good-bye, good friend, good-bye boys!" He pulled off his hat, bowed and saluted both the hobbit and the dogs. "Keep your doors closed at night for a bit longer and your eyes and ears open! We'll meet again in friendlier times!" And with that he skipped off, singing a song with lots of hop dol, merry dot and dong-a-long which echoed loudly in the wide land around them.
Sauron watched him go, then he turned his head around to meet Farmer Maggot's stare. The old hobbit was returning his gaze gruffly.
"What are you looking at?" he asked. "Go with him, he is one for wild things and strange creatures. And don't think you fooled me for a moment. There is something queer about you. It's always like that with Tom Bombadil's friends." He shook his head. "Off with you now, and keep an eye out for Tom, he is far too loud. They must hear him even at the outpost on the Brandywine Bridge."
Sauron gave a last look to the farmer and a farewell growl to the dogs, then he turn around to follow Tom, remembering the warning to stay close to him outside of his realm. At first he fell into a light canter, but his long legs moved faster and faster until he broke into a run, his strong lithe body by turns coiling up and stretching like a spring. The ground flew by beneath his long leaps and anyone who might have been watching would only have seen a sand-coloured flash streaking over the countryside.
It was still the middle of the night and the sky was dotted with a thousand stars, just like the countless questions that were turning in the wolf's head.
A/N: Since I got a busy time ahead of me I don't expect to be able to post chapter six earlier than Friday, 29th of April.
As always, I'd be happy to hear your thoughts, speculations, praise and criticism. Thanks for reading!