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####-fool about  with boats on that big  river   - and that  isn't  natural. Small 
wonder that trouble came of  it,  I say. But be that as it may, Mr. Frodo is 
as nice a young hobbit  as you could wish to meet. Very much like Mr. Bilbo, 
and in  more than  looks.  After all his  father  was  a Baggins.  A  decent 
respectable hobbit was Mr. Drogo  Baggins; there  was never much to tell  of 
him, till he was drownded.' 
     'Drownded?' said several  voices. They  had heard this and other darker  
rumours before, of course; but  hobbits have a passion  for  family history, 
and they were ready to hear  it again. 'Well, so they say,' said the Gaffer. 
'You see: Mr. Drogo, he married poor Miss  Primula Brandybuck.  She  was 
our 
Mr. Bilbo's first cousin on the mother's side (her mother being the youngest 
of the Old Took's  daughters); and Mr.  Drogo  was his second cousin. So Mr. 
Frodo is his first and second cousin, once removed either way, as the saying


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of the  Shire. Three  Elf-towers of immemorial age were still to be seen  on 
the  Tower Hills  beyond the  western marches.  They shone far  off  in  the 
moonlight. The tallest was furthest away, standing alone upon a green mound. 
The Hobbits of the Westfarthing said that one could see the Sea from the lop  
of that tower; but  no  Hobbit had ever  been known to climb it. Indeed, few 
Hobbits  had ever  seen or  sailed  upon the Sea, and fewer  still had  ever  
returned to  report  it. Most Hobbits regarded even  rivers  and small boats 
with deep misgivings, and not  many of  them could swim.  And as the days of 
the Shire lengthened  they  spoke  less and  less with  the  Elves, and grew 
afraid  of them, and distrustful of those  that  had dealings with them; and 
the Sea  became  a word  of fear  among them, and a token of death, and they 
turned their faces away from the hills in the west. 
     The craft  of building may have come from Elves or Men, but the Hobbits


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####-Sackville-Bagginses won't never  see the inside of Bag End now, or it  is to 
be hoped not.' 
     'There's a tidy bit of money tucked away up there, I hear tell,' said a  
stranger,  a visitor on  business from  Michel Delving in the  Westfarthing. 
'All the top of  your hill is full of tunnels packed with chests of gold and 
silver, and jools, by what I've heard. ' 
     'Then you've heard  more than I  can speak  to,' answered the Gaffer. I 
know nothing about  jools.  Mr. Bilbo is free with  his money, and there seems 
no lack of it; but I know of no tunnel -making. I  saw Mr. Bilbo when he came 
back, a matter of  sixty  years  ago,  when I was a  lad. I'd  not long come 
prentice to old  Holman (him being my dad's cousin), but he had me up at Bag 
End helping  him  to keep folks from trampling and  trapessing  all over the 
garden while the sale was on. And in the middle of it all Mr. Bilbo comes up


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the Shire, and for his Reckoning of  Years m which he discussed the relation 
of the calendars of the Shire and Bree  to those of  Rivendell,  Gondor, and 
Rohan. He also wrote a short treatise on Old Words and Names  in the  Shire, 
having special interest  in discovering the kinship with the language of the 
Rohirrim of such 'shire-words' as mathom and old elements in place names. 
     At Great Smials the books were  of less interest to Shire-folk,  though 
more important for larger history. None of them was written by Peregrin, but 
he and  his successors  collected  many manuscripts written  by  scribes  of 
Gondor:  mainly  copies  or  summaries of  histories or legends  relating to 
Elendil  and his heirs. Only  here in the Shire were to  be  found extensive 
materials for  the history  of  N®menor and the  arising of  Sauron.  It was 
probably at Great Smials that The Tale of Years1 was put  together, with the


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drawn mainly from the Red Book of Westmarch. That most important  source 
for 
the  history  of  the War  of  the Ring was so  called because it  was  long 
preserved  at  Undertowers,  the  home  of the Fairbairns,  Wardens  of  the 
Westmarch.1  It was in origin Bilbo's private diary, which he took with  him 
to Rivendell.  Frodo brought  it back to the Shire, together with many loose 
leaves of notes, and during S.R. 1420-1 he nearly filled its pages  with his 
account of the War.  But annexed to  it  and preserved with it, probably m a  
single red case, were  the three large  volumes, bound in  red leather, that 
Bilbo gave  to him as a parting gift. To these four  volumes there was added  
in Westmarch a fifth containing commentaries, genealogies, and various other  
matter concerning the hobbit members of the Fellowship. 
     The original Red Book has  not been  preserved, but  many  copies  were 
made,  especially of the first volume, for the use of the descendants of the


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####-they do things proper at Bag End. Our  Sam says that  everyone's going to be 
invited to the party, and there's  going to be presents, mark you,  presents 
for all - this very month as is.' 
     That very month  was  September, and as fine as you could ask. A day or  
two  later a rumour (probably  started by the knowledgeable Sam)  was spread 
about  that there were going to be fireworks  - fireworks, what is more, such 
as had not been seen in the Shire for nigh  on a  century, not indeed  since 
the Old Took died. 
     Days passed  and The Day drew nearer.  An odd-looking waggon laden with 
odd-looking packages rolled into Hobbiton one evening and toiled up the Hill 
to  Bag End. The startled hobbits peered out of lamplit doors to gape at it. 
It was driven  by outlandish  folk, singing strange songs: dwarves with long 
beards and deep hoods. A few of them remained at Bag End.  At the end of the 
second week in September a cart came in  through Bywater from the  direction


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of the Old Took's  daughters); and Mr.  Drogo  was his second cousin. So Mr. 
Frodo is his first and second cousin, once removed either way, as the saying 
is,  if  you  follow me.  And Mr. Drogo was  staying at Brandy Hall with his 
father -in-law, old Master Gorbadoc, as he often  did after his marriage (him 
being partial to  his vittles,  and old  Gorbadoc keeping  a mighty generous 
table); and he went out boating on the Brandywine River; and he and his wife 
were drownded, and poor Mr. Frodo only a child and all. ' 
     'I've heard they went on the water after dinner in the moonlight,' said 
Old Noakes; 'and it was Drogo's weight as sunk the boat.' 
     'And I heard she pushed him in, and  he pulled her in after him,'  said 
Sandyman, the Hobbiton miller. 
     'You shouldn't listen  to all you hear, Sandyman,' said the Gaffer, who 
did not much like the miller. 'There isn't no  call to go ta lking of pushing


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End helping  him  to keep folks from trampling and  trapessing  all over the 
garden while the sale was on. And in the middle of it all Mr. Bilbo comes up 
the Hill  with  a pony and some mighty big  bags and a couple  of  chests. I 
don't  doubt  they were mostly full of treasure  he had picked up in foreign 
parts, where there be mountains of gold, they  say;  but there wasn't enough 
to fill tunnels. But  my lad Sam will know  more about that. He's in and out 
of Bag End. Crazy about stories of the old days he is, and he listens to all 
Mr. Bilbo's  tales. Mr. Bilbo has learned him his letters  - meaning no harm, 
mark you, and I hope no harm will come of it. 
     'Elves and Dragons' I says  to him. 'Cabbages and  potatoes are  better 
for me and  you. Don't go getting mixed up in  the business of your betters, 
or you'll land in trouble  too big for you,' I says  to him. And I might say 
it to others,' he added with a look at the stranger and the miller.


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turned their faces away from the hills in the west. 
     The craft  of building may have come from Elves or Men, but the Hobbits 
used it in  their own fashion. They did not go in  for  towers. Their houses 
were usually long, low,  and comfortable. The oldest kind  were,  indeed, no


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The original Red Book has  not been  preserved, but  many  copies  were 
made,  especially of the first volume, for the use of the descendants of the 
children  of  Master  Samwise.  The  most  important  copy, however,  has  a  
different history.  It  was kept at  Great  Smials,  but it  was written  in 
Condor,  probably at  the  request  of the  great-grandson  of Peregrin, and 
completed in S.R. 1592  (F.A. 172). Its southern scribe appended this  note: 
Findegil,  King's Writer, finished this work in IV 172. It  is an exact copy 
in  all details of the Thain's Book  m Minas Tirith.  That book was  a copy, 
made at the request of King Elessar,  of the Red Book of the Periannath, and


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When  Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag  End announced that  he would shortly be 
celebrating   his   eleventy-first  birthday   with  a   party  of   special 
magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton. 
     Bilbo  was very rich  and very peculiar, and had been the wonder of the 
Shire  for  sixty   years,  ever  since  his  remarkable  disappearance  and 
unexpected return. The riches  he  had brought back from his travels had now 
become  a local legend, and it was popularly believed, whatever the old folk  
might  say,  that  the Hill  at Bag  End was  full  of tunnels  stuffed with 
treasure. And if that was not enough for  fame, there was also his prolonged  
vigour  to marvel at. Time wore on,  but it seemed to  have little effect on 
Mr. Baggins. At ninety he was much the same as at fifty. At ninety-nine they 
began to  call him well-preserved,  but unchanged would have been nearer the


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beards and deep hoods. A few of them remained at Bag End.  At the end of the 
second week in September a cart came in  through Bywater from the  direction 
of the  Brandywine Bridge in  broad daylight. An old  man was driving it all  
alone.  He  wore a tall pointed blue hat,  a  long grey cloak,  and a silver  
scarf. He  had a long white beard and bushy eyebrows  that stuck  out beyond 
the  brim of  his  hat. Small hobbit-children ran after the cart all through 
Hobbiton and right up the hill. It ha d a cargo of fireworks, as they rightly 
guessed. At Bilbo's front door the old man began to unload: there were great 
bundles of fireworks of all sorts and shapes, each labelled with a large red 
G and the elf-rune, . 
     That was Gandalf's mark, of course,  and the  old man  was Gandalf  the 
Wizard,  whose  fame in the Shire  was  due mainly to  his skill with fires,  
smokes, and lights.  His real business was far more difficult and dangerous,


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Baggins became once again the  chief  topic of  conversation; and the  older  
folk suddenly found their reminiscences in welcome demand. 
     No one  had  a  more attentive audience than old Ham  Gamgee,  commonly 
known as  the  Gaffer. He held forth  at  The Ivy Bush,  a small inn on  the 
Bywater road; and he spoke with some authority, for he had tended the garden 
at Bag End for forty years, and had helped old Holman in the same job befor e 
that. Now that he was himself  growing old  and stiff in the joints, the job 
was mainly  carried on by his youngest son, Sam Gamgee. Both father  and son 
were on very friendly  terms with Bilbo and  Frodo. They  lived  on the Hill  
itself, in Number 3 Bagshot Row just below Bag End. 
     'A very nice  well-spoken  gentlehobbit  is  Mr.  Bilbo, as I've always 
said,' the Gaffer declared. With perfect truth: for Bilbo was very polite to 
him, calling him 'Master Hamfast', and consulting  him  constantly upon  the


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materials for  the history  of  N®menor and the  arising of  Sauron.  It was 
probably at Great Smials that The Tale of Years1 was put  together, with the 
assistance of material  collected by Meriadoc. Though  the dates  given  are 
often conjectural, especially for the Second Age, they deserve attention. It 
is   probable  that  Mer iadoc  obtained   assistance  and  information  from 
Rivendell,  which he  visited  more  than  once.  There, though  Elrond  had


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Sandyman, the Hobbiton miller. 
     'You shouldn't listen  to all you hear, Sandyman,' said the Gaffer, who 
did not much like the miller. 'There isn't no  call to go ta lking of pushing 
and pulling. Boats are quite tricky enough for those that sit  still without 
looking  further for the cause of trouble. Anyway: there was this  Mr. Frodo  
left  an  orphan  and  stranded,  as  you  might   say,  among  those  queer  
Bucklanders,  being brought  up anyhow  in Brandy Hall. A regular warren, by 
all accounts. Old Master Gorbadoc never had fewer than  a couple  of hundred 
relations in  the place.  Mr. Bilbo  never did  a kinder  deed  than when he 
brought the lad back to live among decent folk. 
     'But I  reckon it was a nasty shock for those Sackville-Bagginses. They  
thought  they were going to get Bag End,  that time when he went off and was 
thought to be dead.  And then he comes back and orders them off; and he goes


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####-feeling that the day of the party would never come. 
     Inside Bag End, Bilbo and Gandalf were sitting at the open window  of a  
small room looking out west on to the garden.  The late afternoon was br ight  
and   peaceful.  The  flowers  glowed   red  and  golden:  snap-dragons  and 
sun-flowers, and nasturtiums trailing all over the turf walls and peeping in 
at the round windows.  
     'How bright your garden looks!' said Gandalf. 
     'Yes,' said Bilbo. I am very fond indeed of it, and of all the dear old 
Shire; but I think I need a holiday.' 
     'You mean to go on with your plan then?' 
     'I do. I made up my mind months ago, and I haven't changed it.' 
     'Very  well.  It is no good saying any  more.  Stick to your plan  - your 
whole plan, mind  - and I hope it will turn out for the best, for  you,  and 
for all of us.' 
     'I hope  so.  Anyway  I mean to enjoy  myself on Thursday, and  have my 
little joke.'


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####-front door, covered with ropes and poles for tents  and pavilions. A special 
entrance  was cut into the bank leading to  the road, and wide steps  and  a  
large white gate were built there. The three hobbit-families of Bagshot Row,  
adjoining the field, were intensely  interested  and  generally envied.  Old 
Gaffer Gamgee stopped even pretending to work in his garden. 
     The tents began to  go up. There was a specially large pavilion, so big 
that the tree that grew in the   field was right inside it, and stood proudly 
near one end, at the head of  the chief table. Lanterns were hung on all its 
branches. More  promising still (to the hobbits' mind): an enormous open-air  
kitchen was erected in the  north corner of  the field. A draught  of cooks, 
from every inn and eating-house  for miles around, arrived to supplement the 
dwarves and other odd  folk  that were quartered at Bag End. Excitement rose 
to its height.


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said,' the Gaffer declared. With perfect truth: for Bilbo was very polite to 
him, calling him 'Master Hamfast', and consulting  him  constantly upon  the 
growing  of vegetables  - in the matter of 'roots', especially  potatoes, the 
Gaffer was recognized as the  leading authority  by all in the neighbourhood 
(including himself). 
     'But  what about this Frodo that lives with  him?'  asked Old Noakes of 
Bywater.  'Baggins is his name, but he's more than  half a  Brandybuck, they 
say. It beats me why any Baggins  of  Hobbiton should go looking for a  wife 
away there in Buckland, where folks are so queer.' 
     'And no  wonder they're queer,'  put  in  Daddy  Twofoot  (the Gaffer's 
next-door neighbour),  'if they live  on  the wrong  side of the  Brandywine 
River, and right agin  the Old Forest. That's a dark bad place, if half  the 
tales be true.' 
     'You're right,  Dad!' said  the  Gaffer. 'Not  that  the Brandybucks of


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Mr. Baggins. At ninety he was much the same as at fifty. At ninety-nine they 
began to  call him well-preserved,  but unchanged would have been nearer the 
mark. There were  some that shook their heads and thought  this was too much 
of  a good thing; it seemed unfair that anyone should  possess  (apparently)  
perpetual youth as well as (reputedly) inexhaustible wealth. 
     'It  will  have  to be  paid for,'  they said. 'It  isn't natural,  and 
trouble will come of it!' 
     But so far trouble had not come;  and as Mr. Baggins was  generous with 
his money, most people were willing to forgive him his oddities and his good 
fortune.  He  remained  on visiting  terms with  his  relatives (except,  of 
course, the Sackville-Bagginses), and he had many devoted admirers among 
the 
hobbits of poor and unimportant families. But he had no close friends, until 
some of his younger cousins began to grow up. 
     The eldest of  these,  and Bilbo's favourite,  was young Frodo Baggins.


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####-departed, his sons long remained, together with some of the High-elven folk. 
It  is  said  that  Celeborn  went  to  dwell  there after the departure  of 
Galadriel; but there is no record of the day when at last he sought the Grey 
Havens,  and  with  him went the last  living  memory  of the  Elder Days in  
Middle-earth. 

####-* BOOK I *  

 
 

Chapter 1. A Long-expected Party


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or you'll land in trouble  too big for you,' I says  to him. And I might say 
it to others,' he added with a look at the stranger and the miller. 
     But the Gaffer did  not convince  his audience. The  legend  of Bilbo's 
wealth was now too  firmly fixed in the minds  of the  younger generation of  
hobbits. 
     'Ah, but he has likely enough been adding to what he brought at first,' 
argued the miller, voicing common  opinion. 'He's often  away from home. And 
look at the outlandish  folk that visit him:  dwarves  coming at night,  and 
that old wandering conjuror, Gandalf,  and  all. You can say  what you like, 
Gaffer, but Bag End's a queer place, and its folk are queerer.' 
     'And you can say what you like, about what you know no more of than you  
do of boating, Mr. Sandyman,' retorted the Gaffer, disliking the miller even 
more  than usual. If  that's being queer, then we could do  with a bit  more


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thought  they were going to get Bag End,  that time when he went off and was 
thought to be dead.  And then he comes back and orders them off; and he goes 
on living and living, and never looking a day older, bless him! And suddenly 
he  produces  an  heir,  and  has  all  the  papers  made  out  proper.  The


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Wizard,  whose  fame in the Shire  was  due mainly to  his skill with fires,  
smokes, and lights.  His real business was far more difficult and dangerous, 
but  the Shire-folk knew nothing about  it. To them  he was just one  of the 
'attractions'  at the Party. Hence the excitement of the hobbit-children.  'G  
for Grand!' they  shouted, and the old man smiled.  They knew him by  sight, 
though he only appeared in Hobbiton occasionally and never stopped long; but 
neither they nor  any  but  the  oldest of  their elders had seen one of his 
firework displays  - they now belonged to the legendary past. 
     When the old  man,  helped by  Bilbo  and  some  dwarves,  had finished  
unloading. Bilbo gave a few pennies away; but not a single squib or  cracker  
was forthcoming, to the disappointment of the onlookers.  
     'Run  away now!' said  Gandalf.  'You  will  get plenty  when  the time 
comes.' Then he disappeared inside with Bilbo, and the door  was  shut.  The


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from every inn and eating-house  for miles around, arrived to supplement the 
dwarves and other odd  folk  that were quartered at Bag End. Excitement rose 
to its height. 
     Then the weather  clouded  over.  That was on Wednesday the  eve of the  
Party.  Anxiety was  intense. Then Thursday,  September  the 22nd,  actually 
dawned. The sun got up, the clouds vanished, flags were unfurled and the fun 
began. 
     Bilbo  Baggins called it  a  party,  but it  was really  a  variety  of 
entertainments  rolled  into one.  Practically  everybody  living  near  was 
invited. A very few were overlooked  by accident, but  as they turned up all 
the same, that did not matter.  Many people  from other parts of  the  Shire 
were also asked; and there were even  a few from outside the  borders. Bilbo  
met the guests (and additions) at the new white gate in person. He gave away 
presents to all and sundry - the latter were  those  who went out again by a


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River, and right agin  the Old Forest. That's a dark bad place, if half  the 
tales be true.' 
     'You're right,  Dad!' said  the  Gaffer. 'Not  that  the Brandybucks of 
Buck-land live in the Old Forest; but they're a queer breed, seemingly. They


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do of boating, Mr. Sandyman,' retorted the Gaffer, disliking the miller even 
more  than usual. If  that's being queer, then we could do  with a bit  more 
queerness in these parts. There's  some  not  far away that wouldn't offer a  
pint of beer to a friend, if they  lived  in  a hole with golden  walls. But


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some of his younger cousins began to grow up. 
     The eldest of  these,  and Bilbo's favourite,  was young Frodo Baggins. 
When Bilbo was ninety-nine, he adopted Frodo as his heir, and brought him to 
live  at Bag End;  and the  hopes  of the  Sackville-Bagginses were  finally 
dashed. Bilbo and Frodo happened to have the same  birthday, September 
22nd. 
'You had better come and live here, Frodo my lad,' said  Bilbo one day; 'and 
then we  can  celebrate our birthday-parties  comfortably together.' At that


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####-by the hobbits one Gross, though  the  word was not considered proper to use 
of people); and  the  guests were selected  from  all  the families to which 
Bilbo and Frodo were related, with  the addition of a  few special unrelated 
friends (such as Gandalf). Many young hobbits  were included, and present by 
parental permission; for hobbits were easy-going with their children in  the 
matter  of  sitting up late,  especially when there  was a chance of getting 
them a free meal. Bringing up young hobbits took a lot of provender. 
     There  were  many  Bagginses  and  Boffins,  and also  many  Tooks  and 
Brandybucks;  there  were  various  Grubbs   (relations  of  Bilbo  Baggins' 
grandmother), and various Chubbs (connexions of his Took grandfather); and a 
selection  of  Burrowses,  Bolgers, Bracegirdles,  Brockhouses,  Goodbodies, 
Hornblowers and Proudfoots. Some of these were only very distantly 
connected


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'Run  away now!' said  Gandalf.  'You  will  get plenty  when  the time 
comes.' Then he disappeared inside with Bilbo, and the door  was  shut.  The 
young  hobbits  stared at  the door  in vain for a while, and then made off,


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met the guests (and additions) at the new white gate in person. He gave away 
presents to all and sundry - the latter were  those  who went out again by a  
back way  and came  in  again by  the gate. Hobbits give   presents  to other  
people  on their own birthdays. Not very expensive ones, as a  rule, and not 
so lavishly  as on this  occasion; but it was  not a bad system. Actually in 
Hobbiton  and Bywater every  day in the year it was somebody's  birthday, so 
that every  hobbit  in those parts had a fair chance of at least one present 
at least once a week. But they never got tired of them. 
     On this occasion the presents were unusually  good. The hobbit-children 
were so excited that for a while they almost forgot  about eating. There were 
toys the like  of which they had  never seen before, all beautiful and  some 
obviously magical.  Many of them had indeed been ordered a year before,  and 
had  come  all  the way  from  the Mountain and from Dale, and  were of real


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####-there were  songs, dances, music, games,  and,  of course,  food  and drink. 
There were  three  official  meals: lunch,  tea, and dinner (or supper). But 
lunch and  tea were marked chiefly by  the fact that at  those times all the 
guests  were sitting  down and eating together. At  other  times  there were 
merely lots  of  people  eating and drinking  -  continuously from elevenses 
until six-thirty, when the fireworks  started. 
     The fireworks were by Gandalf: they were not only brought  by  him, but 
designed and made by  him; and the  special effects, set pieces, and flights 
of rockets were let off by him. But  there was  also a generous distribution 
of  squibs,  crackers,  backarappers,   sparklers,  torches,  dwarf-candles,  
elf-fountains, goblin-barkers  and thunder -claps. They  were all superb. The 
art of Gandalf improved with age. 
     There were  rockets like  a flight  of scintillating birds singing with


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####-round his  waist a  worn leather  belt.  On it  he  hung a short sword in  a  
battered  black-leather  scabbard.  From  a  locked  drawer,   smelling   of 
moth-balls, he took out an old cloak and hood . They had been locked up as if 
they were very precious, but they were  so  patched and weatherstained  that 
their  original  colour  could hardly be guessed: it might  have  been  dark 
green. They were rather too large for him. He then  went into his study, and 
from  a  large  strong-box  took out a bundle  wrapped in  old cloths, and a  
leather -bound  manuscript; and  also a large bulky  envelope.  The  book and  
bundle  he stuffed  into  the top  of a heavy  bag  that was standing there, 
already nearly full.  Into the envelope he slipped his  golden ring, and its 
fine chain, and then  sealed it, and addressed it  to Frodo. At first he put 
it  on the mantelpiece,  but  suddenly  he  removed it and  stuck  it in his


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####-Old  Odo Proudfoot  removed his feet from the table and stamped. Then  there 
was  a  dead  silence,  until  suddenly, after  several deep breaths,  every 
Baggins,  Boffin,   Took,   Brandybuck,   Grubb,  Chubb,  Burrows,   Bolger, 
Bracegirdle,  Brockhouse, Goodbody, Hornblower, and  Proudfoot began to 
talk  
at once. 
     It  was generally agreed that the joke was  in very bad taste, and more 
food and drink were needed to cure the guests  of shock and annoyance. 'He's 
mad. I always said so,'  was probably  the  most  popular comment.  Even the 
Tooks (with a few exceptions) thought  Bilbo's behaviour was absurd. For the 
moment most of  them took it for granted that his disappearance was  nothing 
more than a ridiculous prank. 
     But old Rory Brandybuck was not  so sure. Neither age  nor an  enormous 
dinner  had clouded his wits, and he said to his daughter -in-law, Esmeralda: 
'There's something fishy in this, my dear! I believe that mad Baggins is off


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selection  of  Burrowses,  Bolgers, Bracegirdles,  Brockhouses,  Goodbodies, 
Hornblowers and Proudfoots. Some of these were only very distantly 
connected 
with Bilbo, and  some of them  had hardly ever  been in Hobbiton before,  as 
they lived in remote corners of the Shire. The Sackville-Bagginses  were not 
forgotten.  Otho and his wife Lobelia were present. They disliked Bilbo  and 
detested Frodo,  but  so magnificent  was the invitation  card,  written  in 
golden ink, that  they had felt it was impossible to refuse. Besides,  their 
cousin, Bilbo, had been specializing  in  food for many years and  his table 
had a high reputation. 
     All  the  one hundred  and forty-four guests expected a pleasant feast; 
though they  rather  dreaded  the  after -dinner  speech  of their  host  (an 
inevitable item). He was liable to drag  in bits of  what he  called poetry; 
and sometimes, after  a glass or two, would  allude to the absurd adventures


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####-follow their own advice. Bilbo left  his place and went and stood on a chair 
under the illuminated  tree. The  light of the lanterns fell on his  beaming 
face; the golden buttons shone on his embroidered silk waistcoat. They could 
all see  him standing,  waving  one hand in  the air,  the other  was in his 
trouser-pocket. 
     My dear Bagginses and Boffins, he began again;  and my  dear  Tooks and 
Brandybucks, and Grubbs,  and  Chubbs,  and Burrowses,  and Hornblowers, 
and 
Bolgers, Bracegirdles, Goodbodies, Brockhouses and Proudfoots.  
'ProudFEET!' 
shouted  an  elderly  hobbit  from  the back  of the pavilion.  His name, of 
course, was  Proudfoot, and well merited; his feet were large, exceptionally 
furry, and both were on the table. 
     Proudfoots,  repeated Bilbo. Also my  good  Sackville -Bagginses that  I 
welcome  back at last  to  Bag  End. Today  is my  one  hundred and eleventh  
birthday: I am eleventy -one  today! 'Hurray!  Hurray! Many  Happy  Returns!'


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whole plan, mind  - and I hope it will turn out for the best, for  you,  and 
for all of us.' 
     'I hope  so.  Anyway  I mean to enjoy  myself on Thursday, and  have my 
little joke.' 
     'Who will laugh, I wonder?' said Gandalf, shaking his head. 
     'We shall see,' said Bilbo. 
     The next day more carts rolled up the Hill, and still more carts. There 
might have  been  some grumbling about 'dealing locally', but that very week 
orders began to pour out of Bag End for every  kind of provision, commodity, 
or luxury  that  could be obtained in Hobbiton or Bywater or anywhere in the 
neighbourhood.  People  became enthusiastic; and they began to tick off  the 
days on  the calendar; and they watched eagerly for the  postman, hoping for  
invitations.  
     Before long  the  invitations  began  pouring  out,  and  the  Hobbiton 
post-office  was blocked, and the Bywater post -office  was snowed under, and


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elf-fountains, goblin-barkers  and thunder -claps. They  were all superb. The 
art of Gandalf improved with age. 
     There were  rockets like  a flight  of scintillating birds singing with 
sweet voices. There were green trees with trunks of dark smoke: their leaves  
opened like a whole spring unfolding in a moment, and their shining branches 
dropped glowing flowers down upon the  astonished hobbits, disappearing with 
a  sweet  scent just  before they touched  their  upturned faces. There were 
fountains  of butterflies that flew  glittering into  the trees;  there were 
pillars  of  coloured  fires that rose  and  turned into eagles, or  sailing 
ships,  or  a  phalanx of flying swans; there was a red  thunderstorm  and a  
shower  of  yellow  rain; there was a  forest  of silver spears  that sprang 
suddenly  into the  air with a  yell like an embattled  army, and came  down 
again into the Water with a hiss like a  hundred hot snakes.  And there  was


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####-immensely fond  of  you all, and that eleventy -one years is too short a time 
to live among such  excellent and  admirable hobbits. Tremendous outburst of 
approval. 
     / don't know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less 
than half of you half as well as you deserve. This was unexpected and rather  
difficult. There  was some scattered clapping, but most of  them were trying 
to work it out and see if it came to a compliment. 
     Secondly,  to  celebrate my birthday.  Cheers again.  / should say: OUR 
birthday.  For it  is, of  course, also the birthday of my  heir and nephew,  
Frodo.  He comes  of  age  and into his inheritance today. Some  perfunctory 
clapping by the  elders;  and some loud  shouts of 'Frodo!  Frodo! Jolly old 
Frodo,' from the juniors. The Sackville-Bagginses scowled, and wondered what 
was  meant by 'coming  into his inheritance'. Together we score one  hundred


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obviously magical.  Many of them had indeed been ordered a year before,  and 
had  come  all  the way  from  the Mountain and from Dale, and  were of real 
dwarf-make. 
     When  every guest had been  welcomed  and was finally inside the  gate,


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fine chain, and then  sealed it, and addressed it  to Frodo. At first he put 
it  on the mantelpiece,  but  suddenly  he  removed it and  stuck  it in his 
pocket. At that moment the door opened and Gandalf came quickly in. 
     'Hullo!' said Bilbo. 'I wondered if you would turn up.' 
     'I am glad to find you visible,' replied the wizard, sitting down  in a  
chair, 'I wanted to catch you and have a few final words. I suppose you feel 
that everything has gone off splendidly and according to plan?' 
     'Yes,  I do,' said  Bilbo. "Though that flash was surprising: it  quite 
startled  me,  let alone the  others. A  little  addition  of  your  own,  I 
suppose?' 
     It was. You have  wisely kept that ring secret all these  years, and it 
seemed to me necessary to give your guests something else that would seem to 
explain your sudden vanishment.' 
     'And would spoil my joke. You are an interfering old busybody,' laughed 
Bilbo, 'but I expect you know best, as usual.'


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inevitable item). He was liable to drag  in bits of  what he  called poetry; 
and sometimes, after  a glass or two, would  allude to the absurd adventures 
of his mysterious journey. The guests were not disappointed: they had a very 
pleasant feast, in fact an engrossing entertainment: rich, abundant, varied, 
and prolonged. The  purchase of provisions fell almost to nothing throughout 
the district in the ensuing weeks; but as Bilbo's catering had  depleted the 
stocks of most stores, cellars and warehouses for miles around, that did not 
matter much. 
     After  the feast (more or less) came the  Speech. Most of  the  company 
were, however, now in a tolerant  mood, at that  delightful stage which they 
called 'filling up  the corners'.  They were sipping their favourite drinks,  
and nibbling at  their favourite  dainties, and their fears  were forgotten. 
They were prepared to listen to anything, and to cheer at every full stop.


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welcome  back at last  to  Bag  End. Today  is my  one  hundred and eleventh  
birthday: I am eleventy -one  today! 'Hurray!  Hurray! Many  Happy  Returns!' 
they  shouted, and they  hammered  joyously  on the tables.  Bilbo was doing 
splendidly. This was the sort of stuff they liked: short and obvious.  
     / hope you  are  all  enjoying yourselves as much as  I  am.  Deafening 
cheers. Cries  of  Yes  (and  No). Noises  of trumpets and horns, pipes  and 
flutes,  and  other musical instruments.  There were, as has been said, many 
young hobbits present. Hundreds of musical crackers had been pulled. Most of 
them bore the  mark DALE  on them; which did not  convey much to most of 
the 
hobbits, but they all agreed they were  marvellous crackers.  They contained 
instruments, small, but of perfect make and enchanting tones. Indeed, in one 
corner some of  the young Tooks and  Brandybucks, supposing Uncle  Bilbo  to


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dinner  had clouded his wits, and he said to his daughter -in-law, Esmeralda: 
'There's something fishy in this, my dear! I believe that mad Baggins is off 
again. Silly old fool. But why worry? He hasn't taken the vittles with him.' 
He called loudly to Frodo to send the wine round again. 
     Frodo  was the only one present who had said nothing. For some time  he 
had  sat silent  beside  Bilbo's  empty  chair,  and ignored all remarks and 
questions. He had enjoyed the  joke,  of course, even  though he had been in 
the  know. He had  difficulty  in  keeping  from  laughter at the  indignant 
surprise of  the guests.  But  at the  same time he felt deeply troubled: he 
realized  suddenly  that he loved the old hobbit  dearly. Most of the guests 
went on eating and drinking and discussing Bilbo Baggins' oddities, past and 
present;  but the Sackville-Bagginses had already  departed in wrath.  Frodo 
did not want to have any more  to do with the party. He gave orders for more


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suddenly  into the  air with a  yell like an embattled  army, and came  down 
again into the Water with a hiss like a  hundred hot snakes.  And there  was 
also one last surprise,  in  honour of Bilbo,  and  it startled  the hobbits 
exceedingly, as  Gandalf intended. The lights went out. A great  smoke  went 
up. It shaped itself like a mountain seen in the distance, and began to glow 
at  the summit. It spouted green  and scarlet flames. Out flew a  red-golden 
dragon - not life-size, but terribly life-like: fire came from his jaws, his 
eyes glared down; there  was  a  roar, and he whizzed three  times  over the 
heads of the crowd. They all ducked, and  many fell fla t on their faces. The 
dragon passed like an  express train,  turned a  somersault, and  burst over  
Bywater with a deafening explosion. 
     'That is  the  signal for  supper!'  said  Bilbo.  The  pain  and alarm 
vanished at once, and the prostrate hobbits  leaped to their feet. There  was


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Frodo,' from the juniors. The Sackville-Bagginses scowled, and wondered what 
was  meant by 'coming  into his inheritance'. Together we score one  hundred  
and forty -four.  Your numbers were chosen to  fit this remarkable total: One 
Gross, if I  may use the  expression. No cheers. This was ridiculous. Many of 
his guests, and especially  the Sackville-Bagginses, were insulted,  feeling 
sure they had only been asked to fill up the  required number, like goods in 
a package. 'One Gross, indeed! Vulgar expression.' 
     It is also,  if  I  may be  allowed to  refer to  ancient history,  the 
anniversary of my arrival by barrel at Esgaroth on the Long Lake; though the 
fact that it was  my birthday slipped  my memory on that occasion. I was only  
fifty-one  then,  and birthdays did  not seem so important.  The banquet was  
very splendid, however, though I had a bad cold at the time, I remember, and 
could only say 'thag you very  buch'. I now repeat  it more correctly: Thank


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invitations.  
     Before long  the  invitations  began  pouring  out,  and  the  Hobbiton 
post-office  was blocked, and the Bywater post -office  was snowed under, and 
voluntary assistant postmen were called for.  There was a constant stream of 
them going up the Hill, carrying hundreds of polite variations on Thank you, 
I shall certainly come. 
     A notice appeared on the gate at Bag End: NO ADMITTANCE EXCEPT 
ON PARTY 
BUSINESS. Even those  who had, or  pretended  to  have  Party  Business were 
seldom allowed inside. Bilbo  was  busy:  writing invitations,  ticking  off 
answers, packing up presents, and making  some  private preparations  of his 
own. From the time of Gandalf's arrival he remained hidden from view.  
     One morning the hobbits woke to find  the large field,  south of Bilbo's


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####-something.' 
     Gandalf  looked curiously  and closely at him.  'No,  it does not  seem 
right,' he said thoughtfully. 'No, after all I believe your plan is probably 
the best.' 
     'Well, I've made  up  my mind,  anyway. I  want to see mountains again, 
Gandalf, mountains, and then  find somewhere where I can  rest. In peace and 
quiet, without a lot  of relatives prying around, and a string of confounded 
visitors hanging on the bell.  I might find somewhere where I  can finish my 
book. I  have thought  of  a nice ending for it:  and he lived happily  ever 
after to the end of his days. ' 
     Gandalf laughed. I hope he will. But nobody will read the book, however  
it ends.' 
     'Oh, they may, in years to come. Frodo has read some already, as far as 
it has gone. You'll keep an eye on Frodo, won't you?' 
     'Yes, I will  - two eyes, as often as I can spare them.' 
     'He would come with  me, of  course, if I asked him. In fact he offered


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and nibbling at  their favourite  dainties, and their fears  were forgotten. 
They were prepared to listen to anything, and to cheer at every full stop. 
     My dear People, began Bilbo, rising in  his  place. 'Hear! Hear! Hear!' 
they shouted,  and  kept on repeating  it  in chorus,  seeming  reluctant to


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Bywater with a deafening explosion. 
     'That is  the  signal for  supper!'  said  Bilbo.  The  pain  and alarm 
vanished at once, and the prostrate hobbits  leaped to their feet. There  was 
a splendid supper for everyone; for everyone, that  is, except those invited 
to the special family dinner -party. This was held in the great pavilion with 
the tree. The invitations were limited to twelve dozen (a number also called


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####-suspicion and annoyance. 'You are always badgering me about my ring; but 
you 
have never bothered me about the other things that I got on my journey.' 
     'No, but I had to  badger  you,'  said Gandalf. 'I wanted the truth. It 
was  important. Magic  rings  are  - well, magical; and  they are  rare  and 
curious. I was  professionally interested in  your ring, you may say;  and I 
still am. I should like to know where it is, if you go wandering again. Also 
I  think you  have had  it quite long  enough. You won't need it  any  more. 
Bilbo, unless I am quite mistaken.' 
     Bilbo  flushed, and there  was an angry light in  his eyes.  His kindly 
face  grew hard. 'Why  not?'  he  cried. 'And what business is it of  yours, 
anyway, to know what I  do with my own things? It is my own. I found  it. It  
came to me.' 
     'Yes, yes,' said Gandalf. 'But there is no need to get angry.' 
     'If I am  it  is your  fault,' said Bilbo. 'It is mine, I  tell you. My


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instruments, small, but of perfect make and enchanting tones. Indeed, in one 
corner some of  the young Tooks and  Brandybucks, supposing Uncle  Bilbo  to 
have finished (since he had plainly said all that was necessary), now got up 
an impromptu orchestra, and began a  merry dance-tune.  Master  Everard Took  
and  Miss Melilot Brandybuck  got on a  table  and with bells in their hands 
began to dance the Springle-ring: a pretty dance, but rather vigorous. 
     But Bilbo had not finished. Seizing a horn from a youngster near by, he 
blew  three loud  hoots. The noise subsided. /  shall not keep you  long, he 
cried. Cheers from all the assembly. /  have called  you all  together for a  
Purpose. Something in  the way  that he said this made an impression.  There 
was almost silence, and one or two of the Tooks pricked up their ears. 
     Indeed,  for  Three  Purposes! First of  all,  to  tell  you that  I am


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very splendid, however, though I had a bad cold at the time, I remember, and 
could only say 'thag you very  buch'. I now repeat  it more correctly: Thank 
you  very  much for coming  to my little party. Obstinate  silence. They all  
feared that  a song or some poetry was now imminent;  and they  were getting 
bored. Why couldn't he stop talking and let them drink his health? But Bilbo  
did not sing or recite. He paused for a moment. 
     Thirdly  and finally, he said,  I wish to make an ANNOUNCEMENT. He 
spoke 
this last word so  loudly and suddenly that everyone sat up who still could. 
I regret to announce that - though, as I said, eleventy -one years is far too 
short a time to spend among you - this is the END. I am going. I  am leaving 
NOW. GOOD-BYE! 
     He stepped down and  vanished. There was a blinding flash of light, and 
the guests  all blinked. When they opened their eyes Bilbo was nowhere to be


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present;  but the Sackville-Bagginses had already  departed in wrath.  Frodo 
did not want to have any more  to do with the party. He gave orders for more 
wine to be served; then he got up and drained his own glass  silently to the 
health of Bilbo, and slipped out of the pavilion. 
     As for Bilbo Baggins,  even while he was making his speech, he had been 
fingering the golden ring   in his pocket:  his magic ring that he  had  kept 
secret for so many years. As he  stepped  down he slipped it on his  finger, 
and he was never seen by any hobbit in Hobbiton again. 
     He walked  briskly back to his hole, and stood  for a moment  listening 
with a smile to the din in  the pavilion and to the sounds of merrymaking in 
other parts  of the field. Then he  went in.  He took off his party clothes,  
folded up and wrapped  in tissue-paper his  embroidered  silk waistcoat, and 
put it away. Then he put on quickly  some old untidy  garments, and fastened


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explain your sudden vanishment.' 
     'And would spoil my joke. You are an interfering old busybody,' laughed 
Bilbo, 'but I expect you know best, as usual.' 
     'I do - when I  know  anything. But I  don't  feel too  sure about this 
whole affair. It has now come  to the  final point. You have had  your joke, 
and alarmed or offended most  of your relations, and  given the whole  Shire 
something to talk about for nine  days, or ninety-nine more  likely. Are you  
going any further?' 
     'Yes, I am. I feel  I  need a holiday, a very  long holiday, as I  have 
told  you before. Probably  a  permanent holiday:  I  don't expect  I  shall 
return. In fact, I don't mean to, and I have made all arrangements. 
     'I  am  old, Gandalf. I don't look it, but I am beginning to feel it in 
my heart  of hearts.  Well-preserved indeed!' he snorted.  'Why, I feel  all 
thin, sort of stretched, if you  know what I mean: like butter that has been


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it has gone. You'll keep an eye on Frodo, won't you?' 
     'Yes, I will  - two eyes, as often as I can spare them.' 
     'He would come with  me, of  course, if I asked him. In fact he offered 
to once, just before the party. But he does not really want to, yet.  I want 
to  see  the  wild country again before I die, and  the Mountains; but he is 
still in love with the Shire, with woods and  fields  and  little rivers. He 
ought to  be comfortable here. I  am leaving everything  to him,  of course, 
except a few oddments. I  hope he will be happy,  when he gets used to being 
on his own. It's time he was his own master now.' 
     'Everything?' said Gandalf. 'The ring  as well? You agreed to that, you  
remember.' 
     'Well, er, yes, I suppose so,' stammered Bilbo.  
     'Where is it?' 
     'In an envelope, if you must know,'  said Bilbo impatiently. 'There  on 
the mantelpiece. Well,  no! Here it is in  my  pocket!' He hesitated.  'Isn't


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####-his pocket. They stood for a while facing one another,  and the  air of  the 
room tingled. Gandalf's  eyes remained bent on the hobbit. Slowly  his hands 
relaxed, and he began to tremble. 
     'I  don't know  what has  come  over  you, Gandalf,' he said. 'You have 
never been like this  before. What is it all  about? It is mine isn't it?  I 
found it, and Gollum would  have killed  me, if I hadn't kept it. I'm not  a  
thief, whatever he said.' 
     'I have  never called  you  one,' Gandalf answered. 'And  I  am not one 
either. I am not trying to rob you,  but to help you. I wish you would trust  
me,  as  you  used.' He turned  away, and the  shadow  passed. He  seemed to 
dwindle again to an old grey man, bent and troubled. 
     Bilbo drew his hand over his eyes. I am sorry,' he said. 'But I felt so 
queer.  And yet it would be a relief in a way not to be bothered with it any 
more. It has been so growing on my mind lately. Sometimes I have felt it was


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NOW. GOOD-BYE! 
     He stepped down and  vanished. There was a blinding flash of light, and 
the guests  all blinked. When they opened their eyes Bilbo was nowhere to be 
seen. One hundred  and forty-four flabbergasted hobbits sat back speechless.


