Chapter 20. 'So rabbits must...'
Estella breathed a little easier as they reached the verge of another small wood, comprising downy birch and alder, providing some cover, at least after crossing the marshy area. She'd felt especially exposed as they'd crossed the open marshlands, for the path stood above the surrounding land, having been built up on a dike of sorts, or so she imagined. In her mind's eye, she could see a parade of hobbits trundling wheelbarrows of rock and dirt that they'd used to fill in the path across the bog. She wondered if it might be as simple as that, or if a previous Thain's engineers had devised some sort of structure to stabilise the land? Perhaps with the help of the Brandybucks, who knew much about dealing with water in their delvings and other construction, such as the causeway that ran along the Brandywine on the Marish side of the River.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Ferdi's squeeze on her arm. Truly, she'd not have known him to see him in his present guise: white-haired, bent as of with age, holding her arm and leaning on his stick as he walked. 'Yes, old Uncle?' she said.
'Left,' Ferdi said in a high, cracked voice. 'Up ahead, where this path joins in.'
Once they reached the Stock Road, they would cross the road into the trees and brush on the far side and travel parallel to the road rather than on the track itself. The going would be rough, but no rougher than travelling through the wilder parts of the Woody End had been. She knew from the description he'd provided earlier that the road between Stock and Tuckborough was a narrow, deeply-cloven track as it passed to the south of Hobbiton and Bywater and wound over the skirts of the Green Hills. 'It was a decent little road at one time,' Ferdi had told her, 'but after the breach with Brandy Hall under Mistress Lalia, the Tooks' road maintenance efforts went by the wayside,' he'd smiled at her wrinkled-nose reaction to his punning, 'and Thain Ferumbras saw no need to "send good coin after bad" in order to "keep" that particular road for a "king" who was never going to come...'
'Who still hasn't come,' Estella had corrected, 'and probably never will!'
'Never is further down the road than I can see,' Ferdi had chided. Estella hadn't been certain whether he actually believed in the eventual coming of some legendary king or if he'd merely been objecting to her sweeping statement. When she'd asked him, he'd merely remarked, 'I'm keeping an open mind. Or trying to, at least.' And then he'd grinned and added, 'I've always been contrary that way! Tell me something's never going to happen, and I'll do my best to argue all the ways it might!'
'You mean, you think Merry... and Pippin and Frodo and that other fellow,' she'd quickly added, lest he might think she was somehow more interested in Merry than the others, 'might come back to us someday?' And then she'd had to shove down the hope that tried to rise in her at the thought.
But his response had been simply to repeat what he'd said a moment ago: 'I'm keeping an open mind. Or trying to, at least.' He'd said nothing about hope, not even when she'd asked him more specifically about his hopes.
As they walked, she'd watched for hiding places, a habit she'd half-formed playing I-hide-and-you-seek-me with Robin in the Wood near Hally and Rosie's home – and with real ruffians lurking in the vicinity to add spice to the game! After hiding in the brambles with Ferdi, she'd paid even closer attention.
And now her alertness paid for itself. For, quite suddenly, half-a-dozen Men rose out of the trees to either side of the little path, catching the travellers between them.
'Hoi! What have we here?' one rogue shouted cheerily. 'I told you I'd seen signs of the little folk travelling along this path to evade the Toll...'
Toll? Estella thought, stunned. Surprise had also momentarily shown on Ferdi's face before he wiped it blank again, and now he craned upward at the tall figures around them with a bland look as he slipped his pack from his back, struggling a bit, making it look as if his joints were stiff with age.
'We have your Toll right here!' he creaked. 'And our Pass, into the bargain! Mushrooms gathered for the Boss, on the orders of the Shirriff!'
'Well now,' said another of the Men. 'There's a different kettle of fish.'
'No,' Ferdi said, blinking in confusion. 'We've not been fishing...'
'Shut yer mouth, old-timer,' the first ruffian said nastily. From his air of command, he seemed to be the leader of this motley pack of rogues. 'Speak when you're spoken to, and not before!'
Ferdi ducked his head in apparent fear and confusion.
'And you, lad, what have you to say for yourself?' the third ruffian bent to address Estella.
