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Fordogrim watched his son and daughter-in-law disappear into the forest with mixed emotions. What showed on his face was his open contempt for the plan of going into that queer place under any circumstances, let alone with night coming on. What did not show was the light flutter of concern that he felt in his stomach. Bebother those Bolger boys! he cursed inwardly, not for the first time. To make matters worse, nobody had even thought to ask Fordogrim if he wanted to come – meaning he had missed the opportunity to tell them all what he thought of the idea (which wasn’t much), and that they clearly considered him incapable of the journey (which he was, given the pain in his leg). Fordogrim seethed and thought of all that he would have to say to his son and that crack-brain Marcho at the first opportunity. Composing those speeches put him in something of a better humour.
Fordogrim busied himself freeing Stout from his saddle and seeing that he was tied where he could get at plenty of fresh grass. The old pony seemed tired after his day’s journey but he snickered reassuringly as Fordogrim brushed him down. “There there my old boy,” he said soothingly as he removed the bracken from Stout’s thinning mane. “I know you didn’t get much of a break from my weight today, but this here leg’s going to force me to rely on you pretty heavy for the next couple of days. If you can just carry me for that long Stout, I promise I’ll walk two days straight to give you a chance to recover yourself.” Stout looked at him as though he did not believe the old hobbit capable of walking for two days without break, but for the love of his master he kept his opinion to himself.
Fordogrim settled himself onto the ground with a groan and leaned back against the wheel of the cart. Darn fool daughter-in-law of mine, he thought going into that there jungle of a forest with that son of mine. Still, there’s something to be said for her grit in volunteering for that…I would never have known that she had it in her… He looked down from where he sat into the gathering darkness of the forest. There was an eerie silence on the land, and for the first time Fordogrim noticed that there was no birdsong in the little valley where they had stopped for the night. The first stars of the evening were just beginning to appear in the sky and the light breeze that came from the north had the hint of a bitter chill in it. Likely to be a late frost in that wind. The flowers in that side garden will be hard-pressed to make it through the night if that happens. As he thought of his little hobbit hole and of the gardens that he had lovingly tended through all those years, a sudden emptiness came over him. Fordogrim had been so caught up in his anger about the move that the sadness of it had never yet fully penetrated to his heart; but as he sat beneath the darkening sky feeling the lonely wind of the north blow through him, he realised for the first time that the only home he had ever known now lay behind him. Although the miles between him and it were few, it seemed like everything he knew was on the other side of the world already.
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