[Fordim Hedgethistle]

Fordogrim was shocked to see the sun almost above the horizon when he opened his eyes. He felt immediate shame at having slept through the night and not waking the next watch. He hoped that nothing had gone wrong while he had been asleep. “Of all the woolly-pated, knuckle-skulled pumpkin heads in the world. Fordogrim, you must be one of the worst,” he railed at himself. Stout leant down his old head and nuzzled Fordogrim as though to assure him that there was one creature in the world, at least, who loved him as much as Prim had. Fordogrim’s scowl transformed into a smile at the memory of his dream. It had been so real that he cast about on the ground for signs of her footsteps, but there were none, of course. Harold’s shadow loomed on the grass before him and Fordogrim scrambled to his feet (with more than a little help from his son).

Harold quickly informed him of the apparent thefts and asked if he had heard or seen anything on watch last night. Fordogrim immediately thought of his vision but decided that was probably not the kind of thing his son was asking after. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I can’t say as I did.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “But I wasn’t altogether…well…you see, I couldn’t have seen everything that happened last night for I, well…” Fordogrim never liked to admit when he was at fault, and given the gravity of his mistake, he found telling his son a difficult thing. He had never approved of the necklace, Useless gewgaw, but he knew how much it meant to Harold and Sarah and he felt bad that he had been the cause of its theft.

Marcho Bolger chose that moment to approach and demand (or so it seemed to the elderly hobbit) if he had seen anything suspicious. Fordogrim scowled at the scout and retorted sharply. “As I was just a-saying to my son, who’s already asked me that question, no, I did no see anything out of the ordinary, or in the ordinary for that matter. For I was, well, to be as honest as I’d hope any hobbit would be – I was asleep. I know that I shouldn’t a-been sleeping” he rushed ahead of Marcho’s recriminations, “but there it is: I was. Now, I’m not one to go about casting blame away from me as belongs to me, but if you leave an old hobbit whose been attacked by wolves and saving certain children from rivers to try and keep his eyes open, when younger ones than his get to close for the night, well, I think you can’t complain overmuch when those old eyes fail you.”

Marcho seemed on the verge of speaking but Fordogrim did not give him the chance. His temper had been on a slow boil for days, and now it had hit the very limit of the pot’s endurance. As he saw things, he’d been dragged from his home and lead through the wild to be assaulted by Whitfoots, threatened by wolves, and now accused by Bolgers – to make matters worse, the son who had taken him on this wild-brained, crack-headed fool-hearted venture now stood beside the very scout who had taken them into the wild and exposed them all to these dangers…and Fordogrim to the sting of his own guilty conscience. None of this, he reflected angrily would have happened if I’d been allowed to live out my life in my own hole! The elderly hobbit rounded on his son. “Don’t you dare stand there accusing me with that crack-brain Bolger scout. If we hadn’t come on this gallavant we’d none of us be in the dangers we’re in, and you and I would still be comfortable and happy in our hole! You should have a-listened to me, my son, and stood well enough alone! I know why you came out here, though! I know! It was your wife as led you to it! And you, squandering good money on a ridiculous necklace – a necklace that’s good for nothing more than puffing up her vanity and attracting the eyes of thieves! I won’t say I’m glad it’s been stolen, but I ain’t sorry it’s gone!” Days of fury and frustration, of anxiety and of feeling old, of the incessant pain in his leg and of the ache in his heart – all of it came out, motivated and set afire by his shame at having failed his family in his duty. “I know what you all think of me: ‘Useless old Grandpa Fordo. Good for naught but nagging word and to tag along at our heels.’ Well, it’s true, and I guess we’ve all seen it now!”

As he raged, the tears started in his eyes, and he longed for the calming presence of Prim. But she was gone now, and he was alone.