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####-handkerchiefs,  and  the uneaten food (a very small  item). Then a number of 
other people came (without orders): Bagginses, and Boffins, and Bolgers, and 
Tooks, and other  guests that lived or  were staying near.  By mid-day, when 
even the best -fed were out and about again,  there  was a large crowd at Bag 
End, uninvited but not unexpected. 
     Frodo  was waiting on the step, smiling, but  looking rather  tired and 
worried. He welcomed all  the callers,  but he had not much more to say than 
before. His reply to all inquiries  was simply this: 'Mr. Bilbo  Baggins has 
gone away; as far as I know, for good.'  Some of  the visitors he invited to 
come inside, as Bilbo had left 'messages' for them. 
     Inside in the  hall there  was piled a large assortment of packages and 
parcels and small articles  of furniture.  On  every item there was  a label 
tied. There were several labels of this sort: 
     For ADELARD TOOK, for his VERY OWN, from Bilbo, on an umbrella. 
Adelard


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'Where is it?' 
     'In an envelope, if you must know,'  said Bilbo impatiently. 'There  on 
the mantelpiece. Well,  no! Here it is in  my  pocket!' He hesitated.  'Isn't 
that odd now?'  he  said  softly  to himself. 'Yet after all,  why  not? Why 
shouldn't it stay there?' 
     Gandalf looked again very hard  at  Bilbo, and there was a gleam in his 
eyes.  'I think, Bilbo,' he said  quietly, 'I should leave  it behind. Don't  
you want to?' 
     'Well yes  - and no. Now it comes to it, I don't like parting with it at 
all, I may say. And I don't really see why I should. Why do you want me to?' 
he asked, and a  curious  change came  over  his voice.  It  was sharp  with


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my heart  of hearts.  Well-preserved indeed!' he snorted.  'Why, I feel  all 
thin, sort of stretched, if you  know what I mean: like butter that has been 
scraped  over too  much bread.  That can't  be right. I need  a  change,  or


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####-     'No,  don't give  the  ring  to  me,'  said  Gandalf. 'Put  it  on  the 
mantelpiece. It will be safe enough  there, till Frodo comes.  I  shall wait 
for him.' 
     Bilbo took out the envelope, but just as  he was about to set it by the 
clock, his hand jerked back, and the  packet fell  on  the floor.  Before he 
could pick it up, the wizard stooped and seized it and  set it in its place. 
A spasm  of anger passed swiftly over  the hobbit's  face again. Suddenly it 
gave way to a look of relief and a laugh. 'Well, that's that,' he said.  'Now 
I'm off!' 
     They went out into the hall.  Bilbo chose  his favourite stick from the 
stand; then he  whistled.  Three  dwarves came out of  different rooms where 
they had been busy. 
     'Is everything ready?' asked Bilbo. 'Everything packed and la belled?' 
     'Everything,' they answered. 
     'Well, let's start then!' He stepped out of the front-door.


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queer.  And yet it would be a relief in a way not to be bothered with it any 
more. It has been so growing on my mind lately. Sometimes I have felt it was 
like an eye  looking at me.  And  I  am  always  wanting  to put it  on  and 
disappear, don't you know; or wondering if it is safe, and pulling it out to 
make sure. I tried locking it up, but  I found I couldn't rest without it in 
my pocket. I don't know why. And I don't seem able to make up my mind.' 
     'Then  trust mine,'  said Gandalf. 'It is quite  made  up.  Go away and 
leave it behind. Stop possessing it. Give it to Frodo, and I will look after  
him.' 
     Bilbo stood for a moment tense and undecided. Presently he sighed. 'All 
right,' he said with an effort. I will.' Then he shrugged his shoulders, and 
smiled rather ruefully. 'After  all that's what this party business  was all 
about, really: to  give away lots of birthday presents,  and somehow make it


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####-life.  It was a  tendency of hobbit-holes to get cluttered up: for which the 
custom of giving so many birthday-presents was largely responsible.  Not, of 
course,  that the  birthday-presents  were always new,  there were one or two 
old mathoms  of forgotten uses that had circulated all around  the district; 
but Bilbo had usually given new presents, and  kept  those that he received. 
The old hole was now being cleared a little. 
     Every  one  of  the various  parting  gifts  had  labels,  written  out 
personally  by Bilbo,  and several had some point,  or  some  joke.  But, of 
course,  most  of the  things were  given where  they  would  be  wanted and 
welcome. The  poorer hobbits, and especially  those of Bagshot Row, did very 
well. Old Gaffer  Gamgee got  two sacks of potatoes, a new spade, a  woollen 
waistcoat,  and  a   bottle  of  ointment  for  creaking  joints.  Old  Rory 
Brandybuck,  in  return  for  much  hospitality, got a dozen  bottles of Old


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came to me.' 
     'Yes, yes,' said Gandalf. 'But there is no need to get angry.' 
     'If I am  it  is your  fault,' said Bilbo. 'It is mine, I  tell you. My 
own. My precious. Yes, my precious.' 
     The wizard's face remained grave and attentive,  and  only a flicker in 
his deep eyes showed that he  was startled and indeed  alarmed. 'It has been 
called that before,' he said,  'but not by you.' 
     'But I say it now. And why not? Even if Gollum said the same once. It's 
not his now, but mine. And I shall keep it, I say.' 
     Gandalf stood  up. He  spoke  sternly. 'You will be  a fool if  you do. 
Bilbo,' he said. 'You make that clearer with every word you say. It has  got 
far  too much  hold on you. Let it go! And then you can go yourself, and  be 
free.' 
     'I'll do as I choose and go as I please,' said Bilbo obstinately. 
     'Now, now, my dear hobbit!  ' said Gandalf. 'All your long life we have


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####-sloping path. He  jumped over  a low place in the hedge  at the bottom,  and  
took to the meadows, passing into the night like a  rustle  of wind  in  the 
grass. 
     Gandalf  remained for a  while  staring  after  him  into the darkness. 
'Goodbye,  my dear Bilbo  - until our next meeting!' he said softly and went 
back indoors. 
     Frodo came  in soon afterwards, and found him sitting in the dark, deep 
in thought. 'Has he gone?' he asked. 
     'Yes,' answered Gandalf, 'he has gone at last.' 
     ' I wish - I mean, I hoped until this evening that it was only a joke,' 
said Frodo. 'But I knew in my heart  that he  really  meant to go. He always 
used to  joke about serious things. I  wish  I had come back sooner, just to 
see him off.' 
     I  think really  he preferred slipping off quietly  in the  end,'  said 
Gandalf. 'Don't be too troubled. He'll be all right -  now. He left a packet 
for you. There it is!'


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they had been busy. 
     'Is everything ready?' asked Bilbo. 'Everything packed and la belled?' 
     'Everything,' they answered. 
     'Well, let's start then!' He stepped out of the front-door. 
     It was a fine night, and the black sky was dotted with stars. He looked 
up,  sniffing  the air. 'What fun! What fun to be off again, off on the  Road 
with dwarves!  This  is  what  I  have  really  been longing for, for years! 
Good-bye!  ' he said, looking  at  his old  home and  bowing  to  the  door. 
'Good-bye, Gandalf!' 
     'Good-bye, for the present,  Bilbo. Take  care of yourself! You are old 
enough, and perhaps wise enough.' 
     'Take care! I  don't care. Don't  you worry about me! I am as happy now 
as I have ever been, and that is saying a great deal. But the time has come. 
I am being swept off my feet at last,' he added, and then in a low voice, as 
if to himself, he sang softly in the dark: 
     The Road goes ever on and on


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####--unless the search is interrupted. 
     When he had overcome  Sancho and  pushed him out, Frodo  collapsed on a  
chair in the hall. It's time to  close the shop, Merry,'  he said. 'Lock the 
door, and don't open it to anyone today,  not even if they bring a battering 
ram.' Then he went to revive himself with a belated cup of tea. 
     He had hardly sat down, when there came a soft knock at the front-door. 
'Lobelia again most likely,' he thought. 'She must have thought of something 
really nasty, and have come back again to say it. It can wait.' 
     He went on  with his tea.  The knock was repeated,  much louder, but he 
took no notice. Suddenly the wizard's head appeared at the window.  
     'If you don't let me in, Frodo, I  shall blow your door right down your 
hole and out through the hill,' he said. 
     'My dear Gandalf! Half a  minute!' cried Frodo, running out of the room 
to the door. 'Come in! Come in! I thought it was Lobelia.'


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####-they were shown into the study. Frodo was sitting at a  table with a lot  of 
papers in front of him. He looked indisposed - to see Sackville-Bagginses at 
any  rate;  and he stood up,  fidgeting with something in his pocket. But he 
spoke quite politely. 
     The Sackville-Bagginses were  rather offensive. They began  by offering 
him  bad  bargain-prices  (as between  friends)  for  various  valuable  and 
unlabelled  things.  When  Frodo  replied  that  only  the  things specially 
directed by Bilbo were being given away, they said the whole affair was very 
fishy. 
     'Only one thing  is clear to me,' said Otho, 'and that  is that you are 
doing exceedingly well out of it. I insist on seeing the will.' 
     Otho would  have been Bilbo's heir, but for  the  adoption of Frodo. He 
read the will carefully and  snorted. It was,  unfortunately, very clear and 
correct (according to the legal customs of hobbits, which demand among other


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tied. There were several labels of this sort: 
     For ADELARD TOOK, for his VERY OWN, from Bilbo, on an umbrella. 
Adelard 
had carried off many unlabelled ones. 
     For  DORA BAGGINS in  memory  of  a LONG correspondence, with love 
from 
Bilbo, on a large waste-paper basket. Dora was Drogo's sister and the eldest  
surviving female  relative of Bilbo and Frodo; she was ninety-nine,  and had 
written reams of good advice for more than half a century. 
     For  MILO BURROWS,  hoping it will be  useful, from B.B., on a gold pen 
and ink -bottle. Milo never answered letters.  
     For ANGELICA'S use, from Uncle Bilbo, on a round convex mirror. She 
was 
a young Baggins, and too obviously considered her face shapely. 
     For  the  collection  of HUGO BRACEGIRDLE,  from a  contributor,  on an 
(empty) book -case. Hugo was a great borrower of books, and worse than  usual 
at returning them. 
     For LOBELIA SACKVILLE-BAGGINS,  as  a PRESENT,  on  a  case  of  
silver


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waistcoat,  and  a   bottle  of  ointment  for  creaking  joints.  Old  Rory 
Brandybuck,  in  return  for  much  hospitality, got a dozen  bottles of Old 
Winyards: a strong red wine from the Southfarthing, and now quite mature, as 
it had been laid down by Bilbo's father. Rory quite forgave Bilbo, and voted 
him a capital fellow after the first bottle. 
     There was plenty of everything left for Frodo.  And, of course, all the 
chief  treasures, as well  as  the  books,  pictures, and  more than  enough 
furniture,  were  left  in his possession. There was,  however, no sign  nor  
mention of money or jewellery: not a  penny-piece or  a glass bead was given 
away. 
     Frodo had a  very  trying time that afternoon. A fa lse rumour  that the 
whole household was being distributed free spread like wildfire; and  before 
long  the place was packed with  people who had no business there, but could 
not be kept out. Labels got torn off and mixed, and quarrels broke out. Some


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smiled rather ruefully. 'After  all that's what this party business  was all 
about, really: to  give away lots of birthday presents,  and somehow make it  
easier to give it away at the same time. It hasn't made it any easier in the 
end, but it would be  a pity  to waste  all my  preparations. It would quite 
spoil the joke.' 
     'Indeed  it would take  away the only point I ever saw in the  affair,' 
said Gandalf. 
     'Very well,' said Bilbo, 'it goes to Frodo  with all the rest.' He drew 
a  deep breath. 'And  now I  really must be starting, or somebody else  will 
catch  me.  I  have  said good-bye, and I couldn't bear  to  do it  all over  
again.' He picked up his bag and moved to the  door. 
     'You  have  still got the ring in your pocket,' said the wizard. 'Well, 
so I have!' cried Bilbo. 'And my will and  all  the other documents too. You  
had better take it and deliver it for me. That will be safest.'


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see him off.' 
     I  think really  he preferred slipping off quietly  in the  end,'  said 
Gandalf. 'Don't be too troubled. He'll be all right -  now. He left a packet 
for you. There it is!' 
     Frodo  took the envelope from the mantelpiece, and  glanced  at it, but 
did not open it. 
     'You'll find  his  will and all the other documents in there, I think,' 
said  the  wizard.  'You  are  the master of Bag End now. And also, I fancy, 
you'll find a golden ring.' 
     'The ring!' exclaimed Frodo. 'Has he left me that? I wonder why. Still, 
it may be useful.' 
     'It may, and it  may  not,' said Gandalf. 'I should not make use of it, 
if I were you. But keep it secret, and keep it safe! Now I am going to bed.' 
     As master of Bag End Frodo felt  it his painful duty to say good-bye to 
the guests. Rumours of strange events had by  now spread all over the field,  
but  Frodo would  only say  no doubt everything will be  cleared  up  in the


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I am being swept off my feet at last,' he added, and then in a low voice, as 
if to himself, he sang softly in the dark: 
     The Road goes ever on and on  
     Down from the door where it began. 
     Now far ahead the Road has gone, 
     And I must follow, if I can, 
     Pursuing it with eager feet, 
     Until it joins some larger way 
     Where many paths and errands meet. 
     And whither then? I cannot say. 
     He  paused, silent for a moment.  Then without another  word he  turned 
away from the lights and voices in the fields and tents, and followed by his 
three  companions  went round  into  his garden,  and trotted  down the long


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free.' 
     'I'll do as I choose and go as I please,' said Bilbo obstinately. 
     'Now, now, my dear hobbit!  ' said Gandalf. 'All your long life we have 
been  friends, and you owe me something. Come!  Do as you promised: give  it 
up!  ' 
     'Well,  if  you  want my ring yourself, say  so!' cried Bilbo. 'But you  
won't get it.  I won't give my precious away, I tell  you.' His hand strayed 
to the hilt of his small sword. 
     Gandalf's eyes flashed. It will be my turn to get angry soon,' he said. 
If  you  say  that again,  I shall.  Then  you  will  see Gandalf  the  Grey 
uncloaked.'  He took a step towards the hobbit,  and he seemed to  grow tall 
and menacing; his shadow filled the little room. 
     Bilbo backed away  to the  wall, brea thing hard, his hand  clutching at


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####-     'So did I. But odd things may happen to people that have such treasures 
- if  they use them. Let it be a warning to you to be very careful  with it. 
It may have other powers than just making you vanish when you wish to.' 
     'I don't understand,' said Frodo. 
     'Neither do I,'  answered  the wizard. 'I have  merely begun  to wonder  
about the ring,  especially since last night. No need to worry.  But if  you  
take my  advice you will use it very  seldom, or not at  all. At least I beg 
you not  to use it in any way that will cause talk or rouse suspicion. I say 
again: keep it safe, and keep it secret!' 
     'You are very mysterious! What are you afraid of?' 
     'I am not certain, so I  will say no  more. I may  be able to  tell you  
something  when I come back. I am going off at once: so this is good-bye for 
the present.' He got up. 
     'At  once!' cried Frodo.  'Why,  I thought  you were staying  on for at 
least a week. I was looking forward to your help.'


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hole and out through the hill,' he said. 
     'My dear Gandalf! Half a  minute!' cried Frodo, running out of the room 
to the door. 'Come in! Come in! I thought it was Lobelia.' 
     'Then I  forgive you.  But I saw her some time ago, driving a pony-trap 
towards Bywater with a face that would have curdled new milk.' 
     'She had already nearly curdled me. Honestly, I nearly tried on Bilbo's 
ring. I longed to disappear.' 
     'Don't do that!'  said  Gandalf, sitting down. 'Do be  careful of  that 
ring, Frodo! In fact, it is partly about that that I have come to say a last 
word.' 
     'Well, what about it?' 
     'What do you know already?' 
     'Only  what Bilbo told me. I have heard his story: how he found it, and 
how he used it: on his journey, I mean.' 
     'Which story, I wonder,' said Gandalf.  
     'Oh, not what he told the dwarves and put in his book,' said Frodo. 'He 
told me  the  true story  soon after I  came to live here.  He said  you had


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(empty) book -case. Hugo was a great borrower of books, and worse than  usual 
at returning them. 
     For LOBELIA SACKVILLE-BAGGINS,  as  a PRESENT,  on  a  case  of  
silver 
spoons. Bilbo  believed that  she had  acquired a good  many of  his spoons,  
while he was away  on his former journey. Lobelia knew that quite well. When 
she arrived later in the day, she took the point  at once, but she also took  
the spoons.  
     This  is  only  a  small  selection of  the assembled presents. Bilbo's 
residence had got rather cluttered up  with things in the course of his long


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long  the place was packed with  people who had no business there, but could 
not be kept out. Labels got torn off and mixed, and quarrels broke out. Some  
people tried to do swaps and deals in the hall; and others tried to make off 
with minor  items not  addressed to  them,  or  with  anything  that  seemed 
unwanted  or unwatched.  The road to the gate  was blocked  with barrows and 
handcarts.  
     In the middle of  the  commotion the Sackville-Bagginses arrived. Frodo  
had retired for a while and left his  friend Merry Brandybuck to keep an eye 
on things. When Otho loudly demanded to see Frodo, Merry bowed politely.  
     'He is indisposed,' he said. 'He is resting.' 
     'Hiding, you mean,'  said  Lobelia. 'Anyway we want  to see him and  we 
mean to see him. Just go and tell him so!' 
     Merry left them a long while in the hall, and they had time to discover  
their parting gift  of spoons. It did  not improve their tempers. Eventually


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read the will carefully and  snorted. It was,  unfortunately, very clear and 
correct (according to the legal customs of hobbits, which demand among other  
things seven signatures of witnesses in red ink). 
     'Foiled again!' he said  to his  wife. 'And after waiting sixty   years.  
Spoons? Fiddlesticks!' He snapped his fingers under Frodo's nose and slumped 
off. But Lobelia was not so easily got rid of. A little later Frodo came out 
of the study  to see how things were going  on and found her still about the 
place, investigating nooks  and comers and  tapping the  floors. He escorted 
her firmly off the premises, after he had relieved her of several small (but 
rather valuable) articles that had somehow fallen inside  her umbrella.  Her  
face looked as if  she was in the throes of thinking out a  really  crushing 
parting remark; but all she found to say, turning round on the step, was:  
     'You'll live to regret  it, young  fellow! Why  didn't you  go too? You


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####-the hills and woods under the starlight.  Merry and Pippin suspected that he 
visited the Elves at times, as Bilbo had done. 
     As time went on, people began to notice that Frodo also showed signs of 
good 'preservation':  outwardly he retained the appearance  of a  robust and 
energetic hobbit just out of his tweens. 'Some folk have all the luck,' they 
said;  but it was not until Frodo approached the  usually more  sober age of 
fifty that they began to think it queer. 
     Frodo himself, after the first shock, found  that being his  own master  
and the Mr. Baggins of Bag End  was rather  pleasant. For some  years he was 
quite  happy and did not  worry much about the  future. But half unknown  to 
himself the regret that he had not gone with Bilbo was  steadily growing. He 
found himself  wondering at times,  especially in the autumn, about the wild 
lands, and strange visions of mountains that he had never seen came into his


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####-maybe he sees things that ain't there.' 
     'But  this  one was as big  as an elm tree, and walking - walking seven 
yards to a stride, if it was an inch.' 
     'Then I bet it wasn't an inch. What he saw was an elm  tree, as like as 
not.' 
     'But this one was  walking, I tell you; and there  ain't no elm tree on 
the North Moors.' 
     'Then Hal can't have  seen one,' said Ted. There  was some laughing and 
clapping: the audience seemed to think that Ted had scored a point. 
     'All  the same,'  said  Sam,  'you can't deny  that others besides  our 
Halfast have seen  queer  folk crossing the  Shire  - crossing  it, mind you: 
there are more that are turned back at the borders. The Bounders  have never  
been so busy before. 
     'And I've heard tell  that Elves are moving west. They do  say they are 
going to the harbours, out away beyond the  White Towers.' Sam waved his 
arm 
vaguely: neither he nor  any of them knew how far it was to the Sea, past the


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'Oh, not what he told the dwarves and put in his book,' said Frodo. 'He 
told me  the  true story  soon after I  came to live here.  He said  you had 
pestered him till he told you, so I had better know too. "No secrets between 
us,  Frodo,"  he  said;  "but  they are not  to go  any  further. It's  mine 
anyway."' 
     'That's interesting,' said Gandalf.  'Well,  what did  you  think of it 
all?' 
     'If you mean, inventing all that about a "present",  well, I thought the 
true story much more likely, and I  couldn't see the point of altering it at 
all. It was very  unlike Bilbo to do  so,  anyway; and I thought  it  rather  
odd.'


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####-whispers of the Enemy and of the Land of Mordor. 
     That name  the hobbits  only knew in legends  of the  dark past, like a  
shadow  in  the  background  of their  memories;  but  it  was  ominous  and 
disquieting. It seemed that the  evil power in Mirkwood had been  driven out 
by the White Council  only  to  reappear  in  greater  strength  in the  old 
strongholds of Mordor. The  Dark Tower had been rebuilt,  it was  said. From 
there the  power was spreading far and  wide,  and away far  east  and south 
there were  wars and  growing  fear.  Orcs were  multiplying  again  in  the  
mountains. Trolls were abroad, no longer dull-witted, but  cunning and armed 
with  dreadful  weapons.  And there  were  murmured  hints of creatures more 
terrible than all these, but they had no name. 
     Little of all this,  of  course, reached the ears of  ordinary hobbits. 
But  even the deafest  and most stay-at-home began to hear queer  tales; and


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the guests. Rumours of strange events had by  now spread all over the field,  
but  Frodo would  only say  no doubt everything will be  cleared  up  in the 
morning.  About  midnight carriages  came for the important folk. One by one 
they rolled away, filled with full but  very  unsatisfied hobbits. Gardeners 
came   by  arrangement,   and  removed  in  wheel-barrows  those   that  had 
inadvertently remained behind. 
     Night slowly  passed.  The  sun  rose. The  hobbits rose  rather later. 
Morning  went  on.  People  came  and began (by  orders) to  clear away  the 
pavilions  and the  tables  and the chairs,  and the  spoons and  knives and 
bottles and plates, and the lanterns, and the flowering shrubs in boxes, and 
the  crumbs  and   cracker -paper,  the  forgotten   bags  and   gloves   and


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going to the harbours, out away beyond the  White Towers.' Sam waved his 
arm 
vaguely: neither he nor  any of them knew how far it was to the Sea, past the 
old towers  beyond  the western borders  of the  Shire. But  it was  an  old 
tradition that  away over  there stood the Grey  Havens, from which at times 
elven-ships set sail, never to return. 
     'They are sailing,  sailing, sailing over the Sea,  they are going into 
the West  and  leaving us,' said  Sam, half chanting the words, shaking  his 
head sadly and solemnly. But Ted laughed. 
     'Well,  that isn't anything  new, if you believe the  old tales.   And I 
don't see  what it matters to me or you.  Let  them sail!  But I warrant you  
haven't seen them doing it; nor any one else in the Shire.' 
     'Well I don't  know,' said Sam  thoughtfully. He believed he  had  once 
seen an Elf in the  woods, and still hoped to  see more one  day. Of all the


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Little of all this,  of  course, reached the ears of  ordinary hobbits. 
But  even the deafest  and most stay-at-home began to hear queer  tales; and 
those whose business  took  them  to  the  borders  saw strange  things. The 
conversation in The  Green Dragon at Bywater,  one evening in the spring  of 
Frodo's  fiftieth year,  showed that  even in the comfortable  heart of  the 
Shire rumours had been heard, though most hobbits still laughed at them. 
     Sam Gamgee was sitting in one  corner near the fire,  and opposite  him 
was Ted  Sandyman, the  miller's son;  and there  were various  other rustic 
hobbits listening to their talk. 
     'Queer things you do hear these days, to be sure,' said Sam. 
     'Ah,'  said  Ted, 'you do, if you listen. But I can hear fireside-tales 
and children's stories at home, if I want to.' 
     'No doubt you can,' retorted Sam, 'and I daresay  there's more truth in 
some of them than you reckon.  Who invented the stories anyway? Take


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####-want for moonshine. Well,  friends,  I'm  off home.  Your  good  health!' He 
drained his mug and  went out noisily. 
     Sam sat silent and said no more. He had a good deal to think about. For  
one thing, there was a lot to do up in the Bag End garden, and he would have 
a busy day tomorrow, if the weather cleared. The grass was growing fast. But 
Sam ha d more on his mind than gardening. After a while he sighed, and got up 
and went out. 
     It was  early April and the sky was now clearing after  heavy rain. The 
sun was down,  and  a cool  pale evening was quietly fading  into night.  He 
walked  home  under  the  early stars  through  Hobbiton and  up  the  Hill, 
whistling softly and thoughtfully. 
     It  was  just at  this  time that  Gandalf  reappeared  after his  long 
absence. For three years  after  the Party he had  been away.  Then he  paid 
Frodo a  brief visit,  and after taking a good look at him he went off again.


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####-whiter  than it  had  been  then,  and his  beard  and eyebrows were perhaps 
longer, and  his face more lined with care and  wisdom; but his eyes were as 
bright as ever, and he smoked and blew smoke-rings with the same vigour  and 
delight. 
     He was  smoking  now in  silence, for  Frodo was sitting still, deep in 
thought. Even in the light of morning he felt the dark shadow of the tidings 
that Gandalf had brought. At last he broke the silence. 
     'Last  night  you  began to  tell  me  strange  things  about  my ring, 
Gandalf,' he said. 'And then you stopped, because you said that such matters 
were best left until  daylight. Don't you think  you  had better finish now?  
You  say the ring  is dangerous,  far mor e  dangerous than  I guess. In what 
way?' 
     'In many  ways,' answered  the wizard. It is far  more powerful than  I 
ever dared to think at first, so powerful that in the  end it  would utterly


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The talk did not die down in nine  or even ninety-nine days. The second 
disappearance of Mr. Bilbo Baggins was discussed in Hobbiton, and indeed all 
over the Shire,  for a year  and a day,  and was remembered much longer than 
that.  It became  a fireside -story for  young  hobbits;  and eventually  Mad 
Baggins,  who used to vanish with a  bang and a flash and reappear with bags 
of jewels and gold, became a favourite character of legend and lived on long  
after all the true events were forgotten. 
     But in the meantime, the general opinion in the  neighbourhood was that 
Bilbo, who  had always been rather cracked, had at  last gone quite mad, and  
had run off into the Blue. There he had  undoubtedly fallen into a pool or a  
river and  come to a tragic,  but  hardly an  untimely, end.  The blame  was 
mostly laid on Gandalf. 
     'If only that  dratted  wizard will leave young  Frodo  alone,  perhaps


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and children's stories at home, if I want to.' 
     'No doubt you can,' retorted Sam, 'and I daresay  there's more truth in 
some of them than you reckon.  Who invented the stories anyway? Take 
dragons 
now.' 
     'No thank 'ee,' said  Ted, 'I won't.  I heard tell of them when I was a  
youngster, but there's no  call to  believe in  them  now. There's  only one 
Dragon in Bywater, and that's Green,' he said, getting a general laugh. 
     'All  right,' said  Sam, laughing with the rest. 'But  what about these 
Tree-men, these giants, as you might call  them? They do say that one bigger 
than a tree was seen up away beyond the North Moors not long back.' 
     'Who's they?' 
     'My cousin Hal for one. He works for Mr. Boffin at Overhill and goes up 
to the Northfarthing for the hunting. He saw one.' 
     'Says he did, perhaps. Your Hal's always saying  he's seen  things; and


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absence. For three years  after  the Party he had  been away.  Then he  paid 
Frodo a  brief visit,  and after taking a good look at him he went off again. 
During  the  next  year  or  two  he  had  turned  up  fairly often,  coming 
unexpectedly  after  dusk, and going off without warning before sunrise.  He 
would  not  discuss  his  own  business  and  journeys, and  seemed  chiefly 
interested in small news about Frodo's health and doings. 
     Then suddenly his visits had ceased. It was over nine years since Frodo 
had seen or heard of him, and  he had begun  to think that  the wizard would 
never return and  had given up all interest in hobbits. But that evening, as 
Sam was walking home  and twilight was fading, there came the once  familiar 
tap on the study window.  
     Frodo welcomed  his old friend with  surprise  and great delight.  They 
looked hard at one another. 
     'Ah well eh?' said Gandalf. 'You look the same as ever, Frodo!'


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found himself  wondering at times,  especially in the autumn, about the wild 
lands, and strange visions of mountains that he had never seen came into his 
dreams. He began to sa y to himself: 'Perhaps I shall cross the  River myself 
one day.' To which the other half of his mind always replied: 'Not yet.' 
     So it  went on,  until his forties were  running  out, and his fiftieth 
birthday  was  drawing  near:  fifty  was a number   that he felt was somehow 
significant (or ominous); it was at any  rate at that age that adventure had 
suddenly  befallen  Bilbo. Frodo began to feel  restless, and the  old paths 
seemed too well-trodden. He  looked at maps, and  wondered  what lay  beyond 
their edges: maps made  in the Shire showed  mostly  white spaces beyond its 
borders.  He took to wandering further afield and more often by himself; and 
Merry and his other friends watched him anxiously. Often he was seen walking


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'Well I don't  know,' said Sam  thoughtfully. He believed he  had  once 
seen an Elf in the  woods, and still hoped to  see more one  day. Of all the 
legends  that he had heard in his  early  years such fragments of tales  and 
half-remembered  stories  about  the Elves as the hobbits knew,  had  always 
moved him  most deeply. 'There  are some,  even in these parts, as  know the 
Fair Folk and get news  of them,'  he said. 'There's Mr. Baggins now, that I 
work for. He told me  that they were sailing and he knows a bit about Elves.  
And old Mr. Bilbo knew more:  many's the  talk I had with  him  when I was a  
little lad.' 
     'Oh, they're both cracked,' said Ted. 'Leastways old Bilbo was cracked, 
and Frodo's cracking. If that's where  you get your news from, you'll  never


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way?' 
     'In many  ways,' answered  the wizard. It is far  more powerful than  I 
ever dared to think at first, so powerful that in the  end it  would utterly 
overcome anyone of mortal race who possessed it. It would possess him. 
     'In Eregion long  ago many Elven-rings  were made,  magic  rings as you  
call them, and they were, of course, of various  kinds: some more potent and 
some  less.  The lesser rings were only essays  in the craft before  it  was 
full-grown, and to the Elven-smiths they were but  trifles  - yet still to my 
mind dangerous for mortals. But  the Great Rings,  the Rings of Power,  they 
were perilous.  
     'A  mortal, Frodo, who keeps one of the Great  Rings, does not die, but 
he does not  grow  or obtain more life, he merely continues, until  at  last 
every minute is a weariness. And if he often  uses the Ring  to make himself 
invisible,  he fades: he becomes in the end invisible permanently, and walks


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the present.' He got up. 
     'At  once!' cried Frodo.  'Why,  I thought  you were staying  on for at 
least a week. I was looking forward to your help.' 
     'I did mean to  - but I have had to change my mind. I  may be away for a  
good while;  but  I'll come and see you again, as soon  as I  can. Expect me 
when you see me! I shall  slip in quietly.  I  shan't often be visiting  the 
Shire openly again.  I find that I have become rather unpopular. They  say I 
am a  nuisance  and  a  disturber  of the  peace. Some people  are  actually 
accusing me of spiriting Bilbo away, or worse. If you want to know, there is 
supposed to be a plot between you and me to get hold of his wealth.' 
     'Some  people!'  exclaimed Frodo.  'You  mean  Otho  and  Lobelia.  How 
abominable!  I would give  them Bag  End and everything else, if I could get  
Bilbo back  and go off tramping in the country with  him. I  love the Shire.


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parting remark; but all she found to say, turning round on the step, was:  
     'You'll live to regret  it, young  fellow! Why  didn't you  go too? You  
don't belong here; you're no Baggins  - you - you're a Brandybuck!' 
     'Did you hear that, Merry? That was an insult, if you like,' said Frodo 
as he shut the door on her. 
     'It was a compliment,' said Merry  Brandybuck, 'and so, of  course, not 
true.' 
     Then they went  round the hole,  and  evicted three  young hobbits (two 
Boffins and a Bolger) who were knocking  holes  in the  walls  of one of the 
cellars.  Frodo  also had a  tussle  with young Sancho  Proudfoot  (old  Odo 
Proudfoot's  grandson),  who had  begun an  excavation in the larger pantry, 
where  he thought there was an echo. The legend of Bilbo's gold excited both 
curiosity  and  hope;  for legendary  gold  (mysteriously obtained,  if  not  
positively ill-gotten), is, as every  one  knows, any one's for  the  finding


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river and  come to a tragic,  but  hardly an  untimely, end.  The blame  was 
mostly laid on Gandalf. 
     'If only that  dratted  wizard will leave young  Frodo  alone,  perhaps 
he'll  settle  down  and  grow some  hobbit-sense,'  they said. And  to  all 
appearance the wizard did leave Frodo alone, and he did settle down, but the  
growth of hobbit-sense was not very noticeable. Indeed, he at once  began to  
carry on Bilbo's reputation for oddity. He  refused to go into mourning; and 
the next  year  he gave a party  in  honour of  Bilbo's  hundred-and-twelfth 
birthday, which he  called Hundred-weight Feast. But that was  short  of the 
mark, for twenty guests were invited  and  there were several meals at which  
it snowed food and rained drink, as hobbits say. 
     Some people were rather shocked; but Frodo kept up the custom of giving 
Bilbo's  Birthday Party year after year  until  they got used to it. He said


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Frodo welcomed  his old friend with  surprise  and great delight.  They 
looked hard at one another. 
     'Ah well eh?' said Gandalf. 'You look the same as ever, Frodo!' 
     'So do you,' Frodo replied; but secretly he thought that Gandalf looked 
older and  more careworn. He pressed him for news of himself and of the wide 
world, and  soon they were  deep in talk, and  they stayed  up far into  the 
night. 
     Next morning after a late breakfast, the  wizard was sitting with Frodo 
by the open  window of the  study. A bright fire was on the hearth,  but the 
sun was warm, and  the  wind was in the  South. Everything looked fresh, and 
the new green of Spring  was shimmering in the fields and on the tips of the  
trees' fingers.  
     Gandalf  was thinking of  a  spring,  nearly  eighty years before, when 
Bilbo  had run out  of Bag End without  a handkerchief. His hair was perhaps


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####-queer, it was himself. He said that it was "growing on his mind", and he was 
always worrying about it; but he did not suspect that the ring itself was to 
blame.  Though he had found out that  the thing needed looking after; it did 
not seem always of the same size or weight; it shrank or expanded  in an odd 
way, and might suddenly slip off a finger where it had been tight.' 
     'Yes, he warned me of that in his last letter,' said Frodo,  'so I have 
always kept it on its chain.' 
     'Very wise,'  said Gandalf.  'But  as for  his long life,   Bilbo  never  
connected  it  with the  ring  at all. He took  all  the credit  for that to 
himself,  and he was very  proud of  it. Though  he was getting restless and 
uneasy.  Thin and  stretched  he  said. A  sign  that  the  ring was getting 
control.' 
     'How long have you known all this?' asked Frodo again. 
     'Known?'  said  Gandalf.  'I  have known  much that only the Wise know,


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####-head of the Council. His knowledge is deep, but his pride has grown with it,  
and he takes ill any meddling. The lore of the Elven-rings, great and small, 
is  his province. He  has long studied it, seeking the lost secrets of their 
making; but when the  Rings  were debated  in the Council, all that he would  
reveal to us of his ring-lore told against my fears. So my doubt slept  - but 
uneasily. Still I watched and I waited. 
     'And all  seemed well  with  Bilbo. And  the  years  passed. Yes,  they 
passed, and  they seemed  not to touch him.  He showed no signs of age.  The 
shadow fell  on me  again. But I said  to  myself: "After all he comes of  a  
long-lived family on his mother's side. There is time yet. Wait!" 
     'And  I waited.  Until  that night when he left this house. He said and 
did things then that  filled me with a  fear that no words  of Saruman could 
allay. I knew at last that something dark and deadly was at work. And I have


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####-     Frodo shuddered. 'But why  should we be?'  he asked. 'And why should he 
want such slaves?' 
     'To tell you the  truth,' replied Gandalf,  'I  believe that hitherto - 
hitherto,  mark you - he has entirely overlooked the existence  of   hobbits.  
You should be thankful. But your  safety has passed. He does not need you   - 
he  has  many  more useful  servants   -  but  he won't forget you again. And 
hobbits as miserable slaves would please him far more than hobbits happy and 
free. There is  such a thing as malice and revenge.' 
     'Revenge?' said Frodo. 'Revenge for what? I still don't understand what 
all this has to do with Bilbo and myself, and our ring.' 
     'It has everything to do with  it,' said Gandalf. 'You do  not know the 
real peril  yet; but  you shall. I was not sure of it myself when I was last  
here; but the time has come to speak. Give me the ring for a moment.' 
     Frodo took it from his breeches-pocket, where it was clasped to a chain


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every minute is a weariness. And if he often  uses the Ring  to make himself 
invisible,  he fades: he becomes in the end invisible permanently, and walks 
in the twilight under the eye of the  dark power that rules the Rings.  Yes, 
sooner or  later  - later, if he is strong or well-meaning to begin with, but 
neither strength nor good purpose will last  - sooner or later the dark power  
will devour him.' 
     'How terrifying!' said Frodo. There was another long silence. The sound 
of Sam Gamgee cutting the lawn came in from the garden. 
     'How long have you  known this?'  asked Frodo  at length. 'And how much 
did Bilbo know?' 
     'Bilbo knew no  more than he told you, I  am  sure,' said Gandalf.  'He 
would certainly never have  passed on  to you anything that he thought would 
be a danger, even though I  promised to  look after you. He thought the ring  
was very beautiful, and very  useful at  need;  and if anything was wrong or


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abominable!  I would give  them Bag  End and everything else, if I could get  
Bilbo back  and go off tramping in the country with  him. I  love the Shire. 
But I begin to  wish, somehow, that I had gone too. I wonder if I shall ever  
see him again.' 
     'So do I,' said Gandalf. 'And  I wonder many other things. Good-bye now!  
Take  care  of  yourself!  Look out  for  me, especially at  unlikely times!  
Good-bye!' 
     Frodo saw him to the door. He gave a final wave of his hand, and walked 
off at a surprising pace; but Frodo  thought the  old wizard looked unusually 
bent, almost  as if  he was carrying a great weight. The evening was closing 
in, and his cloaked figure quickly vanished into the twilight. Frodo did not 
see him again for a long time.


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Some people were rather shocked; but Frodo kept up the custom of giving 
Bilbo's  Birthday Party year after year  until  they got used to it. He said 
that he did not think Bilbo  was dead. When  they asked: 'Where is he then?' 
he shrugged his shoulders. 
     He lived  alone, as Bilbo had done; but he  had  a  good  many friends, 
especially among  the younger hobbits  (mostly descendants  of the Old Took) 
who  had  as children been fond of  Bilbo  and often in and out of Bag  End.  
Folco Boffin and Fredegar  Bolger were two of these; but his closest friends 
were Peregrin Took (usually called Pippin),  and Merry Brandybuck  (his real 
name was Meriadoc, but  that was seldom remembered). Frodo went tramping 
all 
over  the Shire with them; but more often he wandered by himself, and to the 
amazement of  sensible folk he was sometimes  seen far  from home walking in


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borders.  He took to wandering further afield and more often by himself; and 
Merry and his other friends watched him anxiously. Often he was seen walking 
and talking with the strange  wayfarers that began at this time to appear in 
the Shire. 
     There were rumours of  strange things happening in the  world  outside; 
and as Gandalf had not at that time appeared or sent any message for several 
years, Frodo gathered all the news he could. Elves, who seldom walked in the 
Shire, could  now be seen passing westward through the woods in the evening, 
passing and  not returning; but they were leaving Middle-earth and  were  no  
longer concerned with its troubles. There were, however, dwarves on the road 
in  unusual numbers. The ancient East -West Road ran through the Shire to its 
end at the Grey Havens, and dwarves had always used it on their way to their 
mines in the Blue Mountains. They  were the  hobbits' chief  source of  news


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did things then that  filled me with a  fear that no words  of Saruman could 
allay. I knew at last that something dark and deadly was at work. And I have  
spent most of the years since then in finding out the truth of it.' 
     'There  wasn't  any  permanent  harm  done,  was  there?'  asked  Frodo 
anxiously. 'He would  get all right in time, wouldn't he? Be able to rest in 
peace, I mean?' 
     'He felt better at once,' said Gandalf. 'But there is only one Power in 
this world that knows all about the Rings and their effects; and as far as I 
know there is no Power  in the world that knows all about hobbits. Among the 
Wise I  am  the only one that goes in for hobbit-lore: an obscure branch  of 
knowledge, but  full  of surprises.  Soft as  butter  they  can be,  and yet 
sometimes as tough as old  tree-roots.  I  think it likely  that  some would  
resist the  Rings far longer  than most of the Wise  would believe.  I don't 
think you need worry about Bilbo.


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####-that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the 
time that  is given, us. And already, Frodo,  our  time is beginning to look  
black. The Enemy is fast becoming very strong. His plans are  far from ripe,  
I think, but  they are ripening. We shall be hard put to  it.  We  should be 
very hard put to it, even if it were not for this dreadful chance. 
     'The Enemy  still lacks one thing to give him strength and knowledge to 
beat down all resistance,  break the last defences, and cover  all the lands 
in a second darkness. He lacks the One Ring. 
     'The  Three, fairest of all, the Elf-lords hid  from him, and  his hand 
never touched  them or  sullied them. Seven the  Dwarf-kings possessed,  but 
three he  has recovered,  and the others the  dragons have consumed. Nine he 
gave  to  Mortal Men,  proud and great, and so ensnared them. Long ago  they 
fell under  the dominion  of the One, and they became  Ringwraiths,  shadows


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end at the Grey Havens, and dwarves had always used it on their way to their 
mines in the Blue Mountains. They  were the  hobbits' chief  source of  news 
from distant parts  - if they  wanted any: as a rule  dwarves said little and 
hobbits  asked  no  more.  But now Frodo  often met strange dwarves  of  far  
countries, seeking refuge in the West. They were troubled, and some spoke in


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####-seemed  to  form  the  letters of a flowing  script. They  shone  piercingly 
bright, and yet remote, as if out of a great depth. 
 
