Chapter 28. Without warning, we are overtaken by disaster

~ S.R. 1419, 25 January (From the Tale of Years for this date: [Gandalf] casts down the Balrog, and passes away. His body lies on the peak.) ~

What with walking and resting, drinking and grazing under Sun by day and stars by night, the hours run together. Even if I could keep count of the days we have travelled and the days of travel still ahead, I would have some difficulty doing so, I deem. 

Our progress is not like that of the Company's, following Our Big Man from the fall of twilight to just before the dawning and then resting or sleeping through the daylight hours. For me, "resting" for the most part would mean grazing on what ever vegetation I could find, keeping a watchful lookout along with any of my hobbits who were standing guard, and dozing a bit. Of all the Company, the Fair One will sometimes rest but does not seem to need sleep. The Big Men tend to take turns sleeping and standing watch. 

The Dwarf and my Hobbits fill up the corners, so to speak, in terms of guard duty. They also seem to need the most sleep of all the Company. It seems to me that the Dwarf, my Sam and the sometimes-Merry-hobbit all sleep about the same amount, whilst Master and Youngest need more sleep – and the others in the Company arrange their watches accordingly without ever letting on that some of us are allowed to sleep longer than others. I would imagine they are following the same practice now.

When does Tall Hat sleep? Does Tall Hat sleep? I cannot seem to remember. All I can say for sure is that, unlike the Dwarf, I have never heard him snore.

In any event, although we travel at a walking pace during the hours we are travelling, my companion and I are likely covering more ground than the Company does over the span of a night. When I was with them, I maintained a steady walk when we were moving, and more or less found it unnecessary to break into a trot. Even though I am no longer with them, I should imagine they are still likely to be travelling at a Hobbit's walking pace. If they are still only walking through the night hours, under the cover of darkness, then my companion and I are covering much more ground than they are these days since equines require so much less sleep than at least some two-legged creatures seem to need.

O' course, "covering more ground" is relative since I do not know what ground they might be covering. For our part, we are following the course of a Road that runs from North to South. (Or South to North, as we are travelling.) The great horse tells me the part of the Road that runs through Bree is known as the Greenway. I have heard the name, though I have never travelled that Road – at least, not that I know of. My old misery never talked to me about which road or path we were taking. He spent most of his time grumbling about this or that, and the rest of the time shouting curses at me or heaping me with abuse, whether the fault was mine or not. It goes without saying, but I will say it anyhow – I am glad to be shut of him.

We are not travelling the Greenway; not exactly, that is, for my companion is loath to meet any travellers that might try and capture me and put me to work carrying their loads. Such a thing is not part of our plans. No, but we are walking in the same direction as the Greenway but out of sight of that Road. My companion's ears are sharper than mine, and sometimes he tells me when he hears the sound of travellers, their voices or even their footsteps, even muffled as they are by the overgrowth of grass. Some, he says, are simply poor souls seeking refuge from trouble, but too many are bad Men – he can smell 'em, he says, flaring his nostrils and shaking his head with a stomp of his foot.

Are all of them travelling towards Bree? I ask, raising my nose towards his face.

All, he answers shortly. As he says no more on the topic, neither do I. But privately, I wonder what the Bree-landers make of all these newcomers? There were some of them coming to Bree even before my hobbits rescued me from my old misery and took me with them, and I sometimes heard some grumbling about the matter from people passing me in the streets when I was tied up in front of The Prancing Pony. If they are still coming, I can only imagine that the Bree-folk are still grumbling.

I have had quite my fill of bad Men, and so I am content to let my mighty companion set our course.

My ponderings break off as the great horse suddenly rears high into the air, striking at nothing that I can see, shrieking his defiance and distress.

I stop short and swing around so that we stand (if the great horse were standing on all fours, that is) head-to-tail. I am ready to rear and strike out at any gangrel creature or bad Men coming up behind us and thus difficult to see if we should both be facing forwards – that is, in our direction of travel. My companion can easily manage any danger approaching from ahead of him.

Though I scan all around us, I can see no threat, not even bad Men who have somehow discerned our presence and have left the Greenway to find and capture us. Hah! While they might capture me, were I travelling on my own, I think that no mere Man will be able to master the great horse, much less harm or seize me when I am with him.

I raise my head higher and scent the air; I look in every direction; I swivel my ears to listen before us and behind us and to either side.

The Sun shines brightly in the Western sky. If we can hold out against our foes for but a few hours, dusk and the coming of night will render the great horse all but invisible, giving us an extra advantage. Or so I can hope.

As to "foes"... I am not sure what sort of battle we are facing. They must be fearsome indeed, for there is a note of terror as well as fury in my companion's screams.

Nevertheless, I am ready.

*** 

Author's note: According to a web search, horses average 2.9 hours of sleep per day; more specifically, healthy adult horses sleep from 30 minutes to 3 hours. In case you were wondering, foals need quite a bit more sleep, from 12 to almost 20 hours per day. 

***