[alaklondewen]

The morning air whipped around and through the hobbits as they congregated in the center of the camp. They were all packed and ready to leave for another day of traveling, but they had some unfinished business that needed attending before they could get back to the road. Marcho stood before them on the back of one family’s cart. In front of him stood Garlin Whoolthistle, the apprehended thief, who had found himself perched atop a crate surrounded by the traveling hobbit population. The Man was apparently uncomfortable with the attention as he fidgeted and a wild look was in his eye. Yet, he dared not try to run for Harold Chubb and Kalimac Whitfoot stood at his feet, and he remembered all too clearly the brunt of Harold’s weight that knocked him flat.

Marcho spoke loudly to the hobbits and told them what had happened the night before, although most already knew because of the commotion that was made during Garlin’s capture. The scout publicly cleared Crispin Whitfoot’s name, causing many (especially his own family) to clap and shout enthusiastically. Fredigar stood to one side looking almost as uncomfortable as ol’ Garlin.

Marcho presented the evidence against Garlin to the crowd and then announced his punishment. “Mr. Whoolthistle must know what it is like to loose those things which he has worked for. Since he has sold or traded all of the items he stole from the hard working Harfoot folks, each of his victims will come forward and take something from his person as compensation for their loss.” Now Garlin only came to the camp with an empty pouch, saddle bag, and the clothes on his back, so as each of the Harfoot families stepped forward there was naught to take but his old clothes. Very soon Garlin stood before the hobbits fidgeting even more as he tried to cover his bare flesh, and although Marcho stopped the folk from taking his drawers, the man appeared to be extremely embarrassed and humiliated by the actions taken against him.

~*~*~*~*~

Regin's Post

Regin had been glad to see the necklace returned and the thief captured, but he didn't have the heart to stay longer than that. Before Marcho dealt out a just punishment to the thief, Harold went to tell Sarah and the children what had happened to their Grandpa. Together, the family walked slowly up the hill to say their final goodbyes.

Arriving at the grove, they gathered round the spot where Grandpa lay. After burying her head on her mother's shoulder, May looked up with a sad smile on her face, "It's the first time I've ever seen Grandpa not have a word to say to any of us. I shall miss him. He was as honest as they come. He said what he meant. There was no fooling around or hiding the truth." Everyone nodded. Then they sat quietly, talking and comforting each other.

News of Fordo's death spread quickly through the camp. Families made their way to the grove to pay their respects to Fordo and the Chubbs, first stopping to drop off gifts of food at the family's wagon.

Harold picked out the spot where his father would lie so that the rocks could be gathered there. It was just on the other side of the hill, and under the shade of a friendly beech. The site looked out over a rolling field. Just the sort of place for good farming. Harold reflected. My father would have liked it. Then he and Henry, along with the sturdiest Hobbits, scoured the nearby countryside to find the stones and boulders they would need to construct the barrow.

Fordo's body was laid gently in the tomb and Marcho got up to speak. He talked solemnly about Fordo: how he hadn't wanted to leave Bree, but when his family made the decision to move he came with them and did the best be could. How he'd worked hard for his family so many years, and how terribly he missed his good, sweet Prim. And now husband and wife were together again.

Then Harold got up to talk, "Marcho tells me all the land you can see around us is part of the King's grant. Today there aren't very many of us. But maybe someday, there'll be more. There may even be families living and farming on this very spot where we stand. I don't want to lose my father. Sarah and I, and the children all grieve his loss. But I think my father would agree. It's better that the first death in this new land should be an older Hobbit gently passing on rather than having a young lad bludgeoned to death in battle or skirmishing with a no-good thief."

"May our lives in the Shire be as peaceful as the end Grandpa had, and may we never forget the sacrifices that he made to help get us here. Sleep Father. Stay close to my mother, dear Prim, wherever she is. You and she are still part of our family, only separated for a while. And whether we're here or in Michel Delving, that will never change."

With that , the Hobbits made their way down the hillside to their bedrolls. Only Harold remained behind for a few moments, sitting peacefully beside the barrow.....

~*~*~*~

Once the funeral was finished and Garlin was left with nothing but his underpants, Marcho signaled for all to proceed to the wagons, and soon the convoy was bumping along once more down the road.