     I cannot read the fiery letters,' said Frodo in a quavering voice. 
     'No,' said Gandalf, 'but I can. The  letters are Elvish,  of an ancient 
mode, but the  language is that of Mordor, which I will  not utter here. But 
this in the Common Tongue is what is said, close enough: 
     One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, 
     One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them. 
     It is only two lines of a verse long known in Elven-lore: 
     Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky, 
     Seven for the Dwarf- lords in their halls of stone, 
     Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die, 
     One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne 
     In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie. 
     One Ring to rule them all. One Ring to find them, 
     One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them


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here; but the time has come to speak. Give me the ring for a moment.' 
     Frodo took it from his breeches-pocket, where it was clasped to a chain 
that hung  from  his  belt. He unfastened  it  and handed  it slowly  to the 
wizard. It felt suddenly very heavy, as if either it or Frodo himself was in 
some way reluctant for Gandalf to touch it. 
     Gandalf held it up. It looked  to be  made of pure and solid gold. 'Can 
you see any markings  on it?' he asked. 
     'No,'  said  Frodo. 'There  are none. It is quite  plain,  and it never  
shows a scratch or sign of wear.' 
     'Well  then, look!'  To Frodo's  astonishment and  distress  the wizard 
threw it suddenly  into the middle  of a glowing corner  of the fire.  Frodo 
gave a cry and groped for the tongs; but Gandalf held him back. 
     'Wait!' he said in a commanding voice,  giving Frodo a quick  look from 
under his bristling brows. 
     No apparent  change came over the ring. After a  while  Gandalf got up,


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sometimes as tough as old  tree-roots.  I  think it likely  that  some would  
resist the  Rings far longer  than most of the Wise  would believe.  I don't 
think you need worry about Bilbo. 
     'Of  course, he possessed the ring  for many years,  and used it,  so it 
might take a long while for the  influence to  wear off  - before it was safe 
for him to see it  again, for  instance.  Otherwise,  he might  live on  for  
years,  quite happily: just stop  as  he was when he parted with  it. For he 
gave it up in the end of his own accord: an important point. No, I  was  not 
troubled about dear Bilbo any more, once he had let the  thing go. It is for  
you that I feel responsible. 
     'Ever  since  Bilbo left  I have been deeply concerned  about you,  and 
about all  these charming, absurd, helpless  hobbits. It would be a grievous 
blow to the world, if  the Dark Power overcame the Shire; if all  your kind,


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####-fished. Suddenly a great fish took  his  hook, and before he  knew where  he 
was, he was dragged out and down into the water, to  the bottom. Then he let 
go of his line, for he thought he saw  something shining  in  the river -bed; 
and holding his breath he grabbed at it. 
     'Then up he came spluttering,  with weeds in his  hair and a handful of 
mud; and he swam to the bank. And behold! when he washed the mud away, 
there 
in his  hand lay a beautiful golden ring; and it  shone and glittered in the 
sun, so  that his heart  was glad.  But  Smjagol had  been watching him from 
behind  a tree, and as Deal  gloated  over the  ring, Smjagol came softly up 
behind. 
     '"Give  us  that,  Deal,  my  love,"  said Smjagol,  over  his friend's 
shoulder. 
     '"Why?" said Deal. 
     ' "Because it's my birthday, my love, and I wants it," said Smjagol. 
     '"I don't care," said Deal. "I have  given  you a present already, more


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####-history which it might be good to recall; for there was sorrow then too, and 
gathering dark, but great valour, and great deeds that were not wholly vain. 
One day, perhaps, I will tell you all the tale, or you shall hear it told in 
full by one who knows it best. 
     'But for the moment, since most of all you need to know how  this thing 
came to  you, and that will be tale enough, this is all that  I will say. It 
was Gil-galad,  Elven-king and Elendil  of Westernesse who overthrew Sauron, 
though they themselves perished in the  deed; and Isildur Elendil's son  cut 
the  Ring  from  Sauron's hand and  took  it  for his own.  Then  Sauron was 
vanquished  and  his  spirit fled and was hidden for long  years,  until his 
shadow took shape again in Mirkwood. 
     'But  the  Ring was  lost. It fell  into  the Great  River, Anduin,  and 
vanished. For Isildur was marching north  along the east banks of the River,


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In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie. 
     One Ring to rule them all. One Ring to find them, 
     One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them 
     In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.' 
     He  paused,  and  then  said  slowly in  a  deep voice:  'This  is  the 
Master-ring, the One  Ring to rule them all.  This is the  One  Ring that he 
lost many ages ago, to the great weakening of  his power. He greatly desires 
it - but he must not get it.' 
     Frodo sat silent  and motionless.  Fear seemed  to stretch out  a  vast  
hand, like a dark  cloud rising in the East and  looming  up  to engulf him. 
'This ring!' he stammered. 'How, how on earth did it come to me?' 
     'Ah!' said Gandalf. 'That is a very long story. The beginnings lie back 
in  the Black Years, which only the lore-masters now remember. If  I were to 
tell  you all  that tale, we should still  be sitting  here when  Spring had 
passed into Winter.


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####-with invisible fingers and ate them raw. One day it was very hot, and as  he 
was  bending over a  pool, he felt a burning  on the back of his head) and a  
dazzling light from the water pained his wet eyes. He wondered at it, for he 
had almost forgotten about  the Sun. Then for the last time he looked up and 
shook his fist at her. 
     'But  as  he  lowered his eyes, he saw far above  the tops of the Misty 
Mountains, out of which the stream came.  And he thought suddenly: "It would 
be cool and shady under  those mountains. The Sun could not  watch me there. 
The  roots  of those mountains  must be  roots indeed; there  must be  great 
secrets buried there which have not been discovered since the beginning." 
     'So he journeyed by night up into  the highlands, and he found a little 
cave  out of which the dark stream ran; and  he wormed his way like a maggot 
into the heart of the  hills, and vanished  out  of all  knowledge. The Ring


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about all  these charming, absurd, helpless  hobbits. It would be a grievous 
blow to the world, if  the Dark Power overcame the Shire; if all  your kind, 
jolly, stupid Bolgers, Hornblowers, Boffins, Bracegirdles, and the rest, not 
to mention the ridiculous Bagginses, became enslaved.'


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shoulder. 
     '"Why?" said Deal. 
     ' "Because it's my birthday, my love, and I wants it," said Smjagol. 
     '"I don't care," said Deal. "I have  given  you a present already, more 
than I could afford. I found this, and I'm going to keep it." 
     ' "Oh, are you  indeed, my  love," said  Smjagol; and he caught Deal by 
the  throat  and  strangled  him,  because  the gold  looked  so bright  and 
beautiful. Then he put the ring on his finger. 
     'No one  ever found out what had become  of  Deal;  he was murdered far  
from home, and  his body  was cunningly hidden. But  Smjagol returned alone; 
and he found that none of his  family could see him, when he was wearing the 
ring. He was  very  pleased with  his discovery  and he concealed it; and he 
used it  to  find  out secrets, and  he  put  his  knowledge to crooked  and 
malicious  uses.  He became  sharp-eyed and  keen-eared  for  all  that  was


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shadow took shape again in Mirkwood. 
     'But  the  Ring was  lost. It fell  into  the Great  River, Anduin,  and 
vanished. For Isildur was marching north  along the east banks of the River,  
and near the Gladden Fields he was waylaid by the Orcs of the Mountains, and 
almost all his folk  were slain. He leaped  into the waters,  but  the  Ring 
slipped from his finger as he swam, and then the Orcs saw him and killed him 
with arrows.' 
     Gandalf paused. 'And there in the dark pools amid the  Gladden Fields,' 
he said, 'the Ring passed out  of knowledge and legend; and even so much  of 
its history is known now  only to a few, and the Council of the  Wise  could 
discover no more. But at last I can carry on the story, I think. 
     'Long  after, but  still very long ago, there lived by the banks of the 
Great River  on  the edge of  Wilderland  a  clever -handed  and quiet-footed 
little people. I guess they were of hobbit-kind; akin to the fathers of  the


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'Wait!' he said in a commanding voice,  giving Frodo a quick  look from 
under his bristling brows. 
     No apparent  change came over the ring. After a  while  Gandalf got up, 
closed  the shutters outside the window,  and drew  the  curtains.  The room 
became dark and silent, though the  clack of Sam's shears, now nearer to the  
windows,  could  still be heard  faintly from the garden. For  a  moment the 
wizard st ood looking at the fire; then he stooped and  removed  the ring  to 
the hearth with the tongs, and at once picked it up. Frodo gasped. 
     It  is quite cool,' said Gandalf. 'Take it!' Frodo received  it  on his 
shrinking palm: it seemed to have become thicker and heavier than ever. 
     'Hold it up!' said Gandalf. 'And look closely!' 
     As  Frodo  did  so,  he  now  saw  fine  lines, finer than  the  finest  
pen-strokes,  running along the ring, outside and inside: lines of fire that


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cave  out of which the dark stream ran; and  he wormed his way like a maggot 
into the heart of the  hills, and vanished  out  of all  knowledge. The Ring 
went into the shadows with him, and even the maker, when his power had 
begun 
to grow again, could learn nothing of it.' 
     'Gollum!' cried  Frodo. 'Gollum? Do  you mean  that this  is  the  very 
Gollum-creature that Bilbo met? How loathsome!' 
     'I  think  it  is  a sad  story,' said the  wizard, 'and it might  have 
happened to others, even to some hobbits that I have known.' 
     'I  can't  believe  that  Gollum  was  connected with  hobbits, however 
distantly,' said Frodo with some heat. 'What an abominable notion!' 
     'It is  true all  the same,' replied Gandalf. 'About their  origins, at 
any  rate, I know  more than hobbits  do themselves. And even  Bilbo's story 
suggests the kinship. There  was  a  great  deal in the background  of their


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####-might. There  was a little  corner of  his mind that was still  his own, and 
light  came  through it, as  through  a  chink in the dark: light out of the 
past.  It was actually  pleasant,  I think,  to  hear  a kindly voice again, 
bringing up memories  of wind,  and trees, and sun  on the  grass, and  such 
forgotten things.  
     'But that, of  course, would only make the evil  part of him angrier in 
the end - unless it could  be conquered.  Unless it could be cured.' Gandalf 
sighed. 'Alas! there is little hope of  that for him. Yet  not  no hope. No, 
not  though  he  possessed  the Ring so  long, almost  as far back as he can 
remember. For it was long since he  had worn it much:  in the black darkness 
it was seldom needed. Certainly he had never "faded".  He is  thin and tough 
still. But the  thing was eating up his mind, of course, and the torment had 
become almost unbearable. 
     'All the "great secrets" under the mountains had turned  out to be just


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in  the Black Years, which only the lore-masters now remember. If  I were to 
tell  you all  that tale, we should still  be sitting  here when  Spring had 
passed into Winter. 
     'But last  night  I told  you of Sauron the Great,  the Dark  Lord. The 
rumours that you have  heard are  true: he  has indeed arisen again and left 
his hold in Mirkwood and returned to his ancient fastness in the  Dark Tower 
of Mordor. That name even  you  hobbits have heard of, like a  shadow on the 
borders of  old  stories. Always after a  defeat and a  respite, the  Shadow 
takes another shape and grows again.' 
     'I wish it need not have happened in my time,' said Frodo. 
     'So do I,' said Gandalf, 'and so do all who live to see such times. But


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used it  to  find  out secrets, and  he  put  his  knowledge to crooked  and 
malicious  uses.  He became  sharp-eyed and  keen-eared  for  all  that  was 
hurtful. The ring had given him power according to  his stature. It is not to 
be wondered at  that he became very unpopular and was shunned (when 
visible)  
by  all his  relations.  They kicked him, and he  bit their feet. He took to 
thieving, and going about muttering to himself,  and gurgling in his throat. 
So they called him Gollum, and cursed him, and told him to go far  away; and 
his grandmother, desiring peace, expelled him from the family and turned him 
out of her hole. 
     'He wandered in  loneliness, weeping a little for the  hardness  of the 
world, and he journeyed up the River, till  he came to a stream that  flowed 
down from the mountains, and he went that way.  He caught fish in deep pools


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control.' 
     'How long have you known all this?' asked Frodo again. 
     'Known?'  said  Gandalf.  'I  have known  much that only the Wise know,  
Frodo. But  if you mean "known about this ring", well,  I still do not know,  
one might say. There is a last test to make. But I no longer doubt my guess.  
     'When did I first begin to guess?' he mused, searching back  in memory. 
'Let me see - it was in the year that the White Council drove the dark power  
from Mirkwood,  just before the Battle of Five  Armies, that Bilbo found his 
ring.  A  shadow  fell on my  heart then, though  I did not know  yet what I 
feared. I wondered often how Gollum came  by a Great Ring, as plainly it was 
- that at least was clear from the first. Then I heard Bilbo's strange story 
of how he had "won" it, and I  could not believe it. When I at last  got the 
truth out of him,  I saw at once that he had been trying to put his claim to


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####-     'There was more than one power at work, Frodo. The  Ring was  trying to 
get back to its master. It had slipped from Isildur's hand and betrayed him; 
then when a  chance came it caught poor Deal, and he was murdered; and after  
that Gollum,  and it had devoured him. It could make  no further use of him:  
he was too  small and mean; and as long as it stayed with him he would never  
leave his deep pool again. So  now, when its master was awake  once more and 
sending out his dark  thought from Mirkwood, it abandoned Gollum. Only to 
be 
picked up by the most unlikely person imaginable: Bilbo from the Shire!  
     'Behind that there was something else at work, beyond any design of the 
Ring-maker.  I can put it no plainer than by saying that Bilbo was meant  to 
find the Ring, and not by its maker.  In which  case you  also were meant to 
have it. And that maybe an encouraging thought.' 
     It  is  not,' said Frodo. "Though I am not sure  that I understand you.


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Great River  on  the edge of  Wilderland  a  clever -handed  and quiet-footed 
little people. I guess they were of hobbit-kind; akin to the fathers of  the 
fathers  of the Stoors, for they loved  the  River, and often swam in it, or  
made  little  boats  of reeds. There was among them a family of high repute,  
for it was  large and wealthier than most, and it was ruled by a grandmother  
of  the  folk, stern  and  wise  in old lore,  such  as they  had. The  most 
inquisitive and  curious-minded of that  family was called  Smjagol. He  was 
interested in  roots and beginnings; he dived into  deep pools; he  burrowed 
under  trees and  growing plants; he tunnelled  into green  mounds;  and  he 
ceased to  look up at the hill -tops, or the leaves on trees, or  the flowers 
opening in the air: his head and his eyes were downward. 
     'He had a  friend  called Djagol, of similar sort, sharper -eyed but not 
so quick and strong. On a time they took a boat and went down to the Gladden


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gave  to  Mortal Men,  proud and great, and so ensnared them. Long ago  they 
fell under  the dominion  of the One, and they became  Ringwraiths,  shadows 
under  his  great Shadow, his most terrible servants. Long ago. It is many a  
year since the Nine walked abroad. Yet who  knows?  As the Shadow grows 
once 
more, they too may walk again. But  come!  We will not speak of such  things 
even in the morning of the Shire. 
     'So it is now: the Nine he has gathered to himself; the Seven also,  or  
else  they are  destroyed.  The Three are hidden still.  But that no  longer  
troubles him. He only  needs the One; for he made  that Ring himself, it  is 
his, and he let a great part of his  own former power pass  into it, so that 
he could rule all the other s.  If he recovers it, then he  will command them 
all again, wherever they be,  even the Three, and  all that has been wrought 
with them will be laid bare, and he will be stronger than ever.


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still. But the  thing was eating up his mind, of course, and the torment had 
become almost unbearable. 
     'All the "great secrets" under the mountains had turned  out to be just  
empty night: there was  nothing more to find out,  nothing worth doing, only 
nasty furtive eating and resentful remembering.  He was altogether wretched. 
He hated the  dark,  and  he hated light more: he hated  everything, and the 
Ring most of all.' 
     'What  do you mean?' said Frodo. 'Surely the Ring was his  precious and 
the only thing he cared for?  But if he  hated it,  why didn't he get rid of 
it, or go away and leave it?' 
     'You  ought to  begin to understand, Frodo,  after all you have heard,' 
said Gandalf. 'He  hated it and loved it, as he hated and loved  himself. He 
could not get rid of it. He had no will left in the matter. 
     'A  Ring  of  Power  looks   after  itself,  Frodo.  It  may  slip  off 
treacherously, but its keeper never  abandons it. At most he  plays with the


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any  rate, I know  more than hobbits  do themselves. And even  Bilbo's story 
suggests the kinship. There  was  a  great  deal in the background  of their 
minds  and memories  that was  very  similar.  They  understood one  another 
remarkably well,  very much  better  than a hobbit would  understand, say, a  
Dwarf, or an Orc, or even  an Elf. Think of the riddles they both  knew, for  
one thing.' 
     'Yes,' said Frodo. 'Though other folks besides hobbits ask riddles, and 
of  much the same sort. And hobbits don't cheat.  Gollum  meant to cheat all  
the time. He was just trying to put poor Bilbo  off his  guard. And I daresay 
it amused his wickedness  to  start a game which might end  in providing him 
with an easy victim, but if he lost would not hurt him.' 
     'Only too true, I fear,' said Gandalf. 'But there was something else in 
it, I think, which you don't see yet. Even Gollum was not wholly  ruined. He


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####-person in her  way,  but to talk of  her  possessing  many  Elven-rings  was 
absurd, and as for giving them away, it was a lie. But a lie with a grain of 
truth. 
     'The  murder  of  Deal haunted  Gollum,  and he had made  up a defence, 
repeating  it  to his "precious" over and  over again, as he gnawed bones in 
the dark, until he almost  believed it. It  was   his birthday. Deal ought to 
have given the ring to him. It had  previously turned up  just so as to be a  
present. It was his birthday present, and so on, and on. 
     I  endured  him  as long  as  I could,  but  the truth  was desperately 
important, and in the end I  had to be harsh. I put the fear of fire on him, 
and wrung  the  true  story  out of  him, bit by  bit,  together  with  much 
snivelling  and snarling. He thought  he was misunderstood and ill-used. But 
when  he  had  at  last  told  me his history,  as  far  as  the end of  the


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of how he had "won" it, and I  could not believe it. When I at last  got the 
truth out of him,  I saw at once that he had been trying to put his claim to 
the  ring beyond  doubt. Much like Gollum  with his "birthday  present". The 
lies were too much alike for my comfort.  Clearly the ring had an unwholesome 
power  that  set to  work on  its keeper at once.  That was the  first  real 
warning I had that all was not well. I told Bilbo often that such rings were 
better left unused; but he resented it, and soon got angry. There was little 
else that I could  do.  I could not take it  from him without doing  greater  
harm; and  I had no right to  do so anyway. I could only watch  and wait.  I 
might perhaps have consulted Saruman the White, but something always held 
me 
back.' 
     'Who is he?' asked Frodo. I have never heard of him before.' 
     'Maybe  not,' answered Gandalf. 'Hobbits  are, or were,  no concern  of


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all again, wherever they be,  even the Three, and  all that has been wrought 
with them will be laid bare, and he will be stronger than ever. 
     'And this  is the dreadful chance, Frodo. He believed that the  One had 
perished; that the Elves had destroyed it, as should have been  done. But he 
knows now that it has not perished, that it has been found. So he is seeking 
it, seeking it, and all his thought is bent  on it. It is his great hope and 
our great fear. ' 
     'Why,  why wasn't it destroyed?'  cried Frodo. 'And how  did  the Enemy  
ever come to lose it, if  he  was so strong, and it was so precious to him?' 
He  clutched  the Ring  in his hand,  as  if  he saw  already  dark  fingers 
stretching out to seize it. 
     'It  was taken from him,' said Gandalf.  'The  strength of the Elves to 
resist  him was greater long ago; and  not all Men were estranged from them. 
The  Men of Westernesse  came  to their aid. That  is a  chapter of  ancient


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have it. And that maybe an encouraging thought.' 
     It  is  not,' said Frodo. "Though I am not sure  that I understand you. 
But how have you  learned all this about the Ring, and about  Gollum? Do you  
really know it all, or are you just guessing still?' 
     Gandalf looked  at Frodo, and his eyes glinted. I knew much  and I have 
learned much,' he answered. 'But I am not  going to give an account of all my 
doings to you. The history of Elendil and Isildur and the One Ring is  known  
to all the  Wise. Your ring is shown to be that One Ring by the fire-writing 
alone, apart from any  other evidence.' 'And  when  did you discover  that?' 
asked Frodo, interrupting. 'Just  now in this room, of course,' answered the 
wizard sharply.  'But  I expected to  find  it.  I have come back  from dark 
journeys and long search to make that final test. It is the last proof,  and 
all is now only too clear. Making out Gollum's part, and fitting it into the


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'He had a  friend  called Djagol, of similar sort, sharper -eyed but not 
so quick and strong. On a time they took a boat and went down to the Gladden 
Fields, where  there were  great beds  of  iris  and  flowering reeds. There 
Smjagol got out and went nosing about the banks but Deal sat in the boat and


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'Only too true, I fear,' said Gandalf. 'But there was something else in 
it, I think, which you don't see yet. Even Gollum was not wholly  ruined. He 
had proved tougher than even one of the Wise would have guessed  -as a hobbit


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snivelling  and snarling. He thought  he was misunderstood and ill-used. But 
when  he  had  at  last  told  me his history,  as  far  as  the end of  the 
Riddle-game  and Bilbo's escape, he would not say any more,  except in  dark 
hints. Some other fear was on him greater than mine. He muttered that he was 
going  to gel his own back. People would see if he would stand being kicked, 
and driven  into  a hole and  then robbed. Gollum had good friends now, good 
friends and very strong. They would help him. Baggins would pay for it. That 
was his chief thought. He hated Bilbo and cursed his name. What  is more, he 
knew where he came from.' 
     'But how did he find that out?' asked Frodo. 
     'Well, as for the  name, Bilbo very foolishly told  Gollum himself; and 
after that  it  would  not be difficult to discover his country, once Gollum 
came out. Oh yes, he came out. His longing for the Ring proved stronger than


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####-for certain, for his talk was constantly interrupted  by curses and threats.  
"What had it  got in its pocketses?" he said. "It wouldn't say, no precious. 
Little cheat. Not a fair  question. It  cheated first, it did. It  broke the 
rules. We ought to have squeezed it, yes precious. And we will, precious!" 
     'That is a sample of his talk. I don't suppose you want any more. I had 
weary days  of it. But from hints dropped among  the snarls I  even gathered 
that his padding feet had  taken him  at last to Esgaroth, and even  to  the 
streets of Dale, listening secretly and peering. Well, the news of the great 
events went far and wide in Wilderland, and many had heard Bilbo's name  and 
knew where he came from.  We had made no secret of our return journey to his 
home in the West. Gollum's sharp ears would soon learn what he wanted.' 
     'Then why didn't  he track Bilbo further?' asked Frodo. 'Why didn't  he 
come to the Shire?'


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me 
back.' 
     'Who is he?' asked Frodo. I have never heard of him before.' 
     'Maybe  not,' answered Gandalf. 'Hobbits  are, or were,  no concern  of 
his. Yet he is great among the Wise.  He  is the  chief of  my order and the


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'A  Ring  of  Power  looks   after  itself,  Frodo.  It  may  slip  off 
treacherously, but its keeper never  abandons it. At most he  plays with the 
idea of handing  it on  to someone else's care  - and  that  only at an early 
stage, when it first  begins  to grip. But  as  far as I know Bilbo alone in 
history has ever gone beyond playing, and  really done it.  He needed all my 
help, too. And even  so he would never  have just  forsaken  it, or  cast it 
aside. It  was not Gollum, Frodo, but the  Ring  itself that decided things.  
The Ring left him.' 
     'What, just in time  to meet Bilbo?' said Frodo. 'Wouldn't an  Orc have 
suited it better?' 
     'It  is no laughing  matter,'  said Gandalf. 'Not for you.  It was  the 
strangest event in the  whole history of the  Ring so far:  Bilbo's  arrival 
just at that time, and putting his hand on it, blindly, in the dark.


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####-out of the great perils bringing the miserable creature with him. 
     'What he had  been doing  he would not say. He only wept and  called us 
cruel,  with many a gollum in his throat; and when we pressed him he  whined 
and  cringed, and  rubbed his  long hands, licking his  fingers  as if  they 
pained  him, as if he remembered some old torture.  But I am afraid there is 
no possible doubt: he had made his slow, sneaking way, step by step, mile by 
mile, south, down at last to the Land of Mordor.' 
     A heavy silence fell in the room.  Frodo could hear his  heart beating. 
Even outside everything seemed still. No sound of Sam's  shears could now be 
heard. 
     'Yes,  to Mordor,' said Gandalf. 'Alas! Mordor draws all wicked things,  
and the Dark Power was bending all its will to  gather them there.  The Ring 
of the Enemy would leave  its  mark, too, leave him open to the summons. And 
all folk were whispering then of the new Shadow in the South, and its hatred


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after that  it  would  not be difficult to discover his country, once Gollum 
came out. Oh yes, he came out. His longing for the Ring proved stronger than 
his fear of the Orcs, or even of the light. After a year  or two he left the 
mountains. You  see, though  still  bound  by desire of it, the Ring was  no 
longer devouring him; he began  to revive a little.  He  felt  old , terribly 
old, yet less timid, and he was mortally hungry. 
     'Light, light of Sun and Moon, he still feared and hated, and he always 
will, I think; but he was cunning. He found he could hide  from daylight and 
moonshine,  and make his way swiftly  and softly by dead of night  with  his 
pale cold  eyes,  and  catch  small  frightened or  unwary  things. He  grew 
stronger  and  bolder  with new food  and  new air. He  found  his way  into 
Mirkwood, as one would expect.' 
     'Is that where you found him?' asked Frodo. 
     'I  saw  him there,' answered Gandalf, 'but before that he had wandered


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####-years ago, when I last saw you, I still knew little for certain.' 
     'But  why  not destroy  it, as you say should have been done long ago?' 
cried Frodo again. If you had warned me, or even  sent me a message, I would 
have done away with it.' 
     'Would you? How would you do that? Have you ever tried?' 
     'No. But I suppose one could hammer it or melt it.' 
     'Try!' said Gandalf. Try now!' 
     Frodo drew the Ring  out of his pocket again and looked  at it. It  now 
appeared  plain and smooth, without  mark or device that  he  could see. The 
gold looked very fair and pure, and Frodo thought how rich and beautiful was 
its  colour,  how perfect was  its  roundness. It was an admirable thing and 
altogether  precious. When he  took  it out he had intended to fling it from 
him into the very hottest  part of the  fire. But he found now that he could 
not do so, not without a great  struggle. He weighed the  Ring in his  hand,


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####-without need. And  he has been well rewarded, Frodo. Be sure that he took so 
little hurt from the evil,  and escaped  in  the  end, because he began  his 
ownership of the Ring so. With Pity.' 
     'I am sorry,' said  Frodo.  'But I am frightened; and I do not feel any 
pity for Gollum.' 
     'You have not seen him,' Gandalf broke in. 
     'No,  and I don't  want to,' said Frodo. I can't understand you. Do you  
mean to  say that you, and the Elves, have let him live on  after all  those 
horrible  deeds? Now at any rate he is  as bad as an Orc, and just an enemy. 
He deserves death.' 
     'Deserves it! I daresay he does. Many that live deserve death. And some 
that die deserve life. Can you give it to them? Then do not be too eager  to 
deal out death in judgement.  For  even the very wise cannot see all ends. I 
have not much hope  that Gollum can be cured before  he dies, but there is a  
chance of it. And  he is bound  up with the fate of the Ring. My heart tells


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journeys and long search to make that final test. It is the last proof,  and 
all is now only too clear. Making out Gollum's part, and fitting it into the 
gap in the history, required some  thought. I may have  started with guesses 
about Gollum, but I am not guessing now. I know. I have seen him.' 
     'You have seen Gollum?' exclaimed Frodo in amazement. 
     'Yes. The obvious thing to do, of  course, if  one  could. I tried long 
ago; but I have managed it at last.' 
     'Then what happened after Bilbo escaped from him? Do you know that?' 
     'Not so  clearly.  What I  have told you is what Gollum was  willing to 
tell - though not, of course, in the  way  I have  reported it. Gollum  is a  
liar,  and you have to sift his words. For instance, he called the  Ring his 
"birthday  present",  and he  stuck  to  that.  He  said it  came  from  his 
grandmother, who  had lots  of beautiful  things of  that kind. A ridiculous


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####-     'Such questions cannot be  answered,'  said Gandalf.  'You may be  sure 
that it was not  for any merit that others do not possess: not for  power or  
wisdom,  at any rate. But you have been chosen, and you  must therefore  use 
such strength and heart and wits as you have.' 
     'But I  have so  little of any  of  these  things!  You  are  wise  and 
powerful. Will you not take the Ring?' 
     'No!' cried Gandalf, springing  to  his feet. 'With that power I should 
have power too great and terrible. And over me the Ring  would  gain a power  
still greater and more deadly.' His eyes flashed and his face  was lit as by 
a fire within.  'Do not tempt me! For I do not  wish to become like the  Dark 
Lord  himself. Yet the  way of the  Ring  to  my heart is by pity, pity  for  
weakness and the desire of strength to do good. Do  not tempt me! I dare not  
take it, not even to keep it safe, unused. The wish to wield it would be too


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home in the West. Gollum's sharp ears would soon learn what he wanted.' 
     'Then why didn't  he track Bilbo further?' asked Frodo. 'Why didn't  he 
come to the Shire?' 
     'Ah,' said Gandalf, 'now we come to it. I think Gollum tried to. He set 
out and  came  back westward, as far as the Great River. But  then he turned 
aside. He  was not daunted by  the distance, I am  sure.  No, something else 
drew him away. So my friends think, those that hunted him for me. 
     'The Wood-elves tracked him first, an easy task for them, for his trail 
was  still fresh  then. Through Mirkwood and back again it  led them, though 
they never  caught him. The wood was full of  the  rumour  of  him, dreadful 
tales even among beasts and birds. The  Woodmen said that there was some 
new 
terror abroad, a ghost that drank blood. It climbed trees to  find nests; it 
crept into  holes  to  find  the young; it slipped  through windows  to find 
cradles.


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####-better  keeper soon. But in the meanwhile it  seems that I  am  a  danger, a  
danger  to all that live near  me.  I cannot  keep the Ring and stay here. I 
ought to leave   Bag End,  leave the Shire, leave everything and go away.' He 
sighed. 
     'I should like to  save  the Shire, if I could  - though there have been 
times when I thought the inhabitants too stupid and dull for words, and have 
felt that an earthquake or  an invasion of dragons might  be good  for them. 
But  I don't feel  like that  now. I feel  that  as  long as the Shire  lies 
behind, safe and comfortable, I shall find  wandering more bearable: I shall 
know that somewhere there is a firm  foothold, even if my feet  cannot stand 
there again. 
     'Of course, I have sometimes thought of going away, but I imagined that 
as a kind of holiday, a series of adventures like Bilbo's  or better, ending 
in  peace. But this  would  mean exile,  a  flight from danger into  danger,


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of the Enemy would leave  its  mark, too, leave him open to the summons. And 
all folk were whispering then of the new Shadow in the South, and its hatred  
of  the  West.  There were his fine  new  friends, who would help him in his 
revenge!  
     'Wretched  fool!  In that land he  would  learn  much, too much for his 
comfort. And sooner or later as he lurked and pried on  the borders he would  
be caught, and taken - for examination. That was the way of it, I fear. When 
he was found he  had already been  there long,  and was on his  way back. On 
some errand  of  mischief. But  that  does  not matter  much now. His  worst  
mischief was done. 
     'Yes, alas! through  him the  Enemy has learned that the One  has  been 
found again. He  knows where Isildur fell. He knows  where  Gollum found his 
ring. He knows that it is a Great Ring, for it gave long life. He knows that 
it is not one of the  Three, for they have  never been lost, and they endure


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him into the very hottest  part of the  fire. But he found now that he could 
not do so, not without a great  struggle. He weighed the  Ring in his  hand, 
hesitating,  and forcing himself to remember all that Gandalf had told  him; 
and then with an effort of will he made a movement, as if to cast  it away - 
but he found that he had put it back in his pocket. 
     Gandalf laughed grimly. 'You see? Already you too, Frodo, cannot easily 
let  it  go,  nor will to damage it. And I  could not "make" you - except by 
force, which would break your mind. But as for breaking  the Ring, force  is 
useless. Even if you  took it and struck it  with a  heavy sledge -hammer,  it 
would make no dint in it. It cannot be unmade by your hands, or by mine. 
     'Your small  fire, of course, would  not melt even ordinary  gold. This 
Ring has already passed through it unscathed,  and even unheated.  But there 
is  no smith's forge in this Shire that could change it at all. Not even the


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Mirkwood, as one would expect.' 
     'Is that where you found him?' asked Frodo. 
     'I  saw  him there,' answered Gandalf, 'but before that he had wandered 
far, following  Bilbo's trail. It was difficult to  learn anything  from him


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"birthday  present",  and he  stuck  to  that.  He  said it  came  from  his 
grandmother, who  had lots  of beautiful  things of  that kind. A ridiculous 
story. I have no doubt  that Smjagol's grandmother was a matriarch,  a great


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weakness and the desire of strength to do good. Do  not tempt me! I dare not  
take it, not even to keep it safe, unused. The wish to wield it would be too 
great, for my  strength.  I shall  have  such  need of it. Great  perils lie 
before me.' 
     He  went to the  window and drew aside the curtains  and the  shutters.  
Sunlight  streamed  back again into  the  room. Sam   passed  along the  path  
outside whistling. 'And now,'  said  the wizard, turning back to Frodo, 'the 
decision lies with you. But  I will always  help you.' He  laid his hand  on 
Frodo's shoulder. 'I will help you bear this  burden, as long as It is yours 
to bear. But we must do something, soon. The Enemy is moving.' 
     There was a long  silence.  Gandalf  sat down again and puffed  at  his 
pipe, as if lost in thought. His eyes  seemed closed, but under the  lids he 
was watching Frodo  intently. Frodo  gazed fixedly at the red embers on  the


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new 
terror abroad, a ghost that drank blood. It climbed trees to  find nests; it 
crept into  holes  to  find  the young; it slipped  through windows  to find 
cradles. 
     'But at the western edge of Mirkwood the trail turned away. It wandered 
off southwards and passed out of the Wood-elves' ken, and was lost. And then 
I made a great mistake. Yes,  Frodo, and not the first; though I fear it may 
prove the  worst. I let the matter be. I let  him go; for I had much else to 
think of at that time, and I still trusted the lore of Saruman. 
     'Well, that was  years ago. I have paid for it since with many dark and 
dangerous days. The trail was long cold when I took it up again, after Bilbo 
left here. And my search would  have been in vain,  but for the  help that I 
had from a friend: Aragorn, the greatest traveller and huntsman of this  age 
of  the world.  Together we  sought  for  Gollum down  the  whole length  of


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ring. He knows that it is a Great Ring, for it gave long life. He knows that 
it is not one of the  Three, for they have  never been lost, and they endure 
no evil. He knows that it is not one of the Seven, or the Nine, for they are 
accounted for.  He  knows that it is  the One.  And he has  at last heard, I 
think, of hobbits and the Shire. 
     'The Shire - he may be seeking for  it now, if he has not already found 
out where it lies. Indeed, Frodo, I fear that  he may  even think  that  the 
long-unnoticed name of Baggins has become important.' 
     'But this is  terrible!' cried Frodo. 'Far  worse than the worst that I 
imagined from your hints and warnings. O Gandalf, best of friends, what am I 
to do? For now I am really afraid. What  am  I to do? What a pity that Bilbo  
did not stab that vile creature, when he had a chance!' 
     'Pity? It was Pity that stayed his hand. Pity, and Mercy: not to strike


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Ring has already passed through it unscathed,  and even unheated.  But there 
is  no smith's forge in this Shire that could change it at all. Not even the 
anvils and furnaces  of  the Dwarves could do that.  It has been  said  that 
dragon-fire could melt and consume the Rings  of Power, but there is not now 
any dragon left on earth in which the old fire is hot enough; nor was  there 
ever any dragon, not even Ancalagon the Black, who could have harmed the 
One 
Ring,  the Ruling Ring, for  that was  made by Sauron himself. There is only 
one  way:  to  find  the  Cracks  of Doom in  the  depths  of Orodruin,  the 
Fire-mountain, and cast the Ring in there, if you really wish to destroy it, 
to put it beyond the grasp of the Enemy for ever.' 
     'I do  really wish to destroy it!'  cried Frodo. 'Or,  well, to have it 
destroyed. I am not  made for perilous  quests. I wish  I had never seen the 
Ring! Why did it come to me? Why was I chosen?'


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as a kind of holiday, a series of adventures like Bilbo's  or better, ending 
in  peace. But this  would  mean exile,  a  flight from danger into  danger, 
drawing  it after me. And I suppose I  must go alone, if I am to do that and 
save  the Shire.  But I  feel very  small, and  very  uprooted,  and  well - 
desperate. The Enemy is so strong and terrible.' 
     He did  not tell  Gandalf, but as  he  was speaking a  great desire  to 
follow  Bilbo flamed up in his heart  - to follow Bilbo, and even perhaps  to 
find him again. It was so strong that it overcame his fear: he  could almost  
have run out there and then down the road without his hat, as Bilbo ha d done 
on a similar morning long ago. 
     'My  dear  Frodo!'  exclaimed  Gandalf.  'Hobbits  really  are  amazing 
creatures, as I have said before. You  can learn all that there  is  to know 
about their  ways in a month, and yet after  a hundred  years they can still


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####-friends! The enemy has many spies and many ways of hearing.' 
     Suddenly he  stopped as if  listening.  Frodo became aware that all was 
very quiet,  inside and  outside. Gandalf  crept to one side of  the window.  
Then with  a  dart he  sprang to  the sill,  and thrust a  long arm out  and 
downwards. There was a squawk, and up came Sam Gamgee's curly head 
hauled by 
one ear. 
     'Well, well, bless my beard!' said Gandalf. 'Sam Gamgee is it? Now what 
may you be doing?' 
     'Lor bless  you, Mr. Gandalf, sir!' said Sam. 'Nothing! Leastways I was 
just  trimming the grass-border  under  the window,  if you  follow me.'  He 
picked up his shears and exhibited them as evidence. 
     'I don't,' said Gandalf grimly. It is some time  since I last heard the 
sound of your shears. How long have you been eavesdropping?' 
     'Eavesdropping,  sir? I don't  follow you, begging  your pardon.  There 
ain't no eaves at Bag End, and that's a fact.'


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pipe, as if lost in thought. His eyes  seemed closed, but under the  lids he 
was watching Frodo  intently. Frodo  gazed fixedly at the red embers on  the 
hearth,  until they filled all his vision,  and he seemed to be looking down 
into  profound  wells of fire. He was thinking of the fabled  Cracks of Doom 
and the terror of the Fiery Mountain. 
     'Well!'  said Gandalf at last.  'What are you  thinking about? Have you  
decided what to do?' 
     'No!'  answered Frodo,  coming back to himself  out  of  darkness,  and 
finding to his surprise that it was not dark, and that out of the  window he 
could see the sunlit garden.   'Or perhaps, yes.  As far as I understand what 
you have said, I suppose I must keep the Ring and guard it, at least for the 
present, whatever it may do to me.' 
     'Whatever it may do, it will be slow, slow to evil, if you keep it with 
that purpose,' said  Gandalf.  
     'I hope so,'  said Frodo.  'But I  hope  that  you may  find some other


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had from a friend: Aragorn, the greatest traveller and huntsman of this  age 
of  the world.  Together we  sought  for  Gollum down  the  whole length  of 
Wilderland, without hope, and without success. But at last, when I had given 
up the chase and turned to other parts, Gollum was found. My friend returned


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####-unrevealed plot by Gandalf. Though he kept himself very quiet and did not go 
about by day, it was well known that he was 'hiding up in the  Bag End'. But 
however a removal might  fit in with the  designs of his wizardry, there was 
no doubt about the fact: Frodo Baggins was going back to Buckland. 
     'Yes, I shall be moving  this autumn,' he  said.  'Merry Brandybuck  is 
looking out  for a nice little hole for me, or perhaps a small house.' 
     As a matter of fact with  Merry's help he had already chosen and bought 
a little house  at Crickhollow in the country beyond Bucklebury. To all  but 
Sam he pretended he was going to settle down there permanently. The decision 
to set out eastwards had suggested the idea to him; for Buckland was on  the 
eastern borders  of  the Shire, and as he had lived there  in childhood  his 
going back would at least seem credible. 
     Gandalf  stayed in the Shire for over two months.  Then one evening, at


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creatures, as I have said before. You  can learn all that there  is  to know 
about their  ways in a month, and yet after  a hundred  years they can still 
surprise you at a pinch. I hardly expected to get  such  an answer, not even 
from  you. But Bilbo made no mistake in choosing his heir, though  he little 
thought how important it  would prove. I am afraid  you are  right. The Ring 
will not be able to stay hidden in the  Shire much longer; and for  your own 
sake, as  well  as  for others, you  will have to go, and leave the  name of 
Baggins behind you. That name will not be safe to have, outside the Shire or  
in the Wild. I will give  you a travelling name now. When you go, go as  Mr. 
Underhill. 
     'But I don't think you need go alone. Not if you know of anyone you can 
trust, and who would be willing  to go by your side  -  and that you would be 
willing to take  into unknown perils.  But  if you look for a  companion, be


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'You ought to go quietly, and you ought to  go soon,' said Gandalf. Two 
or three weeks had passed, and still Frodo made  no sign of getting ready to 
go. 
     'I know. But it is difficult to do both,' he objected. If I just vanish 
like Bilbo, the tale will be all over the Shire in no time.' 
     'Of course you mustn't vanish!' said Gandalf. 'That wouldn't do at all! 
I said soon, not instantly. If  you can think of any way of slipping out  of 
the  Shire  without  its  being generally known, it will  be  worth a little 
delay. But you must not delay too long.' 
     'What  about the  autumn, on  or after  Our Birthday?' asked  Frodo. 'I  
think I could probably make some arrangements by then.' 
     To tell the truth, he was very reluctant to start, now that it had come 
to  the  point. Bag End seemed a more  desirable residence than  i t  had for 
years, and he wanted to savour as much as he could of his last summer in the


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trust, and who would be willing  to go by your side  -  and that you would be 
willing to take  into unknown perils.  But  if you look for a  companion, be 
careful in choosing! And be  careful of what  you say,  even to your closest


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####-fairly easy. 
     'I shall  get  myself a bit  into  training,  too,' he said, looking at 
himself  in  a dusty mirror in the  half-empty  hall.  He  had  not done any 
strenuous walking for a long time, and the reflection  looked rather flabby, 
he thought. 
     After lunch, the Sackville-Bagginses, Lobelia and her sandy-haired son, 
Lotho, turned  up, much to Frodo's annoyance. 'Ours at last!' said  Lobelia, 
as she stepped inside. It was not polite; nor strictly true, for the sale of 
Bag  End  did not take effect  until  midnight.  But Lobelia  can perhaps be 
forgiven: she had been obliged to wait about seventy-seven years  longer for  
Bag End  than she once hoped, and she was now  a  hundred years old. 
Anyway, 
she had  come to see that nothing she had paid for had been carried off; and 
she wanted the keys. It took a long while to satisfy her, as she had brought 
a complete inventory  with her and went  right through  it. In  the end  she


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eastern borders  of  the Shire, and as he had lived there  in childhood  his 
going back would at least seem credible. 
     Gandalf  stayed in the Shire for over two months.  Then one evening, at 
the end of  June, soon  after Frodo's  plan  had  been finally  arranged, he 
suddenly  announced that  he was going off  again next morning.  'Only for a 
short  while, I hope,'  he said.  'But  I am  going down beyond the southern 
borders to get some news, if I can. I have been idle longer than I should.' 
     He spoke lightly, but it seemed to Frodo that he looked rather worried. 
'Has anything happened?' he asked. 
     'Well no; but I have heard something that has made me anxious and needs 
looking into. If I think it necessary after all  for you to get off at once, 
I shall come back immediately, or at least send word. In the meanwhile stick  
to your plan; but be more careful than ever, especially of the  Ring.  Let me 
impress on you once more: don't use it!'


