Chapter 2

In a Cabin in the Old Forest

In a cabin in the Old Forest lived a bee-charmer. It was a small but very scrupulously kept cabin. In the small, neatly kept abode there were a few benches on which to sit, a narrow bed, and many shelves holding pot after pot of honey. Honey was how he made his living, dealing mostly with the folk of Bree, though he had a select few customers in Buckland. The Man who lived there was a solitary Man. He was a very large man, and though he chose to keep himself to himself, he was very, very lonely. He sometimes wondered why he had come here.

A long, hard road followed far behind this man. He had left another life, after all, and such a life it had been! Ah, but that was in his past, over and done with. Now he had a new life, and the big Man guessed it was about to become a lot more interesting. And all because of two young hobbit lads who had needed his help.

He had known from the time that he saw the young ones, how not? He had been instantly taken with the pair of young halflings, the one with his father’s eyes shining from his face, and the other with the same mischievous grin as his own sire…

Hobbits! His life had become complicated since the first time he had laid eyes on a hobbit. He was not the least bit sorry for it, either, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t been hard, oh so very, very hard, and oh so complicated. Why had no one warned him about hobbits?

It was only a matter of time now, and so the man swept his floor and tidied up an already tidy cabin. He put a big pot over the fire in his little hearth, and dropped in six skinned rabbits, wild onions, carrots and potatoes. He added salt and pepper and a sprig of wild rosemary. The pot soon sent out a fine, toothsome smell.

The big man moved the table to stand just outside his front door. His cabin was, after all, quite small. While the table served well for his solitary meals, the addition of more than three guests would compromise comfort, however small the guests may be. The day was a fine one for a meal outdoors. The memories of shared repasts out-of-doors increased the Man’s delight at serving this meal outside the confines of four walls, and he had to laugh a little at himself. Stepping back, he surveyed his work, shook his head with dissatisfaction and walked back into his cabin to see what he had to make the table homier. He had several small lamps which held beeswax candles. These he set on the table, taking care to place them just so. He had a few wooden dishes he had carved for himself. Five were what was needed, and he had six. An empty honey-pot served as a vase, and in it he placed wildflowers.

As the day wore on he made further preparations, not in his cabin or at his table, but within himself. He was about to go through something of a trial, and he knew it. Why had he not thought to get some pocket-handkerchiefs? Heaven knew they would be needed before this day was over.

With a broom made from twigs, he occupied his body while he tried to prepare himself for what was certainly about to happen. He tended to feel badly when he allowed his emotions free rein. The old wounds would hurt, and it would be hard to breathe. Ah, the chances of fate!

He swept his little yard clean of debris and set the benches at the table. He went into his cabin, swung the pot out of the hearth to cool, and then lay on his narrow bed to rest. Already his old wounds were hurting. He reflected that there were many kinds of wounds. Wounds of the spirit he found particularly painful and difficult to deal with. Ah, he had never been good at that sort of thing, no matter how much or how long he had dealt with them..

He listened with trepidation for the sound of hoof-beats and footsteps. He was excited and filled with dread at the same time. This was not going to be easy, but then little in his life had been. Oh, but he was so tired! He lay trying to catch his breath. His sharp eyes drooped, once, twice, three times…he shook his head. No! Do not sleep just yet! You are only tired, that’s all, just tired. You’ll feel better soon, you will, you always do. He sat up and shook his head, taking slow, even, deep breaths. Yes, much better now.

Outside he heard the singing of a robin, the notes stitching the air like fine embroidery. Suddenly the notes stopped, truncated in their sewing, the silken thread that had seemed to stitch the sunbeams together broken. Yes, in the distance, there it was: the steady clop-clop of ponies’ hooves. He rose and changed his shirt. It would not do to been seen like this. Always attentive to his dress was the bee charmer, and were the ladies of Bree not glad of it! He smiled to himself. You old dog, you!

Well, there was nothing for it but to face the day. He stepped close to his door, but did not open it. His old wounds began to hurt again. Breathe, you fool, just breathe! he thought.

He could hear them now.

"D’you smell that, Papa? Oh, what’s he got cooking, I wonder?"

"Is that all you can think of? Goodness, one would think this is just a visit to a shop or an inn!"

"Don’t be so hard on the lad, he doesn’t know! And neither do you."

"Oh, come now! But look, a cabin! And look, a table! He is expecting someone."

"Now don’t get your hopes up, really, you can’t know…and it cannot be anyway."

"Oh, come now, really!"

"How can you believe it? It can’t be! I just think you’ll have your hopes dashed is all."

"I know, I know…" (this rather impatiently) "Still, I have to see."

"Yes, and seeing is believing."

"Yes, yes!" (Very tersely)

"Now, now, don’t be like that."

"Oh, do hush! Here we are..."

The big man wanted to throw open the door, but found he was frozen in place like a statue. Oh, what a state you have made of yourself! What is there to fear, after all? Oh, but you do fear, don’t you? Yes, you fear indeed. You’re just being selfish again. Remember what Galapas said! Do not stand in your own light, for you cannot see what the shadows that dwell there conceal! Stand always in the True Light, where all is revealed. Ah, here they come! Make ready, now…

He threw the door open, stepped through it, put his hands on his hips, and trying to look as cross as possible, he forced a very stern countenance and shouted "Hoy! So there you are, you truants! About time, I say! You woolly-footed little rascals have nearly missed luncheon! What will you be about next, missing tea?"