Chapter 8. Differences of Opinion

'...and so Strider asked the Hobbits how much they could carry on their backs.' As the party wended their way through the Bree-land, following a seemingly random course set by their Ranger-guide, Pippin-lad continued his quiet narration of the previous journey. The Man walked lightly in his soft leather boots, making almost as little noise as a Hobbit walking normally (not trying to be quiet, that is) and leaving almost as little sign. He'd also shortened and slowed his long strides to accommodate his shorter-legged companions. 

Ferdibrand walked at Haldoron's side, occasionally marking their changes of direction in a low voice that did not interrupt the young Gamgee's storytelling. South south-east now. The Man nodded to acknowledge the hunter's keen sense of direction. Perhaps Rangers, Orcs and wolves were not the only creatures able to forge paths through trackless wilderness...

They had kept on the Road for some miles after leaving the town before leaving the open and taking to cover by following a narrow track that led off towards the North. 'Regarding this part of my kinsman's path I am certain, at least,' Haldoron had told his companions as they left the Road. 'We'll go towards Archet at first but bear right and pass it on the east, and then steer as straight as we may over the wild lands to Weathertop Hill and, thus, as they did, cut off a great loop of the Road.' To Ferdibrand, he'd added, 'Our path will twist and turn through the Chetwood, just as theirs did in order to confound that ruffian Ferny and leave him well behind them.' And Ferdi had nodded and begun marking the changes in direction that followed, as if by force of habit.

Even if Elessar had not set him the task of learning all he could about Hobbits and their ways, Haldoron would have been fascinated and would have listened as closely to Pippin-lad's stories as he'd already been listening since they'd left the town well behind and Robin Bolger had asked to hear more about the events that had taken place in Bree when the earlier travellers had set out for Rivendell. The former Steward of the North-kingdom had heard his kinsman's version of events numerous times, both over the years since Aragorn had been crowned King and again more recently, during the weeks of intense preparation for this endeavour, but he'd never had the chance to read the record set down in the Red Book by Bilbo and Frodo before they had sailed to the West. And while he'd shared a campfire with Bilbo once or twice, after the old fellow had left the Shire for the last time, he'd dismissed the elderly Hobbit's stories as highly-embroidered, fantastical imaginings, for the most part, told with an eye to eliciting certain responses from his listeners.

But the account as Mayor Sam's son had recounted it so far sounded matter-of-fact enough to be a report written by a Ranger for the eyes of the King.

Pippin-lad turned from Robin, on his left, to Faramir, on his other side, to say, 'And so your da, the Thain (though o' course he wasn't the Thain at the time) said, "As much as we must", though it made his heart sink to say so. O' course, being the youngest of the Hobbits – still only a tween, remember! – he wished to show the Man as well as his cousins that he was tougher than he was. But my dad could see through him fairly well, as he suspected the older cousins did, as well. And so the only one the tween might be fooling would've been the Man ...but even there, luck was against him. For the Ranger'd had a seemingly long acquaintance with Bilbo, and so Strider saw right through him.'

'And your dad said, "I can carry enough for two!",' Farry retorted. 'As my da always likes to say, that was the moment old Bill recognised Mayor Sam as a fellow pack beast and began to follow him like a dog at heel...'

Then Farry raised his voice slightly to address his uncle, walking ahead with the Man, 'And I still don't understand why we could not take a pack pony!'

Ferdi turned his head to the side and said only, 'Here and now is neither the place nor the time for such a discussion.' He added under his breath, South now. Almost directly southwards, I'd hazard to guess... Louder, he said, 'So what happened next, Pip-lad?'

The Mayor's son continued his narrative up to the point that matched their current travel. '...and the woods seemed peaceful and wholesome to them, even then,' he said. 'The Sun was smiling, and her light was clear but not hot...'

'I wish we might say as much,' Farry interrupted, wiping at his brow. 'There's something to be said for starting out on the last day of September!'

'You'll be thankful enough when we come to Caradhras,' Pippin-lad argued. 'Traversing the Pass ought to be much less trouble in summer, I should think!'

'And if Caradhras should defeat us, as it did them,' Robin put in, for he'd heard the Thain tell this part of the Story by a roaring fire on the hearth in the great room of a stormy evening, 'why, then, our attempts to retrace their Journey would suffer a severe setback in any event! For the way through Moria is still closed, even all these years later!'

Haldoron couldn't quite contain his shudder of relief. At the same time, he overheard Ferdi's muttered, Bless us! The two adults leading this expedition couldn't be more in agreement on this point, at least.

'We'd have to go 'round by way of Rohan,' Pippin-lad agreed. 'Might as well proceed directly to Minas Tirith, should that occur, and plan to see Lórien on the journey homewards.'

'You ought to be contented enough with this day's wanderings, Cousin,' Robin said to Faramir. 'I should think we've taken as many "turns and doublings among the many criss-crossing paths" as your fathers did!'

'And all we've seen is birds and a few squirrels, as they did, though no foxes have shown themselves,' Pippin-lad added.

'Foxes are generally too sly to show themselves by day,' Ferdi said to Haldoron, and the Man nodded. One side of his mouth lifted in a wry smile as he remembered that "The Fox" was the name Ferdi had been given by the rogue Men who'd infested the Shire during the time the Hobbits termed "the Troubles". Lotho's (and later, Sharkey's) Men had even nailed posters with the name and Ferdi's likeness to trees in the Woody End and all around the borders of the Tookland, along with the promise of a rich reward for his capture. His fate, had he been taken early on, would have been to be thrown into the Lockholes. Later, as the Tookish Resistance strengthened and the Troubles dragged on, the Tookish archer had continued to pursue his risky business under the threat of a death sentence.

