Chapter 126. I receive words of guard and guiding

Since crossing the small, slimy stream, Tall Hat has led us onwards at an astonishing pace, perhaps not so difficult for the longer-legged members of the Party. My hobbits are following as quickly as they can.

Whether longer- or shorter-legged, we all seem to be in agreement regarding the dark lake that stretches alongside one side of the narrow trail that hugs the cliffs. Though fallen rock and stones make the going difficult, we stay as close to the foot of the cliffside as possible, even when the footing might be better closer to the murky water.

As we trot along, with Master and not-really-Merry before me, and Youngest and my Sam flanking me, my hobbits are all-too-soon quite out of breath and, quite frankly, lagging a little more behind the rest with every step – except for the Other Big Man, who dropped back soon after the Company began to forge ahead at our best speed. I'm not sure whether to think of him in this moment as our rearguard or more like a shepherd, driving his lambs before him so that they will not become separated from the rest of the flock.

In fact, when we reach the place where the vanguard has stopped, Youngest, his head down and puffing with determination and breathlessness, does not stop when my Sam and I do but keeps trotting until he runs – oomph! – into Master and not-Merry. Luckily, the older cousins catch him before he falls. 'Steady, Pip!' the Master says, though in not much more than a whisper. I think he may be unnerved by the dark water or whatever may be hiding amongst the stumps and dead boughs – of holly trees, I think? – that are rotting in the water.

I shudder at the thought, and my Sam strokes my neck and echoes his Master in both words and low tone. 'Steady, Bill.'

More curious-than-Merry sweeps his arm out, to point over the lake. 'Do you think these are the remains of a hedge that once lined the road?'

'What road?' Youngest gasps.

Not-quite-Merry cuffs his head gently. 'The road the lake has dr— er, covered up when it filled up the valley.'

I think perhaps he meant to say "drowned" but instead swallowed the word. I don't know why.

'Look,' he goes on, turning Youngest bodily to face the cliff. 'Here are two survivors, left to guard the Door, or so old Gandalf says.' If these are holly trees, like the ones in the valley where we rested, then they must be ancient. They tower overhead, dark, stiff and silent, and their roots reach all the way from the wall to the water's edge. The Fair One stands beside one of them, his hand resting against the trunk, looking rather like a young tree himself, so still he is, as if he has asked a question and is listening for the answer.

'It was not the fault of the Dwarves...' says the Dwarf, and more about friendship waning, as if he is continuing a conversation that began before my hobbits and I reached this point.

The Fair One takes his palm from the tree and raises his chin, his eyes flashing. 'I have not heard it was the fault of the Elves,' he says.

But Tall Hat will not allow the argument to proceed, it seems. He assigns blame to both and neither, if I understand correctly. He adds that the doors are shut and hidden.

I see no doors? But of course. They're hidden. Perhaps if they were open, we might see them.

While I am pondering this idea, I am startled as my Sam throws his arms around my neck. He is angry and distressed! He cries out to the wizard, and for a moment, I fear that Tall Hat may be moved to turn him into a toad – until my mind finally makes sense of his words. ...leave poor old Bill behind in this forsaken place!

I shy rather violently, taking my Sam with me, for his arms are still tight around my neck.

Tall Hat speaks slowly, his words laced with sorrow, and my Sam protests bitterly, and I stand still, unbelieving, for surely I have misunderstood. Surely someone will explain to me in words I can understand.

I catch a glimpse of Master, his face as filled with misery as it was when he told me earlier that he was so very sorry... I cannot see the Youngest hobbit's face, for he has covered it with his hands, and he is weeping softly. And not-Merry holds him close, hugging him wordlessly, his own face a mask of sorrow as he stares at my Sam and me.

But then all other impressions are shut out, as if a door has been closed, leaving me alone in a darkened room with the wizard. I become aware that Tall Hat's hand is resting on my head, and from his hand, I can feel warmth and light pouring into me and spreading through my very being. The walls of the room where we seem to stand brighten, and I hear voices speaking to me as the walls of this room inside my head show me evolving pictures of mountains and streams and trees and cliffs and more... as if I might follow them somehow, by looking for the same pictures with my eyes that I can see in my mind... I am putting it badly, I know, for I am only a pony.

At last, the room darkens once more, and the eyes of my body see Tall Hat's hand before me as he withdraws his touch from my head and tells me, 'Go with words of guard and guiding on you.'

My Sam is sobbing now, but I cannot seem to move, to rub my head against him, to comfort him, for Tall Hat is still speaking to me. 'You are a wise beast, and have learned much in Rivendell. Make your ways to places where you can find grass, and so come in time to Elrond’s house, or wherever you wish to go.' I nod in response; not that I think I am wise or learned, but that I will do my best to make my ways as he has directed me to do.

And then he turns to my Sam and says, 'There, Sam!'

And my Sam straightens defiantly and runs his sleeve across his eyes, leaving a smudge of dirt behind.

But Tall Hat is not finished. Seeming to address his next thought to both of us, he says, 'I have done what I can to safeguard him. In fact, I think I can say that he will have quite as much chance of escaping wolves and getting home as we have.'

But my Sam returns no answer. I put my nose to his ear and whuffle at him, trying to convey to him even a small fragment of the wonders Tall Hat has shown me. 

But I have not a wizard's powers. My Sam bursts into tears again, and next thing I know, he is fumbling with my straps, unlading all my packs and throwing them on the ground. 

Silently, the others move forward and begin to sort out the goods. 

'Make a pile of all that can be left behind,' Tall Hat instructs as he unbuckles my halter, coils the rope attached to it, and lays it on the "leave behind" pile. 'We must divide up the rest and carry it on our backs.'

I stand a little apart, watching my companions at these tasks. Already, I feel somehow separated from them, though we stand on the same ground together, surrounded by the cliffs and the lake and the roots of the enormous holly trees to either side.

But I do not want to leave my Sam, and so I will stay until someone or something tells me I must do otherwise.

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Author's notes:

Some thoughts here are derived from “A Journey in the Dark” in The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien.

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