Watch the Clouds Go Sailing By

A/N: Just a note to anyone expecting Tom Bombadil to make an appearance…sorry! I thought I’d tell you he wouldn’t be in it now, before we get to the part where he could appear. I do have an excuse, though. Number 1: I’m not particularly fond of Mr. Bombadil. And number 2: He’d be too hard to write in anyway. With the rhymes and all. I will make mention of him, but don’t expect him to be written in, because he won’t be. Sorry to disappoint anyone.

Chapter 10: Old Man Willow

Goldi opened her eyes – and stared right into Faramir’s face. She gasped, and pulled back slightly.

"Good morning," he greeted.

"Morning?" Goldi regarded the room and what she could see of the rest of the house. "But it’s still dark."

"That is right. It is four-thirty in the morning, and time for us to leave. Pippin is already up, and making breakfast for us. I have packed enough food to last us until Bree."

Goldi rolled out of bed, annoyed that Pippin – of all people – was awake before her. Her annoyance was slightly reduced when she saw the state her brother was in. He was half stumbling around the kitchen; his eyes half shut and blood-shot.

He grumbled something like a greeting as Goldi sat down at the table. Goldi wondered how she had slept through the verbal war that most certainly would have occurred when Faramir woke Pippin.

The three hobbits ate a relatively small breakfast, of dried fruit and bread, which Faramir had found in the storeroom of Crickhollow. Goldi was sure that Faramir had organised that in advance; it seemed strange to her that a house used only for guests would be stocked with fresh bread. But she said nothing.

After they had eaten, they were ready to leave. Goldi and Pippin waited by the gate with their packs shouldered, while Faramir locked the front door. For once, Pippin was silent as they strolled to the Hedge. Normally he complained about everything: being hungry, being tired, having aching feet. This particular morning would have given him plenty of reasons to complain; it was cold, misty and miserable. Obviously his head was aching too much for him to make a sound.

Finally they reached a tunnel, which was cut through the Hedge. Pippin reached the gate first, and at last, started complaining. The gate was locked tight.

"Oh, wonderful! Trust a Took to make us walk for hours to a locked gate!" Pippin glared viciously at Faramir.

"Pippin, Pippin, Pippin," Faramir sighed, shaking his head. "Trust me yes – but trust me to be more organised than that." He retrieved the keys to Crickhollow, and for the first time, the Gamgees noticed the large brass key that was obviously not for the house. Faramir inserted the key, turned it to the left, and the gate opened with a click. With a smug grin, Faramir motioned for Pippin to go through.

Grumbling yet again, Pippin walked through the gate. Goldi followed, winking at Faramir as she went passed him. You have a lot of courage, Faramir Took, to annoy Pippin when he’s in a mood like this.

Faramir shut the gate behind him. The clang sound it made as it closed seemed to fall muffled, like a wet cloth had been dropped upon it. Faramir, only slightly unnerved, joined his two friends, who were staring at the wall of trees in front of them. The trees looked angry and unforgiving as they towered over the hobbits. The mist curled around their roots and lower trunks.

"Shall we get going?" Faramir asked, trying to sound cheerful. Goldi and Pippin looked at him, barely managing to hide their fear.

Faramir took the lead, following the Hedge for a little while, before turning onto a path that wound beneath the trees. Goldi and Pippin followed him reluctantly. After several minutes under the canopy of the stifling branches and leaves, Pippin glanced over his shoulder to see the Hedge. He cried out. The Hedge could no longer be seen, and the path they had been following was closed in.

"The trees! They’re moving in!"

"Shhh!" Faramir hissed. "Don’t speak so loudly. You will make it worse, for all of us. The only thing we can do is keep moving."

Pippin opened his mouth, like he had something to say back to Faramir, but shut it again promptly. He knew the stories as well as Faramir did. Pippin remained quiet, but made sure he walked closer to Goldi.

An hour later, the sun had obviously risen, because the temperature under the canopy became higher, and the atmosphere, more uncomfortable. Suddenly, Faramir tripped, and fell flat onto his face. He sat up, cursing and spitting out dirt and leaves. He seemed to have forgotten his earlier warning to Pippin.

"It tripped me! That rotten tree tripped me!" he snarled. He tried to attack the offending tree, but Goldi stopped him.

"Faramir! Calm down," she said. "Remember what you told Pippin: The only thing we can do is keep moving."

Faramir sighed heavily, and stood. He brushed himself down, and with an angry scowl and the tree, continued walking.