She did her best to speak in a low, husky voice. 'Gathered shrooms, sir,' she muttered, staring at her dirty toes. 'With my old uncle-here.'
For some reasons, the ruffians found this answer comical. Their derisive laughter tore at her nerves, but she held tightly to Ferdi's arm and kept her eyes on the ground.
'You've mushrooms, have you?' another of the Men said. 'Well, you can set your tiny minds at ease, then. I think we can take them from here...'
'Now,' the first ruffian spoke over him, and Estella fought the instinct to stiffen at the ominous tone in his voice, 'I want to see your Pass...'
'Shirriff said the shrooms would be our Pass,' Ferdi quavered. 'He said, 'twould be too much trouble to write so many places on one Pass, for we had to travel deep into the Wood...'
'Did he now?' the first ruffian said. 'Well, he'll miss his mushrooms next time he wants 'em, I guess, for being out and about with no Pass means the Lockholes for you two!'
The moment "Lockholes" left the Man's lips, Ferdi stood straight and shoved Estella away, into the small space separating two of the Men surrounding them, yelling, 'Twig, run!'
Estella stumbled but regained her feet, evaded the Men's grasping hands, and dove into the underbrush, then made a sharp turn and went to ground with all the skill of a hobbit, disappearing swiftly and silently. Only a few steps away from the path, she cowered against the bole of a tree where the searching Men were unlikely to blunder into her or trip over her.
Behind her as she fled, she'd had a confused impression of Ferdi pushing against the nearest Man, sweeping his walking stick under the legs of two others to trip them, and then twisting to elude a ruffian's grasp and trying to run the other way. She thought she heard him cry out, and then a smothered Ooof! followed by other painful sounds. Pulling her rabbit-fur cloak over her, she ducked her head and covered her ears as she tried not to listen. Tears leaked from her eyes. Run! he'd drilled into her on the long journey there. Run! And don't look behind you! No matter what you may see or hear!
'You! Harry! Ned! Find the boy!' Large bodies immediately crashed through the undergrowth, following Estella's path. Though they missed where she'd turned, and thus they kept going straight, right past her hiding place, she froze where she was, lest some movement draw their attention at just the wrong time. All the while, she listened helplessly to the Men on the other side of the tree where she'd hidden herself.
'Hoi! That's enough! Don't kill 'im!' one of the Men said sharply.
'Lotho don't care if we beat 'em before we take 'em to the Lockholes!' another protested.
'He's no good if he's dead! As it is, we'll have to carry him there...'
'I'm not carryin' no stinkin' rat anywhere! Might as well finish the job and bury him!'
Estella bit down hard on her hand to stifle any noise she might make. Not for herself but for Ferdi. And if they caught her and found out she was no lad...
'Get up you!' was followed by a low moan from Estella's guide and companion. 'Get up!' Silence.
'That's torn it! Like I said, we don't get no reward for dead hobbits—'
'Pity, that.'
'—but the Boss will only pay for the ones we bring living and "relatively intact" to the Lockholes, you blockheads! They're supposed to walk there on their own two feet, or drag themselves along if need be, as an example to all the hobbits along the way who might be thinking of making trouble!'
'He don't look all that intact,' one of the Men muttered.
'Well then, you'll nurse him better, Musty, won't you – since you're the one, decided to play too free with your fists and kicks! C'mon now, pick him up.'
'If you think I'm going to carry him to the ends of Middle-earth...!'
'No, but we'll take him to our camp nearby. Make a fire, cook some food, bind up his wounds – if they need them – let him sleep the night through and then, if all's well – meaning he can stumble along after a fashion on his own two feet, two of you will march him off to the Lockholes in the morning, collect the reward, and return here!'
'What's this?' Estella stiffened at the note of surprise in the Man's voice.
'What?' the leader said.
'He's no gaffer! Look! Flour!'
'Could he be one of them Tooks, disguised as a gaffer to move about outside the Took-land?'
'Hmmm,' the leader said. 'Change of plan. We'll drag him up Hobbiton-way, bring him to the Boss. I'm sure he'll have ideas for how we can make an example of a Took caught outside the Tookland.'
