Chapter 29. The Last Leg

And so Imladris was a veritable whirlwind of packing up and preparation, for the Moon was just past his full, and Thorn insisted quite stubbornly that the People would walk the Road and down the course of the Hoarwell to Cardolan, neither borne on the backs of elf-horses nor shepherded on their way. The only concession he made was to allow Mithrandir to accompany the People on their journey, as the grey one often travelled anyhow and would be “going the same way” quite by coincidence.

Unbeknownst to the hobbits, Elrond held council in his study with Mithrandir and the Elf-lords who resided in Imladris. ‘We cannot merely relinquish them to their fate,’ Elrond said soberly. ‘It has been impressed upon me that the Halflings are of import in the scheme of things.’

Glorfindel nodded. ‘I too have received that impression,’ he said.

 ‘And I,’ Elladan said. At his father’s indication that he should elucidate, he spoke of the dreams that came to him while staying with the Wood-Elves, of the urgent need to cross the mountains, of the restlessness that would not let him stay in Imladris but sent him searching until he found the Fallohides.

 ‘They will be under the protection of the king of Cardolan,’ Mithrandir said slowly.

 ‘Ah, but the lives of Men are short, as is their memory, and a time may well come when that protection fails,’ Elrond said. ‘Who would have thought that Arnor could be broken after such a short history, by something so trite as the quarrelling of brothers?’

 ‘Who would have thought the Shadow could creep upon Rhudaur, with all her guards and fortresses?’ Glorfindel added soberly. ‘Oh, the kingdom is prosperous, the people peaceful, the court colourful, the king noble in appearance, but Rhudaur will fall. It is only a matter of time.’

 ‘We must set a watch upon the Halflings,’ Elrond said. ‘Without their knowledge, of course.’ He glanced from face to face. ‘As long as they enjoy the protection of the king of Cardolan, it will suffice that the Wandering Companies pass through that land on occasion.’

 ‘Indeed,’ Mithrandir said. ‘And I will do my part.’

 ‘That will prove no hardship, I think,’ Elrond said with a smile.

***

There was a grand feast on the eve of leave-taking, with songs and speeches and stories told. Quite a few Elves walked with the hobbits all the way to the Ford of the Bruinen. Elrond insisted that elf-horses carry the Fallohides over the Ford, and after all were safely over there was a farewell picnic upon the green of the Western side.

At last Thorn arose and bowed to Elrond. ‘We take our leave, Lord,’ he said, ‘but we shall never forget your kindness.’

 ‘ “Never” is a word that not even the Elves use lightly,’ Elrond replied.

 ‘As long as I live, then,’ Thorn amended.

 ‘That is a fair promise,’ Elrond said. ‘Grace go with you, my friend, and may a star shine upon the hour of your arrival in the new land.’

All around them Elves and hobbits were exchanging farewells. Finally Thorn raised his voice in the “a-journey” song. Others quickly joined in, shouldering their burdens—some carried supplies, others bore little Fallohides. The Elves stood and waved until the travellers disappeared into the steep cut in the hills and the song faded in the distance.

Gandalf walked with Thorn and Lily at the head of the migration. Pick, with all the restless energy of youth, walked some of the time by the wizard’s side, when he was not ranging back along the line of hobbits and trotting forward again to report progress to Thorn. He was curious about the walls and fortresses they passed... but not enough to risk having his head separated from his shoulders. All the hobbits had been warned of the consequences of straying from the path.

They met an occasional waggon on the Road. Men of Rhudaur looked glumly at the passing hobbits, mourning, perhaps, the loss of the bounty set upon the curly heads. Travellers from Arthedain stared open-mouthed at the sight, while Men from Cardolan waved and called greetings to the Little Folk.

When nightfall came they camped immediately by the Road. “One hundred paces,” the king of Rhudaur had stipulated, and the hobbits had caught glimpses of grim hunters waiting in the trees. They had no doubt that these would be ready to act swiftly should any hobbit stray, and close watch was kept on the young ones to prevent tragedy. Gandalf assured them that there was no need to perch in trees; the king’s guardsmen kept the Road clear of danger.

Walking and camping, they made their way across the southern border of Rhudaur, coming to the Last Bridge after about ten long days of steady walking. The Moon had emptied himself completely; indeed, a pale New Moon shone coldly down as the Fallohides crossed the great stone bridge. ‘We are halfway to our goal,’ Gandalf told Thorn when they had reached the other side and stood watching the rest of the hobbits cross. ‘And ten or twelve days ought to see us out of the land of Rhudaur.’