At the end of a day of walking, which had been pleasant overall though perhaps uncomfortably warm during the afternoon hours of that lovely summer day, they camped by a cold, clear spring in the Chetwood. The three younger Hobbits were obviously glad to lay out their bedrolls and sit down, though Pippin-lad quickly hopped up and began meal preparations just as his father would have during the earlier journey. Differently this time, Robin got up to help him, poking Faramir as he rose, and soon all of the Travellers were sitting at their ease in a small circle, munching bread and cheese, along with last-year's apples from one of The Prancing Pony's storeholes.

It was too warm to light a fire, 'and they wouldn't have had a fire in any event,' Pippin-lad had said, settling to his bedroll with the cloth containing his somewhat scanty meal in his hand. The springwater was icy and refreshing to the sweaty travellers, 'almost as good as a glass of the Pony's beer,' Ferdi observed to Haldoron.

'Almost,' the Man agreed, and the two older adults toasted the thought and each other with their cups and drank several more swallows of the bracing beverage.

'And so why could we not bring a pack-pony with us?' Faramir resumed his earlier argument.

'For numerous reasons,' Ferdi said. He took a large bite of his bread-and-cheese that filled his mouth, staving off discussion for the moment, but after he'd washed it down with more of the wondrously cold water, he continued. 'There's no need for us to be accurate in every detail – as a matter of fact, we've stretched so many of the details for the sake of necessity already, that nailing ourselves to the boards of unnecessarily burdensome details would be foolish, to say the least!'

Their exit from the town being a major point in his argument.

Ferdi put his food and drink down to tick off the points on his fingers. 'There are outposts of Kingsmen along our way, so that we do not need to carry food for three or four weeks' journeying, as they did. We can replenish our food at regular intervals, which lessens the load each must carry.' His nephew Farry would have preferred to bypass the outposts in the interest of authenticity, as he knew all too well, but he said nothing about that.

'Heavier clothing has been sent ahead to the last outpost we'll pass before beginning to climb Caradhras,' he said, ticking off the second finger. 'And it's the height of Summer! So there's no need to bring along a pony to carry extra clothing so that we may be prepared for various weather conditions. What we carry on our backs should suffice us all the way to Rivendell, and further.'

'There's a mercy,' Robin said under his breath.

'And...' Ferdi said, ticking off the third finger, 'if you truly mean to follow the paths they wandered, Nephew...'

'I do!' Farry said, stung.

'Then I would object to bringing a pony with us by any means,' Ferdi said. 'My father and uncle were known as the best pony-trainers in the Shire...'

'Aye,' Robin said low, remembering the stories his Uncle Ferdi and his mother had told about his grandfather and great-uncle. The good stories, that is. The happy stories. The ones whose endings were both instructive and satisfying.

Ferdi shook his head, also obviously remembering. 'They were sticklers for "the proper use of a pony", as Merry and I found to our sorrow – and all too many times, and too often, until we'd learnt our lessons in that regard!' Looking to the Man, he clarified, 'The Master of Buckland. He and I were young together, upon a time.'

'Hard to believe,' Robin said aside to the younger Hobbits, who chortled.

Ferdi, on his dignity, continued. 'From what your da and Mayor Sam have said about their experiences after Weathertop...' From the corner of his eye, he saw the Man stiffen in recognition of the name. '...it'd be downright cruel to drag a pony, even one unburdened, through the country they described.' He shook his head. 'I won't have it,' he said. 'Not even if it means breaking my oath, defying the Thain, and calling off the rest of this endeavour.'

These emphatic words wiped the smiles from the younger Hobbit's faces.

Ferdi looked from one face to another before he added softly, 'And no. I am not exaggerating for effect, or to make my point.' He closed the hand whose fingers he'd been ticking off into a fist and laid it against his breast to illustrate his next words. 'I hold my oath to the Thain very close to my heart, indeed,' he said quietly, 'and only death or the Thain himself can release me from it.'

His gaze returned to Faramir and remained there as he concluded, 'But ponies are not merely beasts, given us to bear us or our burdens. They are living, breathing, feeling creatures. If you cut them, they bleed. You may starve them, deny them water and sunshine, whip them mercilessly, and they will work themselves faithfully to death for you, though you might suffer a bite or kick along the way.' He looked at Pippin-lad then, and added, 'Why, even Bill, as the Mayor told me in recent days, returned to Bree and the broken-down shed – where he'd known only hunger and thirst, fear and abuse from Ferny – after that remarkable pony was separated from the Company at the West-door of Moria.' And then he looked back at Faramir, seeming more sorrowful than angry.

Faramir, transfixed, could not seem to look away.

In a tone of quiet intensity, Farry's uncle added, 'They are not toys, nor are they pieces in a game, to be moved around according to the player's whims.'

'I would never...' the son of the Thain began, but Ferdi rode right over him, in a manner of speaking.

'I have tried to explain this point to you before, Young Master,' he said, 'to no avail, as you continue to air your discontent with this "minor deviation" from the historical record. If it is so minor, then let it go!' Ferdi drew a deep breath. 'For be assured, ponies are not and never will be a minor point to me. I will never let it go.'

Silence fell on the circle of travellers, which lasted until the meal was done and the weary younger hobbits laid themselves down atop their bedrolls (for it was much too warm, even after darkness fell, to slip between their covers). But some time later, as the Ranger-guide and oldest Hobbit remained wakeful, smoking their pipes companionably before taking turns at watching and seeking at least some rest for their own part, Haldoron caught Ferdibrand's eye and tendered a respectful nod.

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Author's note: Some turns of phrase were drawn from 'A Knife in the Dark' in The Fellowship of the Ring by J.R.R. Tolkien.

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