The Return of the Shadow. Christopher Tolkien

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      I again give the text in full, since in this chapter the original narrative was far removed from what finally went into print. Subsequent emendation was here very slight. I take up into the text a few manuscript changes that seem to me to be in all probability contemporary with the making of the typescript.

      The end of the chapter corresponds to FR Chapter 5 ‘A Conspiracy Unmasked’; at this stage there was no conspiracy.

      III

      In the morning Bingo woke refreshed. He was lying in a bower made by a living tree with branches laced and drooping to the ground; his bed was of fern and grass, deep and soft and strangely fragrant. The sun was shining through the fluttering leaves, which were still green upon the tree. He jumped up and went out.

      Odo and Frodo were sitting on the grass near the edge of the wood; there was no sign of any elves.

      ‘They have left us fruit and drink, and bread,’ said Odo. ‘Come and have breakfast! The bread tastes almost as good as last night.’

      Bingo sat down beside them. ‘Well?’ said Odo. ‘Did you find anything out?’

      ‘No, nothing,’ said Bingo. ‘Only hints and riddles. But as far as I could make them out, it seems to me that Gildor thinks there are several Riders; that they are after me; that they are now ahead and behind and on both sides of us; that it is no use going back (at least not for me); that we ought to make for Rivendell as quickly as possible, and if we find Gandalf there so much the better; and that we shall have an exciting and dangerous time getting there.’

      ‘I call that a lot more than nothing,’ said Odo. ‘But what about the sniffing?’

      ‘We did not discuss it,’ said Bingo with his mouth full.

      ‘You should have,’ said Odo. ‘I am sure it is very important.’

      ‘In that case I am sure Gildor would have told me nothing about it. But he did say that he thought you might as well come with me. I gathered that the riders are not after you, and that you rather bother them.’

      ‘Splendid! Odo and Frodo are to take care of Uncle Bingo. They won’t let him be sniffed at.’

      ‘All right!’ said Bingo. ‘That’s settled. What about the method of advance?’

      ‘What do you mean?’ said Odo. ‘Shall we hop, skip, run, crawl on our stomachs, or just walk singing along?’

      ‘Exactly. And shall we follow the road, or risk a cross-country cut? There is no choice in the matter of time; we must go in daylight, because Marmaduke is expecting us to-night. In fact we must get off as soon as possible; we have slept late, and there are still quite eighteen miles to go.’

      ‘You have slept late, you mean,’ said Odo. ‘We have been up a long time.’

So far Frodo had said nothing. He was looking out over the treetops eastward. He now turned towards them. ‘I vote for striking across country,’ he said. ‘The land is not so wild between here and the River. It ought not to be difficult to mark our direction before we leave this hill, and to keep pretty well to it. Buckland is almost exactly south-east from Woodhall¹ down there in the trees. We should cut off quite a corner, because the road bears away to the left – you can see a bit of it over there – and then sweeps round south when it gets nearer to the River.² We could strike it above Buckland before it gets really dark.’

      ‘Short cuts make long delays,’ said Odo; ‘and I don’t see that a Rider is any worse on the road than in the woods.’

      ‘Except that he probably won’t be able to see so well, and may not be able to ride so fast,’ said Bingo. ‘I am also in favour of leaving the road.’

      ‘All right!’ said Odo. ‘I will follow you into every bog and ditch. You two are as bad as Marmaduke. I suppose I shall be outvoted by three to one, instead of two to one, when we collect him, if we ever do.’

      The sun was now hot again; but clouds were beginning to come up from the West. It looked likely to turn to rain, if the wind fell. The hobbits scrambled down a steep green bank and struck into the trees below. Their line was taken to leave Woodhall on their left, and there was some thickish wood immediately in front of them, though after a mile or two it had looked from above as if the land became more open. There was a good deal of undergrowth, and they did not get on very fast. At the bottom of the slope they found a stream running in a deeply dug bed with steep slippery banks overhung with brambles. They could not jump across, and they had the choice of going back and taking a new line, or of turning aside to the left and following the stream until it became easier to cross. Odo looked back. Through the trees they could see the top of the bank which fell from the high green which they had just left. ‘Look!’ he said, clutching Bingo by the arm. On the top of the slope a black rider sat on a horse; he seemed to be swaying from side to side, as if sweeping all the land eastward with his gaze.

      The hobbits gave up any idea of going back, and plunged quickly and silently into the thickest bushes by the stream. They were cut off from the West wind down in the hollow, and very soon they were hot and tired. Bushes, brambles, rough ground, and their packs, all did what they could to hold them back.

      ‘Whew!’ said Bingo. ‘Both parties were right! The short cut has gone crooked; but we got under cover only just in time. Yours are the sharpest ears, Frodo. Can you hear – can you hear anything behind?’

      They stopped and looked and listened; but there was no sign or sound of pursuit. They went on again, until the banks of the stream sank and its bed became broad and shallow. They waded across and hurried into the wood on the other side, no longer quite sure of the line they should take. There were no paths, but the ground was fairly level and open. A tall growth of young oaks, mixed with ash and elm, was all round them, so that they could not see far. The leaves of the trees blew upwards in sudden gusts, and spots of rain began to fall; then the wind died away, and the rain came down steadily.

      They trudged along fast through thick leaves, while all about them the rain pattered and trickled; they did not talk, but kept glancing from side to side, and sometimes behind. After about an hour Frodo said: ‘I suppose we have not struck too much to the south, and are not walking longwise through this wood? From above it looked like a narrow belt, and we ought to have crossed it by now, I should have thought.’

      ‘It is no good starting going in zigzags now,’ said Bingo. ‘Let’s keep on. The clouds seem to be breaking, and we may get a helpful glimpse of the sun again before long.’

      He was right. By the time they had gone another mile, the sun gleamed out of ragged clouds; and they saw that they were in fact heading too much to the south. They bore a little to their left; but before long they decided by their feelings as much as by the sun that it was time for a mid-day halt and some food.

      The rain was still falling at intervals; so they sat under an elm-tree, whose leaves were still thick, though they were fast turning yellow. They found that the Elves had filled their water-bottles with some clear golden drink: it had the scent rather than the taste of honey made of many flowers, and was mightily refreshing. They made a merry meal, and soon were laughing and snapping their fingers at rain and black riders. The next few miles they felt would soon be put behind them. With his back to the tree-trunk Odo began to sing softly to himself:

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