[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Fordogrim stumped along the edge of the camp, muttering to himself grumpily. Stout snickered beside him as their breaths misted in the cool night air, and a waning moon glowed down upon them with enough light to cast faint shadows on the grass. The elderly hobbit tried not to look toward the small copse of trees behind them, but it was an agony of determination only that prevented him from doing so. After the children’s little play with the pouch of gold this evening, Marcho had disappeared into the woods and come back only after dark had fallen. At his hastily convened and secretive meeting with the Chubbs and the Whitfoots, he had confirmed that there was indeed a thief lurking in the woods nearby. The scout had not seen the Man – as he had judged him by the signs of his boot prints – but he had seen enough to know that their prey was nearby.

The elderly hobbit turned to his faithful friend. “Well me lad,” he said quietly, so as not to wake the others. “What do you make of all this? Think it has a cake’s chance at a party of working?” The pony merely nuzzled his face. “I guess you’re right old fellow; that Marcho Bolger might be a crack-brain and all, but he does seem to have some sense when it a-comes to catching thieves in the night.” He looked over to the dark shadows of the Whitfoot wagon where he knew Marcho was hiding. The scout was waiting for Fordogrim to feign sleep. Then, if things went according to plan and the thief co-operated, he would spring their trap. Harold had volunteered to stay awake with Marcho, but the scout had pointed out that anyone watching the camp would notice the extra guard, and had instructed the Chubb father to lay low in his cart as usual. As Fordogrim neared the cart, he could tell from the gentle sounds of breathing that his son had fallen asleep. Fordogrim looked down at his son and smiled warmly in the night.

It had been many a year since he had looked at his son this way, and doing so now took him back to the days when Harold had been only a baby, and Fordogrim would steal quietly from his bed at night and tiptoe down the hall to gaze at his lovely boy. He turned his back to the cart and settled against the wheel. As he laid his head back he knew that he would not need to feign sleep. He did not even think to try and stay awake to confront the thief, for the pain in his leg had grown much worse in the past few days and he would be useless in a fight. He was not concerned, for he knew that his son was more than up to the challenge before them.

My Dearest Prim, he began,

Well my love, that much has happened since I last wrote that I hardly know where to begin. I suppose the first thing as I ought to tell you is about our Sarah. What an eye-opening did she give me! First, she showed more grit than I thought she had in her. There were some hard words between us, but hers were shovels as did some use and mine were stones as did nothing but lay there. She pointed out a few things about me and her that I had never really thought about before, and that’s given me a lot to think on. You see, my love, I’ve missed you so awful since you went away that I seems to have turned it all on our poor Sarah for taking over your place in the house – as though it were her fault you had to go in the first place! Now isn’t that just the foolishest thing you’ve ever known? Well, of course not, as you’ve known me a good long time!

But as if that weren’t enough, our Sarah then comes round and says as she now regrets a-coming on this trip. But wouldn’t you know it, even there she’s gone and taught this grumpy old hobbit a thing or two. I’ve been hurt and angry about a-coming on this trip for my own sake, but her thoughts are all for the love of her children and family! She does love our Harold and Mayflower and Henry so much – well, I admit, I’m ashamed of myself that I never did give her the credit she deserves for it. It was a bit tough admitting to her as I'd been wrong, but I up and did it over dinner just this night. It would be difficult to make up for years of hard words with a few gentle ones, but I did my best.

As to my mind, though, I’m beginning to think that I might have had it a bit wrong about this trip. You should see our Harold: like a new hobbit. He’s still the gentle, soft-spoken boy you made him to be, but there’s an iron in there that I’ve not noticed before. Why, would you believe that he’s stood up to that Kalimac Whitfoot twice on this journey? And he’s even given me a good what-for when I deserved it. I think this new place we’re headed to, if it gives Harold the chance to stretch himself a bit more – why, that can only be good I think. I’d never really thought before how small and tightly-fit he was into our life at Bree. This wide open land will give him the room he needs to grow.

Well, my love, I can a-feel myself a-fading fast so I’d best leave it there. I hope that you are well and happy. I miss you awfully.

Your husband,

Grim

And with a contented smile, his head fell back against the cartwheel and he fell asleep.