What if Lotho recognises him? Estella wondered wildly. What if they find out he's the Fox? He might not be content simply to throw him in the Lockholes!
She could not even begin to imagine what horrible things they might do to Ferdibrand, but she was sure that Lotho would have no such trouble. And if he were to recognise Ferdi and connect him to the Bolgers in the Woody End...! What would they do to Hally! to Rosemary? to the children?
And then Estella's mind was distracted by worries that suddenly hit closer to home. She became one with the tree where she crouched, scarcely breathing as the heavy bodies of those searching for her doubled back, passing almost close enough to her to reach out and touch. From what Hally and young Robin had taught her in their games of I-hide-and-you-seek-me, they'd be unlikely to look for her in the shadow of the tree where she crouched, so close to the main body of Men, and their line of travel would take them around the tree – and right around her hiding place.
But the two searchers blundered past either side of her saviour tree without pausing. They hadn't seen her!
'Well?' the leader barked.
'No sign of the lad,' one of the Men said. 'He's probably long gone by now.'
'D'you suppose he's a Took, too?' another said.
The leader snorted. 'He looked petrified,' he said. 'This hobbit probably picked up a local lad and forced him to guide him to the mushrooms. Greedy beggar. No use chasing him. I doubt he'll have anything useful he can tell us.'
'Right then,' the leader said. 'Pick up the prisoner and sling him over your shoulder. We'll take him back to our camp and bind him well.'
'At least he brought us some supper,' someone joked, and a couple others guffawed in response.
Their voices were receding now. Estella stole from tree to tree as she followed them towards the Stock Road and then along the track towards the West, in the direction of the Tookland.
Towards freedom, she thought. But then something inside her stiffened her spine and caused her hands to close into fists. But I'm not going without Ferdi!
She listened carefully to their talk and movements, for she had no intentions of blundering into them (or into a guard left to watch over their camp). At last, from the sounds, she determined that the Men had stopped moving, and she went to ground again, crawling cautiously closer, watching on all sides – and above! ...in case there might be one or more sentries in the trees.
She smelled smoke before she saw their fire. Peeping through the undergrowth, she saw the Man carrying Ferdi throw the hobbit down on the ground, drawing another protest from the leader that the hobbit had to be well enough to drag himself to Hobbiton, if not the Lockholes, on the morrow.
Estella picked up a handful of dirt and rubbed it into her face and hair, covering the skin of her neck and hands as well to help her blend into the shadows of the trees. She crawled to the base of a tree and slowly eased herself upright, becoming part of the trunk, then coolly surveyed the area around the ruffians' camp, from which they evidently watched the Stock Road and intercepted any Shire-folk who might dare to travel from Bywater and Hobbiton towards the Woody End. There were plenty of good hiding places, she thought. If she could somehow free Ferdi and distract the ruffians, and they could escape the camp and dive into cover...
Her eyes lighted as she saw, on the far side of the camp, a large patch of brambles. (In fact, she inadvertently closed her eyelids in case the gleam of discovery might somehow flash from her eyes and give her away to these dangerous intruders. When she opened them again, she allowed herself the merest slits to look through, and when she was quite sure none of them was looking in her direction, she eased herself around to the back of the tree that hid her and then slowly crouched down at its base. Only then did she allow her eyes to open wide again and take in her surroundings.) While the ruffians might search all around the prickly vines, she rather doubted they would stomp their way into the middle, so long as the hobbits therein were completely hidden from view. It was a gamble, but if Ferdi were injured and needed rest for a day or three, it seemed to her the best solution.
She'd strike in the darkness of middle night, she decided. Hopefully, the ruffians would grow sleepy. If they thought her "long gone", and if they'd tied up their prisoner – and she'd heard the leader mention it – then they might not be so diligent and alert for trouble when trouble came sniffing around.
Foot by foot, she thought, something she'd heard Frodo Baggins say to younger cousins who'd complained they were too tired to walk home from where ever they'd been exploring with him. Step by step. One step at a time. The plan had to be carefully crafted and perfectly executed. Otherwise, she and Ferdibrand might end up worse off than they were now.
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Author's note: The mentioned "breach" between the Tooks and Brandybucks is described in more detail in Pearl of Great Price, here on SoA.
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