 ‘That will be a relief,’ Thorn said. ‘At that rate, the Moon will be near full when we cross into Cardolan.’ He looked up at the darkening sky. ‘We can afford no delay.’

 ‘Then call your People to rest,’ Gandalf said gruffly. ‘They are stumbling in their weariness, and should not attempt the descent down to the riverbank in the darkness.’

 ‘Very well,’ Thorn answered. ‘You have the right of it.’ He raised his voice to call the halt. ‘We’ll camp one night more upon the verges of the Road!’ he said. ‘On the morrow we shall seek the riverbank.’ Turning back to Gandalf, he said, ‘I had thought to move from Road to river in darkness. It might be difficult to maintain a distance of one hundred paces from either.’

 ‘There is a path that runs down into the valley, beside the Bridge or nearly beneath it,’ Gandalf said. ‘The People will be safe.’ Indeed he spoke truth. Those hunters who thought to trap the Fallohides between Road and river were turned back by the stern Elf-warriors who had shadowed the hobbits’ journey from the Ford. These stepped from the shadows to discourage Men who lurked hoping to catch a straggler or two, and then faded once more out of sight.

Down the Hoarwell the hobbits travelled, their hearts growing lighter with every step. Though the Angle belonged to Rhudaur, as they put distance between themselves and the Road the habitations of Men grew fewer and farther between, until at last they walked through wilderness. One day Thorn stopped, grasping at Gandalf’s hand. ‘What’s that?’ he said, pointing.

Across the Hoarwell small figures stood knee-deep in the shallows. The wizard smiled broadly and called a greeting, receiving waves in return. ‘Stoors,’ he said. ‘Fisher-folk. Hobbits, like yourselves.’

 ‘You did not tell me about them,’ Thorn said.

 ‘I did not know that they had come West of the Misty Mountains,’ Gandalf replied. ‘When last I spoke with their chief, he was still considering the journey over the Redhorn Pass.’

 ‘They are in Rhudaur’s territory,’ Thorn said worriedly. ‘You told me that all of the Angle between the Hoarwell and the Bruinen—Loudwater,’ he corrected himself, for they would soon be living in Cardolan and wished to speak as the Men there spoke, ‘that all of the Angle is claimed by Rhudaur.’

 ‘Yes,’ Gandalf said, ‘I did. However, happily for the Stoors the Men of Rhudaur seldom travel so far to the South. Their energy and their envy is concentrated to the North, nearer the great watch-tower of Amon Sul, which is in dispute amongst the three northern kingdoms. We are very near the convergence of the Hoarwell and Loudwater, and will soon leave Rhudaur behind us.’

At last the day came when the Fallohides reached the confluence of the two rivers. ‘So we have reached the Greyflood?’ Pick asked, staring in wonder at the shining expanse, wider than any river he’d seen before, save the Great River perhaps.

 ‘No, this is yet the Hoarwell,’ Thorn explained, while Gandalf nodded at his side. ‘The Greyflood is still quite a distance away.’

 ‘We will not see it,’ Leaf said with a smile. ‘From the maps we studied in Imladris, we are only a day or two from the nearest of the villages founded by the Harfoots.’

 ‘Less than a day,’ Gandalf corrected. ‘By this time tomorrow you will be home.’

 ‘Will it be home?’ Beech said quietly at Leaf’s side. He peered intently at the wizard, but could not see well enough in the twilight to read Gandalf’s expression. ‘Will the Harfoots welcome us?’

 ‘Indeed,’ Gandalf said with a ringing laugh that reassured Beech. ‘They are expecting you!’

 ‘How can that be?’ Thorn said in wonder.

 ‘One of the Wandering Companies passed this way,’ Gandalf said. ‘They told the king of Cardolan that you would arrive with the waxing of the moon, and he passed the word on to the hobbits of the land. If I am any judge of hobbits, a great feast has been in the preparation for the past fortnight!’

 ‘Home,’ Lily said softly, to be echoed by others. She added, ‘It is a fine word.’

 ‘Home on the morrow,’ her husband said with a smile.

 ‘And on the morrow we can say, “Home today”!’ Pick shouted.

 ‘I can hardly wait,’ said Thorn. ‘Home.’