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to  the  point. Bag End seemed a more  desirable residence than  i t  had for 
years, and he wanted to savour as much as he could of his last summer in the 
Shire. When autumn came, he knew that part at least of his heart would think 
more kindly  of journeying, as it always did at that season. He  had  indeed 
privately made up his mind to leave on his  fiftieth birthday:  Bilbo's  one 
hundred and twenty-eighth. It  seemed somehow the proper day on which to set 
out and follow him. Following Bilbo was uppermost in his mind, and  the  one 
thing  that made the thought  of leaving  bearable. He  thought as little as 
possible about the Ring, and where it might lead him in  the end. But he did 
not tell all his  thoughts to Gandalf. What the  wizard  guessed  was always 
difficult to tell. 
     He looked at Frodo and smiled. 'Very well,' he said. 'I think that will 
do -  but  it must not  be any  later. I  am getting  very anxious.  In  the


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sound of your shears. How long have you been eavesdropping?' 
     'Eavesdropping,  sir? I don't  follow you, begging  your pardon.  There 
ain't no eaves at Bag End, and that's a fact.' 
     'Don't be  a  fool! What  have  you  heard,  and why  did you  listen?' 
Gandalf's eyes flashed and his brows stuck out like bristles.  
     'Mr. Frodo, sir!' cried Sam quaking. 'Don't let him hurt me, sir! Don't  
let  him turn  me  into anything unnatural!  My old  dad would take on so. I 
meant no harm, on my honour, sir!' 
     'He  won't hurt you,' said Frodo,  hardly able to keep  from  laughing, 
although he was himself startled and rather puzzled. 'He knows, as well as I  
do, that you mean no harm. But just you up and answer his questions straight 
away!' 
     'Well, sir,' said Sam dithering a little. 'I heard a deal that I didn't 
rightly  understand,  about an  enemy, and  rings, and  Mr. Bilbo, sir,  and 
dragons, and a  fiery mountain, and - and  Elves, sir. I listened because  I


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####-of course his special friends Pippin Took and Merry Brandybuck. Between 
them 
they turned the whole place upside-down. 
     On  September  20th  two  covered  carts  went off  laden  to Buckland, 
conveying  the furniture and goods that Frodo had not  sold to his new home, 
by way of the  Brandywine Bridge. The next day Frodo became  really anxious, 
and kept  a constant look -out  for  Gandalf. Thursday, his birthday morning,  
dawned as fair and  clear  as it had long ago for Bilbo's great party. Still 
Gandalf did not appear. In the evening Frodo gave his farewell feast: it was 
quite small, just  a  dinner  for himself  and his four helpers; but  he was 
troubled and fell in no mood for it. The thought  that he would so soon have 
to part  with his young  friends weighed  on his heart. He  wondered how  he 
would break it to them. 
     The four younger  hobbits were, however, in high spirits, and the party


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####-set  out,  either North,  South,  West  or East  -  and  the direction should 
certainly not be known.' 
     'I have been so  taken up with the thoughts of leaving  Bag End, and of 
saying  farewell, that I have  never even  considered  the  direction,' said 
Frodo. 'For where am I to go? And by  what  shall I  steer? What is to be my  
quest? Bilbo went to find a treasure, there and back aga in; but I go to lose 
one, and not return, as far as I can see.' 
     'But you cannot  see very far,' said Gandalf. 'Neither can I. It may be 
your task to find the Cracks of Doom; but that quest may be for others: I do 
not know. At any rate you are not ready for that long road yet.' 
     'No  indeed!' said  Frodo.  'But  in the  meantime what course am I  to 
lake?' 
     'Towards  danger; but not  too  rashly, nor too straight,' answered the 
wizard. 'If you want my advice, make for Rivendell. That journey  should not


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####-walking. I  can't  bear any  more  hanging about. I am going  to start,  and 
Gandalf must follow  me.'  He  turned to go back, and  then  slopped, for he 
heard voices, just round the corner by the end of Bagshot Row. One voice was 
certainly the old Gaffer's;  the other was strange, and  somehow  unpleasant. 
He could not make out what it said, but he heard the Gaffer's answers, which 
were rather shrill. The old man seemed put out. 
     'No, Mr. Baggins has gone away. Went this morning, and my Sam went 
with 
him: anyway all  his stuff went.  Yes, sold out and  gone,  I tell'ee.  Why?  
Why's none of my business, or yours.  Where to?  That ain't no  secret. He's 
moved to Bucklebury or some such place, away down yonder. Yes it is  - a tidy 
way.  I've never been so far myself; they're  queer folks in Buckland. No, I 
can't give no message. Good night to you!' 
     Footsteps went away down the Hill. Frodo wondered vaguely why  the fact


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she wanted the keys. It took a long while to satisfy her, as she had brought 
a complete inventory  with her and went  right through  it. In  the end  she 
departed with Lotho and  the spare  key and  the promise that the  other key 
would  be  left at  the  Gamgees' in Bagshot Row.  She  snorted, and  showed 
plainly that she  thought the Gamgees  capable of plundering the hole during  
the night. Frodo did not offer her any tea. 
     He took his own tea with Pippin and Sam Gamgee  in the  kitchen. It had 
been  officially announced that Sam was coming to Buckland  'to  do for  Mr. 
Frodo and look after his bit of garden'; an arrangement that was approved by 
the Gaffer, though it did not console him for the prospect of having Lobelia  
as a neighbour. 
     'Our  last meal at  Bag End!'  said Frodo, pushing back his chair. They 
left the washing up  for Lobelia.  Pippin  and Sam  strapped  up their three 
packs and piled them in the porch. Pippin went out for a last  stroll in the


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to your plan; but be more careful than ever, especially of the  Ring.  Let me 
impress on you once more: don't use it!'  
     He  went off at dawn.  'I may be back any day,'  he  said. 'At the very 
latest I shall come back  for  the farewell party. I think after all you may 
need my company on the Road.' 
     At first  Frodo  was a  good deal  disturbed,  and wondered often  what 
Gandalf could  have  heard; but his  uneasiness wore  off, and in  the  fine  
weather  he forgot his  troubles for a  while. The  Shire had seldom seen so 
fair a summer, or so rich an autumn: the trees were laden with apples, honey 
was dripping in the combs, and the corn was tall and full. 
     Autumn was well under  way  before  Frodo began to worry  about Gandalf 
again.  September  was  passing  and there  was  still no  news of him.  The 
Birthday, and the removal, drew  nearer, and still he did not come,  or send 
word.  Bag End began to be busy.  Some of Frodo's friends  came  to stay and


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difficult to tell. 
     He looked at Frodo and smiled. 'Very well,' he said. 'I think that will 
do -  but  it must not  be any  later. I  am getting  very anxious.  In  the 
mean-while, do take care, and don't let out any hint of where you are going!  
And  see  that Sam Gamgee does not talk. If he does, I really shall turn him 
into a toad.' 
     'As for  where I am going,' said Frodo, 'it would be  difficult to give 
that away, for I have no clear idea myself, yet.' 
     'Don't be absurd!' said Gandalf. 'I  am not warning you against leaving 
an  address  at the post -office!  But you are leaving the  Shire   - and that 
should not be known,  until you  are far away. And  you must go, or at least


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rightly  understand,  about an  enemy, and  rings, and  Mr. Bilbo, sir,  and 
dragons, and a  fiery mountain, and - and  Elves, sir. I listened because  I 
couldn't help  myself, if you know what I mean. Lor bless  me, sir, but I do 
love tales of  that sort. And  I believe  them  too,  whatever Ted may  say. 
Elves,  sir! I  would dearly love  to see  them. Cou ldn't you take  me to see 
Elves, sir, when you go?' 
     Suddenly Gandalf laughed. 'Come  inside!' he shouted,  and  putting out 
both his arms he lifted the astonished Sam, shears, grass-clippings and all, 
right through the window and stood him on the floor. 'Take you to see Elves, 
eh?' he  said, eyeing Sam  closely, but with a smile flickering on his face. 
'So you heard that Mr. Frodo is going away?'


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lake?' 
     'Towards  danger; but not  too  rashly, nor too straight,' answered the 
wizard. 'If you want my advice, make for Rivendell. That journey  should not 
prove too  perilous, though the  Road is less easy than it was, and it  will 
grow worse as the year fails.' 
     'Rivendell!' said  Frodo. 'Very good:  I will go east, and  I will make 
for Rivendell. I will take Sam to visit the Elves; he will be delighted.' He 
spoke lightly;  but his heart was  moved  suddenly with  a desire to see the 
house of Elrond  Halfelven, and  breathe the  air  of that deep valley where 
many of the Fair Folk still dwelt in peace. 
     One summer's evening an astonishing piece of news  reached the Ivy Bush 
and Green Dragon. Giants and other portents on the borders of the Shire were 
forgotten for more important matters: Mr. Frodo was  selling Bag End, indeed 
he had already sold it - to the Sackville-Bagginses!  
     'For a nice bit, loo,' said some.  'At a bargain price,'  said  others,


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to part  with his young  friends weighed  on his heart. He  wondered how  he 
would break it to them. 
     The four younger  hobbits were, however, in high spirits, and the party 
soon became very cheerful in spite of Gandalf's absence. The dining-room was 
bare except for a table  and  chairs,  but the food  was good, and there was 
good  wine:  Frodo's  wine  had  not  been  included  in  the  sale  to  the 
Sackville-Bagginses. 
     'Whatever happens to  the rest of my stuff, when the S.-B.s  get  their 
claws on  it, at any rate I have found a good home for this!' said Frodo, as 
he drained his glass. It was the last drop of Old Winyards.  
     When they had sung many songs, and talked of  many things they had done 
together,  they toasted  Bilbo's birthday, and  they  drank his  health  and 
Frodo's together according to Frodo's custom. Then they went out for a sniff 
of air, and glimpse of the stars, and then  they went to bed.  Frodo's party


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way.  I've never been so far myself; they're  queer folks in Buckland. No, I 
can't give no message. Good night to you!' 
     Footsteps went away down the Hill. Frodo wondered vaguely why  the fact 
that they did not  come on up the Hill seemed a  great relief. 'I am sick of 
questions a nd curiosity  about my doings,  I  suppose,' he thought. 'What an 
inquisitive lot they all  are!' He had half a mind to go and ask  the Gaffer  
who the inquirer was; but he thought better (or worse) of it, and turned and 
walked quickly back to Bag End. 
     Pippin was sitting on his pack  in  the porch. Sam was not there. Frodo 
stepped inside the dark door. 'Sam!' he called. 'Sam! Time!' 
     'Coming, sir!' came  the answer  from far within, followed soon by  Sam 
himself, wiping his mouth. He had been saying farewell to the beer -barrel in 
the cellar. 
     'All aboard, Sam?' said Frodo. 
     'Yes, sir. I'll last for a bit now, sir.'


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Birthday, and the removal, drew  nearer, and still he did not come,  or send 
word.  Bag End began to be busy.  Some of Frodo's friends  came  to stay and 
help  him with the packing: there was Fredegar Bolger and Folco  Boffin, and


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####-     'I  did,  sir.  And that's why I choked:  which  you heard seemingly. I 
tried not to, sir, but it burst out of me: I was so upset.' 
     'It can't be  helped, Sam,' said  Frodo sadly. He had suddenly realized 
that  flying  from the Shire  would mean  more painful partings than  merely 
saying farewell  to  the familiar comforts of Bag End. 'I shall have to  go. 
But' - and  here he looked  hard at Sam  - 'if you really care about me, you  
will keep that dead secret. See? If you don't, if you even breathe a word of 
what you've heard here, then  I  hope  Gandalf will turn you into a  spotted 
toad and fill the garden full of grass-snakes.' 
     Sam fell on his knees,  trembling. 'Get  up, Sam!' said Gandalf. I have 
thought of something better than  that. Something  to shut your  mouth,  and  
punish you properly for listening. You shall go away with Mr. Frodo!' 
     'Me,  sir!' cried Sam, springing up like a dog invited for a walk.  'Me


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####-hedge at the bottom and took to the fields, passing into the darkness like a  
rustle in the grasses.  
     At the bottom of the  Hill  on its western  side they came  to  the gate 
opening on to a  narrow lane.  There they  halted and adjusted the straps of 
their packs. Presently  Sam  appeared, trotting quickly and  breathing hard; 
his heavy pack was hoisted high on his shoulders, and he had put on his head 
a tall shapeless fell  bag, which  he called  a hat. In the gloom  he looked 
very much like a dwarf. 
     'I am sure you  have given me all the heaviest stuff,'  said Frodo.  'I  
pity snails, and all that carry their homes on their backs.' 
     'I could take a lot  more yet, sir. My packet is quite light,' said Sam 
stoutly and untruthfully. 
     'No, you  don't,  Sam!' said  Pippin.  'It is  good  for him. He's  got 
nothing except what he ordered us to pack. He's been slack lately, and he'll 
feel the weight less when he's walked off some of his own.'


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himself, wiping his mouth. He had been saying farewell to the beer -barrel in 
the cellar. 
     'All aboard, Sam?' said Frodo. 
     'Yes, sir. I'll last for a bit now, sir.' 
     Frodo shut and locked the  round door, and  gave the key  to Sam.  'Run 
down with this to your home, Sam!' he said. 'Then cu t along the Row and meet 
us as quick as you can at the gate in the  lane  beyond the meadows.  We are 
not  going  through  the village  tonight.  Too  many ears pricking and eyes 
prying.' Sam ran off at full speed. 
     'Well, now we're off at last!'  said  Frodo. They shouldered their packs 
and took up their sticks, and  walked round the corner to the  west  side of 
Bag End. 'Good-bye!' said Frodo, looking at the dark blank windows. He 
waved 
his hand, and then turned and (following Bilbo, if  he had known it) hurried 
after Peregrin down  the garden-path. They jumped over the low place in  the


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####-peeping among the trees, Frodo turned and waved a hand in farewell. 
     'I wonder if  I shall ever  look down into that valley  again,' he said 
quietly. 
     When they  had walked for about three hours they rested. The night  was 
clear,  cool, and starry, but smoke-like wisps of mist were creeping up  the 
hill-sides from the streams and deep  meadows. Thin-clad birches, swaying in 
a light wind  above their heads, made a black net aga inst the pale sky. They 
ate a  very  frugal supper (for hobbits), and  then went on again. Soon they 
struck a narrow road, that  went rolling  up and down,  fading grey into the 
darkness ahead: the road to Woodhall, and  Stock, and the Bucklebury  Ferry. 
It climbed away from the  main road  in the Water-valley, and wound over the 
skirts  of  the  Green  Hills  towards  Woody-End,  a  wild  corner  of  the 
Eastfarthing. 
     After a while  they plunged into  a deeply  cloven  track  between tall


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he had already sold it - to the Sackville-Bagginses!  
     'For a nice bit, loo,' said some.  'At a bargain price,'  said  others,  
'and that's more likely when Mistress Lobelia's  the  buyer.' (Otho had died 
some years before, at the ripe but disappointed age of 102.) 
     Just  why  Mr.  Frodo  was selling  his  beautiful hole was  even  more 
debatable than the price. A  few held the theory - supported by the nods and  
hints  of Mr. Baggins himself  - that Frodo's money was  running out: he  was 
going to leave Hobbiton and live in a  quiet way on the proceeds of the sale 
down  in  Buckland  among   his  Brandybuck  relations.  'As  far  from  the 
Sackville-Bagginses  as may be,'  some added.  But  so firmly fixed  had the 
notion of  the immeasurable wealth  of the Bagginses of Bag End  become that 
most found this  hard to believe, harder than  any  other reason or unreason 
that  their fancy  could suggest:  to  most  it suggested  a  dark  and  yet


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Frodo's together according to Frodo's custom. Then they went out for a sniff 
of air, and glimpse of the stars, and then  they went to bed.  Frodo's party 
was over, and Gandalf had not come. 
     The next morning they were busy packing another cart with the remainder 
of the luggage. Merry took charge of this, and drove off with Fatty (that is 
Fredegar  Bolger).  'Someone must get there and  warm the house  before  you  
arrive,' said Merry.  'Well, see you later - the day  after tomorrow,  if you  
don't go to sleep on the way!' 
     Folco went  home  aft er lunch,  but Pippin remained behind.  Frodo  was 
restless and anxious,  listening in vain for a  sound of Gandalf. He decided 
to  wait until  nightfall. After that,  if  Gandalf wanted him urgently,  he 
would go to Crickhollow, and might even get there first. For Frodo was going 
on foot. His plan - for pleasure and a last look at the Shire as much as any


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nothing except what he ordered us to pack. He's been slack lately, and he'll 
feel the weight less when he's walked off some of his own.' 
     'Be kind to a poor old hobbit!' laughed Frodo. 'I shall be as thin as a  
willow-wand, I'm sure, before I get to Buckland. But I was talking nonsense. 
I suspect you have taken more than your share, Sam, and I shall look into  it 
at our next  packing.'  He  picked  up his  stick  again. 'Well, we all like 
walking  in the dark,' he said,  'so let's put  some miles  behind us before 
bed.' 
     For a short way they followed  the lane westwards. Then leaving it they 
turned left and took quietly to  the  fields again. They went in single file 
along hedgerows and the borders of coppices, and night fell dark about them. 
In their  dark cloaks they were as invisible as if they all had magic rings. 
Since they were  all hobbits, and were  trying  to be silent,  they made  no


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punish you properly for listening. You shall go away with Mr. Frodo!' 
     'Me,  sir!' cried Sam, springing up like a dog invited for a walk.  'Me 
go and see Elves and all! Hooray!' he shouted, and then burst into tears.


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have not much hope  that Gollum can be cured before  he dies, but there is a  
chance of it. And  he is bound  up with the fate of the Ring. My heart tells 
me that  he  has some part to play yet, for good or ill, before the end; and 
when that comes, the pity  of Bilbo may  rule the fate  of many -  yours not 
least. In any case we did  not kill him:  he is very old  and very wretched. 
The Wood-elves have him in prison, but they treat him with such  kindness as 
they can find in their wise hearts.' 
     'All the same,' said Frodo,  'even if  Bilbo could  not kill  Gollum, I 
wish he had not kept the  Ring. I wish he had never found it, and that I had 
not got it!  Why  did  you  let me keep it? Why didn't you make me  throw it  
away, or, or destroy it?' 
     'Let you? Make you?' sa id the  wizard.  'Haven't you been  listening to 
all  that I  have said? You are not thinking of what you are saying.  But as


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####-them when the fire had died away. A fox passing through the wood on business 
of his own stopped several minutes and sniffed. 
     'Hobbits!' he thought. 'Well, what next? I have heard of strange doings 
in this land,  but  I have  seldom  heard of a hobbit  sleeping out of doors 
under a tree. Three of them! There's something mighty queer behind this.' He 
was quite right, but he never found out any more about it. 
     The morning came,  pale and clammy. Frodo woke up first, and found that 
a tree-root had made a hole in his back, and that his neck was stiff. 
     'Walking for pleasure! Why didn't  I drive?'  he thought, as he usually 
did at the beginning of an expedition. 'And all  my  beautiful feather  beds 
are sold to the Sackville-Bagginses! These  tree -roots would  do them good.' 
He stretched. 'Wake up, hobbits!' he cried. It's a beautiful morning.' 
     'What's beautiful about it?' said Pippin, peering  over the edge of his


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####-a heavy burden. 
     The day's march promised to be warm and tiring  work. After some miles, 
however, the road  ceased to roll up and  down: it climbed  to the  top of a  
steep bank in a weary zig-zagging sort of way, and then prepared to  go down 
for  the last time. In front of  them they saw  the lower lands  dotted with 
small clumps of  trees that melted away in  the distance to a brown woodland 
haze. They were looking across the  Woody End towards  the Brandywine 
River. 
The road wound away before them like a piece of string. 
     'The road goes on  for ever,' said Pippin; 'but I can't without a rest. 
It is  high time for lunch.' He sat down on the bank at the side of the road 
and looked  away east into the haze, beyond which lay the River, and the end 
of the Shire in which he had spent all his life. Sam stood by him. His round 
eyes were wide open  - for he was looking across lands he had never seen to a 
new horizon.


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would go to Crickhollow, and might even get there first. For Frodo was going 
on foot. His plan - for pleasure and a last look at the Shire as much as any 
other reason  -  was to walk from Hobbiton to  Bucklebury  Ferry, taking  it


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In their  dark cloaks they were as invisible as if they all had magic rings. 
Since they were  all hobbits, and were  trying  to be silent,  they made  no 
noise that even hobbits would  hear. Even the wild things in  the fields and 
woods hardly noticed their passing. 
     After  some  time they crossed the Water, west of Hobbiton, by a narrow 
plank -bridge.  The stream  was  there no more than  a winding  black ribbon,  
bordered with leaning  alder -trees. A mile or two further south they hastily 
crossed the great  road  from  the Brandywine Bridge; they were  now in  the 
Tookland and  bending south-eastwards they made for the  Green Hill Country. 
As they began to climb its first slopes they looked back and  saw the  lamps  
in Hobbiton far off twinkling in  the gentle  valley of  the  Water. Soon it 
disappeared  in the  folds of the darkened land, and was followed by Bywater 
beside  its grey pool. When the  light of  the  last  farm was  far  behind,


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skirts  of  the  Green  Hills  towards  Woody-End,  a  wild  corner  of  the 
Eastfarthing. 
     After a while  they plunged into  a deeply  cloven  track  between tall 
trees that rustled their dry leaves in the night. It was very dark. At first  
they  talked,  or hummed a  tune  softly together, being  now far  away from 
inquisitive ears. Then they marched  on in silence,  and Pippin began to lag 
behind.  At  last, as  they began to   climb  a  steep slope, he  stopped and 
yawned. 
     'I  am  so sleepy,' he said,  'that soon I shall fall down on the road. 
Are you going to sleep on your legs? It is nearly midnight.' 
     'I thought you liked walking in the dark,' said Frodo. 'But there is no 
great  hurry.  Merry expects  us some time the day after  tomorrow; but that 
leaves us nearly two days more. We'll halt at the first likely spot.' 
     'The  wind's in  the West,' said Sam. 'If  we get to the other  side of


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away, or, or destroy it?' 
     'Let you? Make you?' sa id the  wizard.  'Haven't you been  listening to 
all  that I  have said? You are not thinking of what you are saying.  But as 
for throwing  it away,  that was  obviously wrong. These Rings have a way of 
being  found. In evil hands it might have done great evil. Worst  of all, it 
might have fallen into the  hands of the Enemy. Indeed  it certainly  would; 
for this is the One, and  he is exerting all his power to find it or draw it 
to himself. 
     'Of  course, my  dear  Frodo,  it  was dangerous  for you; and that has 
troubled me deeply. But there  was so  much at stake that I had to take some 
risk  - though even when  I was far away there has never been a day when the 
Shire has not been guarded by watchful eyes. As long as you never used it, I  
did not think  that the Ring would have  any lasting effect on  you, not for 
evil,  not at any rate for a very long time. And you must remember that nine


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He stretched. 'Wake up, hobbits!' he cried. It's a beautiful morning.' 
     'What's beautiful about it?' said Pippin, peering  over the edge of his 
blanket with one eye. 'Sam! Gel breakfast ready for half-past nine! Have you 
got the bath-water hot?' 
     Sam jumped up,  looking rather  bleary. 'No,  sir, I haven't, sir!'  he 
said. 
     Frodo stripped the blankets from Pippin and  rolled him  over, and then 
walked off to the edge of the wood. Away eastward the sun was rising red out 
of the mists that lay thick  on  the world. Touched  with  gold and red  the 
autumn trees seemed to  be sailing rootless in a shadowy sea. A little below 
him to the left the road ran down steeply into a hollow and disappeared. 
     When  he returned  Sam  and  Pippin had got a good fire going. 'Water!' 
shouted Pippin. 'Where's the water?' 
     'I  don't keep  water in my  pockets,' said  Frodo. 'We thought you had 
gone to find  some,' said Pippin, busy  setting out the food, and cups. 'You


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of the Shire in which he had spent all his life. Sam stood by him. His round 
eyes were wide open  - for he was looking across lands he had never seen to a 
new horizon. 
     'Do Elves live in those woods?' he asked. 
     'Not that I ever  heard,' said Pippin.  Frodo  was silent.  He  too was 
gazing eastward along the road, as if he had never seen it  before. Suddenly 
he spoke, aloud but as if to himself, saying slowly: 
     The Road goes ever on and on  
     Down from the door where it began. 
     Now far ahead the Road has gone, 
     And I must follow, if I can, 
     Pursuing it with weary feet, 
     Until it joins some larger way, 
     Where many paths and errands meet. 
     And whither then? I cannot say. 
     'That sounds  like a bit of old Bilbo's rhyming,' said Pippin. 'Or is it 
one of your imitations? It does not sound altogether encouraging.' 
     'I don't know,' said Frodo. It came to me then, as  if I was making  it


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####-inside the hood came  a  noise as of  someone sniffing to  catch an  elusive 
scent; the head turned from side to side of the road. 
     A sudden  unreasoning  fear of  discovery laid hold  of Frodo,  and  he 
thought  of his Ring. He hardly dared  to breathe,  and yet the desire to get 
it out of his pocket became so strong that he began slowly to move his hand. 
He felt  that  he had only to  slip  it on, and then he  would  be safe. The 
advice of Gandalf seemed absurd. Bilbo had used the Ring. 'And I am still in 
the Shire,' he thought, as his hand touched the chain on  which  it hung. At  
that moment  the  rider  sat up,  and  shook the  reins.  The  horse stepped 
forward, walking slowly at first, and then breaking into a quick trot. 
     Frodo crawled to  the edge of the road and watched the rider,  until he 
dwindled into the distance. He could not be quite sure, but it seemed to him 
that suddenly, before it  passed out  of sight,  the horse turned aside  and


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####-Mirkwood,  and that if you  let it, it  might take you to the Lonely Mountain 
or  even  further and to worse places?"  He  used to say  that  on  the path 
outside the  front door at  Bag End, especially  after he had been out for a  
long walk.' 
     'Well,  the Road won't sweep me  a nywhere for an  hour  at least,' said 
Pippin, unslinging his pack. The others followed his example,  putting their 
packs against the bank and their  legs out  into the road. After a rest they 
had a good lunch, and then more rest. 
     The sun was beginning to get  low and the light of afternoon was on the 
land as they went down the hill. So far they had not met a soul on the road. 
This way was not much used, being hardly fit for carts, and there was little 
traffic to  the Woody End. They had been jogging along again for an hour  or 
more when Sam  stopped a  moment as  if  listening. They were  now on  level 
ground,  and  the  road  after  much  winding  lay  straight  ahead  through


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leaves us nearly two days more. We'll halt at the first likely spot.' 
     'The  wind's in  the West,' said Sam. 'If  we get to the other  side of 
this hill,  we shall find  a spot  that  is  sheltered and snug  enough, sir. 
There is  a dry fir-wood just ahead,  if  I  remember rightly.' Sam knew the 
land well  within twenty miles of  Hobbiton, but that was  the  limit of his 
geography. 
     Just  over the  top  of  the  hill they came on  the patch of fir-wood. 
Leaving  the  road  they  went into  the deep resin -scented  darkness of the 
trees, and  gathered  dead  sticks and cones to make a fire. Soon they had a  
merry crackle of flame at the foot of a large fir-tree and they sat round it 
for  a while, until they began to nod. Then, each in an  angle  of the great 
tree's roots, they curled  up  in  their cloaks and blankets, and were  soon 
fast asleep. They set no  watch; even Frodo feared  no danger yet,  for they


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####-over which  it had run straight for  some miles.  At that point it bent left 
and  went down into the lowlands of  the Yale  making for Stock;  but a lane 
branched right, winding  through a  wood of ancient oak-trees on its way  to 
Woodhall. 'That is the way for us,' said Frodo. 
     Not far from the road-meeting they came on the huge hulk  of a tree: it 
was  still alive  and had leaves  on  the small branches that it had put out 
round the  broken  stumps of its long-fallen limbs; but it  was hollow,  and 
could  be entered  by  a great  crack  on the  side  away from the road. The 
hobbits crept inside, and sat there upon a floor  of old leaves and  decayed 
wood.  They rested and had a light  meal, talking quietly and listening from 
time to time. 
     Twilight  was about  them as they crept back to the lane. The West wind 
was sighing in the branches. Leaves were whispering. Soon the  road began to


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shouted Pippin. 'Where's the water?' 
     'I  don't keep  water in my  pockets,' said  Frodo. 'We thought you had 
gone to find  some,' said Pippin, busy  setting out the food, and cups. 'You  
had better go now.' 
     'You  can come too,'  said  Frodo, 'and  bring  all the water -bottles.' 
There was  a stream at the foot of the hill. They  filled their  bottles and 
the small  camping kettle at a little fall  where the water fell  a few feet 
over an outcrop  of grey stone. It  was  icy cold;  and they spluttered  and 
puffed as they bathed their faces and hands.  
     When their breakfast was over, and their packs all trussed up again, it 
was after  ten o'clock, and the day was beginning to turn fine and hot. They 
went  down the slope, and across the stream where  it  dived under the road,  
and up the next slope, and up and down another shoulder of the hills; and by 
that time their cloaks, blankets, water , food, and other gear already seemed


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one of your imitations? It does not sound altogether encouraging.' 
     'I don't know,' said Frodo. It came to me then, as  if I was making  it 
up; but I  may have heard it long ago. Certainly it reminds  me very much of 
Bilbo in the last years, before he went away. He used often to say there was 
only  one  Road;  that it was like a great river: its  springs were at every 
doorstep,  and every path was  its  tributary. "It's  a dangerous  business,  
Frodo, going out of your door," he used to say. "You step into the Road, and 
if you don't keep your feet,  there is no knowing where  you might  be swept  
off to.  Do you realize  that  this  is the  very  path  that  goes  through


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more when Sam  stopped a  moment as  if  listening. They were  now on  level 
ground,  and  the  road  after  much  winding  lay  straight  ahead  through 
grass-land sprinkled with tall trees, outliers of the approaching woods.  
     'I can hear a pony or a horse coming along the road behind,' said Sam. 
     They  looked back, but the turn of the  road prevented them from seeing 
far. 'I wonder if that  is Gandalf coming after us,' said Frodo; but even as 
he said it, he had a feeling  that it was not so, and a sudden desire to hide 
from the view of the rider came over him. 
     'It  may not matter much,' he  said apologetically, 'but I would rather  
not be seen on the  road  - by anyone. I am  sick of my  doings being noticed  
and discussed. And if  it is Gandalf,' he added as  an afterthought, 'we can 
give him  a little surprise, to pay him out for being so late. Let's get out 
of sight!' 
     The other two ran quickly to the left and down into a little hollow not


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####-Hissed at me, he did.  It gave me quite a shudder. What sort of a fellow was  
he? says I to the Gaffer. / don't know,  says he; but he wasn't a hobbit. He 
was tall and black-like, and he  stooped aver me. I reckon it was one of the 
Big Folk from foreign parts. He spoke funny. 
     'I  couldn't stay  to  hear more, sir, since  you were  waiting; and  I 
didn't give much heed to it myself. The Gaffer is getting old, and more than 
a bit blind,  and it  must have been  near dark when this fellow come up the 
Hill  and  found him taking the air at the end of our Row. I hope  he hasn't 
done no harm, sir, nor me.' 
     'The Gaffer can't be blamed anyway,' said Frodo. 'As a matter of fact I 
heard him talking to a  stranger, who  seemed to  be inquiring for me, and I 
nearly went and asked him who it was. I wish I had, or you had told me about 
it before. I might have been more careful on the road.' 
     'Still, there may be no connexion between  this rider and the  Gaffer's


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time to time. 
     Twilight  was about  them as they crept back to the lane. The West wind 
was sighing in the branches. Leaves were whispering. Soon the  road began to 
fall gently but steadily into the dusk. A  star  came out above the trees in 
the darkening East before them.  They went  abreast  and in step, to keep up 
their spirits.  After  a time, as the stars  grew thicker and  brighter, the 
feeling of disquiet left them, and they no longer listened  for the sound of 
hoofs. They began to hum softly, as hobbits have a way of doing as they walk 
along,  especially  when  they  are drawing near to home at night. With most  
hobbits  it  is  a supper -song  or a bed-song;  but these  hobbits  hummed a  
walking-song (though not, of course, without any mention of supper and bed). 
Bilbo Baggins had made the words, to a tune  that  was as old as  the hills, 
and taught  it to Frodo as they walked in the  lanes of the Water -valley and 
talked about Adventure.


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####-     And though we pass them by today, 
     Tomorrow we may come this way 
     And take the hidden paths that run 
     Towards the Moon or to the Sun. 
     Apple, thorn, and nut and sloe, 
     Let them go! Let them go! 
     Sand and stone and pool and dell, 
     Fare you well! Fare you well! 
 
     Home is behind, the world ahead, 
     And there are many paths to tread 
     Through shadows to the edge of night, 
     Until the stars are all alight. 
     Then world behind and home ahead, 
     We'll wander back to home and bed. 
     Mist and twilight, cloud and shade, 
     Away shall fade! Away shall fade! 
     Fire and lamp, and meat and bread, 
     And then to bed! And then to bed! 
     The song ended. 'And now to bed! And now to bed!' sang Pippin in a high 
voice. 
     'Hush!' said Frodo. 'I think I hear hoofs again.' 
     They slopped suddenly  and  stood as silent as tree-shadows, listening.


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give him  a little surprise, to pay him out for being so late. Let's get out 
of sight!' 
     The other two ran quickly to the left and down into a little hollow not 
far  from the  road. There  they lay  flat. Frodo  hesitated  for  a second: 
curiosity or some other feeling was struggling with his desire  to hide. The 
sound of hoofs drew nearer. Just in time he threw himself down in a patch of 
long grass behind a tree that overshadowed the road. Then he lifted his head 
and peered cautiously above one of the great roots. 
     Round the  corner came  a black horse, no hobbit-pony  but a full-sized 
horse;  and  on  it sat  a large man,  who seemed to  crouch in  the saddle, 
wrapped in a great black  cloak and  hood, so that only his boots in the high 
stirrups showed below; his face was shadowed and invisible. 
     When it reached the  tree and was level with Frodo  the  horse stopped. 
The riding figure sat quite still with its head bowed, as if listening. From


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dwindled into the distance. He could not be quite sure, but it seemed to him 
that suddenly, before it  passed out  of sight,  the horse turned aside  and 
went into the trees on the right. 
     'Well, I  call that very queer, and indeed disturbing,' said  Frodo  to 
himself, as he  walked towards his companions. Pippin and  Sam  had remained 
flat  in the  grass, and had seen nothing; so Frodo  described the rider and 
his strange behaviour. 
     'I can't say why, but I felt certain he was looking or smelling for me; 
and also I felt certain that I did  not want him to discover  me. I've never 
seen or fell anything like it in the Shire before.' 
     'But what has  one of the Big  People got  to do with us?' said Pippin. 
'And what is he doing in this part of the world?' 
     'There are some Men about,' said Frodo. 'Down in the Southfarthing they  
have  had trouble  with Big  People,  I believe. But I have  never heard  of


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tree's roots, they curled  up  in  their cloaks and blankets, and were  soon 
fast asleep. They set no  watch; even Frodo feared  no danger yet,  for they 
were still in  the heart  of the Shire. A few  creatures came and  looked at


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it before. I might have been more careful on the road.' 
     'Still, there may be no connexion between  this rider and the  Gaffer's 
stranger,' said Pippin. 'We left Hobbiton  secretly enough, and  I don't see 
how he could have followed us.' 
     'What about the smelling, sir?' said Sam. 'And the Gaffer said he was a  
black chap.' 
     'I wish  I had  waited  for  Gandalf,' Frodo  muttered. 'But perhaps it 
would only have made matters worse.' 
     'Then you know  or guess something about this  rider?' said Pippin, who 
had caught the muttered words.  
     'I don't know, and I would rather  not guess,'  said Frodo. 'All right, 
cousin Frodo! You can  keep your  secret for the present,  if you want to be 
mysterious. In the meanwhile what are we to do? I should like a  bite and  a  
sup,  but somehow  I think  we had better move on from here.  Your  talk  of 
sniffing riders with invisible noses has unsettled me.'


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####-stood close  to the point where they had left the  path, and it  swayed from 
side to side. Frodo thought he heard the sound of  snuffling. The shadow bent 
to the ground, and then began to crawl towards him. 
     Once more the desire to slip on the Ring came over Frodo; but this time 
it was stronger than before. So strong that, almost before he  realized what 
he was  doing, his hand was groping  in his pocket. But at that moment there 
came  a sound  like mingled song and laughter. Clear voices rose and fell in  
the starlit air. The black shadow straightened up and retreated.  It climbed 
on to the  shadowy  horse  and  seemed  to  vanish  across the lane into the 
darkness on the other side. Frodo breathed again. 
     'Elves!' exclaimed Sam in a hoarse whisper. 'Elves, sir!' He would have 
burst  out of the trees and dashed off towards  the voices, if they  had not 
pulled him back. 
     'Yes,  it  is Elves,' said  Frodo. 'One can meet them sometimes  in the


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'There are some Men about,' said Frodo. 'Down in the Southfarthing they  
have  had trouble  with Big  People,  I believe. But I have  never heard  of 
anything like this rider. I wonder  where he comes from.' 
     'Begging  your  pardon,' put  in Sam  suddenly,  'I know where he comes 
from. It's from Hobbiton that  this here black  rider comes, unless  there's 
more than one. And I know where he's going to.' 
     'What do you mean?' said Frodo sharply, looking at him in astonishment.  
'Why didn't you speak up before?' 
     'I have only just remembered, sir. It was like this: when I got back to 
our  hole yesterday evening with the key, my dad, he says to me: Hello, Sam! 
he says. I thought you were away with Mr. Frodo this morning. There's been a  
strange customer asking for Mr. Baggins of Bag End, and he's only just gone. 
I've sent him on to Bucklebury. Not that I liked the sound of him. He seemed


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####-     O stars that in the Sunless Year 
     With shining hand by her were sawn, 
     In windy fields now bright and clear 
     We see your silver blossom blown! 
 
     O Elbereth! Gilthoniel! 
     We still remember, we who dwell 
     In this far land beneath the trees, 
     Thy starlight on the Western Seas. 
     The  song  ended.  'These  are High  Elves!  They  spoke  the  name  of 
Elbereth!' said Frodo in amazement,  'Few of that fairest folk are ever seen 
in the Shire. Not many now remain in Middle-earth,  east  of the  Great Sea. 
This is indeed a strange chance!' 
     The hobbits  sat in shadow  by the wayside. Before long the Elves  came 
down the lane towards the valley. They  passed slowly, and the hobbits could 
see the starlight glimmering on their hair and  in their  eyes. They bore no  
lights,  yet as they walked a  shimmer, like the light of the moon above the 
rim of the hills before it rises, seemed to fall about their feet. They were


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sup,  but somehow  I think  we had better move on from here.  Your  talk  of 
sniffing riders with invisible noses has unsettled me.' 
     'Yes, I think we  will move on now,' said Frodo;  'but  not on the road 
-in case  that rider comes back, or another  follows him. We  ought to do  a  
good step more today. Buckland is still miles away.' 
     The shadows  of  the trees  were long and  thin  on the  grass, as they 
started off again. They now kept  a stone's throw to  the left of  the road, 
and kept out of sight of it as much  as they  could. But this hindered them; 
for the grass was thick and  tussocky, and the ground uneven, and the  trees 
began to draw together into thickets.  
     The sun had gone down  red behind the hills at their backs, and evening 
was coming on before they came back to the road at the end of the long level


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Bilbo Baggins had made the words, to a tune  that  was as old as  the hills, 
and taught  it to Frodo as they walked in the  lanes of the Water -valley and 
talked about Adventure. 
     Upon the hearth the fire is red, 
     Beneath the roof there is a bed; 
     But not yet weary are our feet, 
     Still round the corner we may meet 
     A sudden tree or standing stone 
     That none have seen but we alone. 
     Tree and flower and leaf and grass, 
     Let them pass! Let them pass! 
     Hill and water under sky, 
     Pass them by! Pass them by! 
 
     Still round the corner there may  wait 
     A new road or a secret gate,


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voice. 
     'Hush!' said Frodo. 'I think I hear hoofs again.' 
     They slopped suddenly  and  stood as silent as tree-shadows, listening. 
There was a sound of hoofs in the lane, some way behind, but coming slow and 
clear down the wind. Quickly and quietly they slipped off the path, and  ran 
into the deeper shade under the oak-trees. 
     'Don't let  us go too far!' said Frodo. 'I don't want to be seen, but I 
want to see if it is another Black Rider.' 
     'Very well!' said Pippin. 'But don't forget the sniffing!' 
     The hoofs drew nearer. They had no time to find any hiding-place better  
than the general  darkness under the trees; Sam and Pippin crouched behind a 
large tree-bole, while  Frodo  crept back a few yards  towards  the lane. It 
showed grey and pale, a line  of fading light through the wood. Above it the 
stars were thick in the dim sky, but there was no moon. 
     The sound of hoofs stopped. As Frodo watched he saw something dark pass


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left the washing up  for Lobelia.  Pippin  and Sam  strapped  up their three 
packs and piled them in the porch. Pippin went out for a last  stroll in the 
garden. Sam disappeared. 
     The sun went down. Bag End seemed sad and gloomy and dishevelled. 
Frodo 
wandered round the familiar rooms,  and saw the light  of the sunset fade on 
the walls,  and  shadows  creep out  of  the  corners.  It  grew slowly dark 
indoors. He went out and walked down to  the gate at the bottom of the path,  
and then on a short way down the Hill Road. He half expected to  see Gandalf 
come striding up through the dusk. 
     The sky was clear and the stars were growing bright. 'It's going  to be 
a fine night,'  he  said  aloud.  'That's good for a beginning.  I feel like


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####-     'I am Gildor,' answered their leader, the Elf who had first hailed him. 
'Gildor Inglorion of  the  House  of Finrod. We are Exiles, and most of  our 
kindred have long  ago  departed and  we  too are  now only  tarrying here a  
while, ere we return  over the Great Sea.  But some  of  our kinsfolk  dwell 
still  in peace in Rivendell.  Come now, Frodo, tell us what you  are doing?  
For we see that there is some shadow of fear upon you.' 
     'O Wise  People!' interrupted Pippin eagerly. 'Tell us about  the Black  
Riders!' 
     'Black Riders?' they said  in  low voices. 'Why  do you ask a bout Black  
Riders?' 
     'Because two Black Riders have  overtaken us today,  or one has done so 
twice,' said Pippin;  'only a little while ago  he slipped away as you  drew 
near.' 
     The Elves did not answer at  once, but spoke together  softly  in their 
own tongue.  At length Gildor turned to the  hobbits. 'We  will not speak of


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burst  out of the trees and dashed off towards  the voices, if they  had not 
pulled him back. 
     'Yes,  it  is Elves,' said  Frodo. 'One can meet them sometimes  in the 
Woody End.  They don't live in the Shire, but they  wander into it in Spring 
and  Autumn,  out  of their own  lands away  beyond the  Tower Hills.  I  am 
thankful that they do! You did not  see, but  that Black  Rider stopped just  
here and was actually crawling towards us when the song began. As soon as he 
heard the voices he slipped away.' 
     'What  about the Elves?'  said  Sam, too  excited  to trouble about the 
rider. 'Can't we go and see them?' 
     'Listen! They are coming this way,' said Frodo. 'We have only to wait.' 
The singing drew nearer. One clear voice rose now above  the others.  It was 
singing in the fair elven-tongue, of which Frodo knew only a little, and the 
others knew nothing. Yet  the sound blending with the melody seemed to shape


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####-the greenwood far from  our halls. If ever  you are our guests at  home,  we 
will treat you better.' 
     'It seems to me good enough for a birthday-party,' said Frodo. 
     Pippin afterwards recalled little o f either food or drink, for his mind 
was  filled  with the  light upon the elf-faces, and the  sound of voices so 
various and so beautiful that he felt in a waking  dream.  But he remembered  
that there was bread, surpassing the savour of a fair white  loaf to one who 
is starving;  and fruits  sweet  as  wildberries  and richer than the tended 
fruits of gardens; he drained a cup that was filled with a fragrant draught, 
cool as a clear fountain, golden as a summer afternoon. 
     Sam could never describe in words, nor picture clearly to himself, what 
he felt or thought that  night, though it remained in  his  memory as one of 
the chief  events of his life.  The  nearest he  ever got was to say: 'Well,


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lights,  yet as they walked a  shimmer, like the light of the moon above the 
rim of the hills before it rises, seemed to fall about their feet. They were 
now silent, and  as the last Elf  passed  he turned  and looked  towards the 
hobbits and laughed. 
     'Hail,  Frodo!' he  cried. 'You  are  abroad  late. Or are  you perhaps 
lost?'  Then he called aloud  to the others, and all the company stopped and 
gathered round. 
     'This  is indeed  wonderful!'  they  said. 'Three hobbits in  a wood at 
night! We  have not seen  such a thing  since Bilbo went away.  What is  the 
meaning of it?' 
     'The meaning of it, fair people,'  said Frodo, 'is simply that  we seem 
to be going the same  way as you are. I like  walking under the stars. But I 
would welcome your company.' 
     'But we have no need of other company, and hobbits are  so  dull,' they 
laughed. 'And how do you know that we go the same way as you, for you do 
not 
know whither we are going?'


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strange customer asking for Mr. Baggins of Bag End, and he's only just gone. 
I've sent him on to Bucklebury. Not that I liked the sound of him. He seemed 
mighty put out, when I told him Mr. Baggins had  left his old home for good.


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near.' 
     The Elves did not answer at  once, but spoke together  softly  in their 
own tongue.  At length Gildor turned to the  hobbits. 'We  will not speak of 
this here,' he said. 'We think you had  best come now with us. It is not our 
custom, but for this time we will lake you on our road, and  you shall lodge 
with us tonight, if you  will.' 
     'O Fair  Folk!  This is good fortune beyond my hope,' said  Pippin. Sam 
was speechless.  'I  thank you indeed, Gildor Inglorion,' said Frodo bowing. 
'Elen snla l®menn' omentielvo, a star shines on the hour of our meeting,' he 
added in the high-elven speech. 
     'Be careful,  friends!' cried  Gildor laughing. 'Speak no secrets! Here 
is  a  scholar in  the  Ancient  Tongue.  Bilbo  was a  good  master.  Hail, 
Elf-friend!' he said, bowing to Frodo.  'Come now with your friends and join 
our company! You had best walk in the middle so  that you may not stray. You  
may be weary before we halt.'