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He felt a familiar touch on his cheek, and was instantly awake. Before him stood Prim, looking exactly as she had the day they had met all those long years – and distant leagues – ago. He smiled up at her and felt as though his heart would break with a joy past bearing. She returned the smile, and her cheeks were round like fresh apples, and her hair hung about her face like the new tendrils of the sweet peas that she loved. “I’m glad that you and Sarah have made things up at last," she said. "That will make our Harold so happy, my love.”

“Well,” he replied, “it took me long enough time to see it, but I’ve been awful hard on the lass for all the wrong reasons. I’m just glad that I’ve come to my senses in time to put things right with her. To be honest, I’m a-looking forward to spending more time with her.” Prim gave him an odd look: not sad, but thoughtful and sympathetic. He knew that look well. “What is it, my love?” he asked happily. “You’ve got something as you want to tell me, but you’re not sure of how I’m a-going to take it. Out with it, lass!”

Prim shook her head prettily and merely said, “I don’t think you’ll be able to spend as much time with her as you’d like my love. But that’s all right, she knows now how you really feel.”

“I won’t get time?” Fordogrim replied. “But why, Prim? Is something going to happen to her?”

“Why yes, lots and lots.”

“Not anything bad, I hope, Prim. Y’see, I’ve grown that fond of her, and she makes our Harold so happy.”

Prim held out her hand and helped Fordogrim to his feet. He did not notice at first, but the pain was gone from his leg and he stood upright without the use of his cane. “Some bad things will happen to Sarah,” she was saying, “for she has a long way to go before the end of her road. But most of what she finds on the way will be good, and the darkness of that road will only make the light of home seem all the brighter.”

“Why Prim,” he said with wonderment, “How strange you are a-talking. According to that Marcho Bolger we’re not far from our new home now!”

Prim smiled once more and turned Fordogrim about to face the East. “Not that road, you silly hobbit. I’m talking of a much longer Road – the Road that we all must travel before we can finally take our rest in our rightful home.”

“Why Primrose Chubb, what kind of Elvish talk are you talking…?” But Fordogrim stumbled to a halt for as he faced back over the road they’d travelled he saw the night give way to a new dawn, and instead of an empty land there lay before him and to all the horizons around a land full of busy hobbits, tilling the earth and turning their nimble hands to their arts. The land bloomed with life, as crops were raised and holes were dug, houses and barns were built and all the lanes and roads were filled with busy, sensible folk. Fordogrim turned to the West and stared open-eyed as he saw Harold and Sarah as two elderly hobbits, sitting in their easy chairs before their door, hand in hand, surrounded by their children, and the children of their children, and as though a mist had pulled back he saw after them generations upon generations of Chubbs living and loving the land and each other. And the land that they worked was theirs and theirs alone, and they were their own masters, and they held in memory with reverence their ancestors who had given them that chance.

“Prim,” he gasped, “Is what I’m seeing…is this…what’s going to happen?” He turned toward his wife and she smiled at him like springtime. “Of all the wonders,” he said. “Prim? What’s going on? Why do I feel so strange?” And he looked at his hands, and they were no longer lined and crabbed, but smooth and supple. And as he looked up once more, he felt youth and life flood back through his limbs and he laughed aloud for the joy of it all.

But of a sudden he grew sombre and silent, and turning to Prim he said. “I have to go now don’t I, my love?” Prim nodded. “But you’ll be there won’t you my dear?” And she smiled, and he knew that she would, and that they would never have to be parted again. He took one last look at his family. Harold and Sarah were asleep in the cart, wrapped in one another’s arms, and not far from them lay Henry and Mayflower. He wanted to say goodbye to them, but Prim took his hand and led him away. He cast one last look at Stout and his faithful old friend snickered happily in his sleep, stamping the ground. “Will I ever see them again?” he asked, and Primrose replied, “Of course my love, but not for a long, long time.” Fordogrim smiled, “Well, I’m glad of that,” he said.

They passed through the lands of the west and there was a journey as though they were being swept across the Sea on the wings of a great ship. And at last they saw a distant green land, and the mists pulled back and there were green fields and the sound of the most wonderful music came to them with the dawn. “Well, as I live and breathe,” Fordogrim whispered. “I could never have imagined such a place as that.”

“Maybe you’re dreaming,” Primrose suggested.

“No,” he replied slowly, taking her by the hand, “I don’t think I am.”