As the three hobbits continued on their way, the trees also continued on their way – carefully shutting off the path behind.

* * * * * *

It took Sam and Meriadoc half an hour to wake Peregrin. Even an hour later, when they had eaten a hearty breakfast and had started down the road again, he was still complaining.

"…and I do not see why we had to come without ponies! It would make it all so much easier!"

Sam and Meriadoc, who had been largely ignoring Peregrin, suddenly stopped and paid attention. They looked at each other, and immediately started cursing.

"Ponies! How could we have forgotten?" cried Sam. "We are all fools!"

"Do you suppose we could borrow some from someone?" suggested Meriadoc. "I know we cannot go back – it would take us too long, but someone around here might have a few spare."

Sam shook his head. "Ponies are too important to the people around here. They would not lend us even one. Especially…" Sam smiled grimly, "…to three rascals like us."

"If we paid them?"

"No. Like I said, ponies are too important. Would you sell one of your ponies?"

"No, I suppose I wouldn’t."

While this discussion had been going on, Peregrin sat watching, confused. Finally, he spoke up. "Are you saying, that we didn’t mean to come without ponies? That you two simply forgot?"

Sam and Meriadoc stared at Peregrin in disbelief. Sam broke the silence, by laughing out loud.

"We are getting old. Meriadoc and I forgetting to take ponies, and Peregrin thinking that it was intentional." He shook his head, and laughed again. "Well, ponies or no, we have to get going. We can’t let those young ones get too far ahead of us."

With that, Sam started down the road again. Peregrin and Meriadoc soon followed, Peregrin still looking utterly confused.

* * * * * *

Noon came and went. The temperature rose, and the air became even more stifling. It seemed an eternity since Faramir, Goldi and Pippin had rested at the Bonfire Glade, when, in fact, it was only an hour or so. The trees were herding the hobbits south, towards the Withywindle Valley – which was exactly what Faramir expected (and, secretly hoped) them to do. He walked, head held high, whistling softly to himself. Pippin and Goldi were exhausted, and tired of the beastly forest. Both of them wondered why they had agreed to come on this crazy adventure in the first place.

Eventually, the hobbits realised that they were wandering along the weed-choked banks of a stream. Goldi and Pippin huddled closer to each other and to Faramir. They knew that they would soon come to the old Willow tree that had captured Peregrin and Meriadoc, and nearly drowned Frodo, and they did not know what Faramir planned to do when they reached the tree.

Goldi was waiting for the intense and sudden fatigue that her father had told her hit him as he neared the tree. But it never came. She remained alert, if somewhat physically exhausted from the walk. What she did become aware of was a strange grating sound. She knew she had heard this noise (or one similar) somewhere before, but she could not think where.

The grating noise became louder, and suddenly, as the hobbits rounded a corner, an ancient willow reared up. Pippin cowered behind Goldi, but, when he saw Faramir standing boldly in front of the tree, he straightened himself again and puffed out his chest.

"Don’t worry, Goldi," he said, in a tone that betrayed his act of courage. "Faramir and I will take care of this worthless excuse for firewood."

Goldi barely heard him. She was too busy trying to work out the connection between the grating noise and the fact that they had not felt fatigued…

"It’s asleep!" she cried out suddenly. Faramir and Pippin looked at her strangely. Goldi blushed for a moment, and explained what she meant. "The Willow Tree; it’s sleeping. Remember how we were told that Tom Bombadil told Old Man Willow to go to sleep. It only troubled our fathers because it was awake. We are completely safe."

Faramir started laughing, and Pippin began to look a lot braver now that he knew that there was no danger. In a much lighter and happier mood, the three hobbits continued down the Withywindle (for that was the creek beside them). At length, they came to a path that was more obvious and purpose-built. It was bordered with stones. The hobbits followed it, half-expecting a merry little man to appear at any moment.

But he did not. Nor could the hobbits see any sign of his house, where their fathers had spent several nights resting. They could see something that might have been a house on a hill some way ahead, but the walk was too far and difficult for them to investigate. Instead, the hobbits set up a small camp well away from the edges of the forest. They ate a small supper, and agreed to leave early the next morning.

Goldi did not sleep particularly well that night. She watched the hill where they thought they could make out the "house". On several occasions, she thought she saw the dim flicker of candlelight from that hill, but she could not be sure. At last she fell asleep, with a final thought of: At least the grass is nice and soft here.