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####-     The  woods on either side became denser; the trees were now younger and 
thicker;  and as the lane went lower, running down into a fold of the hills, 
there were many deep brakes of hazel on the rising slopes at either hand. At  
last the Elves turned aside from the path.  A  green ride  lay almost unseen 
through the  thickets on the right; and this they  followed as it wound away 
back up the  wooded slopes on to the  top of a shoulder of  the  hills  that 
stood out into the lower land of the river -valley. Suddenly they came out of 
the shadow of  the trees, and  before them lay a  wide space of  grass, grey 
under the night. On three sides the woods  pressed upon it; but eastward the 
ground fell steeply and the tops of the dark trees, growing at the bottom of 
the slope,  were  below their feet. Beyond, the  low lands  lay dim and flat 
under the stars.  Nearer  at hand  a few lights twinkled  in the village  of 
Woodhall.


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stars were thick in the dim sky, but there was no moon. 
     The sound of hoofs stopped. As Frodo watched he saw something dark pass 
across  the lighter  space between two trees, and then halt. It looked  like 
the  black shade of a horse led by a smaller black  shadow. The black shadow


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####-doubt that you will find  what you seek, or accomplish what  you intend,  or  
that you will ever return. Is not that so?' 
     'It is,' said Frodo; 'but I thought my going was a secret known only to 
Gandalf and my faithful Sam.' He looked down at Sam, who was snoring 
gently. 
     'The secret will not reach the Enemy from us,' said Gildor. 
     'The Enemy?' said Frodo. 'Then you know why I am leaving the Shire?' 
     'I  do not know  for what  reason the Enemy is pursuing you,'  answered 
Gildor; 'but I perceive that he is  - strange indeed though that seems to me. 
And I warn  you  that peril is now both before you  and behind you, and upon 
either side.' 
     'You  mean the Riders? I feared  that  they were servants of the Enemy. 
What are the Black Riders?' 
     'Has Gandalf told you nothing?' 
     'Nothing about such creatures.' 
     'Then I think it  is not  for me to say more  - lest terror should keep


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'But we have no need of other company, and hobbits are  so  dull,' they 
laughed. 'And how do you know that we go the same way as you, for you do 
not 
know whither we are going?' 
     'And how do you know my name?' asked Frodo in return. 
     'We know many things,'  they said. 'We have seen you often before  with 
Bilbo, though you may not have seen us.' 
     'Who are you, and who is your lord?' asked Frodo.


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he felt or thought that  night, though it remained in  his  memory as one of 
the chief  events of his life.  The  nearest he  ever got was to say: 'Well, 
sir, if I could grow  apples like that, I would call  myself a gardener. But 
it was the singing that went to my heart, if you know what I mean.' 
     Frodo sat, eating, drinking, and talking with delight; but his mind was 
chiefly on the words spoken. He knew a little of the elf-speech and listened 
eagerly. Now and again he spoke to those that served him and thanked them in 
their own language. They smiled at  him  and said laughing: 'Here is a jewel 
among hobbits!' 
     After a while Pippin fell fast asleep, and was lifted up and borne away 
to a bower under the trees; there he was laid upon a soft bed and  slept the 
rest  of the night away. Sam refused to  leave  his  master. When Pippin had 
gone, he came and sat curled up at Frodo's feet, where at last he nodded and


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Elf-friend!' he said, bowing to Frodo.  'Come now with your friends and join 
our company! You had best walk in the middle so  that you may not stray. You  
may be weary before we halt.' 
     'Why? Where are you going?' asked Frodo. 
     'For tonight we go to the woods on the hills above Woodhall. It is some 
miles, but  you shall have  rest at  the  end of it, and it will shorten your 
journey tomorrow.' 
     They now marched on again in silence, and passed like shadows and faint 
lights: for  Elves  (even  more  than hobbits)  could walk when they  wished  
without sound or footfall.  Pippin soon began  to feel sleepy, and staggered 
once  or twice; but each time a tall Elf at his side  put out  his  arm  and 
saved him from a  fall. Sam walked along at Frodo's side, as if in a  dream, 
with an expression on his face half of fear and half of astonished  joy.


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singing in the fair elven-tongue, of which Frodo knew only a little, and the 
others knew nothing. Yet  the sound blending with the melody seemed to shape 
itself  in their thought into words which they only partly understood.  This 
was the song as Frodo heard it: 
     Snow-white! Snow-white! O Lady clear! 
     O Queen beyond the Western Seas! 
     O Light to us that wander here 
     Amid the world of woven trees! 
 
     Gilthoniel! O Elbereth! 
     Clear are thy eyes and bright thy breath! 
     Snow-white! Snow-white! We sing to thee 
     In a far land beyond the Sea.


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####-been expecting Gandalf for many days. He was to have come to Hobbiton at 
the 
latest two  nights  ago; but he has  never appeared. Now I am wondering what 
can have happened. Should I wait for him?' 
     Gildor  was silent for a moment. 'I do not like this news,' he said  at 
last.  'That Gandalf should be late, does not  bode well. But it is said: Do 
not meddle  in  the  affairs  o f Wizards, for they  are subtle  and quick to  
anger. The choice is yours: to go or wait.' 
     'And  it  is also  said,'  answered  Frodo:  'Go not  to the  Elves for 
counsel, for they will say both no and yes.' 
     'Is it  indeed?' laughed Gildor. 'Elves  seldom give  unguarded advice, 
for advice is a  dangerous gift,  even from  the  wise to the wise, and  all 
courses may run ill. But what would you? You have not told me all concerning 
yourself; and how then shall  I choose better  than you? But if  you  demand


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the slope,  were  below their feet. Beyond, the  low lands  lay dim and flat 
under the stars.  Nearer  at hand  a few lights twinkled  in the village  of 
Woodhall. 
     The  Elves sat on  the grass  and spoke  together in  soft voices; they 
seemed to take no further  notice of the hobbits.  Frodo and his  companions 
wrapped themselves in cloaks and blankets, and drowsiness stole  over  them. 
The  night grew  on,  and  the  lights in the valley  went out. Pippin  fell 
asleep, pillowed on a green hillock. 
     Away  high  in the East swung Remmirath,  the Netted Stars,  and slowly 
above  the mists red Borgil rose, glowing like a jewel of fire. Then by some 
shift of airs all the mist was drawn away like a veil, and there leaned  up, 
as  he  climbed  over  the  rim  of the  world, the  Swordsman  of  the  Sky, 
Menelvagor with  his shining  belt. The  Elves all burst into song. Suddenly 
under the trees a fire sprang up with a red light.


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What are the Black Riders?' 
     'Has Gandalf told you nothing?' 
     'Nothing about such creatures.' 
     'Then I think it  is not  for me to say more  - lest terror should keep 
you from your journey. For it seems to me that you  have set out only just in 
time, if  indeed you are in time. You must now make  haste, and neither stay 
nor turn back; for the Shire is no longer any protection to you.' 
     'I cannot  imagine what information could be more terrifying  than your 
hints  and warnings,' exclaimed Frodo. 'I knew  that  danger lay  ahead,  of 
course; but I did not expect to  meet it in  our  own Shire.  Can't a hobbit 
walk from the Water to the River in peace?' 
     'But  it is not your own Shire,' said Gildor. 'Others dwelt here before 
hobbits were; and others will dwell here again when hobbits are no more. The 
wide world is all about you: you can fence yourselves in, but you cannot for  
ever fence it out.'


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####-     'No!  I could  not!' he said  to  himself.  'It is one thing to take my 
young friends walking over the Shire with me, until we are hungry and weary, 
and food  and  bed are  sweet.  To  take them into exile,  where  hunger and 
weariness may ha ve  no cure,  is quite another  - even if they are willing to 
come. The inheritance  is mine  alone.  I don't think I  ought  even to take 
Sam.' He looked at Sam Gamgee, and discovered that Sam was watching him. 
     'Well, Sam!' he said. 'What about it? I am leaving the Shire as soon as 
ever I  can - in fact I  have made up my mind now not even to wait  a day at 
Crickhollow, if it can be helped.' 
     'Very good, sir!' 
     'You still mean to come with me?' 
     'I do.' 
     'It  is going to be very dangerous, Sam. 'It is already dangerous. Most  
likely neither of us will come back.' 
     'If you don't come back, sir, then I shan't, that's certain,' said Sam.


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####-different. I seem to see ahead, in a kind  of way.  I know  we are going  to 
take a very long road, into darkness; but I know I can't turn back. It isn't  
to see Elves now, nor dragons, nor mountains, that  I want  - I don't rightly 
know what I  want: but I  have something to do before the end, and  it  lies 
ahead, not  in the Shire. I must see it through, sir, if you understand me.' 
     'I don't  altogether.  But I  understand  that Gandalf chose me a  good 
companion. I am content. We will go together.' 
     Frodo finished his  breakfast in silence.  Then standing  up he  looked 
over the land ahead, and called to Pippin. 
     'All ready to start?' he said as Pippin ran up. 'We must be getting off 
at once. We slept late; and there are a good many miles to go.' 
     'You slept  late, you mean,' said Pippin. 'I was up long before; and we 
are only waiting for you to finish eating and thinking.'


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courses may run ill. But what would you? You have not told me all concerning 
yourself; and how then shall  I choose better  than you? But if  you  demand  
advice, I will for friendship's sake give it.  I think you  should now go at 
once, without delay; and if Gandalf does not come before you set out, then I  
also advise  this:  do not  go  alone. Take such friends  as are trusty  and 
willing. Now you should be grateful, for I do  not give this counsel gladly. 
The Elves have their  own labours and their own sorrows, and they are little  
concerned  with the ways of  hobbits,  or of any other creatures upon earth. 
Our  paths cross theirs seldom, by chance or purpose. In this meeting  there 
may be more than chance; but the purpose  is not clear to  me, and I fear to 
say too much.' 
     'I am  deeply grateful,' said  Frodo;  'but  I  wish you would  tell me 
plainly what the  Black  Riders  are. If I  take your  advice I may not  see


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Menelvagor with  his shining  belt. The  Elves all burst into song. Suddenly 
under the trees a fire sprang up with a red light. 
     'Come!' the  Elves called to the hobbits. 'Come!  Now is  the time  for 
speech and merriment!' 
     Pippin sat up and rubbed his eyes. He shivered. 'There is a fire in the 
hall, and food for hungry guests,' said an Elf standing before him. 
     At the south  end of the greensward  there  was an opening.  There  the 
green  floor  ran on into the wood, and formed a  wide  space like  a  hall, 
roofed by the boughs of trees. Their great trunks ran like pillars down each 
side. In the middle there was a wood-fire blazing, and upon the tree-pillars 
torches with lights of gold and silver were burning  steadily. The Elves sat 
round the  fire upon the grass or  upon the  sawn  rings of old trunks. Some 
went  to  and  fro bearing cups and  pouring  drink; others brought  food on 
heaped plates and dishes.


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rest  of the night away. Sam refused to  leave  his  master. When Pippin had 
gone, he came and sat curled up at Frodo's feet, where at last he nodded and 
closed his eyes. Frodo remained long awake, talking with Gildor. 
     They  spoke of many things, old  and new,  and Frodo questioned  Gildor  
much about happenings  in the wide world outside the Shire. The tidings were 
mostly  sad and ominous: of  gathering  darkness, the wars  of Men,  and the 
flight of the Elves. At last Frodo asked  the question  that  was nearest to 
his heart: 
     'Tell me, Gildor, have you ever seen Bilbo since he left us?' 
     Gildor  smiled.  'Yes,' he answered.  'Twice. He said farewell to us on 
this very  spot. But I saw  him once again, far  from here.' He would say no 
more about Bilbo, and Frodo fell silent. 
     'You do not ask me or tell me much that concerns yourself, Frodo,' said 
Gildor. 'But I already know a little, and I  can read more in your  face and


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'It  is going to be very dangerous, Sam. 'It is already dangerous. Most  
likely neither of us will come back.' 
     'If you don't come back, sir, then I shan't, that's certain,' said Sam. 
'Don't you leave him! they said to me. Leave him! I said. I never mean to. I 
am  going  with  him, if   he climbs to the Moon,  and if  any of those Black 
Rulers try to stop him, they'll have Sam Gamgee to reckon with, I said. They 
laughed.' 
     'Who are they, and what are you talking about?' 
     'The  Elves, sir. We had some talk last night; and  they seemed to know 
you were going away, so I didn't see the use of denying  it. Wonderful folk, 
Elves, sir! Wonderful!' 
     'They are,' said Frodo.  'Do you like  them still,  now  you have had a  
closer view?' 
     'They  seem a bit above my likes and dislikes,  so  to speak,' answered 
Sam slowly. 'It don't seem to matter what I think about them. They are quite


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hobbits were; and others will dwell here again when hobbits are no more. The 
wide world is all about you: you can fence yourselves in, but you cannot for  
ever fence it out.' 
     'I know - and yet it has always seemed so safe and familiar. What can I 
do  now?  My  plan was  to  leave  the Shire  secretly, and  make my  way to 
Rivendell; but now my footsteps are dogged, before ever I get to Buckland.' 
     'I  think you should still follow that  plan,'  said Gildor.  'I do not 
think the Road  will prove too  hard for  your courage. But  if  you  desire 
clearer counsel, you should ask  Gandalf. I do not know the reason  for your  
flight, and therefore I do not know by what means your  pursuers will assail  
you. These things Gandalf must know. I suppose that you  will see him before 
you leave the Shire?' 
     'I hope so. But that is another  thing that  makes  me anxious. I  have


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round the  fire upon the grass or  upon the  sawn  rings of old trunks. Some 
went  to  and  fro bearing cups and  pouring  drink; others brought  food on 
heaped plates and dishes.  
     'This  is poor fare,' they said  to the hobbits; 'for we are lodging in


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say too much.' 
     'I am  deeply grateful,' said  Frodo;  'but  I  wish you would  tell me 
plainly what the  Black  Riders  are. If I  take your  advice I may not  see 
Gandalf for  a  long while,  and I ought to know what  is  the  danger  that 
pursues me.' 
     'Is  it not  enough to  know  that they  are servants  of  the  Enemy?' 
answered Gildor. 'Flee them! Speak no words to them! They are deadly. Ask no 
more of me! But my heart forbodes that, ere all is ended, you,  Frodo son of 
Drogo, will  know more  of  these  fell things than  Gildor  Inglorion.  May 
Elbereth protect you!' 
     'But where shall I find courage?' asked Frodo. 'That is what I  chiefly 
need.' 
     'Courage is found in unlikely places,' said  Gildor. 'Be  of good hope!  
Sleep now! In the morning we shall have gone; but we will send our  messages


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'You slept  late, you mean,' said Pippin. 'I was up long before; and we 
are only waiting for you to finish eating and thinking.' 
     'I  have finished both now. And I am going to make for Bucklebury Ferry 
as quickly  as possible. I am not  going out of the way, back to the road we 
left last night: I am going to  cut straight across country from here.' 
     'Then you are going to fly,'  said Pippin.  'You  won't cut straight on 
foot anywhere in this country.' 
     'We  can  cut  straighter than the road anyway,'  answered  Frodo. 'The 
Ferry is east from Woodhall;  but the hard road curves away to the left  -you  
can see a bend of it away north over there. It goes round  the north  end of 
the Marish so as to  strike  the causeway from  the  Bridge above Stock. But 
that is miles out of the way.  We could save a quarter  of the distance if we 
made a line for the Ferry from where we stand.' 
     'Short cuts make  long delays,' argued  Pippin. 'The  country  is rough


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more about Bilbo, and Frodo fell silent. 
     'You do not ask me or tell me much that concerns yourself, Frodo,' said 
Gildor. 'But I already know a little, and I  can read more in your  face and 
in the thought behind your questions. You are leaving the Shire, and yet you


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####-bushes and  brambles were reluctant to  let  them through. They were cut off  
from the wind by  the ridge behind, and the air  was still  and stuffy. When 
they forced their way at last into more open ground, they were hot and tired 
and very scratched, and they were also no longer certain of the direction in 
which they  were  going.  The banks of  the stream sank,  as it reached  the 
levels and  became broader  and shallower,  wandering off towards the Marish 
and the River. 
     'Why,  this  is  the Stock-brook!' said Pippin. 'If we are going to try 
and get back on to our course, we must  cross at once and bear right.' 
     They waded  the  stream, and hurried over a wide open space, rush-grown 
and treeless, on the  further side. Beyond that they came again to a belt of 
trees: tall oaks, for the most part, with here  and there an elm tree or  an 
ash. The ground was fairly level, and  there was little undergrowth; but the


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In the morning Frodo woke refreshed. He was lying in  a bower made by a 
living tree  with branches laced  and drooping to the ground; his bed was of 
fern and grass,  deep and soft  and  strangely fragrant. The sun was shining 
through  the fluttering leaves,  which were still green  upon the  tree.  He 
jumped up and went out. 
     Sam  was  sitting  on the grass near the  edge  of the wood. Pippin was 
standing studying the sky and weather. There was no sign of the Elves.  
     'They have left us fruit  and drink, and bread,' said Pippin. 'Come and 
have your breakfast. The bread tastes almost as good as it did last night. I 
did not want to leave you any, but Sam insisted.' 
     Frodo  sat  down  beside  Sam and began  to eat. 'Wha t is the  plan for  
today?' asked Pippin. 
     'To  walk  to Bucklebury as  quickly as possible,'  answered Frodo, and 
gave his attention to the food. 
     'Do you think  we shall see  anything  of  those Riders?' asked  Pippin


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closer view?' 
     'They  seem a bit above my likes and dislikes,  so  to speak,' answered 
Sam slowly. 'It don't seem to matter what I think about them. They are quite 
different from what I expected - so old and young, and so gay and sad, as it 
were.' 
     Frodo looked at Sam rather startled, half expecting to see some  outward 
sign of the odd change that seemed  to have come  over him. It did not sound 
like the voice of the old Sam Gamgee that he thought he  knew. But it looked 
like the old  Sam Gamgee sitting  there, except that  his face was unusually 
thoughtful. 
     'Do  you feel any  need to  leave the Shire now  - now that your wish to 
see them has come true already?' he asked. 
     'Yes,  sir. I  don't  know how to  say it, but after last night  I feel


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####-     Frodo propped his back against the tree-trunk, and closed his eyes. Sam 
and Pippin sat near, and they began to hum, and then to sing softly: 
     Ho! Ho! Ho! to the bottle I go 
     To heal my heart and drown my woe. 
     Rain may fall and wind may blow,  
     And many miles be still to go, 
     But under a tall tree I will lie, 
     And let the clouds go sailing by. 
     Ho! Ho! Ho! they began again louder. They stopped short suddenly. Frodo 
sprang to his feet. A long-drawn wail came  down the wind, like  the  cry of 
some evil  and  lonely  creature.  It  rose and fell, and  ended  on  a high 
piercing  note. Even as  they sat and stood, as  if suddenly frozen,  it was 
answered by another  cry, fainter and further off, but no less  chilling  to 
the blood. There was then a silence, broken only by the sound of the wind in 
the leaves. 
     'And what do you think that was?' Pippin asked at last, trying to speak


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####-through  the lands.  The Wandering Companies shall know of your journey, 
and 
those that have power for good shall be on the watch. I name you Elf-friend; 
and  may the stars shine upon the end  of your road! Seldom have we had such 
delight in strangers,  and it  is  fair to hear words  of the Ancient Speech 
from the lips of other wanderers in the world.' 
     Frodo felt sleep coming upon him, even as Gildor  finished speaking. 'I  
will sleep now,' he said; and the  Elf led him to a bower beside Pippin, and 
he threw himself upon a bed and fell at once into a dreamless slumber. 
 

####- 

Chapter 4. A Short Cut to Mushrooms


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made a line for the Ferry from where we stand.' 
     'Short cuts make  long delays,' argued  Pippin. 'The  country  is rough 
round  here, and  there are bogs and  all  kinds of difficulties down in the 
Marish -I know the land  in these parts. And if you are worrying about Black 
Riders, I can't  see that it is any worse meeting  them on  a road than in a  
wood or a field.' 
     'It is  less  easy  to find people in the  woods and  fields,' answered 
Frodo. 'And if you are supposed to be on the road, there is some chance that 
you will be looked for on the road and not off it.' 
     'All right!' said Pippin. 'I will follow  you into every bog and ditch. 
But it is  hard! I had counted  on  passing the Golden Perch at Stock before 
sundown. The best beer in the Eastfarthing, or used to be: it is a long time 
since I tasted it.' 
     'That settles it!'  said Frodo. 'Short cuts  make delays, but inns make


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trees: tall oaks, for the most part, with here  and there an elm tree or  an 
ash. The ground was fairly level, and  there was little undergrowth; but the 
trees were loo close for them to see far  ahead.  The leaves blew upwards in 
sudden gusts of wind, and spots of rain began to fall from the overcast sky. 
Then the wind died  away and the rain came streaming down. They trudged 
along 
as fast as they could, over patches of grass, and through  thick  drifts  of 
old leaves; and all about them the rain pattered  and trickled. They did not 
talk, but kept glancing back, and from side to side. 
     After  half an hour Pippin said: 'I hope  we  have not turned  too much 
towards the south, and are not walking longwise through this wood! It is not  
a very broad belt --I should  have said  no more than a mile at the widest  - 
and we ought to have been through it by now.' 
     'It is no good our starting to go in zig-zags,' said Frodo. 'That won't


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####-house-dwellers; and this farm was stoutly built of brick and had a high wall 
all round it. There was a wide wooden gate opening out of the  wall into the  
lane. 
     Suddenly  as they drew nearer  a terrific baying and barking broke out, 
and a loud voice was heard shouting: 'Grip! Fang! Wolf! Come on, lads!' 
     Frodo and Sam stopped dead, but Pippin walked  on a few paces. The gate 
opened and  three  huge dogs came  pelting  out  into  the  lane, and dashed 
towards the travellers, barking fiercely. They took no notice of Pippin; but 
Sam shrank  against the wall, while  two wolvish-looking dogs sniffed at him 
suspiciously, and snarled if he moved. The largest and most ferocious of the 
three halted in front of Frodo, bristling and growling. 
     Through the gate there now appeared  a broad  thick -set  hobbit  with a  
round  red  face. 'Hallo! Hallo!  And who may you  be, and what  may you  be 
wanting?' he asked. 
     'Good afternoon, Mr. Maggot!' said Pippin.


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####-name Baggins the farmer started, and gave Frodo a sharp glance. For a moment 
Frodo thought that the memory of stolen mushrooms had been aroused, and 
that 
the dogs would be  told  to see him   off. But Farmer Maggot took him by  the 
arm. 
     'Well, if that isn't queerer than ever?'  he exclaimed. 'Mr. Baggins is 
it? Come inside! We must have a talk.' 
     They went  into the farmer's  kitchen, and sat by  the wide fire-place. 
Mrs. Maggot brought out  beer in  a huge jug, and filled four large mugs. It 
was a good brew,  and Pippin found himself more than compensated for 
missing 
the  Golden  Perch.  Sam  sipped his  beer  suspiciously.  He had a  natural 
mistrust of the inhabitants of other parts of the Shire; and also he was not 
disposed to be quick  friends with anyone who had beaten his master, however  
long ago. 
     After  a few remarks about  the weather and the agricultural  prospects 
(which were no worse than usual), Farmer Maggot put down his  mug and


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'To  walk  to Bucklebury as  quickly as possible,'  answered Frodo, and 
gave his attention to the food. 
     'Do you think  we shall see  anything  of  those Riders?' asked  Pippin 
cheerfully. Under  the  morning  sun the prospect of seeing a whole troop of 
them did not seem very alarming to him. 
     'Yes, probably,' said Frodo, not liking  the reminder. 'But  I  hope to 
get across the river without their seeing us.' 
     'Did you find out anything about them from Gildor?' 
     'Not much  - only hints and riddles,' said Frodo evasively. 'Did you ask  
about the sniffing?' 
     'We didn't discuss it,' said Frodo with his mouth full. 
     'You should have. I am sure it is very important.' 
     'In that case I am sure Gildor would have refused  to explain it,' said 
Frodo sharply. 'And now leave me in peace  for a bit! I don't want to answer  
a string of questions while I am eating. I want to think!'


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####-black he was  himself, too, and cloaked and hooded up, as if he did not want 
to be known. "Now what  in the Shire  can  he want?" I thought to myself. We 
don't see many of the Big Folk over the border; and anywa y I had never heard 
of any like this black fellow. 
     ' "Good-day to you!" I says,  going  out to him. "This  lane don't lead 
anywhere,  and wherever  you may be going, your quickest way will be back to 
the road." I didn't like the looks of  him; and when  Grip came out, he took  
one sniff and  let out a  yelp as if he had been slung: he put down his tail 
and bolted off howling. The black fellow sat quite still. 
     ' "I come  from yonder," he  said,  slow  and stiff-like, pointing back  
west, over my  fields, if you please.  "Have you seen Baggins?" he asked in a  
queer voice,  and bent  down towards  me. I could not see any face,  for his 
hood fell down so low; and I felt a sort of shiver down  my back. But  I did


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the blood. There was then a silence, broken only by the sound of the wind in 
the leaves. 
     'And what do you think that was?' Pippin asked at last, trying to speak 
lightly, but quavering a little. 'If it was a bird, it was  one that I never  
heard in the Shire before.' 
     'It was not bird or beast,' said Frodo. 'It was a call, or  a signal -- 
there were words in that cry, though  I  could not catch them. But no hobbit 
has such a voice.' 
     No more was said about it. They were all thinking of the Riders, but no 
one  spoke of them. They  were now reluctant either to  stay  or go  on; but 
sooner or  later they had got to  get across the  open country to the Ferry, 
and  it was best to go  sooner  and  in daylight.  In a few moments they had 
shouldered their packs again and were off. 
     Before long the wood came  to a  sudden end. Wide grass-lands stretched 
before them. They now saw that  they had, in  fact, turned too much  to  the


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####-brightly again. Their fear left them, though they still felt uneasy. But the 
land  became  steadily  more  tame and  well-ordered.  Soon they  came  into  
well-tended fields and meadows: there were  hedges  and gates  and dikes for 
drainage. Everything seemed quiet and peaceful, just an  ordinary corner  of 
the Shire. Their spirits rose with every step. The  line  of  the River grew 
nearer; and the Black Riders began  to seem  like phantoms of  the woods now 
left far behind. 
     They passed along the edge of a huge turnip-field, and  came to a stout 
gate.  Beyond it a  rutted  lane ran between low well-laid hedges towards  a  
distant clump of trees. Pippin stopped. 
     'I know these fields and this gate!' he said. 'This is Bamfurlong,  old 
Farmer Maggot's land. That's his farm away there in the trees.' 
     'One trouble after  another!' said Frodo, looking nearly as much alarmed 
as if Pippin  had declared the lane was the slot leading to  a dragon's den.


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and we ought to have been through it by now.' 
     'It is no good our starting to go in zig-zags,' said Frodo. 'That won't  
mend  matters. Let us keep on as we  are going! I am not sure that I want to 
come out into the open yet.' 
     They  went on for perhaps another couple of miles. Then the sun gleamed 
out of ragged clouds  again and the rain  lessened. It was now past mid-day,  
and they felt it was high time for lunch. They halted under an elm tree: its 
leaves  though fast turning yellow were still thick, and the  ground at  its 
feel  was fairly dry and sheltered. When  they came to make their meal, they 
found that  the  Elves had  filled their bottles  with  a  clear drink, pale 
golden in colour: it had the scent of a honey made  of many flowers, and was 
wonderfully  refreshing. Very soon they  were  laughing, and snapping  their  
fingers at rain, and at Black Riders.  The last few  miles, they felt, would 
soon be behind them.


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long ago. 
     After  a few remarks about  the weather and the agricultural  prospects 
(which were no worse than usual), Farmer Maggot put down his  mug and 
looked 
at them all in turn. 
     'Now, Mr.  Peregrin,' he  said,  'where  might you  be coming from, and 
where might you be going  to?  Were you coming to visit' me? For, if so, you 
had gone past my gate without my seeing you.' 
     'Well, no, '  answered Pippin.  'To tell  you the truth, since  you have 
guessed  it, we got into the lane from the other end: we had come  over your  
fields. But that was quite by accident.  We  lost our way in the woods, back  
near Woodhall, trying to take a short cu t to the Ferry.' 
     'If you were  in a hurry,  the road would have served you better,' said 
the farmer. 'But I wasn't worrying about  that. You have  leave to walk over  
my land, if you have a  mind, Mr.  Peregrin. And you, Mr. Baggins  - though I


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Frodo sharply. 'And now leave me in peace  for a bit! I don't want to answer  
a string of questions while I am eating. I want to think!' 
     'Good heavens!' said Pippin. 'At breakfast?' He walked away towards the 
edge of the green. 
     From Frodo's mind the bright morning - treacherously bright, he thought  
- had not banished the fear of pursuit; and he pondered the words of Gildor. 
The merry voice of Pippin came to him. He was running  on the green turf and 
singing.


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round  red  face. 'Hallo! Hallo!  And who may you  be, and what  may you  be 
wanting?' he asked. 
     'Good afternoon, Mr. Maggot!' said Pippin. 
     The farmer looked at  him closely. 'Well, if it  isn't Master Pippin   - 
Mr. Peregrin Took, I should say!' he cried, changing from a scowl to a grin. 
'It's a long time since I saw you round here. It's lucky for you that I know 
you. I was just going out to  set my dogs  on  any strangers. There are some 
funny things going  on today. Of course, we do get queer folk  wandering  in  
these parts at times. Too near the River,' he said, shaking his  head.  'But 
this fellow was the most outlandish I have ever set eyes  on. He won't cross 
my land without leave a second time, not if I can stop it.' 
     'What fellow do you mean?' asked Pippin. 
     'Then you haven't  seen him?' said  the  farmer. 'H e  went up the  lane 
towards the  causeway not  a  long while back. He  was a funny  customer and


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queer voice,  and bent  down towards  me. I could not see any face,  for his 
hood fell down so low; and I felt a sort of shiver down  my back. But  I did 
not see why he should come riding over my land so bold. 
     ' "Be off!" I said. "There are no Bagginses  here.  You're in the wrong 
part of the Shire. You had better go back west to Hobbiton  - but you can  go 
by road this time." 
     ' "Baggins has  left,"  he answered in a whisper. "He is coming. He  is 
not far away. I wish to find him. If he passes will you tell me? I will come 
back with gold." 
     ' "No you won't," I said.  "You'll  go back  where you  belong,  double 
quick. I give you one minute before I call all my dogs." 
     'He gave a sort  of hiss. It might have been laughing, and it might not. 
Then he spurred  his great  horse right  at me, and I jumped  out of the way 
only just in time. I called the dogs, but he swung off, and rode through the


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####-longer  ones. At all costs we must  keep  you away from the Golden Perch. We 
want to get to Bucklebury before dark. What do you say, Sam?' 
     'I  will go  along with you, Mr. Frodo,' said Sam (in spite of  private 
misgiving and a deep regret for the best beer in the Eastfarthing). 
     'Then  if we are going to toil  through bog and briar, let's  go  now!' 
said Pippin. 
     It was  already nearly as hot as it had been the day before; but clouds 
were  beginning  to come up from the West. It looked likely to turn to rain. 
The hobbits scrambled down a steep  green  bank and  plunged into the  thick 
trees below. Their course  had been chosen to  leave Woodhall to their left, 
and  to cut slanting through the woods that clustered along the eastern side 
of  the  hills,  until they reached the flats  beyond. Then they  could make 
straight  for the Ferry over country that was open, except for a few ditches


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'One trouble after  another!' said Frodo, looking nearly as much alarmed 
as if Pippin  had declared the lane was the slot leading to  a dragon's den. 
The others looked at him in surprise. 
     'What's wrong with  old Maggot?' asked Pippin.  'He's a good  friend to 
all the  Brandy  bucks.  Of course he's  a terror to trespassers, and  keeps 
ferocious  dogs  - but after all, folk down here are near the border and have 
to be more on their guard.' 
     'I  know,' said  Frodo. 'But all the same,' he added with  a shamefaced 
laugh,  'I am  terrified of  him and his dogs. I have avoided  his  farm for  
years and  years. He  caught me  several times trespassing after  mushrooms,  
when I was a youngster at Brandy Hall. On the last occasion he beat  me, and 
then took  me  and showed  me to his dogs. "See, lads," he  said, "next time 
this young varmint sets foot on my land, you can eat  him. Now see him off!"


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####-parts, they  say. Maybe there is some that want  to know what has  become of 
the gold and jewels that he buried in the hill of Hobbiton, as I hear?' 
     Frodo said  nothing:  the  shrewd  guesses of  the farmer  were  rather  
disconcerting. 
     'Well, Mr. Frodo,' Maggot went  on, 'I'm glad that you've had the sense 
to come back to Buckland. My  advice is: stay  there! And don't get mixed up 
with these outlandish folk.  You'll have  friends  in these parts. If any of 
these black  fellows come after you  again,  I'll  deal with  them. I'll say 
you're dead, or have left the Shire, or anything you like. And that might be 
true enough; for as like as not it is old Mr. Bilbo they want news of.' 
     'Maybe you're right,' said Frodo, avoiding the farmer's eye and staring 
at the fire. 
     Maggot looked at him thoughtfully. 'Well, I see  you have ideas of your 
own,' he said. 'It is as plain as my  nose that no  accident brought you and


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shouldered their packs again and were off. 
     Before long the wood came  to a  sudden end. Wide grass-lands stretched 
before them. They now saw that  they had, in  fact, turned too much  to  the 
south.  Away over  the  flats  they could glimpse the low hill of Bucklebury 
across the River, but it was now to their left. Creeping cautiously out from 
the edge of the trees,  they set off  across  the  open  as  quickly as they 
could. 
     At first they felt afraid, away from the shelter of  the wood. Far back  
behind them stood the  high place  where  they had  breakfasted.  Frodo half 
expected to see the small distant  figure of  a horseman on  the ridge  dark 
against  the sky; but there was  no sign of  one. The  sun escaping from the 
breaking clouds, as it sank towards the hills they had left, was now shining


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the farmer. 'But I wasn't worrying about  that. You have  leave to walk over  
my land, if you have a  mind, Mr.  Peregrin. And you, Mr. Baggins  - though I 
daresay  you  still like mushrooms.'  He laughed.  'Ah yes, I recognized the 
name.  I recollect  the time when young Frodo  Baggins  was one of the worst  
young rascals of Buckland. But it  wasn't mushrooms I was thinking of. I had 
just heard the name Baggins before  you  turned up.  What do you think  that 
funny customer asked me?' 
     They  waited anxiously for  him to go on. 'Well,' the farmer continued, 
approaching his point with slow relish, 'he came riding on a big black horse 
in at  the  gate, which  happened  to be open, and right up to my door.  All


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'Then you haven't  seen him?' said  the  farmer. 'H e  went up the  lane 
towards the  causeway not  a  long while back. He  was a funny  customer and 
asking funny questions. But perhaps you'll come along inside, and we'll pass 
the news more comfortable. I've a  drop  of good ale on tap, if you and your  
friends are willing, Mr. Took.' 
     It seemed plain that the  farmer would tell them more, if allowed to do 
it in his own time and  fashion, so they all accepted  the invitation. 'What 
about the dogs?' asked Frodo anxiously. 
     The farmer laughed.  'They  won't harm you - not unless I  tell 'em to. 
Here, Grip! Fang! Heel!' he cried. 'Heel, Wolf!'  To the relief of Frodo and 
Sam, the dogs walked away and let them go free. 
     Pippin introduced  the other two to the farmer. 'Mr. Frodo Baggins,' he 
said.  'You may not remember him, but he used to live at Brandy Hall.' At the


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####-candles and the fire was mended. Mrs. Maggot  hustled in and out. One or two 
other  hobbits  belonging to the farm-household came in.  In  a short  while 
fourteen  sat  down to eat. There  was beer in plenty,  and a mighty dish of 
mushrooms  and bacon, besides much other solid farmhouse fare. The  dogs lay 
by the fire and gnawed rinds and cracked bones. 
     When they had finished, the farmer and his sons went out with a lantern 
and got the waggon ready. It was dark in the yard, when the guests came out. 
They  threw their  packs  on board  and  climbed in. The farmer sat  in  the 
driving-seat,  and whipped up his two stout  ponies. His  wife stood  in the 
light of the open door. 
     'You  be  careful  of yourself. Maggot!' she called. 'Don't  go arguing 
with any foreigners, and come straight back!' 
     'I will!' said he, and drove out  of the gate. There was  now no breath 
of wind stirring; the night was still and quiet, and a chill was in the air.


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of  the  hills,  until they reached the flats  beyond. Then they  could make 
straight  for the Ferry over country that was open, except for a few ditches 
and fences. Frodo reckoned they had eighteen miles to go in a straight line. 
     He soon found that the thicket was closer and more tangled than it  had 
appeared. There were no paths  in the  undergrowth, and they did not  get on 
very  fast.  When they had struggled to the bottom of the bank, they found a  
stream  running  down from  the hills behind in a deeply dug bed with  steep 
slippery sides overhung with brambles. Most inconveniently it cut across the 
line they had chosen. They could  not jump over it, nor indeed get across it 
at  all without  getting wet, scratched, and muddy.  They  halted, wondering  
what to do.  'First check!' said Pippin, smiling grimly. 
     Sam Gamgee  looked back.  Through an opening  in  the trees he caught a 
glimpse of the top of the green bank from which they had climbed down.


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Then he spurred  his great  horse right  at me, and I jumped  out of the way 
only just in time. I called the dogs, but he swung off, and rode through the 
gate  and up the lane  towards the causeway like a bolt  of thunder. What do  
you think of that?' 
     Frodo sat for a moment looking at  the fire,  but  his only thought was 
how on earth would they  reach the Ferry. 'I don't  know what  to think,' he 
said at last. 
     'Then I'll tell you what to think,' said Maggot. 'You should never have 
gone  mixing yourself up with Hobbiton folk, Mr. Frodo.  Folk  are queer  up 
there.'  Sam  stirred in  his  chair,  and  looked  at  the  farmer  with an 
unfriendly  eye. 'But you were always a  reckless lad. When  I heard you had 
left the Brandybucks  and  gone  off  to that old Mr. Bilbo, I said that you  
were going to find trouble. Mark my words, this  all comes of those  strange 
doings of Mr. Bilbo's. His money was got in some strange fashion  in foreign


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at the fire. 
     Maggot looked at him thoughtfully. 'Well, I see  you have ideas of your 
own,' he said. 'It is as plain as my  nose that no  accident brought you and 
that rider here on the same afternoon; and maybe my  news was no  great news 
to you, after all.  I am not asking you to tell me anything you  have a mind 
to keep to yourself; but I see you are in some kind  of trouble. Perhaps you  
are thinking it won't be too easy to get to the Ferry without being caught?' 
     'I was thinking so,' said Frodo. 'But we have got to try and get there; 
and  it won't  be  done by sitting  and thinking. So I am afraid we must  be 
going.  Thank you very much indeed for your kindness! I've been in terror of 
you and your dogs for over thirty years, Farmer Maggot, though you may laugh 
to hear it. It's a pity: for I've missed a good friend. And now I'm sorry to 
leave so soon. But I'll come back, perhaps, one day  - if I get a chance.'


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####-was called) was still acknowledged by the farmers between Stock  and Rushey. 
But  most of the folk of the old Shire regarded the Bucklanders as peculiar, 
half foreigners as it were. Though, as a matter  of fact, they were not very 
different from the other hobbits of the Four Farthings. Except in one point: 
they were fond of boats, and some of them could swim. 
     Their land  was originally unprotected from the East; but on  that side 
they had built a hedge: the High Hay. It had been  planted many  generations 
ago, and was now thick and  tail, for it  was constantly tended. It  ran all 
the  way from Brandywine Bridge, in a big loop  curving away from the river, 
to  Haysend  (where  the  Withywindle flowed  out  of  the Forest  into  the 
Brandywine): well over twenty miles from end to  end. But, of course,  it was 
not  a complete  protection.  The Forest  drew  close  to the hedge in  many 
places.  The Bucklanders kept their doors locked after  dark,  and that also


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####-     'You'd better be hidden, Mr. Frodo,' said  Sam anxiously. 'You get down 
in the waggon and cover up with  blankets, and we'll send this  rider to the 
rightabouts!'  He climbed out  and went to the  farmer's side.  Black Riders 
would have to ride over him to get near the waggon. 
     Clop-clop, clop-clop. The rider was nearly on them. 
     'Hallo there!' called Farmer Maggot. The advancing hoofs stopped short.  
They thought they could dimly guess a dark cloaked shape in the mist, a yard 
or two ahead. 'Now then!'  said the  farmer, throwing the  reins to  Sam and 
striding forward. 'Don't you come a step nearer! What do you want, and where 
are you going?' 
     'I want Mr. Baggins. Have you seen him?' sa id a muffled voice - but the 
voice was  the voice of Merry Brandybuck.  A dark lantern was uncovered, and 
its light fell on the astonished face of the farmer. 
     'Mr. Merry!' he cried. 
     'Yes, of course! Who  did you think it was?' said Merry coming forward.


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'I will!' said he, and drove out  of the gate. There was  now no breath 
of wind stirring; the night was still and quiet, and a chill was in the air. 
They went without  lights and took it  slowly. After  a mile or two the lane 
came to an end, crossing a deep dike,  and climbing a short slope up  on  to 
the high-banked causeway. 
     Maggot got down and took a good look  either way, north and  south, but 
nothing could  be  seen  in the darkness, and  there was not a sound in  the 
still  air.  Thin  strands  of river -mist  were hanging above the dikes, and 
crawling over the fields.  
     'It's going  to be thick,' said Maggot; 'but  I'll not light my lantern 
till I turn for home. We'll hear anything on the road long before we meet it 
tonight.' 
     It was five miles or more from Maggot's lane to the Ferry. The  hobbits 
wrapped themselves  up, but their ears were strained for any sound above the


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####-Brandywine. But what have  horses to do with it?' I'll tell you later. Let's 
get indoors and then we can talk.' 
     'All right! You and Pippin know your way; so I'll just ride on and tell 
Fatty Bolger that you are coming. We'll see about supper and things.' 
     'We had our supper early with Farmer Maggot,' said Frodo;  'but we could 
do with another.' 
     'You shall have it! Give  me that basket!' said  Merry, and  rode ahead 
into the darkness.  
     It  was some distance from  the  Brandywine  to  Frodo's new  house  at 
Crickhollow. They passed Buck Hill and Brandy Hall on their left, and on the 
outskirts of Bucklebury struck the main road of Buckland that ran south from 
the Bridge. Half a mile northward  along this they came to a lane opening on  
their  right. This they followed for a couple of miles as it  climbed up and 
down into the country. 
     At last  they  came to a narrow gate in a thick hedge. Nothing could be


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Sam Gamgee  looked back.  Through an opening  in  the trees he caught a 
glimpse of the top of the green bank from which they had climbed down. 
     'Look!'  he said, clutching  Frodo by the  arm. They all looked, and on 
the edge high above  them they saw against the sky a horse  standing. Beside 
it stooped a black figure. 
     They  at once gave  up any  idea of going back. Frodo led  the way, and 
plunged quickly into the  thick bushes beside the stream. 'Whew!' he said to  
Pippin. 'We were both right! The short cut has gone crooked already; but   we 
got under  cover only just in time. You've got sharp ears, Sam: can you hear  
anything coming?' 
     They  stood still,  almost holding  their breath as  they listened; but 
there was  no sound  of pursuit. 'I  don't fancy  he  would try bringing his 
hor se down that bank,' said Sam. 'But I guess he  knows we came down it.  We 
had better be going on.'


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####-dwindled  into  the  foggy night. Suddenly  Frodo laughed: from the  covered 
basket he held, the scent of mushrooms was rising. 
 

