The Return of the Shadow. Christopher Tolkien

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СКАЧАТЬ To heal my heart and drown my woe.

       Rain may fall and wind may blow,

       And many miles be still to go,

       But under the elm-tree I will lie

       And let the clouds go sailing by!

      Ho! ho! ho!———

      It will never be known whether the next verse was any better than the first; for just at the moment there was a noise like a sneeze or a sniff. Odo never finished his song. The noise came again: sniff, sniff, sniff; it seemed to be quite close. They sprang to their feet, and looked quickly about; but there was nothing to be seen anywhere near their tree.³

      Odo had no more thought of lying and watching the clouds go by. He was the first to be packed and ready to start. In a few minutes from the last sniff they were off again as fast as they could go. The wood soon came to an end; but they were not particularly pleased, for the land became soft and boggy, and hobbits (even on a Journey) don’t like mud and clay on their feet. The sun was shining again, and they felt both too hot and too exposed to view away from the trees. Far back now behind them lay the high green where they had breakfasted; every time they looked back towards it they expected to see the distant figure of a horseman against the sky. But none appeared; and as they went on the land about them got steadily more tame. There were hedges and gates and dikes for drainage; everything looked quiet and peaceful, just an ordinary corner of the Shire.

      ‘I think I recognize these fields,’ said Frodo suddenly. ‘They belong to old Farmer Maggot,⁴ unless I am quite lost. There ought to be a lane somewhere near, that leads from his place into the road a mile or two above Buckland.’⁵

      ‘Does he live in a hole or a house?’ asked Odo, who did not know this part of the country.

      It was a curious thing about the hobbits of those days that this was an important distinction. All hobbits had, of course, originally lived in holes; but now only the best and the poorest hobbits did so, as a rule. Important hobbits lived in luxurious versions of the simple holes of olden times; but the sites for really good hobbit-holes were not to be found everywhere. Even in Hobbiton, one of the most important villages, there were houses. These were specially favoured by the farmers, millers, blacksmiths, carpenters, and people of that sort. The custom of building houses was supposed to have started among the hobbits of the woody riverside regions, where the land was heavy and wet and had no good hills or convenient banks. They began making artificial holes of mud (and later of brick), roofed with thatch in imitation of natural grass. That was a long time ago, and on the edge of history; but houses were still considered an innovation. The poorest hobbits still lived in holes of the most ancient sort – in fact just holes, with only one window, or even none.⁶ But Odo was not thinking about hobbit-history. He merely wanted to know where to look for the farm. If Farmer Maggot had lived in a hole, there would have been rising ground somewhere near; but the land ahead looked perfectly flat.

‘He lives in a house,’ answered Frodo. ‘There are very few holes in these parts. They say houses were invented here. Of course the Brandybucks have that great burrow of theirs at Bucklebury in the high bank across the River; but most of their people live in houses. There are lots of those new-fashioned brick houses – not too bad, I suppose, in their way; though they look very naked, if you know what I mean: no decent turf-covering, all bare and bony.’

      ‘Fancy climbing upstairs to bed!’ said Odo. ‘That seems to me most inconvenient. Hobbits aren’t birds.’

      ‘I don’t know,’ said Bingo. ‘It isn’t as bad as it sounds; though personally I never like looking out of upstairs windows, it makes me a bit giddy. There are some houses that have three stages, bedrooms above bedrooms. I slept in one once long ago on a holiday; the wind kept me awake all night.’

      ‘What a nuisance, if you want a handkerchief or something when you are downstairs, and find it is upstairs,’ said Odo.

      ‘You could keep handkerchiefs downstairs, if you wished,’ said Frodo.

      ‘You could, but I don’t believe anybody does.’

      ‘That is not the houses’ fault,’ said Bingo; ‘it is just the silliness of the hobbits that live in them. The old tales tell that the Wise Elves used to build tall towers; and only went up their long stairs when they wished to sing or look out of the windows at the sky, or even perhaps the sea. They kept everything downstairs, or in deep halls dug beneath the feet of the towers. I have always fancied that the idea of building came largely from the Elves, though we use it very differently. There used to be three elftowers standing in the land away west beyond the edge of the Shire. I saw them once. They shone white in the Moon. The tallest was furthest away, standing alone on a hill. It was told that you could see the sea from the top of that tower; but I don’t believe any hobbit has ever climbed it.⁷ If ever I live in a house, I shall keep everything I want downstairs, and only go up when I don’t want anything; or perhaps I shall have a cold supper upstairs in the dark on a starry night.’

      ‘And have to carry plates and things downstairs, if you don’t fall all the way down,’ laughed Odo.

      ‘No!’ said Bingo. ‘I shall have wooden plates and bowls, and throw them out of the window. There will be thick grass all round my house.’

      ‘But you would still have to carry your supper upstairs,’ said Odo.

      ‘O well then, perhaps I should not have supper upstairs,’ said Bingo. ‘It was only just an idea. I don’t suppose I shall ever live in a house. As far as I can see, I am going to be just a wandering beggar.’

      This very hobbit-like conversation went on for some time. It shows that the three were beginning to feel quite comfortable again, as they got back into tame and familiar country. But even invisible sniffs could not damp for long the spirits of these excellent and peculiarly adventurous hobbits, not in any kind of country.

      While they talked they plodded steadily on. It was already late afternoon when they saw the roof of a house peeping out of a clump of trees ahead and to their left.

      ‘There is Farmer Maggot’s!’ said Frodo.

      ‘I think we will go round it,’ said Bingo, ‘and strike the lane on the far side of the house. I am supposed to have vanished, and I would rather not be seen sneaking off in the direction of Buckland, even by good Farmer Maggot.’

      They went on, leaving the farmhouse away on their left, hidden in the trees several fields away. Suddenly a small dog came through a gap in a hedge, and ran barking towards them.

      ‘Here! Here! Gip! Gip!’ said a voice. Bingo slipped on his ring. There was no chance for the others to hide. Over the top of the low hedge appeared a large round hobbit-face.

      ‘Hullo! Hullo! And who may you be, and what may you be doing?’ he asked.

      ‘Good evening, Farmer Maggot!’ said Frodo. ‘Just a couple of Tooks, from away back yonder; and doing no harm, I hope.’

      ‘Well now, let me see – you’ll be Mr Frodo Took, Mr Folco Took’s son, if I’m not mistook (and I seldom am: I’ve a rare memory for faces). You used to stay with young Mr Marmaduke. Any friend of Mr СКАЧАТЬ