####- 

Chapter 5. A Conspiracy Unmasked


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to hear it. It's a pity: for I've missed a good friend. And now I'm sorry to 
leave so soon. But I'll come back, perhaps, one day  - if I get a chance.' 
     'You'll be welcome when you come,' said Maggot. 'But now I've a notion. 
It's near  sundown  already,  and we are going to  have our  supper; for  we 
mostly go to bed  soon after the Sun. If you and Mr. Peregrin and  all could 
stay and have a bite with us, we would be pleased!' 
     'And so should we!' said  Frodo. 'But  we  must  be going at once,  I'm 
afraid. Even now it will be dark before we can reach the Ferry.' 
     'Ah! but wait a minute! I was going to say: after a bit of supper, I'll 
gel out a small waggon,  and I'll drive you all to the Ferry. That will save 
you a good step, and it might also save you trouble of another sort.' 
     Frodo  now accepted the invitation gratefully, to the relief  of Pippin 
and  Sam. The sun  was  already behind the  western hills, and the light was


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then took  me  and showed  me to his dogs. "See, lads," he  said, "next time 
this young varmint sets foot on my land, you can eat  him. Now see him off!" 
They chased me all the way to the Ferry. I have never got over the  fright  - 
though I  daresay  the beasts knew their business and  would not really have 
touched me.' 
     Pippin laughed. 'Well, it's time you  made it up. Especially if you are 
coming back to live  in Buckland. Old Maggot is really  a stout fellow -  if 
you leave his mushrooms alone. Let's get into the lane and then we shan't be 
trespassing. If we meet him, I'll do the talking. He is a friend of Merry's,  
and I used to come here with him a good deal at one time.' 
     They went along the lane, until they saw the  thatched roofs of a large 
house and farm-buildings peeping ou t among the trees ahead. The Maggots, 
and 
the Puddifoots of  Stock, and most of  the  inhabitants of  the Marish, were


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not  a complete  protection.  The Forest  drew  close  to the hedge in  many 
places.  The Bucklanders kept their doors locked after  dark,  and that also 
was not usual in the Shire. 
     The  ferry-boat moved slowly  across the water. The Buckland shore drew 
nearer. Sam was the only member of the party who had not been over the river  
before. He had a strange feeling as the slow gurgling stream slipped by: his 
old life lay behind  in the mists, dark adventure lay in front. He scratched 
his head, and for a moment had a passing wish that Mr. Frodo could have gone 
on living quietly at Bag End. 
     The four  hobbits stepped off the ferry.  Merry was  tying  it up,  and 
Pippin  was already leading  the pony up the  path, when Sam  (who had  been 
looking ba ck, as if to take farewell of the Shire) said in a hoarse whisper: 
     'Look back, Mr. Frodo! Do you see anything?' 
     On the far stage, under the distant lamps, they could just  make  out a


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tonight.' 
     It was five miles or more from Maggot's lane to the Ferry. The  hobbits 
wrapped themselves  up, but their ears were strained for any sound above the 
creak  of  the wheels and the  slow clop of  the ponies' hoofs.  The  waggon 
seemed slower than a snail to Frodo. Beside him  Pippin was  nodding towards 
sleep; but Sam was staring forwards into the rising fog. 
     They reached the  entrance to the Ferry lane at last. It was marked  by 
two tall white posts  that suddenly loomed up  on their right. Farmer Maggot 
drew  in his  ponies  and the  waggon creaked  to a  halt.  They  were  just 
beginning  lo scramble out, when suddenly they heard what  they had all been 
dreading: hoofs on the road ahead. The sound was coming towards them. 
     Maggot  jumped  down  and stood holding the  ponies' heads, and peering 
forward into the gloom. Clip-clop, clip-clop came the approaching rider. The 
fall of the hoofs sounded loud in the still, foggy air.


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'Now we had  better get home  ourselves,' said  Merry. There's something 
funny about all this, I see; but it must wait till we get in.' 
     They turned down  the Ferry lane, which was straight and well-kept  and  
edged with  large white-washed stones. In a hundred yards  or so  it brought  
them to  the  river -bank,  where there was a broad wooden  landing-stage.  A 
large  flat  ferry-boat was  moored beside it.  The white  bollards near the 
water's edge glimmered in the light of two lamps on high posts. Behind  them 
the mists in the flat fields were now above the hedges; but the water before 
them was dark,  with only  a few curling wisps like steam among the reeds by 
the bank. There seemed to be less fog on the further side. 
     Merry  led the pony  over a gangway  on to  the ferry,  and the  others 
followed.  Merry  then  pushed slowly off with  a  long pole. The Brandywine 
flowed slow and broad before them. On the other side the bank was steep, and


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their  right. This they followed for a couple of miles as it  climbed up and 
down into the country. 
     At last  they  came to a narrow gate in a thick hedge. Nothing could be 
seen  of the house in the dark: it stood back from the lane in the middle of 
a wide  circle of  lawn surrounded by  a belt of  low trees inside the outer  
hedge. Frodo had chosen it, because it stood in an  out-of-the-way corner of 
the country, and there were  no other dwellings close  by.  You could get in 
and out  without being noticed. It had been built a long while before by the 
Brandybucks, for the use  of guests, or members of the family that wished to 
escape  from  the  crowded  life  of  Brandy  Hall  for a  time.  It  was an 
old-fashioned  countrified house, as much like a hobbit -hole as possible: it 
was long and low,  with no  upper storey; and it had a roof  of  turf, round 
windows, and a large round door. 
     As they walked lip the green path  from  the gate no light was visible;


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there was  no sound  of pursuit. 'I  don't fancy  he  would try bringing his 
hor se down that bank,' said Sam. 'But I guess he  knows we came down it.  We 
had better be going on.' 
     Going  on was  not altogether easy.  They had packs  to carry,  and the


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Frodo  now accepted the invitation gratefully, to the relief  of Pippin 
and  Sam. The sun  was  already behind the  western hills, and the light was 
failing.  Two  of  Maggot's  sons  and his  three  daughters came in, and  a  
generous  supper was  laid  on the large table.  The kitchen  was  lit  with


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its light fell on the astonished face of the farmer. 
     'Mr. Merry!' he cried. 
     'Yes, of course! Who  did you think it was?' said Merry coming forward.  
As  he came out of the mist and their fears subsided, he seemed suddenly  to 
diminish to  ordinary  hobbit-size. He was  riding a pony, and a  scarf  was 
swathed round his neck and over his chin to keep out the fog. 
     Frodo  sprang  out of  the waggon to greet  him. 'So  there you are  at 
last!'  said Merry.  'I was beginning to wonder if you would  turn up at all 
today, and I was just going back to supper. When it grew foggy I came across 
and rode up  towards Stock to see if you had fallen in  any ditches. But I'm 
blest  if  I  know  which way  you  have come. Where did you  find them, Mr. 
Maggot? In your duck-pond?' 
     'No,  I  caught 'em trespassing,'  said the farmer, 'and nearly set  my 
dogs on  'em;  but they'll tell  you all the story,  I 've no doubt.  Now, if


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'Look back, Mr. Frodo! Do you see anything?' 
     On the far stage, under the distant lamps, they could just  make  out a  
figure: it looked like a  dark black bundle left behind. But a s they  looked 
it seemed to move and sway this way and that, as if searching the ground. It  
then crawled, or went crouching, back into the gloom beyond the lamps.  
     'What in the Shire is that?' exclaimed Merry. 
     'Something that is following us,' said Frodo. 'But don't ask  any  more 
now!  Let's get away  at once!' They hurried up the path to the top  of  the 
bank,  but when  they  looked  back  the far shore was shrouded in mist, and 
nothing could be seen. 
     'Thank goodness you don't keep any boats on the west -bank!' said Frodo.  
'Can horses cross the river?' 
     'They  can go twenty miles north to Brandywine  Bridge - or they  might 
swim,'  answered  Merry. 'Though  I  never heard of any horse  swimming  the


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####-     and Water Hot poured down the back. 
 
     O! Water is fair that leaps on high 
     in a fountain white beneath the sky; 
     but never did fountain sound so sweet 
     as splashing Hot Water with my feet! 
     There  was a terrific  splash, and  a  shout  of  Whoa! from  Frodo. It 
appeared that a lot of Pippin's  bath had imitated a fountain and leaped  on 
high. 
     Merry went  to the door: 'What about supper a nd beer in the throat?' he 
called. Frodo came out drying his hair. 
     'There's so much  water  in the air that I'm coming into the kitchen to 
finish,' he said. 
     'Lawks!' said Merry, looking  in. The  stone floor  was swimming.  'You  
ought to mop all that up before you get anything to eat. Peregrin,' he said. 
'Hurry up, or we shan't wait for you.' 
     They had supper in the kitchen on a table near the fire. 'I suppose you  
three won't want mushrooms again?' said Fredegar without much hope. 
     'Yes we shall!' cried Pippin.


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####-It  was  a  pleasant,  comfortable,  welcoming  place;  and he found himself 
wishing  that he was really coming  here to settle down in quiet retirement. 
It  seemed unfair  to have put his friends  to  all  this  trouble;  and  he 
wondered again how he was going to break the news to them that he must leave 
them so soon, indeed at  once. Yet that  would  have  to be  done  that very 
night, before they all went to bed. 
     'It's delightful!' he said with an effort. 'I  hardly feel that I  have 
moved at all.' 
     The  travellers hung  up their  cloaks,  and piled  their packs  on the 
floor. Merry led them down the passage and threw open a door at the far end. 
Firelight came out, and a puff of steam. 
     'A bath!' cried Pippin. 'O blessed Meriadoc!' 
     'Which order  shall we  go in?' said Frodo. 'Eldest  first, or quickest 
first? You'll be last either way, Master Peregrin.' 
     'Trust me to arrange things  better than that!'  said Merry.  'We can't


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followed.  Merry  then  pushed slowly off with  a  long pole. The Brandywine 
flowed slow and broad before them. On the other side the bank was steep, and 
up it a  winding path climbed from the further landing. Lamps were twinkling 
there. Behind loomed  up the Buck Hill; and out of it, through stray shrouds 
of mist, shone many  round windows, yellow and red. They were the windows 
of 
Brandy Hall, the ancient home of the Brandybucks.  
     Long  ago Gorhendad Oldbuck,  head of the  Oldbuck family,  one of  the 
oldest  in  the Marish or indeed in the Shire, had crossed  the river, which 
was the original  boundary of  the land  eastwards. He built (and excavated)  
Brandy  Hall, changed his name to Brandybuck,  and settled  down  to  become 
master of  what was virtually  a small independent country. His  family grew 
and grew,  and after his days  continued to grow, until Brandy Hall occupied 
the whole of the low hill, and had three large front-doors, many side-doors,


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####-comical that they laughed. 'Dear  old  Frodo!' said Pippin.  'Did you really 
think you had thrown dust in  all our eyes? You have not been nearly careful 
or clever enough for that! You have obviously been planning to go and saying 
farewell  to  all your haunts all this  year since April. We have constantly 
heard you  muttering:  "Shall  I  ever   look  down into that valley again, I 
wonder",  and things like that.  And pretending that you had come to the end  
of  your  money,  and  actually  selling  your  beloved  Bag  End  to  those 
Sackville-Bagginses! And all those close talks with Gandalf.' 
     'Good  heavens!'  said Frodo. 'I thought  I had been  both  careful and 
clever. I don't know what Gandalf would say. Is all  the Shire discussing my  
departure then?' 
     'Oh no!' said Merry. 'Don't worry about that! The secret won't keep for  
long,  of  course;  but  at  present it  is,  I  think,  only  known  to  us


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####-     'Black figures  riding  on black horses,'  answered Pippin.  'If  Frodo 
won't talk, I will tell you the whole tale from the beginning.' He then gave 
a  full account of their journey from the time  when they left Hobbiton. Sam 
gave various supporting nods and exclamations. Frodo remained silent. 
     'I should  think you were making it all up,'  said Merry, 'if I had not 
seen  that black shape on  the landing-stage - and heard the queer  sound in 
Maggot's voice. What do you make of it all, Frodo?' 
     'Cousin Frodo has been very close,' said Pippin. 'But the time has come 
for  him to open  out. So far we have been given nothing  more to go on than 
Farmer  Maggot's  guess  that  it  has  something  to  do  with  old Bilbo's 
treasure.' 
     'That  was  only  a  guess,' said Frodo hastily. 'Maggot does  not know 
anything.' 
     'Old Maggot is  a shrewd fellow,' said Merry. 'A lot goes on behind his


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Maggot? In your duck-pond?' 
     'No,  I  caught 'em trespassing,'  said the farmer, 'and nearly set  my 
dogs on  'em;  but they'll tell  you all the story,  I 've no doubt.  Now, if 
you'll excuse  me, Mr. Merry and Mr. Frodo and  all, I'd best be turning for  
home. Mrs. Maggot will be worriting with the night getting thick.' 
     He backed the waggon into the lane and turned it. 'Well, good  night to 
you all,' he said. 'It's been a queer day, and no mistake. But all's well as 
ends well; though perhaps  we should not say  that  until  we reach  our own 
doors. I'll not deny that I'll be glad now when I  do.' He lit his lanterns,  
and got up.  Suddenly he produced a large basket from under the seat.  'I was 
nearly forgetting,' he said. 'Mrs. Maggot put this up  for Mr. Baggins, with 
her compliments.'  He handed  it down and moved off, followed by a chorus of 
thanks and good-nights. 
     They  watched  the  pale  rings  of  light  round his lanterns as  they


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first? You'll be last either way, Master Peregrin.' 
     'Trust me to arrange things  better than that!'  said Merry.  'We can't 
begin life  at Crickhollow with a quarrel over baths. In that room there are 
three tubs, and  a copper full of boiling water. There are also towels, mats 
and soap. Get inside, and be quick!' 
     Merry and Fatty went into the kitchen on the other side of the passage, 
and  busied  themselves  with  the  final  preparations  for  a late supper. 
Snatches of competing songs came  from the bathroom mixed  with the sound 
of 
splashing and wallowing.  The voice of Pippin was  suddenly lifted up  above 
the others in one of Bilbo's favourite bath-songs. 
     Sing hey! for the bath at close of day 
     that washes the weary mud away! 
     A loon is he that will not sing: 
     O! Water Hot is a noble thing! 
 
     O! Sweet is the sound of falling rain, 
     and the brook that leaps from hill to plain; 
     but better than rain or rippling streams


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####-     'The Ring!' said Frodo, now completely amazed. 
     'Yes, the Ring,' said  Merry. 'My dear old hobbit, you don't  allow for  
the inquisitiveness of friends. I have known about the existence of the Ring 
for years  - before Bilbo went away, in fact; but since he obviously regarded 
it  as  secret,  I  kept  the  knowledge  in  my  head, until we formed  our 
conspiracy. I  did not know Bilbo, of course, as  well as I know you; I  was 
too young, and he was also more careful  - but  he was not careful enough. If 
you want to know how I first found out, I will tell you.' 
     'Go on!' said Frodo faintly. 
     'It was  the  Sackville-Bagginses that were his downfall,  as you might 
expect. One day, a year before the Party, I happened to be walking along the  
road, when I  saw Bilbo ahead. Suddenly in the distance the S.-B.s appeared, 
coming towards us.  Bilbo slowed down, and then hey presto! he  vanished.  I


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and grew,  and after his days  continued to grow, until Brandy Hall occupied 
the whole of the low hill, and had three large front-doors, many side-doors,  
and about a hundred windows. The  Brandybucks and  their numerous 
dependants 
then  began  to burrow, and later to  build,  all round about. That was  the 
origin  of Buckland, a thickly inhabited strip between the river and the Old 
Forest, a sort  of colony from the Shire. Its  chief village was Bucklebury, 
clustering in the banks and slopes behind Brandy Hall. 
     The people in the Marish were  friendly with the Bucklanders,  and  the 
authority of the Master  of the  Hall (as the head of the Brandybuck  family


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was long and low,  with no  upper storey; and it had a roof  of  turf, round 
windows, and a large round door. 
     As they walked lip the green path  from  the gate no light was visible; 
the  windows  were dark and shuttered.  Frodo knocked on the door, and Fatty 
Bolger opened it . A friendly light streamed out. They slipped in quickly and 
shut themselves and the light inside. They were in a wide hall with doors on 
either side; in  front  of them a  passage ran back  down the  middle of the 
house. 
     'Well, what do you think of it?' asked Merry coming up the passage. 'We 
have  done our  best in  a short time to make it  look  like home. After all 
Fatty and I only got here with the last cart-load yesterday.' 
     Frodo looked  round.  It did  look like home. Many of his own favourite 
things -  or Bilbo's things (they  reminded  him sharply of him in their new 
selling) - were arranged as nearly as possible as they had been  at Bag End.


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road, when I  saw Bilbo ahead. Suddenly in the distance the S.-B.s appeared, 
coming towards us.  Bilbo slowed down, and then hey presto! he  vanished.  I 
was so startled that I hardly had the wits to hide myself in a more ordinary 
fashion; but  I got through the hedge and walked along the  field inside.  I 
was  peeping  through into the road,  after the S.-B.s  had  passed, and was 
looking  straight at Bilbo  when he suddenly reappeared. I caught a glint of 
gold as he put something back in his trouser -pocket. 
     'After that I kept my  eyes open.  In fact, I confess that I spied. But 
you must  admit that it was very  intriguing, and I was only in my teens.  I 
must be the only one in the Shire, besides you Frodo, that has ever seen the 
old fellow's secret book.' 
     'You have read his book!' cried Frodo.  'Good heavens above! Is nothing 
safe?' 
     'Not  too safe, I should say,' said  Merry.  'But  I have  only had one


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O! Water Hot is a noble thing! 
 
     O! Sweet is the sound of falling rain, 
     and the brook that leaps from hill to plain; 
     but better than rain or rippling streams 
     is Water Hot that smokes and steams. 
 
     O! Water cold we may pour at need 
     down a thirsty throat and be glad indeed; 
     but better is Beer, if drink we lack,


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####-     We must away ere break of day 
     Far over wood and mountain tall. 
 
     To Rivendell, where Elves yet dwell 
     In glades beneath the misty fell, 
     Through moor and waste we ride in haste, 
     And whither then we cannot tell. 
 
     With foes ahead, behind us dread, 
     Beneath the sky shall be our bed, 
     Until at last our toil be passed, 
     Our journey done, our errand sped. 
 
     We must away! We must away! 
     We ride before the break of day! 
     'Very good!' said Frodo. 'But in that case there are a lot of things to 
do before we go to bed - under a roof, for  tonight at any rate.' 
     'Oh! That was poetry!' said Pippin. 'Do you really mean to start before 
the break of day?' 
     'I don't know,' answered  Frodo. 'I fear those  Black Riders, and  I am 
sure it is unsafe to stay in one place long, especially in  a place to which 
it is known  I was going. Also Gildor advised me  not to wait. But I  should


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####-     'Step forward, Sam!'  said Merry; and  Sam stood up with a face scarlet 
up to  the ears.  'Here's our collector of  information! And he  collected a  
lot, I  can tell you, before he was finally  caught. After which, I may say, 
he seemed to regard himself as on parole, and dried up.' 
     'Sam!' cried  Frodo,  feeling that amazement could  go no  further, and 
quite  unable  to decide whether he felt angry,  amused, relieved, or merely 
foolish. 
     'Yes, sir!' said Sam.  'Begging your pardon, sir! But I meant  no wrong 
to you, Mr.  Frodo, nor to Mr. Gandalf  for that matter. He  has some sense, 
mind you; and when you  said  go alone, he  said no! lake someone as you can 
trust.' 
     'But it does not seem that I can trust anyone,' said Frodo.  Sam looked 
at him unhappily.  'It all depends on what you want,' put in Merry. 'You can 
trust us to stick to you through thick and thin - to the bitter end. And you


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departure then?' 
     'Oh no!' said Merry. 'Don't worry about that! The secret won't keep for  
long,  of  course;  but  at  present it  is,  I  think,  only  known  to  us 
conspirators. After  all, you must remember  that we know you  well, and are 
often with  you.  We can usually guess what you are thinking. I  knew Bilbo,  
too. To  tell you the truth,  I had been watching you  rather  closely  ever  
since he  left. I thought you would go  after him sooner or  later; indeed I 
expected you  to go sooner, and lately we have  been very  anxious.  We have 
been terrified that you might give us the slip, and go off suddenly,  all on 
your own like he did. Ever since this spring we have kept our eyes open, and  
done a good deal of planning on our own account. You are not going to escape 
so easily!' 
     'But I must go,' said Frodo. 'It cannot be helped, dear friends. It  is 
wretched for us all, but it is no use your trying to keep me. Since you have


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####-through by night, though they might break through. Even in the daylight they 
would try  to keep them out, I think, at any  rate until  they got a message 
through to the Master of the Hall  - for they would not like the  look of the 
Riders, and would certainly be  frightened by them. But, of course, Buckland 
cannot resist a determined attack for  long. And it  is possible that in the 
morning even a Black Rider that rode  up  and asked for Mr. Baggins would be 
let through. It is pretty generally known that you are coming back  to  live 
at Crickhollow.' 
     Frodo  sat for  a while in thought. 'I have made  up  my mind,' he said 
finally. 'I am starting tomorrow, as soon as it is light. But I am not going 
by road: it  would be safer  to  wait here than  that.  If  I go through the 
North-gate my departure from  Buckland  will  be  known at once, instead  of 
being secret for  several days at least,  as it might be. And  what is more,


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old fellow's secret book.' 
     'You have read his book!' cried Frodo.  'Good heavens above! Is nothing 
safe?' 
     'Not  too safe, I should say,' said  Merry.  'But  I have  only had one 
rapid glance, and that was difficult to get. He never left the book about. I 
wonder what became  of it. I should  like  another look.  Have you  got  it, 
Frodo?' 
     'No. It was not at Bag End. He must have taken it away.' 
     'Well, as  I  was saying,' Merry  proceeded, 'I  kept my  knowledge  to 
myself,  till  this Spring  when  things got  serious. Then  we  formed  our 
conspiracy;  and  as we were serious, too,  and meant business,  we have not  
been too scrupulous. You are  not a very easy  nut to crack,  and Gandalf is 
worse. But if  you want to be  introduced  to our chief investigator, I  can 
produce him.' 
     'Where is  he?' said  Frodo, looking round, as if he  expected a masked 
and sinister figure to come out of a cupboard.


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at him unhappily.  'It all depends on what you want,' put in Merry. 'You can 
trust us to stick to you through thick and thin - to the bitter end. And you  
can trust us to keep any secret of yours  - closer than you keep it yourself.  
But you cannot trust us to let you face trouble alone, and go off  without a  
word. We  are your friends, Frodo. Anyway: there it is. We know most of what 
Gandalf has  told you. We know  a good deal about the Ring. We  are horribly 
afraid - but we are coming with you; or following you like hounds.' 
     'And after all, sir,'  added Sam,  'you did  ought to  take the  Elves' 
advice.  Gildor said you should take them as was willing, and you can't deny 
it.' 
     'I don't deny it,' said Frodo, looking at Sam, who was now grinning. 'I 
don't  deny it, but I'll never believe you  are  sleeping again, whether you  
snore or not. I shall kick you hard to make sure. 
     'You are a set  of deceitful  scoundrels!'  he  said,  turning  to  the


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treasure.' 
     'That  was  only  a  guess,' said Frodo hastily. 'Maggot does  not know 
anything.' 
     'Old Maggot is  a shrewd fellow,' said Merry. 'A lot goes on behind his 
round face that does not come out in his talk. I've heard that he used to go 
into the Old Forest at one time, and he has the reputation of knowing a good 
many  strange things. But you can at least tell us, Frodo, whether you think  
his guess good or bad.' 
     'I think,'  answered Frodo slowly, 'that it was a good guess, as  far as 
it  goes. There is a  connexion with Bilbo's  old adventures,  and the Riders 
are looking,  or perhaps one  ought to say  searching,  for him or for me. I 
also fear, if you want to know, that it is no joke at all; and that I am not 
safe here or anywhere else.' He looked round at the windows and walls, as if 
he was afraid  they would  su ddenly give  way.  The others looked at him  in 
silence, and exchanged meaning glances among themselves.


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snore or not. I shall kick you hard to make sure. 
     'You are a set  of deceitful  scoundrels!'  he  said,  turning  to  the 
others.  'But bless you!' he laughed, getting up and waving his arms, 'I give 
in. I will take Gildor's  advice.  If the danger were not  so dark, I should 
dance for joy. Even so,  I cannot  help feeling  happy; happier than I  have 
felt for a long time. I had dreaded this evening.' 
     'Good!  That's  settled. Three cheers  for  Captain Frodo and company!' 
they shouted;  and  they  danced round him. Merry and  Pippin  began a song, 
which they had apparently got ready for the occasion. 
     It was made on  the model of the dwarf-song that started Bilbo  on  his 
adventure long ago, and went to the same tune: 
     Farewell we call to hearth and hall! 
     Though wind may blow and rain may fall,


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he was afraid  they would  su ddenly give  way.  The others looked at him  in 
silence, and exchanged meaning glances among themselves. 
     'It's coming out in a minute,' whispered Pippin to Merry. Merry nodded. 
     'Well!' said Frodo at  last, sitting  up and straightening his back, as 
if he had made  a  decision.  'I can't keep it dark any  longer.  I have got 
something to tell you all. But I don't know quite how to begin.' 
     'I think I could help you,' said Merry quietly, 'by telling you some of 
it myself.' 
     'What do you mean?' said  Frodo, looking  at him anxiously. 'Just this, 
my  dear old  Frodo: you  are miserable, because you don't know how  to  say 
good-bye.  You  meant to leave the Shire, of course. But danger has come  on 
you sooner  than you expected, and now you are  making up your mind to go at 
once. And you don't want to. We are very sorry for you.' 
     Frodo opened his mouth  and shut it again. His  look of surprise was so


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Frodo woke suddenly. It was still dark in  the room. Merry was standing 
there with a candle  in one hand, and banging  on the  door with the  other. 
'All right! What is it?' said Frodo, still shaken and bewildered. 
     'What is it!' cried Merry. 'It is  time to get up. It is half past four 
and very foggy. Come on! Sam is already getting breakfast ready. Even Pippin 
is up. I am just going to saddle the ponies, and fetch the one that is to be 
the  baggage-carrier. Wake that sluggard Fatty! At least he must get up  and  
see us off.' 
     Soon after  six o'clock the  five  hobbits were  ready  to start. Fatty 
Bolger was still yawning. They stole quietly out of the house. Merry went in 
front leading a laden pony, and took his way along a path that  went through 
a spinney behind  the house, and then  cut across several fields. The leaves 
of  trees were  glistening, and every twig  was dripping; the grass was grey


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North-gate my departure from  Buckland  will  be  known at once, instead  of 
being secret for  several days at least,  as it might be. And  what is more, 
the Bridge and the  East Road  near the  borders  will certainly be watched, 
whether  any Rider gets into  Buckland or not. We don't know  how many there 
are; but there are at least  two, and possibly more. The only thing to do is 
to go off in a qu ite unexpected direction.' 
     'But that  can only mean going  into  the  Old  Forest!'  said Fredegar 
horrified. 'You can't be thinking of doing that. It is quite as dangerous as 
Black Riders.' 
     'Not quite,' said Merry. It sounds very  desperate, but I believe Frodo 
is right. It is the only way of getting off without being followed  at once. 
With luck we might gel a considerable start.' 
     'But you won't have any luck in the Old Forest,' objected Fredegar. 'No 
one ever has luck in there. You'll gel lost. People don't go in there.'


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####-soon be back on it and going as fast as we can.'  'Good-bye!' they cried, and 
rode down the slope and disappeared from Fredegar's sight into the tunnel. 
     It  was  dark and  damp. At the far  end it  was  closed  by  a gate of 
thick -set iron bars. Merry got down and unlocked the gate, and when they had 
all passed through he pushed it to again. It shut with a clang, and the lock  
clicked. The sound was ominous. 
     'There!' said Merry. 'You have left the Shire, and are now outside, and 
on the edge of the Old Forest.' 
     'Are the stories about it true?' asked Pippin. 
     'I don't know what  stories you mean,' Merry answered. 'If you mean the 
old bogey-stories Fatty's nurses  used to tell him, about goblins and wolves 
and things of that sort, I should say no. At any rate I  don't believe them. 
But the  Forest is queer. Everything in it  is very  much more  alive,  more 
aware of what is going on, so to  speak, than things  are in the  Shire. And


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####-more  or less in our direction, east and a little  north. That is the path I 
am going to try and find.' 
     The hobbits now left the tunnel -gate and rode across  the  wide hollow.  
On the far side was a faint path leading up on to the floor of the Forest, a  
hundred yards a nd more beyond  the Hedge;  but it  vanished  as  soon as  it 
brought them under the trees.  Looking back they could see the  dark line of 
the  Hedge  through  the stems of trees  that were already thick about them. 
Looking  ahead  they  could  see  only tree-trunks of innumerable sizes  and  
shapes: straight  or bent,  twisted, leaning,  squat  or slender, smooth  or  
gnarled and branched;  and all the stems were green  or grey with  moss  and  
slimy, shaggy growths.  
     Merry alone  seemed fairly cheerful.  'You had  better lead  on and find 
that path,'  Frodo  said to him.  'Don't  let us lose one another, or forget 
which way the Hedge lies!'


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####-Bridge.  His task, according to the original plans  of the conspirators, was 
to stay  behind and deal with inquisitive folk,  and  to keep up as long  as 
possible the  pretence that Mr. Baggins  was still living at Crickhollow. He 
had even brought along some old clothes of  Frodo's to help  him  in playing  
the part. They little thought how dangerous that part might prove. 
     'Excellent!' said Frodo,  when he understood the  plan. 'We  could  not  
have  left  any  message behind for Gandalf otherwise.  I don't know whether 
these Riders can read or not, of course, but I should not have dared to risk  
a written message, in case they got in and  searched the house. But if Fatty 
is willing to hold the fort, and I can be sure of Gandalf knowing the way we 
have gone, that  decides me. I am going  into  the Old  Forest  first  thing 
tomorrow.' 
     'Well, that's that,' said Pippin. 'On the whole I would rather have our


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But the  Forest is queer. Everything in it  is very  much more  alive,  more 
aware of what is going on, so to  speak, than things  are in the  Shire. And 
the  trees do not like strangers. They watch  you. They  are usually content 
merely to  watch  you,  as  long  a s  daylight  lasts,  and  don't  do much. 
Occasionally the most unfriendly ones may drop a  branch,  or  stick  a root 
out,  or grasp at you with a long trailer. But at  night things  can be most  
alarming,  or so I am  told. I have  only once or twice  been in here  after  
dark, and then only near the hedge. I thought all the  trees were whispering 
to each  other,  passing news and plots along in an unintelligible language; 
and the branches swayed and groped without any wind. They  do  say the trees 
do  actually move, and can surround strangers and hem them in. In  fact long  
ago they  attacked the Hedge: they came and  planted themselves right by it,


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With luck we might gel a considerable start.' 
     'But you won't have any luck in the Old Forest,' objected Fredegar. 'No 
one ever has luck in there. You'll gel lost. People don't go in there.' 
     'Oh yes they  do!'  said  Merry. 'The Brandybucks go in   - occasionally 
when the fit takes  them. We have  a  private entrance. Frodo  went in once, 
long ago. I have been in several times: usually in daylight, of course, when 
the trees are sleepy and fairly quiet.' 
     'Well, do  as you think best!' said Fredegar. 'I am more afraid of  the 
Old  Forest  than of anything I  know about:  the  stories  about  it  are a  
nightmare; but  my  vote hardly counts,  as I am  not going on the  journey. 
Still, I am very glad  someone is stopping behind, who can tell Gandalf what 
you have done, when he turns up, as I am sure he will before long.' 
     Fond as he was of Frodo, Fatty Bolger had no desire to leave the Shire,


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Merry alone  seemed fairly cheerful.  'You had  better lead  on and find 
that path,'  Frodo  said to him.  'Don't  let us lose one another, or forget 
which way the Hedge lies!' 
     They picked a  way  among the trees, and  their  ponies plodded  along, 
carefully  avoiding the many  writhing  and interlacing roots. There  was no 
undergrowth. The ground was  rising  steadily,  and as they went  forward it  
seemed  that the trees became  taller, darker,  and  thicker. There  was  no 
sound,  except  an occasional drip  of  moisture falling  through  the still 
leaves.  For  the  moment  there  was no  whispering  or movement  among the 
branches; but  they  all got  an uncomfortable feeling that they were  being 
watched with disapproval, deepening to dislike and even enmity.  The feeling 
steadily  grew, until they found  themselves looking up quickly, or glancing 
back over their shoulders, as if they expected a sudden blow.


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you have done, when he turns up, as I am sure he will before long.' 
     Fond as he was of Frodo, Fatty Bolger had no desire to leave the Shire, 
nor to see what lay  outside it. His family came from the Eastfarthing, from 
Budgeford in Bridgefields in fact, but he had never been over the Brandywine


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do  actually move, and can surround strangers and hem them in. In  fact long  
ago they  attacked the Hedge: they came and  planted themselves right by it,  
and leaned over it. But the hobbits came and cut down hundreds of trees, and 
made a great  bonfire in the  Forest, and  burned all the  ground in  a long 
strip east of the Hedge. After that the  trees gave up the attack,  but they 
became very unfriendly.  There  is  still a wide  bare  space not far inside 
where the bonfire was made.' 
     'Is it only the trees that are dangerous?' asked Pippin. 
     'There are  various queer things living deep  in the Forest, and on the 
far  side,' said Merry, 'or at least I have heard so; but I have never  seen 
any of them. But something makes paths. Whenever  one comes inside one 
finds 
open tracks; but they seem to shift and change from time  to time in a queer 
fashion.  Not far from  this tunnel there is, or was for  a  long time,  the


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have gone, that  decides me. I am going  into  the Old  Forest  first  thing 
tomorrow.' 
     'Well, that's that,' said Pippin. 'On the whole I would rather have our 
job than Fatty's - waiting here till Black Riders come.' 
     'You wait till you are well inside  the Forest,' said Fredegar. 'You'll 
wish you were back here with me before this time tomorrow.' 
     'It's no  good arguing about it any more,' said Merry.  'We have  still 
got  to tidy up and put the finishing touches to  the packing, before we get 
to bed. I shall call you all before the break of day.' 
     When at last he  had got to bed, Frodo could not sleep for  some  time. 
His  legs ached. He. was  glad that he was riding in the morning. Eventually 
he fell into a  vague dream, in which he seemed to be looking  out of a high 
window over  a dark  sea of tangled trees.  Down below among the roots there 
was the sound of creatures  crawling and snuffling.  He felt sure they would  
smell him out sooner or later.


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steadily  grew, until they found  themselves looking up quickly, or glancing 
back over their shoulders, as if they expected a sudden blow.  
     There was not  as  yet  any  sign  of  a path,  and  the  trees  seemed 
constantly to bar their way. Pippin suddenly  felt that he could not bear it 
any longer, and without warning let out  a shout. 'Oi! Oi!' he  cried. 'I am 
not going to do anything. Just let me pass through, will you!' 
     The others halted startled; but the  cry  fell as if muffled by a heavy 
curtain. There was no echo or answer though the wood  seemed to  become 
more 
crowded and more watchful than before. 
     'I should not shout, if I were you,' said Merry. It does more harm than 
good.' 
     Frodo began to wonder if it were possible to find a way through, a nd if 
he had been right  to make  the others come into this abominable wood. Merry 
was looking from side to side, and seemed already uncertain which way to go.


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####-Pippin noticed it. 'It  has not taken you long to lose  us,' he said. But at 
that moment Merry gave a whistle of relief and pointed ahead. 
     'Well, well!'  he  said. 'These trees do  shift.  There is the  Bonfire 
Glade in front of  us (or I hope so), but the path to it seems to have moved 
away!' 
     The light grew clearer as they  went forward. Suddenly they came out of 
the trees and found themselves in a wide circular space. There was sky above 
them, blue and clear to  their surprise, for down under the Forest -roof they 
had not been able to see the rising morning and the lifting of the mist. The 
sun  was  not,  however,  high  enough  yet to shine down into the clearing, 
though its light was on  the  tree-tops. The  leaves  were  all  thicker and 
greener about  the edges of  the  glade, enclosing  it with  an almost solid 
wall. No tree grew there,  only rough grass and many tall plants: stalky  and


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finds 
open tracks; but they seem to shift and change from time  to time in a queer 
fashion.  Not far from  this tunnel there is, or was for  a  long time,  the 
beginning of quite  a broad path leading to the Bonfire  Glade,  and then on


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window over  a dark  sea of tangled trees.  Down below among the roots there 
was the sound of creatures  crawling and snuffling.  He felt sure they would  
smell him out sooner or later. 
     Then  he heard a noise in the distance.  At first he thought  it  was a  
great wind  coming over the leaves of the forest. Then  he knew  that it was 
not leaves, but the sound of the  Sea far-off; a sound he had never heard in 
waking life, though it  had often  troubled his dreams. Suddenly he found he 
was out in the open. There were no trees after all. He was on  a dark heath, 
and there was a strange salt smell in  the air. Looking up he saw before him 
a tall white tower, standing alone on a high ridge. A great desire came over  
him to climb the tower and see the Sea. He started to struggle  up the ridge 
towards the  tower:  but  suddenly a light came in  the sky, and there was a  
noise of thunder.


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so easily!' 
     'But I must go,' said Frodo. 'It cannot be helped, dear friends. It  is 
wretched for us all, but it is no use your trying to keep me. Since you have 
guessed so much, please help me and do not hinder me!' 
     'You  do not understand!' said Pippin. 'You  must go  - and therefore we 
must, too. Merry and I are coming with you. Sam is an excellent fellow,  and 
would jump down a dragon's throat to  save you, if he did not trip over  his 
own feet; but  you  will  need  more than one  companion in  your  dangerous 
adventure.' 
     'My dear  and  most beloved hobbits!'  said Frodo deeply  moved. 'But I 
could not  allow it. I decided that  long ago, too. You speak of danger, but 
you do not understand. This is no treasure-hunt,  no there-and -back journey.  
I am flying from deadly peril into deadly peril.' 
     'Of course  we understand,'  said Merry  firmly.  'That is why we  have 
decided to come. We know the Ring is no laughing-matter; but we are going to


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####-     The others looked in the  direction  that  Merry  pointed out, but they 
could see little but mists over the damp and  deep-cut valley; and beyond it 
the southern half of the Forest faded from view.  
     The sun on the hill-lop was now  getting  hot. It must  have been a bout 
eleven o'clock; but the autumn haze still prevented them from seeing much in 
other directions. In the west they could not make out either the line of the 
Hedge  or  the  valley of  the Brandywine  beyond  it. Northward, where they 
looked most hopefully, they could see nothing that might be the line of  the 
great East Road, for which they were making. They were on an island in a sea  
of trees, and the horizon was veiled. 
     On the south-eastern  side  the ground fell very  steeply,  as  if  the 
slopes  of  the  hill   were  continued  far  down  under  the  trees,  like 
island-shores that really  are the  sides  of a mountain rising  out of deep


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####-     For east or west all woods must fail... 
     Fail - even as he said the word his voice faded  into  silence. The air 
seemed  heavy and the making  of  words wearisome. Just behind them  a large 
branch fell from an  old overhanging tree with  a crash into  the  path. The 
trees seemed to close in before them. 
     'They  do not  like all that about ending and failing,' said  Merry. 'I  
should not sing any  more  at present. Wait till we do  get to the edge, and 
then we'll turn and give them a rousing chorus!' 
     He spoke cheerfully, and if  he felt any great anxiety, he did not show 
it. The  others did not  answer.  They were depressed.  A heavy  weight  was 
settling steadily  on  Frodo's  heart, and he regretted now with every  step 
forward that he had ever thought of challenging the menace  of the trees. He 
was, indeed,  just  about  to stop and propose going back (if that was still 
possible), when  things took  a  new  turn. The  path  stopped climbing, and


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'Of course  we understand,'  said Merry  firmly.  'That is why we  have 
decided to come. We know the Ring is no laughing-matter; but we are going to 
do our best to help you against the Enemy.'


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greener about  the edges of  the  glade, enclosing  it with  an almost solid 
wall. No tree grew there,  only rough grass and many tall plants: stalky  and 
faded hemlocks  and wood-parsley,  fire-weed seeding into fluffy ashes,  and 
rampant nettles and  thistles.  A dreary place: but it seemed a charming and 
cheerful garden after the close Forest. 
     The hobbits  felt encouraged, and looked up hopefully at the broadening 
daylight in the  sky. At the far side  of the glade there was a break in the 
wall of trees, and a clear path beyond it. They could see it running on into 
the wood, wide  in places  and open  above, though  every  now and again the 
trees drew in and overshadowed it with their dark boughs. Up this path  they 
rode. They were  still climbing gently, but they now  went much quicker, and 
with better heart;  for it seemed to them that the  Forest had relented, and 
was going to let them pass unhindered after all.


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slopes  of  the  hill   were  continued  far  down  under  the  trees,  like 
island-shores that really  are the  sides  of a mountain rising  out of deep 
waters. They sat on the green edge and looked out over the woods below them, 
while they ate their  mid-day meal. As  the sun rose  and  passed  noon they 
glimpsed far  off  in  the east the grey-green lines  of the Downs  that lay 
beyond  the Old Forest on that side. That cheered them greatly; for  it  was 
good to see a sight of anything beyond the  wood's border s,  though they did  
not mean to go  that way,  if  they  could help it: the Barrow-downs  had as 
sinister a reputation in hobbit -legend as the Forest itself.  
     At length they made up their minds  to go on again. The path  that  had 
brought them to the hill reappeared on  the northward side; but they had not  
followed it far before they became aware that it was bending steadily to the


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####-unexpectedly, like the ruts of great  giant-wheels or  wide moats and sunken 
roads long disused and choked with  brambles. These lay usually right across 
their  line  of march, and could only be crossed  by scrambling down and out 
again, which was troublesome and difficult with their ponies. Each time they 
climbed down they found the  hollow  filled  with  thick bushes  and  matted 
undergrowth, which somehow would not  yield to the  left, but only  gave way 
when they turned to the right; and they  had to go some  distance along  the 
bottom before they could find a  way up  the  further bank.  Each  time they 
clambered out, the trees seemed deeper and  darker;  and always  to the left 
and upwards it was most difficult to find a way, and they were forced to the  
right and downwards.  
     After an hour or two they had lost all clear sense of direction, though 
they knew well enough that they had long ceased to go northward at all. They


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They had supper in the kitchen on a table near the fire. 'I suppose you  
three won't want mushrooms again?' said Fredegar without much hope. 
     'Yes we shall!' cried Pippin. 
     'They're mine!'  said Frodo. 'Given to me  by Mrs. Maggot, a queen among 
farmers' wives. Take your greedy hands away, and I'll serve them.' 
     Hobbits have a passion  for mushrooms,  surpassing  even  the greediest  
likings  of Big  People.  A  fact  which  partly explains young Frodo's long 
expeditions  to  the renowned fields of the Marish,  and the  wrath  of  the 
injured Maggot. On this occasion there was plenty for all, even according to 
hobbit standards. There were also many other things to follow, and when they 
had  finished even Fatty Bolger heaved  a sigh  of content. They pushed back 
the table, and drew chairs round the fire. 
     'We'll clear up later,' said Merry. 'Now tell me all  about it! I guess 
that you have been having adventures, which was not quite fair without me. I


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was, indeed,  just  about  to stop and propose going back (if that was still 
possible), when  things took  a  new  turn. The  path  stopped climbing, and 
became for a while nearly  level. The dark trees drew aside, and  ahead they 
could see  the path  going  almost  straight forward.  Before them, but some 
distance off, there stood a  green  hill-top, treeless, rising  like a  bald 
head out of the  encircling wood. The  path seemed to be making directly for  
it. 
     They now hurried forward again,  delighted with the thought of climbing 
out  for  a  while above the roof  of the Forest. The path dipped, and  then 
again began  to climb upwards, leading them at last to the foot of the steep 
hillside.  There  it left the trees and faded into the turf.  The wood stood 
all round the hill like  thick  hair that ended sharply in  a circle round a  
shaven crown. 
     The hobbits  led their  ponies up, winding  round and  round until they


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a spinney behind  the house, and then  cut across several fields. The leaves 
of  trees were  glistening, and every twig  was dripping; the grass was grey 
with  cold dew. Everything was  still,  and far-away  noises seemed near and 
clear:  fowls chattering  in a yard,  someone closing a  door of  a  distant 
house. 
     In their shed they found the ponies;  sturdy  little beasts of the kind 
loved by hobbits, not speedy, but good for  a long day's work. They mounted, 
and  soon  they  were  riding off  into  the  mist,  which  seemed  to  open 
reluctantly before them and close forbiddingly behind them. After riding for  
about  an  hour,  slowly  and without talking,  they  saw  the Hedge looming  
suddenly ahead. It was tall and netted over  with silver cobwebs.  'How  are 
you  going to get  through  this?'  asked Fredegar. 'Follow me!' said Merry, 
'and you will see.' He turned to the  left  along  the Hedge, and  soon they


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brought them to the hill reappeared on  the northward side; but they had not  
followed it far before they became aware that it was bending steadily to the 
right.  Soon it  began  to descend  rapidly and they  guessed  that  it must 
actually be heading towards the Withywindle va lley: not at all the direction 
they  wished  lo  take. After some  discussion  they decided to  leave  this 
misleading path and strike northward; for although they had not been able to 
see it  from the hill-top, the Road  must lie that way, and it  could not be 
many miles off. Also northward, and to the left of the path, the land seemed  
lo  be drier  and more  open,  climbing up to slopes  where  the  trees were 
thinner,  and pines and firs replaced the oaks and ashes  and other  strange 
and nameless trees  of the denser wood. 
     At first  their  choice  seemed  to  be good: they got along  at a fair 
speed, though whenever they got  a glimpse of the sun  in an open glade they


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####-     'Well, now I have at  least some  notion  of where we are!' said Merry. 
'We have come almost in the opposite direction to which we intended. This is 
the River Withywindle! I will go on and explore.' 
     He passed out into the sunshine and disappeared into the  long grasses.  
After a while he reappeared, and reported that there was fairly solid ground 
between the cliff-foot and the river; in  some places firm turf went down to 
the water's edge. 'What's more,' he  said, 'there seems to be something like 
a footpath  winding  along on  this side  of the river. If  we turn left and 
follow it, we  shall be bound to  come out on the  east side of  the  Forest 
eventually.' 
     'I dare say!' said Pippin. 'That  is, if the  track goes on so far, and 
does not simply lead us into a bog and leave us there.  Who made  the track, 
do you suppose, and why?  I am sure it was not for our benefit. I am getting


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the table, and drew chairs round the fire. 
     'We'll clear up later,' said Merry. 'Now tell me all  about it! I guess 
that you have been having adventures, which was not quite fair without me. I 
want a full account; and most of all I want to know what was the matter with 
old Maggot, and why he spoke to me like that. He sounded almost as if he was 
scared, if that is possible.' 
     'We  have all been  scared,' said Pippin after a pause,  in which Frodo 
stared at the fire and did not speak. 'You would have been,  too, if you had 
been chased for two days by Black Riders.' 
     'And what are they?'


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sure it is unsafe to stay in one place long, especially in  a place to which 
it is known  I was going. Also Gildor advised me  not to wait. But I  should 
very  much like  to see  Gandalf. I could see that even Gildor was disturbed 
when  he heard that Gandalf  had never  appeared. It really  depends  on two 
things.  How soon could the Riders get to Bucklebury? And how  soon could 
we 
get off? It will take a good deal of preparation.' 
     'The answer to the  second question,' said Merry, 'is that we could get 
off in an hour. I have prepared practically everything. There are six ponies 
in a stable across the fields; stores and tackle are all packed, except  for  
a few extra clothes, and the perishable food.' 
     'It seems to have been  a  very efficient conspiracy,' said Frodo. 'But 
what about the Black Riders? Would it be safe to wait one day for Gandalf?' 
     'That all depends on  what you think the Riders would do, if they found


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with better heart;  for it seemed to them that the  Forest had relented, and 
was going to let them pass unhindered after all. 
     But after a while the air began to get  hot and stuffy. The  trees drew 
close again  on either side, and they  could  no longer  see far ahead.  Now 
stronger than ever they  felt again  the ill will  of  the  wood pressing on 
them.  So silent was it that  the fall of their ponies'  hoofs, rustling  on 
dead leaves and  occasionally  stumbling on hidden roots, seemed to thud  in 
their ears. Frodo tried to sing a song to encourage them, but his voice sank  
to a murmur. 
     O! Wanderers in the shadowed land 
     despair not! For though dark they stand, 
     all woods there be must end at last, 
     and see the open sun go past: 
     the setting sun, the rising sun, 
     the day's end, or the day begun.


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and nameless trees  of the denser wood. 
     At first  their  choice  seemed  to  be good: they got along  at a fair 
speed, though whenever they got  a glimpse of the sun  in an open glade they 
seemed  unaccountably to have veered eastwards. But  after a time the  trees 
began to close in again,  just where they had appeared from a distance to be 
thinner and  less tangled. Then  deep  folds  in  the ground were discovered


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you  going to get  through  this?'  asked Fredegar. 'Follow me!' said Merry, 
'and you will see.' He turned to the  left  along  the Hedge, and  soon they 
came to a point  wher e it bent inwards, running along the lip of a hollow. A 
cutting  had been made, at  some distance from the  Hedge, and  went sloping 
gently down into the ground. It had walls of brick at  the sides, which rose 
steadily,  until suddenly  they arched  over a nd formed a  tunnel that dived 
deep under the Hedge and came out in the hollow on the other side. 
     Here Fatty Bolger halted. 'Good-bye, Frodo!' he  said.  'I wish you were 
not going into the Forest. I only hope you will not need rescuing before the 
day is out. But good luck to you - today and every day!' 
     'If there  are no worse things ahead  than  the Old Forest, I  shall be 
lucky,'  said  Frodo. 'Tell Gandalf to hurry along the  East Road: we  shall


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right and downwards.  
     After an hour or two they had lost all clear sense of direction, though 
they knew well enough that they had long ceased to go northward at all. They 
were being headed off,  and were simply following a course chosen for them - 
eastwards and southwards, into the heart of the Forest and not out of it. 
     The afternoon was wearing away when they scrambled and stumbled  into a  
fold that was  wider and  deeper than any they had yet met. It  was so sleep 
and  overhung that  it proved  impossible  to climb out  of it again, either  
forwards  or  backwards, without  leaving  their ponies  and  their  baggage 
behind. All  they could do  was to  follow  the fold - downwards. The ground 
grew soft, and in places boggy; springs appeared in the banks, and soon they  
found themselves following a brook that trickled and babbled through a weedy 
bed. Then the ground began to fall rapidly, and the brook growing strong and


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does not simply lead us into a bog and leave us there.  Who made  the track, 
do you suppose, and why?  I am sure it was not for our benefit. I am getting  
very suspicious  of this Forest and everything in it, and I begin to believe 
all  the stories about it. And have you any idea how far eastward we  should  
have to go?' 
     'No,' said Merry, 'I  haven't. I don't  know in the  least how far down 
the Withywindle we are, or who could possibly come here often enough to 
make 
a path along it. But there is no other way out that I can see or think of.' 
     There being nothing  else for it, they filed out, and Merry led them to 
the path that he had discovered. Everywhere the reeds and  grasses were lush 
and tall, in places far above their heads; but once found, the path was easy 
to  follow, as it  turned  and twisted, picking out the sounder ground among 
the bogs and pools. Here and there it passed  over other rills, running down


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####-     Frodo did not like the sound of this. 'Come  on!' he  cried. 'We  can't  
have a  nap yet. We must get clear of the Forest first.' But the others were 
too far gone to care. Besi de them Sam stood yawning and blinking stupidly.  
     Suddenly  Frodo  himself  felt  sleep overwhelming him.  His head swam. 
There now seemed  hardly a sound  in the air. The flies had stopped buzzing. 
Only a gentle noise on the edge of hearing,  a soft  fluttering as of a song 
half whispered, seemed to stir in the boughs above. He lifted his heavy eyes 
and  saw leaning over him a  huge willow-tree,  old  and hoary. Enormous  it  
looked,  its  sprawling  branches  going  up like  reaching  arms with  many 
long-fingered hands,  its knotted and twisted trunk gaping  in wide fissures 
that creaked faintly as the boughs  moved. The leaves fluttering against the 
bright sky dazzled  him,  and he toppled over, lying where  he fell upon the 
grass.


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what about the Black Riders? Would it be safe to wait one day for Gandalf?' 
     'That all depends on  what you think the Riders would do, if they found 
you here,' answered Merry. 'They could  have reached here  by now, of course, 
if they were not stopped at the North-gate, where the Hedge runs down to the 
river -bank, just this side of the Bridge. The gate-guards would not let them


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####-he  heard two noises; one loud, and the other  soft but very  clear. One was 
the  splash of something heavy falling into the water; the other was a noise 
like the snick of a lock when a door quietly closes fast. 
     He rushed back to the bank. Frodo was  in the water close to the  edge, 
and a great tree-root seemed to be over him and holding him down, but he was 
not struggling. Sam gripped him by the  jacket, and dragged him  from  under 
the root; and then with difficulty hauled him on to the bank. Almost at once 
he woke, and coughed and spluttered. 
     'Do you know, Sam,' he said at length, 'the beastly tree  threw me in! I 
felt it. The big root just twisted round and tipped me in!' 
     'You were dreaming  I expect, Mr. Frodo,'  said Sam. 'You shouldn't sit 
in such a place, if you feel sleepy.' 
     'What  about the  others?' Frodo asked. 'I wonder  what sort of  dr eams 
they are having.'


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all round the hill like  thick  hair that ended sharply in  a circle round a  
shaven crown. 
     The hobbits  led their  ponies up, winding  round and  round until they 
reached the top. There they stood and gazed about them. The air was gleaming 
and sunlit, but hazy; and they could not see to any great distance. Near  at 
hand the mist was now almost gone;  though here and there it lay  in hollows 
of the wood, and to  the south  of  them, out of a deep  fold cutting  right 
across the Forest, the fog still rose like steam or wisps of white smoke. 
     'That,'  said Merry, pointing  with his hand, 'that  is the line of the 
Withywindle. It comes down out of the Downs and flows south-west through 
the 
midst of the  Forest to join the  Brandywine below Haysend. We don't want to 
go that way! The Withywindle valley is said to be  the  queerest part of the 
whole wood  - the centre from which all the queerness comes, as it were.'


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found themselves following a brook that trickled and babbled through a weedy 
bed. Then the ground began to fall rapidly, and the brook growing strong and 
noisy, flowed and leaped swiftly downhill. They were in a deep dim-lit gully 
over -arched by trees high above them. 
     After stumbling along for some way along  the  stream, they came  quite 
suddenly out of the gloom. As if through a gate they saw the sunlight before 
them.  Coming  to the opening they found  that they had  made their way down 
through a cleft in a high sleep bank, almost a cliff. At its feet was a wide 
space of grass and reeds; and in the distance could be glimpsed another bank  
almost as  steep. A golden  afternoon  of  late sunshine lay warm and drowsy 
upon  the hidden land between. In the midst of it there wound lazily a  dark 
river  of brown  water,  bordered with ancient  willows,  arched  over  with 
willows, blocked  with fallen willows,  and flecked with thousands  of faded


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to  follow, as it  turned  and twisted, picking out the sounder ground among 
the bogs and pools. Here and there it passed  over other rills, running down 
gullies into the Wi thywindle  out of the higher  forest -lands,  and at these 
points there were tree-trunks or bundles of brushwood laid carefully across.  
     The  hobbits began to feel very hot. There were armies of flies  of all 
kinds buzzing round their  ears, and the afternoon sun was burning  on their 
backs.  At last they  came suddenly into a thin shade;  great grey  branches 
reached across  the  path. Each step forward became more  reluctant than the 
last. Sleepiness seemed to be creeping out of the ground and up their  legs, 
and falling softly out of the air upon their heads and eyes. 
     Frodo  felt his  chin go down and  his head nod. Just in front  of  him 
Pippin fell forward on to his knees.  Frodo halted. 'It's no good,' he heard


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####- 
     'We might try  to hurt or  frighten  this tree to begin with,' said Sam 
fiercely. 'If it don't let them go,  I'll  have it down,  if  I have to gnaw 
it.' He  ran to the ponies and before  long  came back with two tinder -boxes 
and a hatchet. 
     Quickly they gathered dry grass and leaves, and bits  of bark; and made 
a  pile  of broken twigs and chopped sticks. These  they heaped against  the 
trunk  on the far side of the tree from  the prisoners. As soon  as Sam  had 
struck  a spark into  the tinder,  it kindled the dry grass  and a flurry of 
flame and smoke went up. The  twigs crackled. Little fingers  of fire licked 
against  the dry scored rind of  the ancient tree and scorched  it. A tremor  
ran through the whole  willow. The leaves  seemed to hiss above their  heads 
with a sound of pain and anger. A loud  scream came from Merry, and from far 
inside the tree they heard Pippin give a muffled yell.


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in such a place, if you feel sleepy.' 
     'What  about the  others?' Frodo asked. 'I wonder  what sort of  dr eams 
they are having.' 
     They went round to the other side of the tree, and  then Sam understood 
the click that he had heard. Pippin  had vanished. The crack by which he had 
laid himself had closed together, so that  not  a chink could be seen. Merry 
was trapped: another crack had closed about his waist; his legs lay outside, 
but the  rest of him was inside a dark opening, the edges of  which  gripped 
like a pair of pincers.  
     Frodo and  Sam beat  first upon the  tree-trunk where Pippin had  lain. 
They then struggled frantically to pull open the jaws of the crack that held 
poor Merry. It was quite useless.  
     'What a  foul thing to happen!' cried Frodo  wildly. 'Why  did  we ever  
come into this dreadful  Forest? I wish we were all back at Crickhollow! ' He 
kicked the tree with all his strength, heedless  of  his own  feet. A hardly


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river  of brown  water,  bordered with ancient  willows,  arched  over  with 
willows, blocked  with fallen willows,  and flecked with thousands  of faded 
willow-leaves.  The  air was thick  with  them, fluttering  yellow from  the 
branches;  for there  was a  warm  and gentle breeze blowing  softly   in the  
valley, and the reeds were rustling, and the willow-boughs were creaking.


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####-trouble! Tom's in a hurry now. Don't you crush my lilies!' 
     'My friends are caught in the willow-tree,' cried Frodo breathlessly. 
     'Master Merry's being squeezed in a crack!' cried Sam. 
     'What?' shouted Tom Bombadil,  leaping up  in the air. 'Old Man Willow? 
Naught  worse than that, eh? That  can soon  be mended. I know the  tune for 
him.  Old  grey Willow-man! I'll freeze his  marrow cold, if he don't behave 
himself. I'll  sing his roots off. I'll sing a  wind up  and blow  leaf  and 
branch  away.  Old Man  Willow!' Setting down his  lilies carefully  on  the 
grass, he  ran to  the tree. There he saw Merry's feet  still sticking out  - 
the rest had already  been  drawn further inside. Tom  put his mouth to  the 
crack  and  began singing  into it in a  low voice. They could not catch the 
words, but  evidently Merry was aroused. His legs began to kick.  Tom sprang 
away,  and breaking off a hanging branch smote  the side of the  willow with


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####-     Half hopeful and half afraid of some new danger, Frodo and Sam now both 
stood still. Suddenly  out of  a long string of  nonsense-words (or so  they 
seemed) the voice rose up loud and clear and burst into this song: 
     Hey! Come merry dot! derry dol! My darling! 
     Light goes the weather-wind and the feathered starling. 
     Down  along under Hill, shining in the sunlight, 
     Waiting on the doorstep for the cold starlight, 
     There my pretty lady is. River-woman's daughter, 
     Slender as the willow-wand, clearer than the water. 
     Old Tom Bombadil water-lilies bringing 
     Comes hopping home again. Can you hear him singing? 
     Hey! Come merry dol! deny dol! and merry-o, 
     Goldberry, Goldberry, merry yellow berry-o! 
     Poor old Willow-man, you tuck your roots away! 
     Tom's in a hurry now. Evening will follow day. 
     Tom's going home again water-lilies bringing. 
     Hey! Come derry dol! Can you hear me singing?


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come into this dreadful  Forest? I wish we were all back at Crickhollow! ' He 
kicked the tree with all his strength, heedless  of  his own  feet. A hardly 
perceptible shiver ran through the stem and up into the branches; the leaves 
rustled and whispered, but with a sound now of faint and far-off laughter. 
     'I suppose we haven't  got an  axe among our luggage, Mr. Frodo?' asked 
Sam. 
     'I  brought a  little hatchet for chopping firewood,' said Frodo. 'That 
wouldn't be much use.' 
     'Wait a minute!'  cried  Sam, struck by an idea suggested by  firewood. 
'We might do something with fire!' 
     'We might,' said Frodo doubtfully. 'We might succeed in roasting Pippin 
alive inside.'


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####-     Out of the window-panes light will twinkle yellow.  
     Fear no alder black! Heed no hoary willow! 
     Fear neither root nor bough! Tom goes on before you. 
     Hey now! merry dot! We'll be waiting for you! 
     After that the hobbits heard  no more. Almost at once the sun seemed to 
sink  into  the  trees  behind them. They thought of the slanting  light  of 
evening glittering on the  Brandywine River, and  the windows  of Bucklebury 
beginning  to gleam with hundreds of lights. Great shadows fell across them; 
trunks and branches of trees hung  dark and threatening over the path. White  
mists began to rise and curl on the surface of the river and stray about the 
roots  of the trees upon its borders. Out of the very ground at their feet a  
shadowy steam arose and mingled with the swiftly falling dusk. 
     It became difficult to follow the path, and they were very tired. Their 
legs seemed leaden. Strange furtive noises ran among the bushes and reeds on


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words, but  evidently Merry was aroused. His legs began to kick.  Tom sprang 
away,  and breaking off a hanging branch smote  the side of the  willow with  
it. 'You  let  them  out  again, Old  Man Willow!'  he  said. 'What  be  you  
a-thinking  of? You  should not be waking. Eat earth! Dig deep! Drink water! 
Go to sleep! Bombadil is talking!' He then seized  Merry's feet and drew him 
out of the suddenly widening crack. 
     There was a tearing creak and the other crack split open, and out of it 
Pippin sprang, as if he had been kicked. Then  with  a loud snap both cracks 
closed fast again.  A shudder ran  through  the tree  from root to  tip, and 
complete silence fell. 
     'Thank you!' said the hobbits, one after the other. 
     Tom Bombadil burst out  laughing.  'Well,  my little fellows!' said he, 
stooping  so that he peered into their  faces. 'You shall come home with me!  
The  table is  all laden with  yellow cream, honeycomb, and white bread  and


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Tom's in a hurry now. Evening will follow day. 
     Tom's going home again water-lilies bringing. 
     Hey! Come derry dol! Can you hear me singing?  
     Frodo  and Sam stood as if enchanted. The wind puffed  out. The  leaves 
hung silently again on stiff branches. There was  another burst of song, and 
then suddenly, hopping and dancing along the path, there  appeared above the 
reeds an old battered hat with a tall crown and a long blue feather stuck in 
the band. With another hop and a bound there came into  view a man, or so it 
seemed.  At any rate he wa s  too large and heavy for a hobbit, if not  quite 
tall enough for one of the Big People, though he made noise enough for  one, 
slumping along with  great yellow  boots on  his  thick legs,  and  charging 
through grass and rushes like a cow going down to  drink. He had a blue coat 
and a long brown beard; his eyes  were blue and bright, and his face was red


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####-me. 
     O slender as a willow-wand! O clearer than clear water! 
     O reed by the living pool! Fair River-daughter! 
     O spring-time and summer-time, and spring again after! 
     O wind on the waterfall, and the leaves' laughter!'  
     Suddenly he  stopped  and  stammered,  overcome  with surprise  to hear  
himself saying such things. But Goldberry laughed. 
     'Welcome!'  she said.  'I had not heard that folk of the  Shire were so 
sweet-tongued. But I see you are an elf-friend; the light  in your eyes  and 
the ring in your voice tells it. This is  a merry meeting! Sit now, and wait 
for the Master   of the house! He will not be long. He is tending  your tired 
beasts.' 
     The hobbits sat down gladly in  low rush-seated chairs, while Goldberry 
busied herself about the table; and their eyes followed her, for the slender  
grace of her movement filled them with quiet delight. From somewhere  behind


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with a sound of pain and anger. A loud  scream came from Merry, and from far 
inside the tree they heard Pippin give a muffled yell. 
     'Put it out! Put it out!' cried Merry. 'He'll squeeze me in two, if you  
don't. He says so!' 
     'Who?  What?' shouted Frodo,  rushing  round  to  the other side of the 
tree. 
     'Put  it out! Put it  out!'  begged Merry.  The  branches of the wi llow 
began to sway violently. There was a sound as of a wind rising and spreading 
outwards  to the branches of all the other trees round about, as though they 
had  dropped a stone into the quiet slumber  of the river -valley and  set up 
ripples  of anger that  ran out  over the  whole  Forest. Sam kicked at  the 
little fire and stamped out the sparks. But Frodo, without any clear idea of 
why he did so, or what he hoped  for, ran  along the path crying help! help! 
help! It seemed to him that he could hardly hear the sound of his own shrill


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It became difficult to follow the path, and they were very tired. Their 
legs seemed leaden. Strange furtive noises ran among the bushes and reeds on 
either  side of them; and if  they looked  up  to the pale sky,  they caught 
sight  of  queer  gnarled  and knobbly  faces that gloomed dark against  the 
twilight,  and leered down at them  from the high bank and the edges of  the 
wood. They  began to feel that  all this  country was unreal,  and that they 
were stumbling through an ominous dream that led to no awakening. 
     Just as they felt their feet slowing down to a standstill, they noticed 
that the  ground  was  gently  rising.  The  water  began to murmur. In  the 
darkness they caught the white glimmer of foam, where the  river flowed over  
a short fall. Then suddenly the trees came to an end and the mists were left  
behind. They  stepped out from the  Forest, and found a wide sweep  of grass


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stooping  so that he peered into their  faces. 'You shall come home with me!  
The  table is  all laden with  yellow cream, honeycomb, and white bread  and 
butter. Goldberry is  waiting. Time  enough  for questions around the supper  
table. You follow after me as quick as you are able!' With that he picked up 
his  lilies, and then with a beckoning  wave  of  his hand  went hopping and 
dancing along the path eastward, still singing loudly and nonsensically. 
     Too surprised and too relieved to talk, the hobbits followed  a fter him 
as fast as they could. But that was not fast enough. Tom soon disappeared in 
front  of them,  and the noise of his singing got fainter  and further away. 
Suddenly his voice came floating back to them in a loud halloo!  
     Hop along, my little friends, up the Withywindle! 
     Tom's going on ahead candles for to kindle. 
     Down west sinks the Sun: soon you will be groping. 
     When the night-shadows fall, then the door will open,


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busied herself about the table; and their eyes followed her, for the slender  
grace of her movement filled them with quiet delight. From somewhere  behind 
the house came the sound of singing. Every now and again they caught,  among 
many a derry dol and a merry dol and a ring a ding dillo  the repeated words:  
     Old Tom Bombadil is a merry fellow;  
     Bright blue his jacket is, and his boots are yellow.  
     'Fair  lady!'  said Frodo again after  a  while. 'Tell me, if my asking 
does not seem foolish, who is Tom Bombadil?' 
     'He is,' said Goldberry, staying her swift movements and smiling. 
     Frodo looked a t her questioningly.  'He is, as you  have seen him,' she 
said in answer to his look. 'He is the Master of wood, water, and hill.' 
     'Then all this strange land belongs to him?' 
     'No indeed!' she answered, and her smile faded. 'That would indeed be a 
burden,'  she added  in  a low voice, as if to herself. 'The trees  and  the


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why he did so, or what he hoped  for, ran  along the path crying help! help! 
help! It seemed to him that he could hardly hear the sound of his own shrill 
voice: it  was  blown away  from  him by  the willow-wind and drowned  in  a  
clamour of leaves,  as soon as the  words left his mouth. He felt desperate: 
lost and witless.  
     Suddenly  he  slopped.  There was an answer, or  so  he  thought; but it 
seemed  to come from  behind him, away down  the  path  further back in  the 
Forest.  He turned round and listened, and soon  there  could  be no  doubt: 
someone was  singing a song; a deep glad voice  was  singing  carelessly and 
happily, but it was singing nonsense: 
     Hey dol! merry dol! ring a dong dillo! 
     Ring a dong! hop along! fal lal the willow! 
     Tom Bom, jolly Tom, Tom Bombadillo!


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through grass and rushes like a cow going down to  drink. He had a blue coat 
and a long brown beard; his eyes  were blue and bright, and his face was red 
as  a ripe apple, but creased into a hundred  wrinkles of laughter.  In  his 
hands  he carried  on a  large  leaf  as  on a tray  a  small pile  of white 
water -lilies.  
     'Help!' cried  Frodo  and  Sam  running  towards  him with their  hands 
stretched out. 
     'Whoa! Whoa! steady there!' cried the old man, holding up one hand, and 
they  stopped  short, as  if  they  had been  struck stiff. 'Now,  my little 
fellows, where be you a -going to, puffing like a  bellows? What's the matter  
here  then?  Do  you  know who I am? I'm  Tom Bombadil.  Tell me what's 
your


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The four hobbits stepped  over the  wide  stone  threshold,  and  stood 
still,  blinking. They  were in a  long  low room,  filled with the light of 
lamps swinging from the beams of the roof; and on the table of dark polished 
wood stood many candles, tall and yellow, burning brightly. 
     In a  chair, at the far side of the room  facing  the outer door, sat a  
woman. Her long yellow hair rippled down her shoulders;  her  gown was 
green, 
green as young reeds, shot  with silver like beads  of dew; and her belt was 
of gold, shaped like a chain  of flag-lilies set with the pale-blue  eyes of 
forget-me-nots.  About  her  feel  in  wide   vessels  of  green  and  brown 
earthenware, white water -lilies  were  floating,  so that she  seemed  to be 
enthroned in the midst of a pool. 
     'Enter, good guests!'  she said, and as she spoke they knew that it was 
her  clear voice they had heard singing. They came a few timid steps further


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Frodo  felt his  chin go down and  his head nod. Just in front  of  him 
Pippin fell forward on to his knees.  Frodo halted. 'It's no good,' he heard 
Merry saying. 'Can't go another step  without rest. Must have nap. It's cool 
under the willows. Less flies!'


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a short fall. Then suddenly the trees came to an end and the mists were left  
behind. They  stepped out from the  Forest, and found a wide sweep  of grass 
welling up before them. The  river, now small and swift, was leaping merrily 
down to meet them, glinting here and there in the light of the stars,  which 
were already shining in the sky. 
     The grass under their feet was smooth and short, as if it had been mown 
or shaven. The eaves of the Forest behind were clipped, and trim as a hedge. 
The path was now plain before  them, well-tended and bordered with stone. It 
wound  up on to the top  of a grassy knoll,  now grey under  the pale starry 
night; and there,  still high  above them  on a further slope, they saw  the 
twinkling lights of a house. Down again the path went, and then up aga in, up 
a  long smooth  hillside of  turf, towards the light. Suddenly a wide yellow 
beam  flowed out  brightly  from a  door  that  was  opened.  There  was Tom


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that creaked faintly as the boughs  moved. The leaves fluttering against the 
bright sky dazzled  him,  and he toppled over, lying where  he fell upon the 
grass. 
     Merry and Pippin dragged themselves  forward  and  lay down  with their  
backs to  the willow-trunk.  Behind them  the  great  cracks gaped  wide  to 
receive them as the  tree swayed and creaked. They looked up at the grey and 
yellow leaves, moving softly against the light, and singing. They shut their 
eyes, and  then it seemed  that  they  could almost hear words,  cool words,  
saying something about water and sleep. They gave themselves up to the spell 
and fell fast asleep at the foot of the great grey willow. 
     Frodo   lay for  a while  fighting with  the sleep that was overpowering 
him;  then  with  an  effort  he  struggled  to  his feel again. He  felt  a  
compelling  desire for cool water.  'Wait for me,  Sam,' he  stammered.  'Must  
bathe feet a minute.'


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####-     'That is right!' said the old man.  'Now  is the time for resting. Some 
things  are  ill  to hear  when  the  world's  in  shadow.  Sleep  till  the 
morning-light, rest on  the  pillow! Heed no nightly  noise!  Fear  no  grey 
willow!' And with that he took down the lamp and blew it out, and grasping a 
candle in either hand he led them out of the room. 
     Their mattresses and  pillows were soft as down, and  the blankets were 
of white  wool. They had hardly laid  themselves on the deep beds and  drawn 
the light covers over them before they were asleep. 
     In the dead night, Frodo lay  in a dream without light. Then he saw the 
young moon rising; under its thin light there loomed before him a black wall 
of  rock, pierced by a  dark arch like a great gate. It seemed to Frodo that 
he was lifted up, and passing over he saw that the rock -wall was a circle of 
hills, and that within it was a plain, and in the midst of the plain stood a


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####-gently away downhill over cool stones in the quiet of night. 
     Tom sat on a while beside  them in silence, while each of them tried to 
muster the courage to ask  one of the many questions he had meant to  ask at 
supper. Sleep gathered on their eyelids. At last Frodo spoke: 
     'Did  you  hear me calling, Master, or was  it just chance that brought 
you at that moment?' 
     Tom stirred like a man shaken out of a pleasant dream. 'Eh, what?' said 
he. 'Did I  hear you calling?  Nay, I did not hear: I was busy singing. Just  
chance brought  me then,  if  chance  you call it.  It was no  plan of mine, 
though I was waiting  for you.  We heard  news of you,  and learned that you 
were wandering. We guessed you'd come ere long down to the water:  all paths 
lead  that  way, down to  Withywindle. Old grey  Willow-man, he's  a  mighty 
singer; and it's hard for little folk to escape  his cunning mazes.  But Tom


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####-table  laden? I see yellow cream and honeycomb, and white bread, and butter; 
milk, cheese,  and green herbs and ripe berries gathered. Is that enough for  
us? Is the supper ready?' 
     'It is,' said Goldberry; 'but the guests perhaps are not?' 
     Tom clapped his hands and cried:  'Tom, Tom! your guests are tired, and 
you had near forgotten! Come now,  my  merry  friends, and Tom  will refresh 
you! You shall clean  grimy  hands, and wash your weary faces; cast off your 
muddy cloaks and comb out your tangles!' 
     He  opened the door, and they followed  him  down  a short passage  and  
round  a  sharp  turn. They  came  to  a low  room  with a  sloping  roof (a 
penthouse, it  seemed, built on  to  the north end  of the house). Its walls 
were  of clean stone, but they were  mostly covered  with green hanging mats 
and  yellow curtains. The  floor  was flagged, and  strewn with  fresh green 
rushes. There were four deep  mattresses, each  piled  with white  blankets,


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enthroned in the midst of a pool. 
     'Enter, good guests!'  she said, and as she spoke they knew that it was 
her  clear voice they had heard singing. They came a few timid steps further  
into  the room,  and  began  to bow  low,  feeling  strangely surprised  and 
awkward,  like folk that, knocking at a  cottage door to  beg for a drink of 
water, have been answered  by a fair young elf-queen clad in living flowers.  
But  before they could  say anything, she  sprang  lightly up  and  over the 
lily-bowls,  and ran  laughing towards them; and as she ran her gown rustled 
softly like the wind in the flowering borders of a river. 
     'Come dear  folk!' she said,  taking Frodo by the hand.  'Laugh  and be  
merry! I am Goldberry, daughter of  the River.' Then lightly she passed them 
and closing the door she turned her back to  it, with her  white arms spread 
out  across  it. 'Let us  shut out the night!'  she said. 'For you are still


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a  long smooth  hillside of  turf, towards the light. Suddenly a wide yellow 
beam  flowed out  brightly  from a  door  that  was  opened.  There  was Tom 
Bombadil's  house  before them, up,  down,  under hill. Behind  it  a  steep 
shoulder of the land  lay grey and bare,  and beyond that the dark shapes of


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lead  that  way, down to  Withywindle. Old grey  Willow-man, he's  a  mighty 
singer; and it's hard for little folk to escape  his cunning mazes.  But Tom 
had an errand there, that he dared not hinder.' Tom  nodded as if sleep  was 
taking him again; but he went on in a soft singing voice: 
     I had an errand there: gathering water-lilies, 
     green leaves and lilies white to please my pretty lady, 
     the last ere the year's end to keep them from the winter, 
     to flower by her pretty feet tilt the snows are melted. 
     Each year at summer's end I go to find them for her, 
     in a wide pool, deep and clear, far down Withywindle; 
     there they open first in spring and there they linger latest. 
     By that pool long ago I found the River-daughter, 
     fair young Goldberry sitting in the rushes. 
     Sweet was her singing then, and her heart was beating! 
     He opened his eyes and looked at them with a sudden glint of blue:


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he was lifted up, and passing over he saw that the rock -wall was a circle of 
hills, and that within it was a plain, and in the midst of the plain stood a  
pinnacle of stone, like a vast tower but not made by hands. On its top stood 
the figure of  a man. The moon as it rose seemed to hang for a  moment above 
his head and glistened in his white hair as the wind stirred it. Up from the 
dark plain below came the crying  of fell voices, and  the  howling of  many  
wolves. Suddenly  a shadow, like the shape of great wings, passed across the 
moon. The figure lifted his arms and a  light flashed from the staff that he 
wielded. A mighty ea gle  swept down and bore him away. The voices wailed 
and 
the wolves yammered. There was a noise like a strong wind blowing, and on it 
was borne the sound of hoofs, galloping, galloping, galloping from the East.  
'Black Riders!'  thought  Frodo as  he wakened, with the  sound of the hoofs


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####-again. He sat up,  and felt the soft pillows yield to  his hands, and he lay 
down again relieved. He seemed to hear the echo of words in his  ears: 'Fear  
nothing! Have peace until the morning! Heed no nightly noises!' Then he went 
to sleep again. 
     It  was the  sound of  water  that Merry heard falling  into  his quiet 
sleep:   water  streaming  down   gently,  and  then   spreading,  spreading 
irresistibly all round  the  house  into a  dark shoreless pool. It  gurgled 
under the walls, and was  rising slowly but surely. 'I shall be drowned!' he 
thought. It will find its  way in,  and then I shall drown.' He felt that he 
was  lying  in a soft slimy bog,  and  springing up  he set  his fool on the 
corner of  a  cold hard  flagstone. Then he  remembered where he was and lay 
down again. He seemed to hear or remember hearing: 'Nothing passes doors  or 
windows save moonlight  and  starlight  and  the wind off  the  hill-top.' A


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####-the Barrow-downs stalked away into the eastern night. 
     They  all hurried  forward,  hobbits  and  ponies. Already  half  their 
weariness  and all their fears  had fallen from them. Hey! Come  merry  dol! 
rolled out the song to greet them. 
     Hey! Come derry dol! Hop along, my hearties! 
     Hobbits! Ponies all! We are fond of parties. 
     Now let the fun begin! Let us sing together! 
     Then  another clear voice, as young and as ancient as Spring, like  the 
song of a glad water flowing  down  into  the night from a bright morning in 
the hills, came falling like silver to meet them: 
     Now let the song begin! Let us sing together 
     Of sun, stars, moon and mist, rain and cloudy weather, 
     Light on the budding leaf, dew on the feather, 
     Wind on the open hill, bells on the heather, 
     Reeds by the shady pool, lilies on the water: 
     Old Tom Bombadil and the River-daughter!


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and closing the door she turned her back to  it, with her  white arms spread 
out  across  it. 'Let us  shut out the night!'  she said. 'For you are still 
afraid, per haps, of mist and tree-shadows and deep water, and untame things. 
Fear nothing! For tonight you are under the roof of Tom Bombadil.' 
     The hobbits looked at her in wonder; and she looked at each of them and  
smiled. 'Fair lady  Goldberry!' said Frodo at last,  feeling his heart moved 
with  a joy that he did not understand. He stood  as  he had at times  stood 
enchanted by fair elven-voices; but the spell that was now laid upon him was 
different:  less keen and lofty  was the  delight, but deeper and nearer  to 
mortal heart; marvellous and yet not strange. 'Fair lady Goldberry!' he said 
again. 'Now the joy that  was hidden in the songs we heard is  made plain to


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'No indeed!' she answered, and her smile faded. 'That would indeed be a 
burden,'  she added  in  a low voice, as if to herself. 'The trees  and  the 
grasses  and  all things growing  or  living  in  the  land belong  each  to 
themselves.  Tom  Bombadil is the Master. No  one has ever  caught  old  Tom 
walking in the forest,  wading in the  water, leaping on the hill-tops under  
light and shadow. He has no fear. Tom Bombadil is master.' 
     A door opened and in came Tom Bombadil. He had now no hat and his 
thick 
brown  hair  was  crowned  with  autumn leaves.  He laughed,  and   going  to 
Goldberry, took her hand. 
     'Here's my pretty  lady!'  he said,  bowing  to the hobbits. 'Here's my 
Goldberry clothed all  in silver -green  with flowers in  her girdle! Is  the


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him;  then  with  an  effort  he  struggled  to  his feel again. He  felt  a  
compelling  desire for cool water.  'Wait for me,  Sam,' he  stammered.  'Must  
bathe feet a minute.' 
     Half in a dream he wandered forward to the riverward  side of the tree, 
where great winding roots grew out into the stream, like  gnarled  dragonets 
straining down to drink. He straddled one of these, and paddled his hot feel 
in the cool brown water; and there he too suddenly fell asleep with his back  
against the tree. 
     Sam sat down and  scratched his head, and yawned like a  cavern. He was 
worried.  The  afternoon  was  getting late,  and  he  thought  this  sudden 
sleepiness  uncanny.  'There's more  behind this than sun and warm air,'  he 
muttered  to himself.  'I don't like this great big tree. I  don't trust it. 
Hark at it singing about sleep now! This won't do at all!' 
     He pulled himself to his feet, and staggered off to see what had become


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was borne the sound of hoofs, galloping, galloping, galloping from the East.  
'Black Riders!'  thought  Frodo as  he wakened, with the  sound of the hoofs 
still  echoing in his  mind.  He wondered if  he would ever  again  have the 
courage to leave the safety  of these stone walls. He lay  motionless, still 
listening;  but all  was now silent, and  at last he turned and fell  asleep 
again or wandered into some other unremembered dream. 
     At his side Pippin lay dreaming pleasantly;  but a change came over his 
dreams and he turned and groaned. Suddenly he woke, or thought he had 
waked, 
and yet still heard in the darkness the sound that had disturbed his  dream: 
tip-tap,  squeak:  the  noise  was  like  branches  fretting  in  the  wind, 
twig-fingers scraping  wall and window: creak, creak, creak. He wondered  if 
there were  willow-trees close  to  the  house; and  then suddenly he  had a  
dreadful feeling that he was not in an ordinary house at all, but inside the


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and  yellow curtains. The  floor  was flagged, and  strewn with  fresh green 
rushes. There were four deep  mattresses, each  piled  with white  blankets,  
laid on the floor along one side. Against the opposite wall was a long bench  
laden with wide earthenware basins,  and beside it stood  brown ewers filled 
with water, some cold, some steaming hot. There were soft green slippers set 
ready beside each bed. 
     Before long, washed and  refreshed,  the  hobbits  were  seated  at the 
table, two on  each side, while at e ither end sat Goldberry  and the Master. 
It  was  a long and  merry  meal. Though  the hobbits ate, as only  famished 
hobbits can eat, there was no lack. The drink in their drinking-bowls seemed 
to be clear cold water, yet it went to  their hearts like  wi ne and set free 
their  voices.  The guests  became  suddenly aware  that  they were  singing 
merrily, as if it was easier and more natural than talking.


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Wind on the open hill, bells on the heather, 
     Reeds by the shady pool, lilies on the water: 
     Old Tom Bombadil and the River-daughter! 
     And  with that song the hobbits stood upon  the threshold, and a golden 
light was all about them.


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####-go bubbling away down into the  valley. Tom Bombadil came trotting round 
the 
corner of the house, waving his arms as if he was warding off the rain  - and 
indeed when he sprang over the threshold he seemed quite dry, except for his 
boots. These he took off and put in the chimney-corner. Then  he  sat in the 
largest chair and called the hobbits to gather round him. 
     'This is Goldberry's  washing  day,' he said, 'and her autumn-cleaning. 
Too wet for hobbit-folk - let them rest while they are able! It's a good day 
for  long  tales, for  questions and for  answers,  so Tom  will  start  the 
talking.' 
     He  then  told  them many remarkable  stories,  sometimes  half  as  if 
speaking to  himself, sometimes looking at  them suddenly with a bright blue 
eye  under  his deep brows. Often his voice would turn to song, and he would 
get  out of  his chair  and  dance about.  He  told them tales of  bees  and


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####-was a flower -garden and a clipped  hedge silver -netted, and beyond that grey 
shaven grass pale with dew-drops. There was no willow-tree to be seen. 
     'Good  morning,  merry  friends!' cried Tom, opening the eastern window 
wide. A cool air flowed in; it had a  rainy smell. 'Sun  won't show her face 
much today. I'm thinking. I have been walking wide, leaping on the hilltops,  
since the grey dawn began, nosing wind and weather, wet grass underfoot, wet 
sky above me.  I wakened Goldberry singing under  window;  but  nought 
wakes 
hobbit-folk in  the early morning. In the night little  folk wake up in  the 
darkness, and sleep after light has come! Ring  a  ding dillo! Wake now,  my  
merry friends! Forget the nightly noises! Ring  a ding dillo del! derry del, 
my  hearties!  If you  come  soon you'll find breakfast on the table. If you  
come late you'll get grass and rain-water!' 
     Needless  to  say - not that Tom's threat  sounded  very  serious  - the


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down again. He seemed to hear or remember hearing: 'Nothing passes doors  or 
windows save moonlight  and  starlight  and  the wind off  the  hill-top.' A 
little  breath of sweet air moved  the  curtain. He breathed deep  and  fell 
asleep again. 
     As far  as  he could  remember, Sam slept  through the  night  in  deep 
content, if logs are contented. 
     They woke  up, all four  at  once, in the morning light. Tom was moving 
about the room whistling like a starling. When he heard them stir he clapped 
his hands, and cried:  'Hey! Come merry dol! derry dol! My hearties!' He drew 
back the  yellow curtains, and  the hobbits  saw that these  had covered the 
windows, at either end of the room, one looking east  and the other  looking  
west. 
     They leapt up  refreshed. Frodo  ran  to the eastern window, and  found 
himself looking into a kitchen-garden grey with dew. He had half expected to 
see turf right up to the  walls, turf all pocked  with hoof-prints. Actually


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Hark at it singing about sleep now! This won't do at all!' 
     He pulled himself to his feet, and staggered off to see what had become 
of the ponies. He found that  two had wandered on a good way along the path; 
and he had just  caught them and brought them back towards the others,  when


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there were  willow-trees close  to  the  house; and  then suddenly he  had a  
dreadful feeling that he was not in an ordinary house at all, but inside the 
willow and listening  to that horrible dry  creaking  voice laughing  at him


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come late you'll get grass and rain-water!' 
     Needless  to  say - not that Tom's threat  sounded  very  serious  - the 
hobbits came soon, and left the table late and only when it was beginning lo  
look rather empty. Neither Tom nor Goldberry  were there. Tom could be heard 
about  the house, clattering in the kitchen, and up and down the stairs, and 
singing  here  and  there  outside.  The  room  looked   westward  over  the 
mist -clouded valley, and the  window was open. Water dripped  down  from the 
thatched  eaves above. Before  they had  finished  breakfast the  clouds had 
joined into  an  unbroken roof,  and  a  straight grey rain came softly  and 
steadily down. Behind its deep curtain the Forest was completely veiled. 
     As they looked out of  the window there came falling gently as if it was 
flowing down the rain out of the sky, the clear  voice  of Goldberry singing 
up above them. They could hear  few  words, but it seemed plain to them that


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himself looking into a kitchen-garden grey with dew. He had half expected to 
see turf right up to the  walls, turf all pocked  with hoof-prints. Actually 
his view was screened  by a  tall line of beans on poles; but above and  far 
beyond them the grey top of the hill loomed up against the sunrise. It was a  
pale  morning: in the East,  behind long  clouds like lines  of  soiled wool 
stained red at the  edges, lay glimmering deeps of  yellow. The sky spoke of 
rain to come; but the light was broadening quickly,  and the red  flowers on 
the beans began to glow against the wet green leaves.  
     Pippin looked out of  the western window, down into a pool of mist. The  
Forest  was hidden  under a fog. It was  like looking down  on to  a sloping 
cloud-roof from above. There was a fold or channel where the mist was broken 
into many plumes and billows; the valley of  the Withywindle. The stream ran 
down  the hill on the left and vanished into the white shadows. Near at hand


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eye  under  his deep brows. Often his voice would turn to song, and he would 
get  out of  his chair  and  dance about.  He  told them tales of  bees  and 
flowers,  the ways of trees, and the strange creatures  of the Forest, about 
the  evil things  and good  things,  things  friendly and things unfriendly, 
cruel things and kind things, and secrets hidden under brambles. 
     As they  listened,  they began to  understand  the lives of the Forest, 
apart from themselves, indeed to  feel themselves as the strangers where all 
other things were at home. Moving constantly in and out  of his talk was Old 
Man  Willow, and Frodo learned now enough to content him, indeed  more  
than 
enough, for it was not comfortable lore. Tom's words laid bare the hearts of 
trees and their thoughts, which were often dark and strange, and filled with 
a  hatred of things that go free upon the  earth, gnawing, biting, breaking,


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####-     Suddenly  Tom's talk  left  the woods and  went leaping  up  the  young 
stream, over  bubbling  waterfalls,  over  pebbles and worn rocks, and among 
small flowers in close  grass and wet crannies, wandering at  last up  on to 
the Downs. They heard of the Great Barrows, and the  green  mounds,  and the 
stone-rings  upon the  hills and in the hollows among the hills.  Sheep were 
bleating in flocks. Green  walls and white walls rose. There were fortresses 
on the heights. Kings of little kingdoms fought together, and the young  Sun 
shone like fire  on the red metal of their  new and greedy swords. There was 
victory and defeat; and towers fell, fortresses were burned, and flames went  
up into the sky. Gold was piled on the  biers of dead kings and queens;  and 
mounds covered them, and the stone  doors were shut; and the grass grew over  
all. Sheep  walked  for a while biting the  grass,  but soon the hills  were


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fair young Goldberry sitting in the rushes. 
     Sweet was her singing then, and her heart was beating! 
     He opened his eyes and looked at them with a sudden glint of blue: 
     And that proved well for you -- for now I shall no longer 
     go down deep again along the forest-water, 
     not while the year is old. Nor shall I be passing 
     Old Man Willow's house this side of spring-time, 
     not till the merry spring, when the River-daughter 
     dances down the withy-path to bathe in the water. 
     He  fell  silent  again;  but  Frodo  could  not help asking  one  more 
question: the one he most desired to have answered.  'Tell  us, Master,'  he 
said, 'about the Willow-man. What is he? I have never heard of him before.' 
     'No, don't!' said Merry and  Pippin together, sitting suddenly upright. 
'Not now! Not until the morning!'


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####-sudden fear of that silence: 
     'Who are you, Master?' he asked. 
     'Eh, what?' said  Tom sitting up,  and  his eyes glinting in the gloom. 
'Don't you know my name yet? That's the only  answer. Tell me,  who are you, 
alone, yourself and nameless? But you are young and I am old. Eldest, that's 
what I am. Mark my words, my friends: Tom was here before  the river and the 
trees;  Tom remembers the first raindrop and the first  acorn. He made paths 
before  the Big  People,  and saw  the  little People arriving.  He was here 
before the Kings and the graves and the Barrow-wights. When the Elves passed 
westward, Tom was here already, before the  seas were bent. He knew the dark 
under  the stars when it  was  fearless  -  before  the Dark  Lord came  from 
Outside.' 
     A shadow seemed to pass by the  window, and the hobbits glanced hastily 
through  the  panes.  When they  turned again, Goldberry stood  in the  door


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mounds covered them, and the stone  doors were shut; and the grass grew over  
all. Sheep  walked  for a while biting the  grass,  but soon the hills  were 
empty again.  A  shadow came out of dark places far away, and the bones were 
stirred in  the  mounds.  Barrow-wights walked in  the hollow places  with a  
clink of  rings on  cold fingers, and gold chains in the wind.'  Stone rings 
grinned out of the ground like broken teeth in the moonlight. 
     The  hobbits   shuddered.   Even  in  the   Shire  the  rumour  of  the 
Barrow-wights of  the Barrow-downs beyond the Forest had  been heard. But it 
was not a tale that  any  hobbit  liked to listen  to, even by a comfortable 
fireside far away. These  four now  suddenly remembered what the joy of this 
house had  driven from their minds: the  house of Tom Bombadil nestled under 
the very shoulder of those dreaded hills. They   lost the thread of  his tale 
and shifted uneasily, looking aside at one another.


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flowing down the rain out of the sky, the clear  voice  of Goldberry singing 
up above them. They could hear  few  words, but it seemed plain to them that 
the  song was a rain-song, as sweet as  showers on dry hills,  that told the 
tale  of a river from the  spring in the highlands to the Sea far below. The 
hobbits listened with delight; and Frodo was glad in his  heart, and blessed 
the kindly weather,  because it delayed them from departing. The  thought of 
going had been heavy upon him from  the moment  he awoke; but he guessed 
now 
that they would not go further that day. 
     The upper wind settled in the West and deeper and wetter clouds  rolled 
up  to spill their laden rain on the  bare heads of the Downs. Nothing could 
be seen all round the house but  falling  water.  Frodo  stood near the open 
door and watched the white chalky path turn into a little  river of milk and


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trees and their thoughts, which were often dark and strange, and filled with 
a  hatred of things that go free upon the  earth, gnawing, biting, breaking, 
hacking, burning: destroyers and usurpers. It was not called  the Old Forest  
without reason,  for  it  was indeed ancient,  a survivor  of vast forgotten 
woods;  and  in it there  lived  yet, ageing no quicker than the hills,  the 
fathers of the fathers of trees, remembering times when they were lords. The  
countless  years  had  filled  them with pride  and rooted wisdom,  and with 
malice.  But none were more dangerous  than the Great Willow:  his heart was 
rotten, but his strength was  green; and  he was cunning,  and  a master  of 
winds, and his song and thought ran through the woods  on both sides  of the  
river.  His grey  thirsty spirit drew power out of the earth and spread like 
fine root-threads in the ground, and invisible twig-fingers in the air, till


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the very shoulder of those dreaded hills. They   lost the thread of  his tale 
and shifted uneasily, looking aside at one another. 
     When they caught his  words again  they found that he had  now wandered 
into  strange regions beyond their  memory and  beyond their waking thought, 
into  limes when the world was wider, and  the  seas flowed straight to  the 
western  Shore;  and  still on  and back Tom went  singing out  into ancient 
starlight, when only the Elf-sires were awake. Then suddenly he slopped, and 
they saw that he nodded  as if he was falling asleep.  The hobbits sat still 
before  him, enchanted; and it  seemed as if, under the  spell of his words, 
the wind  had gone, and the clouds had  dried  up,  and  the  day  had  been 
withdrawn, and darkness  had  come from  East and West, and all  the sky was 
filled with the light of white stars.  
     Whether the morning and evening of  one  day or of many days had passed


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That night  they heard no noises.  But either in his  dreams or  out of 
them,  he could not tell which,  Frodo heard a sweet singing running  in his 
mind;  a  song  that  seemed  to  come  like  a  pale  light behind  a  grey 
rain-curtain, and growing stronger to turn the veil all to glass and silver, 
until at last it was rolled back, and a  far green country opened before him 
under a swift sunrise. 
     The vision  melted  into  waking; and  there  was  Tom whistling like a  
tree-full of birds;  and the  sun was already  slanting  down the  hill  and 
through the open window. Outside everything was green and pale gold. 
     After breakfast, which they  again  ate  alone,  they made ready to say 
farewell, as nearly heavy of heart as was possible on such  a morning: cool, 
bright, and clean under a washed autumn sky of thin blue. The air came fresh 
from the  North-west. Their quiet  ponies were almost  frisky,  sniffing and


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Outside.' 
     A shadow seemed to pass by the  window, and the hobbits glanced hastily 
through  the  panes.  When they  turned again, Goldberry stood  in the  door  
behind,  framed in  light. She held a  candle, shielding its flame  from the 
draught  with her hand;  and the  light  flowed through  it,  like  sunlight 
through a white shell. 
     'The  rain has ended,' she said; 'and new waters are running  downhill, 
under the stars. Let us now laugh and be glad!' 
     'And let us have  food and drink!' cried Tom. 'Long tales are  thirsty. 
And long listening's hungry work, morning, noon,  and evening!' With that he 
jumped  out  of  his  chair,  and  with  a  bound took  a  candle  from  the 
chimney-shelf and lit it  in the flame that Goldberry held;  then he  danced 
about the table. Suddenly he hopped through the door and disappeared. 
     Quickly  he returned, bearing a  large and laden  tray.  Then  Tom  and


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####-yellow,  russet under  the sun, beyond which lay hidden the  valley  of  the 
Brandywine. To the South, over  the  line of  the Withywindle,  there was  a  
distant glint like pale glass where  the Brandywine River  made a great loop  
in the  lowlands  and  flowed   away  out of  the  knowledge of the  hobbits.  
Northward  beyond  the dwindling  downs  the land  ran  away  in  flats  and 
swellings of grey  and green and pale earth -colours, until it  faded  into a  
featureless and  shadowy  distance.  Eastward  the Barrow-downs  rose, ridge 
behind ridge into the morning, and vanished out of eyesight into a guess: it 
was no more  than a guess of  blue and a remote  white glimmer blending with 
the hem of the sky,  but it spoke to them, out of  memory  and old tales, of 
the high and distant mountains. 
     They  took a deep draught  of  the air, and felt that a skip and  a few 
stout strides would  bear  them wherever they wished. It seemed fainthearted


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river.  His grey  thirsty spirit drew power out of the earth and spread like 
fine root-threads in the ground, and invisible twig-fingers in the air, till 
it had under its dominion nearly all the trees of the Forest  from the Hedge 
to the Downs.


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####-Tom's words may have  missed one meal or many,  but when the food was 
before 
them it seemed at  least a week  since they had eaten. They did not  sing or  
even speak much for a while, and paid close attention to business. But after  
a time their hearts and spirit rose high again, and their voices rang out in 
mirth and laughter. 
     After they had eaten,  Goldberry  sang many songs for them, songs  that 
began  merrily  in the  hills and fell softly down into  silence; and in the 
silences they saw in their minds pools and  waters wider  than any  they had 
known, and looking into them they  saw the sky below them and the stars like 
jewels in the  depths. Then  once more she wished them  each  good night and 
left them by the fireside. But Tom now seemed wide awake and plied them 
with 
questions.  
     He appeared already to know much about them and all their families, and  
indeed  to know much of  all the history  and doings of  the Shire down from


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####-sign of Tom disappearing!  
     Tom  laughed again,  and then he  spun  the Ring in  the  air  - and it 
vanished with a flash. Frodo  gave a cry - and Tom leaned forward and handed 
it back to him with a smile. 
     Frodo looked at it closely, and rather  suspiciously (like one  who has 
lent a trinket to a juggler). It was the same Ring, or looked  the same  and 
weighed  the same:  for that  Ring had  always  seemed  to  Frodo  to  weigh 
strangely heavy in the hand. But something prompted him to make sure. He 
was 
perhaps a trifle annoyed with Tom for seeming to make so  light of what even 
Gandalf thought so perilously important. He waited  for an opportunity, when 
the talk was going again, and Tom  was telling an absurd story about badgers 
and their queer ways  - then he slipped the Ring on. 
     Merry turned towards him to say something and gave a start, and checked 
an exclamation.  Frodo was delighted (in a  way):  it was  his own ring  all


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the high and distant mountains. 
     They  took a deep draught  of  the air, and felt that a skip and  a few 
stout strides would  bear  them wherever they wished. It seemed fainthearted  
to go jogging aside over the crumpled skirts of the downs  towards the Road, 
when they  should be leaping,  as lusty as Tom, over the stepping  stones of 
the hills straight towards the Mountains.  
     Goldberry spoke  to them  and recalled their eyes and thoughts.  'Speed 
now, fair guests!'  she said. 'And hold to your purpose! North with the wind 
in  the left eye and a blessing on your footsteps! Make haste while the  Sun 
shines!'  And  to Frodo  she  said:  'Farewell,  Elf-friend, it was a  merry 
meeting!' 
     But Frodo found no words to answer. He bowed low, and mounted his pony, 
and followed by his friends jogged slowly down the gentle slope  behind  the 
hill. Tom Bombadil's house and the valley, and the Forest were lost to view.


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####-and high lonely cries of  strange birds.  As they journeyed the sun mounted,  
and grew hot. Each time they climbed a ridge the breeze seemed to have grown 
less. When they caught a  glimpse of the country westward the distant  Forest 
seemed to be  smoking, as if the fallen rain was steaming up again from leaf 
and root and mould.  A shadow now lay round the edge of  sight, a dark  haze 
above which the upper sky was like a blue cap, hot and heavy. 
     About mid-day  they  came to  a hill whose top  was wide and flattened, 
like a shallow  saucer with a  green mounded rim. Inside  there was  no  air 
stirring,  and the sky seemed near their heads. They rode  across and looked  
northwards. Then  their hearts rose,  for it seemed plain that they had come 
further already than they had expected. Certainly the distances  had now all 
become hazy and deceptive, but there could  be no doubt that  the Downs were


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bright, and clean under a washed autumn sky of thin blue. The air came fresh 
from the  North-west. Their quiet  ponies were almost  frisky,  sniffing and 
moving  restlessly. Tom came out  of the house and  waved his hat and danced 
upon the doorstep, bidding the hobbits to get up and be off and go with good  
speed. 
     They rode off along a path  that  wound away from behind the house, and  
went slanting  up towards the north  end  of  the hill-brow  under which  it 
sheltered. They had just dismounted to lead their  ponies up the last  steep 
slope, when suddenly Frodo stopped. 
     'Goldberry!' he cried. 'My fair lady, clad all in silver green! We have 
never said  farewell  to her, nor seen  her  since the evening!' He  was  so 
distressed tha t he turned  back;  but at  that  moment  a  clear  call  came 
rippling down. There on the  hill-brow she stood beckoning to them: her hair 
was flying loose,  and as it caught the sun it shone and  shimmered. A light


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withdrawn, and darkness  had  come from  East and West, and all  the sky was 
filled with the light of white stars.  
     Whether the morning and evening of  one  day or of many days had passed 
Frodo could not tell.  He did not feel either hungry  or tired,  only filled 
with  wonder.  The  stars shone through the window and the  silence  of  the  
heavens seemed  to be round  him. He spoke at  last out  of his wonder and a


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Merry turned towards him to say something and gave a start, and checked 
an exclamation.  Frodo was delighted (in a  way):  it was  his own ring  all 
right, for Merry was staring blankly  at his  chair, and obviously could not 
see him. He  got up and  crept  quietly away from  the  fireside towards the 
outer door. 
     'Hey there!' cried Tom, glancing towards him with a most seeing look in 
his shining eyes. 'Hey!  Come  Frodo, there!  Where be you  a -going? Old Tom 
Bombadil's not as blind  as that yet. Take off your golden ring! Your hand's 
more fair without it. Come back! Leave your game and  sit down beside me! 
We 
must  talk a while more, and  think about the  morning.  Tom  must teach the  
right road, and keep your feet from wandering.' 
     Frodo laughed (trying to feel pleased), and taking off the Ring he came 
and  sat down  again. Tom now told them that he reckoned the Sun would shine


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further already than they had expected. Certainly the distances  had now all 
become hazy and deceptive, but there could  be no doubt that  the Downs were 
coming to  an end. A  long valley  la y below  them winding  away northwards,  
until it  came  to  an opening  between two  steep shoulders. Beyond,  there 
seemed  to be  no more hills. Due north  they faintly glimpsed  a  long dark 
line. That is a line  of trees,' said Merry, 'and that must mark  the  Road. 
All  along it for many leagues  east of the Bridge there are  trees growing. 
Some say they were planted in the old days.' 
     'Splendid!'  said Frodo. 'If we make as good going this afternoon as we 
have done this morning, we shall have left  the Downs before the Sun sets and 
be jogging on in search of a camping place.'  But even as he spoke he turned 
his glance eastwards, and he saw that on that side the hills were higher and 
looked down  upon them; and all those hills were crowned with green  mounds,


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about the table. Suddenly he hopped through the door and disappeared. 
     Quickly  he returned, bearing a  large and laden  tray.  Then  Tom  and 
Goldberry  set the table; and  the  hobbits sat  half in  wonder and half in 
laughter: so  fair  was  the grace  of Goldberry  and so  merry and odd  the 
caperings of Tom. Yet in some fashion they  seemed to  weave a single dance, 
neither hindering the other, in  and out of  the  room, and  round about the 
table; and with great speed food and vessels and  lights were set  in order. 
The boards blazed with candles, white and yellow.  Tom bowed to his  guests.  
'Supper is ready,'  said Goldberry; and now the  hobbits  saw that  she  was 
clothed all in silver with  a white girdle, and her  shoes were like fishes' 
mail. But Tom was all in clean blue, blue as rain -washed forget-me-nots, and 
he had green stockings.  
     It was a supper even better than before. The hobbits under the spell of


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rippling down. There on the  hill-brow she stood beckoning to them: her hair 
was flying loose,  and as it caught the sun it shone and  shimmered. A light 
like the glint  of  water on dewy grass  flashed from under her  feet as she 
danced. 
     They hastened up the  last slope, and stood breathless beside her. They 
bowed, but with a wave of her arm she bade them look round; and they  looked 
out from the hill-top  over lands under the morning. It was now as clear and  
far-seen as it  had been veiled and misty  when they stood upon the knoll in 
the  Forest,  which could now be seen rising pale and green out of  the dark 
trees in the West. In that direction the land rose in  wooded ridges, green,


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with 
questions.  
     He appeared already to know much about them and all their families, and  
indeed  to know much of  all the history  and doings of  the Shire down from  
days hardly remembered among the hobbits  themselves. It  no longer surprised 
them; but he  made no secret that he owed  his  recent knowledge  largely to 
Farmer Maggot, whom he seemed to regard as a person of more  importance 
than 
they had imagined.  'There's earth under  his  old  feet, and  clay  on  his 
fingers; wisdom in his bones, and both  his eyes are open,' said Tom. It was 
also clear that Tom  had dealings with the Elves, and it seemed that in some  
fashion, news had reached him from Gildor concerning the flight of Frodo. 
     Indeed  so much did Tom know, and so cunning  was his questioning, that 
Frodo found himself telling him more about Bilbo and his own hopes and fears 
than he  had told before even to  Gandalf. Tom wagged  his head up and down,


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Frodo laughed (trying to feel pleased), and taking off the Ring he came 
and  sat down  again. Tom now told them that he reckoned the Sun would shine 
tomorrow, and it would be a glad morning, and setting  out would be hopeful. 
But they  would do well to start early; for weather in  that  country was  a  
thing  that  even Tom could  not be sure  of  for long, and it would  change 
sometimes quicker than he could change his jacket.  'I am no weather -master,' 
he said; 'nor is aught that goes on two legs.' 
     By his  advice  they  decided to make nearly  due North from his house, 
over the western and lower slopes of the Downs: they might hope  in that way 
to strike  the East Road in a day's journey, and avoid the  Barrows. He told 
them not to be afraid  - but to mind their own business.  
     'Keep to  the green grass. Don't you go  a -meddling  with old stone  or


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####-scent  of  turf,  lying a little  too long, stretching  out  their legs  and 
looking at the sky above their noses: these things are,  perhaps,  enough to 
explain  what  happened.  However,  that  may  be:  they  woke  suddenly and 
uncomfortably from a sleep they had never meant  to take. The standing stone 
was cold, and it cast a long pale shadow that stretched eastward  over them. 
The sun, a pale and watery yellow, was gleaming  through the mist just above 
the  west wall  of the  hollow  in which  they lay; north, south, and  east, 
beyond the wall the fog was thick, cold and white. The air was silent, heavy 
and  chill. Their ponies  were standing  crowded together  with their  heads 
down. 
     The hobbits sprang to their feet in alarm,  and ran to the western rim. 
They found that they were upon an island in the fog. Even as they looked out 
in  dismay  towards the setting sun, it sank before their  eyes into a white


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and followed by his friends jogged slowly down the gentle slope  behind  the 
hill. Tom Bombadil's house and the valley, and the Forest were lost to view.  
The  air  grew warmer between the green walls of hillside  and hillside, and 
the scent of turf rose strong and sweet as they breathed. Turning back, when 
they reached  the bottom  of the green hollow, they saw Goldberry, now small 
and slender like  a sunlit flower  against the  sky: she  was standing still 
watching them, and her hands were stretched out towards them. As they looked 
she gave a  clear  call,  and lifting  up  her hand she turned  and vanished 
behind the hill. 
     Their way wound along the floor of the hollow, and round the green feet 
of a steep hill into  another deeper and  broader  valley, and then over the 
shoulder of further hills, and down their long  limbs, and  up  their smooth 
sides again, up on to  new hill -tops and down into new valleys. There was no


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his glance eastwards, and he saw that on that side the hills were higher and 
looked down  upon them; and all those hills were crowned with green  mounds,  
and on some were standing  stones, pointing upwards like jagged teeth out of 
green gums.  
     That view was somehow disquieting; so they  turned  from  the sight and  
went down into  the hollow circle. In  the  midst of it there stood a single 
stone, standing  tall  under  the  sun above,  and at this hour  casting  no 
shadow. It was shapeless and yet significant: like a landmark, or a guarding 
finger, or more like  a  warning. But they were now hungry, and the sun  was 
still at the fearless noon; so they set their backs against the east side of 
the stone. It was cool,  as if the sun had  had no power to warm  it; but at 
that time this seemed pleasant. There they took food and drink,  and made as 
good a noon-meal under the open sky as anyone could wish; for  the food came


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####-     'Where are you?' he cried out miserably. 
     There was no reply. He stood listening. He was suddenly aware  that  it 
was getting very cold, and that up here a wind was beginning to blow, an icy  
wind. A change was coming in the weather. The mist  was flowing  past him 
now 
in shreds and  tatters. His breath was smoking, and  the darkness  was  less 
near and  thick. He looked up  and saw with  surprise  that faint stars were 
appearing  overhead amid the  strands of hurrying cloud  and  fog.  The wind 
began to hiss over the grass.  
     He imagined suddenly that he  caught a muffled cry, and he made towards 
it; and even as he went forward the mist was rolled up and thrust aside, and 
the  starry sky  was  unveiled.  A glance showed him  that he was now  facing 
southwards and was on a round hill-top, which he must  have climbed from the 
north.  Out  of the east  the  biting wind was blowing. To his  right  there


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Frodo found himself telling him more about Bilbo and his own hopes and fears 
than he  had told before even to  Gandalf. Tom wagged  his head up and down, 
and there was a glint in his eyes when he heard of the Riders. 
     'Show me  the  precious  Ring!'  he said suddenly  in the  midst of the 
story: and  Frodo, to his  own astonishment,  drew  out the chain  from  his 
pocket, and unfastening the Ring handed it at once to Tom. 
     It  seemed  to  grow  larger  as  it  lay  for  a  moment  on  his  big 
brown-skinned hand. Then suddenly he put it  to his eye  and laughed.  For a  
second the  hobbits had a vision, both comical and  alarming, of his  bright 
blue  eye gleaming through a circle of gold. Then Tom put the Ring round the 
end of his little finger and held it up to the candlelight. For a moment the 
hobbits noticed nothing strange about this.  Then they gasped. There was  no


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They found that they were upon an island in the fog. Even as they looked out 
in  dismay  towards the setting sun, it sank before their  eyes into a white 
sea, and a cold grey shadow sprang up in the East behind. The fog  rolled up 
to the walls and rose above them, and as it mounted it bent over their heads 
until  it  became a roof: they were shut  in a  hall of  mist  whose central 
pillar was the standing stone. 
     They felt as if a trap was closing about them; but  they did  not quite 
lose heart. They still remembered  the hopeful view they had had of the line  
of the Road ahead,  and they still knew in  which direction it  lay. In  any 
case, they now had so great a dislike for that hollow place  about the stone 
that no  thought  of remaining there  was in their minds.  They packed up as 
quickly as their chilled fingers would work. 
     Soon  they were leading their ponies  in single file  over the  rim and


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that time this seemed pleasant. There they took food and drink,  and made as 
good a noon-meal under the open sky as anyone could wish; for  the food came 
from 'down under Hill'. Tom had provided them with plenty for the comfort of 
the day. Their ponies unburdened strayed upon the grass.  
     Riding over  the hills,  and eating  their fill, the warm  sun and  the


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####-cold Wights or prying in their houses, unless you be strong folk with hearts 
that never falter!' He said this more than once; and he advised them to pass 
barrows  by on the west-side, if  they  chanced to stray near  one.  Then he 
taught them a rhyme to sing, if they should by ill -luck fall into any danger  
or difficulty the next day. 
     Ho! Tom Bombadil, Tom Bombadillo! 
     By water, wood and hill, by the reed and willow,  
     By fire, sun and moon, harken now and hear us! 
     Come, Tom Bombadil, for our need is near us! 
     When they had sung this  altogether after him, he  clapped them each on 
the shoulder with  a  laugh,  and taking  candles  led them  back  to  their 
bedroom. 

####- 
 

Chapter 8. Fog on the Barrow-Downs


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southwards and was on a round hill-top, which he must  have climbed from the 
north.  Out  of the east  the  biting wind was blowing. To his  right  there 
loomed against the westward stars a dark  black  shape. A great barrow stood 
there. 
     'Where are you?' he cried again, both angry and afraid. 
     'Here!'  said a voice, deep and cold,  that seemed  to come out of  the 
ground. 'I am waiting for you!' 
     'No!' said Frodo; but  he did not run away. His knees gave, and he fell 
on the ground. Nothing happened, and there was no sound. Trembling he 
looked 
up,  in time to see a tall dark  figure like a shadow against the stars.  It 
leaned over him. He thought there were two eyes, very cold though lit with a 
pale light  that seemed to come from  some  remote  distance.  Then  a  grip 
stronger and colder than iron seized him. The icy touch froze his bones, and 
he remembered no more. 
     When  he came to  himself again, for a  moment he could  recall nothing


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####-hidden (often deeply, it is true) in the heart of the fattest and most timid 
hobbit, wailing for some final  and desperate danger to  make it grow. Frodo 
was neither  very  fat nor very  timid; indeed,  though he did not  know it, 
Bilbo (and Gandalf) had thought him the best hobbit in the Shire. He thought 
he had come to the end of his adventure, and a terrible end, but the thought 
hardened him.  He found himself stiffening,  as if for a final spring; he no 
longer felt limp like a helpless prey. 
     As he lay there, thinking and getting a hold of himself, he noticed all 
at once  that the darkness was slowly giving way:  a pale greenish light was 
growing round him. It did not  at first show him what kind of a place he was 
in, for the light  seemed to be  coming out of himself,  and from  the floor  
beside  him, and had not yet reached the roof or wall. He  turned, and there 
in  the  cold glow he saw lying beside him Sam, Pippin, and Merry. They were


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####-wandering in different directions they went in file, with Frodo leading. Sam 
was behind him, and after him came Pippin, and then Merry. The valley 
seemed 
to stretch on endlessly. Suddenly Frodo saw a hopeful sign.  On  either side 
ahead a darkness began  to loom  through  the mist; and he guessed that they 
were  at  last  approaching  the gap in  the hills,  the north-gate  of  the 
Barrow-downs. If they could pass that, they would be free. 
     'Come on! Follow me!' he called back over  his shoulder, and he hurried 
forward.  But  his  hope soon  changed  to bewilderment and alarm. The  dark 
patches  grew darker, but they shrank; and suddenly he saw, towering ominous 
before him and leaning  slightly towards one another like the pillars  of  a  
headless door, two huge  standing  stones. He could not remember having seen 
any sign  of  these in the  valley, when  he looked out from the hill in the 
morning. He had passed  between them almost before he was aware: and even


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quickly as their chilled fingers would work. 
     Soon  they were leading their ponies  in single file  over the  rim and 
down the long northward slope of  the hill,  down into a foggy sea. As  they 
went down the mist  became colder  and damper, and their hair hung lank  and 
dripping  on  their foreheads. When they reached the bottom it  was so  cold  
that  they halted  and got out cloaks and  hoods, which soon became  bedewed 
with  grey drops. Then, mounting  their ponies,  they went  sl owly on again,  
feeling their way by the rise and fall of the ground. They were steering, as 
well as they could guess, for the gate-like opening at the far northward end 
of  the  long valley which  they  had  seen in the  morning.  Once they were 
through the  gap, they had only lo keep on in  anything like a straight line 
and they were bound in the end to strike the Road. Their thoughts did not go 
beyond that, except for a vague hope  that  perhaps  away  beyond the  Downs


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####-on one arm he looked, and saw now in the pale light that they were in a kind 
of  passage which  behind them turned a corner. Round the corner a long  arm 
was groping, walking on its fingers towards Sam, who was lying nearest,  and 
towards the hilt of the sword that lay upon him. 
     At first Frodo felt as if he  had indeed been turned into stone by  the 
incantation.  Then a wild thought  of escape came to him. He wondered if  he 
put on the Ring, whether the Barrow-wight  would miss him, and he might find 
some way ou t.  He thought  of himself running free  over the grass, grieving 
for Merry, and Sam,  and Pippin,  but free and alive  himself. Gandalf would  
admit that there had been nothing else he could do. 
     But the courage that had been  awakened in  him was now   too strong: he 
could not  leave his friends so easily.  He wavered, groping  in his pocket, 
and then fought with himself again; and as he did so  the arm  crept nearer.


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their  voices.  The guests  became  suddenly aware  that  they were  singing 
merrily, as if it was easier and more natural than talking. 
     At  last Tom  and Goldberry rose and  cleared  the  table  swiftly. The 
guests were  commanded to  sit  quiet,  and were set in chairs,  each with a  
footstool to  his  tired  feet. There was a  fire  in the wide hearth before 
them,  and  it  was  burning with  a  sweet smell, as  if it were  built  of 
apple-wood. When  everything  was set in  order,  a ll the lights in the room 
were put  out, except one  lamp  and  a pair of candles at each  end of  the 
chimney-shelf. Then Goldberry came and  stood before them, holding a candle; 
and she wished them each a good night and deep sleep. 
     'Have peace now,' she said, 'until the morning! Heed no nightly noises! 
For nothing passes door and window here save moonlight and starlight and the 
wind  off the hill-top. Good  night!'  She passed  out  of  the room  with a


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####-     His songs are stronger songs, and his feet are faster. 
     There was a loud rumbling sound, as of stones rolling and  falling, and 
suddenly  light  streamed  in,  real  light, the plain light of  day.  A low 
door -like opening appeared  at the end of the  chamber beyond  Frodo's feet;  
and there was Tom's head (hat, feather, and all) framed against the light of 
the sun  rising red  behind him. The light fell upon the floor, and upon the 
faces of the three  hobbits lying beside Frodo. They  did not stir,  but the 
sickly hue had left them. They  looked now as  if they were only very deeply  
asleep. 
     Tom stooped, removed his hat, and came into the dark chamber, singing:  
     Get out, you old Wight! Vanish in the sunlight! 
     Shrivel like the cold mist, like the winds go wailing, 
     Out into the barren lands far beyond the mountains! 
     Come never here again! Leave your barrow empty! 
     Lost and forgotten be, darker than the darkness,


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stronger and colder than iron seized him. The icy touch froze his bones, and 
he remembered no more. 
     When  he came to  himself again, for a  moment he could  recall nothing 
except a sense  of  dread. Then  suddenly  he  knew  that he was imprisoned, 
caught hopelessly; he was in a barrow. A  Barrow-wight had taken him, and he 
was probably already under the  dreadful  spells of  the Barrow-wights about 
which whispered tales spoke. He dared not move, but lay as he found himself: 
flat on his back upon a cold stone with his hands on his breast. 
     But though his fear was so great that it seemed to be part  of the very 
darkness that was round him, he found himself as he lay thinking about Bilbo 
Baggins and his stories, of their jogging along together in the lanes of the 
Shire and  talking about roads and adventures.  There  is  a seed of courage


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beside  him, and had not yet reached the roof or wall. He  turned, and there 
in  the  cold glow he saw lying beside him Sam, Pippin, and Merry. They were 
on their backs, and their faces looked deathly pale;  and they were  clad in 
white. About them lay many treasures, of  gold maybe,  though in that  light  
they  looked cold and unlovely.  On their  heads  were circlets, gold  chains 
were about their waists, and on their fingers were many rings. Swords lay by  
their sides, and shields were  at their feet. But across their  three  necks 
lay one long naked sword. 
     Suddenly a  song began: a cold  murmur, rising and  falling.  The voice 
seemed far away and immeasurably dreary, sometimes high in the air and thin, 
sometimes like a low moan from the ground. Out of the formless stream of sad 
but horrible sounds, strings  of words would now and again shape  themselves:  
grim,  hard,  cold  words,  heartless and miserable. The night  was  railing


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could not  leave his friends so easily.  He wavered, groping  in his pocket, 
and then fought with himself again; and as he did so  the arm  crept nearer. 
Suddenly  resolve  hardened  in him,  and  he seized a  short sword that lay 
beside him, and kneeling he stooped  low over the bodies of  his companions.  
With what strength he had he hewed  at the crawling  arm near the wrist, and 
the hand broke off; but at the  same moment the sword  splintered up to  the  
hilt.  There  was a shriek and the light vanished. In  the  dark there was a  
snarling noise. 
     Frodo fell  forward over Merry, and Merry's face felt cold. All at once 
back  into  his mind, from which it had disappeared with the first coming of 
the  fog,  came the  memory  of the house down  under the Hill,  and  of Tom 
singing. He remembered  the rhyme  that  Tom  had taught  them. In  a  small 
desperate voice  he began: Ho!  Tom  Bombadil!  and with that name his voice


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any sign  of  these in the  valley, when  he looked out from the hill in the 
morning. He had passed  between them almost before he was aware: and even 
as 
he did so  darkness seemed to  fall round him. His pony  reared and snorted,  
and he  fell off. When he looked back he found that he was alone: the others 
had not followed him. 'Sam!' he  called.  'Pippin!  Merry! Come  along!  Why 
don't you keep up?' 
     There was no answer. Fear  took him,  and he ran back  past the  stones 
shouting  wildly: 'Sam!  Sam! Merry! Pippin!' The pony bolted into  the mist  
and vanished. From some way off, or so it seemed, he thought he heard a cry: 
'Hoy!  Frodo! Hoy!' It was away eastward, on his left as he stood  under the 
great  stones, staring and straining into the gloom. He plunged off  in  the 
direction of the call, and found himself going steeply uphill. 
     As he struggled  on he called again,  and kept on calling more and more


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and they were bound in the end to strike the Road. Their thoughts did not go 
beyond that, except for a vague hope  that  perhaps  away  beyond the  Downs 
there might be no fog. 
     Their going  was  very slow.  To  prevent their  getting separated  and


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For nothing passes door and window here save moonlight and starlight and the 
wind  off the hill-top. Good  night!'  She passed  out  of  the room  with a  
glimmer and  a rustle. The sound  of her footsteps was like a stream falling


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shoulder of further hills, and down their long  limbs, and  up  their smooth 
sides again, up on to  new hill -tops and down into new valleys. There was no 
tree  nor any visible water: it  was a country  of  grass  and short springy 
turf, silent  except for the whisper of the air over the edges  of the land,


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but horrible sounds, strings  of words would now and again shape  themselves:  
grim,  hard,  cold  words,  heartless and miserable. The night  was  railing 
against the morning of  which it was bereaved,  and the cold was cursing the 
warmth for which it hungered. Frodo was chilled to the marrow. After a while 
the song became clearer, and  with  dread in  his heart he perceived that it 
had changed into an incantation: 
     Cold be hand and heart and bone, 
     and cold be sleep under stone: 
     never mare to wake on stony bed, 
     never, till the Sun fails and the Moon is dead. 
     In the black wind the stars shall die, 
     and still on gold here let them lie, 
     till the dark lord lifts his hand 
     over dead sea and withered land. 
     He heard behind his head a creaking and scraping sound. Raising himself


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Out into the barren lands far beyond the mountains! 
     Come never here again! Leave your barrow empty! 
     Lost and forgotten be, darker than the darkness, 
     Where gates stand for ever shut, till the world is mended. 
     At these words there was a cry and part of the inner end of the chamber  
fell in  with a crash.  Then  there was  a long trailing shriek, fading away 
into an unguessable distance; and after that silence. 
     'Come, friend Frodo!' said Tom. 'Let us get out on to clean  grass! You  
must help me bear them.' 
     Together  they  carried  out Merry, Pippin, and Sam.  As Frodo left the 
barrow  for the last  time he thought he saw a severed hand wriggling still, 
like  a wounded  spider, in a heap of fallen  earth. Tom went back in again, 
and there was a sound of much thumping and stamping. When he came out he 
was 
bearing in  his  arms a  great  load of  treasure:  things  of  gold, silver,


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####-     Night under Night is flown, and the Gate is open! 
     To Frodo's great joy the hobbits  stirred, stretched their arms, rubbed 
their eyes, and  then suddenly  sprang up. They  looked  about in amazement, 
first  at Frodo, and then at Tom standing  large  as life on  the barrow-top 
above  them; and then  at  themselves in their thin  white rags, crowned and 
belted with pale gold, and jingling with trinkets.  
     'What in  the name of  wonder?' began Merry, feeling the golden circlet 
that had slipped over  one  eye. Then he stopped, and a shadow came over his 
face, and he closed his eyes. 'Of course, I remember!' he  said. 'The men of 
Carn  Dym came on  us at  night,  and  we were worsted. Ah! the spear  in my 
heart!'  He  clutched at his  breast. 'No! No!'  he said,  opening his eyes.  
'What am I saying? I have been dreaming. Where did you get to, Frodo?' 
     'I thought that I  was lost,' said Frodo; 'but I don't want to speak of


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direction of the call, and found himself going steeply uphill. 
     As he struggled  on he called again,  and kept on calling more and more 
frantically; but he heard no answer for some time, and then it  seemed faint 
and far ahead  and high above him. 'Frodo! Hoy!' came the thin voices out of 
the  mist:  and then  a cry that sounded  like  help, help!  often repeated, 
ending  with a  last help!  that trailed off into a  long wail  suddenly cut 
short.  He stumbled forward  with all the speed he could towards  the cries;  
but the light was now gone, and clinging night had closed about him, so that 
it was impossible to be sure of any direction. He seemed all the time  to be 
climbing up and up. 
     Only the change in the level of the ground at his feet told him when he  
at last came to the top of a ridge or hill. He was  weary, sweating  and yet 
chilled. It was wholly dark.


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####-     So he sang, running fast, tossi ng up his hat  and catching it, until he 
was hidden  by a fold of the ground: but for some time his hey now! hoy now! 
came floating back down the wind, which had shifted round towards the south. 
     The air was growing very warm again. The hobbits ran  about for a while 
on the grass,  as he  told them. Then they lay basking  in the  sun with the 
delight of  those  that have been wafted  suddenly  from bitter winter to  a  
friendly clime, or of people that, after  being long ill and bedridden, wake 
one day to find that they are unexpectedly well and the day is again full of 
promise. 
     By the time that Tom returned they were feeling strong (and hungry). He 
reappeared, hat first, over  the brow of the hill, and behind him came in an 
obedient line six  ponies: their own five and one more. The last was plainly 
old Fatty Lumpkin: he was larger, stronger,  fatter  (and older)  than their


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singing. He remembered  the rhyme  that  Tom  had taught  them. In  a  small 
desperate voice  he began: Ho!  Tom  Bombadil!  and with that name his voice 
seemed to grow  strong: it had a full and lively sound, and the dark chamber  
echoed as if to drum and trumpet. 
     Ho! Tom Bombadil, Tom Bombadillo! 
     By water, wood and hill, by the reed and willow,  
     By fire, sun and moon, harken now and hear us! 
     Come, Tom Bombadil, for our need is near us! 
     There  was a sudden deep  silence, in which Frodo could hear his  heart 
beating. After a long slow moment he heard plain, but far away, as if it was 
coming down through the  ground or through thick walls,  an  answering voice 
singing: 
     Old Tom Bombadil is a merry fellow,  
     Bright blue his jacket is, and his boots are yellow.  
     None has ever caught him yet, for Tom, he is the master:


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####-when you're on your own legs trying to trot beside them.' 
     The hobbits were delighted  to  hear this, and thanked  Tom many times;  
but he laughed, and said that they were so good at losing themselves that he  
would  not  feel happy till he had seen them  safe over  the borders  of  his 
land. 'I've got  things to  do,' he  said:  'my  making and  my  singing, my 
talking and my walking, and my watching of the country.  Tom can't be always 
near  to  open doors  and willow-cracks.  Tom  has  his house  to mind,  and  
Goldberry is wait ing.' 
     It was still fairly early  by the sun, something between  nine and ten, 
and the hobbits turned their minds  to food. Their last meal  had been lunch 
beside  the  standing  stone the  day  before. They  breakfasted now off the 
remainder of  Tom's provisions,  meant for their supper, with additions that 
Tom had brought with him. It was  not a large meal (considering hobbits  and


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####-say much. 
     They climbed down  and out  of the dike and through a gap  in the wall, 
and then  Tom turned due north, for they  had been  bearing  somewhat to the 
west. The land was now open and fairly level, and they quickened their pace, 
but  the  sun was already sinking low when at  last  they saw a line of tall 
trees  ahead,  and they knew that they had come back  to the Road after many 
unexpected adventures.  They galloped their ponies  over  the last furlongs,  
and halted u nder the long shadows of the trees. They  were on  the  top of a  
sloping bank,  and  the Road,  now dim as evening drew on, wound away  
below 
them. At this point  it ran nearly  from South-west  to North-east,  and  on 
their right it  fell quickly down into a wide hollow. It was rutted and bore 
many signs of the recent heavy rain; there were pools and pot-holes  full of 
water. They rode down the  bank and looked up and down. There was nothing 
to


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####-Lord,  but  they were overcome  by the evil king of Carn Dym in  the Land of 
Angmar . 
     'Few now remember them,' Tom murmured,  'yet  still some  go wandering, 
sons of forgotten  kings walking in loneliness,  guarding  from  evil things 
folk that are heedless.' 
     The hobbits  did not understand his  words, but as  he spoke they had a 
vision  as it  were of a  great expanse of  years  behind them,  like a vast  
shadowy  plain over  which there strode  shapes  of Men, tall and grim  with 
bright swords,  and last came  one with a star on his  brow. Then the vision 
faded,  and they were back  in the sunlit world. It was time to start again. 
They made ready,  packing  their  bags  and lading  their  ponies. Their new 
weapons they hung on their  leather belts under  their jackets, feeling them 
very awkward, and  wondering  if they would be of  any use. Fighting had not 
before occurred to any of  them  as one  of the  adventures  in which  their


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and there was a sound of much thumping and stamping. When he came out he 
was 
bearing in  his  arms a  great  load of  treasure:  things  of  gold, silver, 
copper, and bronze; many beads and chains and jewelled ornaments. He 
climbed 
the green barrow and laid them all on top in the sunshine. 
     There he stood, with his hat in his hand  and the wind in his hair, and 
looked down upon the  three hobbits, that had been  laid on their backs upon 
the grass at the west side of the mound. Raising his right hand he said in a  
clear and commanding voice: 
     Wake now my merry tads! Wake and hear me calling! 
     Warm now be heart and limb! The cold stone is fallen; 
     Dark door is standing wide; dead hand is broken.


