[piosenniel]

Madoc checked the harnesses on the two ponies, making adjustments on Nettle’s bridle where it was a bit too tight. Rocky shook his mane as Madoc approached him, and stamped his hooves on the frozen ground. ‘Anxious to be off, are you, boy?’ Madoc crooned to him, rubbing the pony’s nose with his gloved hand. Nettle nudged the Hobbit in the back, wanting his due, and was rewarded with a few moment of scratching to the area between his ears.

Walking around to the back of the big hay wagon, he hopped up, pulling Gorbadic up after him. ‘Let’s get these packs stowed here, along the sides,’ he directed his cousin. ‘And those thick quilts that the villagers have lent us – pile them to that side. People can use them when they climb on the wagon for a rest.’ Gorbadic bent to the task while Madoc busied himself securing some things he had gotten at the Heathertoes’ place beneath the seat. A small stack of pitchy brands rolled up in canvas were shoved under the left side, and a bundle of long oak staves tied together with twine were secured along the right side of the wagon, their sharpened heads safely under the overhang of the wagon’s seat.

Madoc had brought a wooden chest from his cellar, and into it the Hobbits put the dried meats and fruits and vegetables they had been able to glean from their pantries, and the generous gifts of what food they could spare from the villagers. The chest fit nicely under the bed of the wagon, in a shelf there built to hold the food chest for the haying crew.

The Hobbits were all assembled now. Merimac being the last one to come running up the road. The day was clearing a bit, the snow had stopped and the morning sun shown a little brighter in the wintry sky. ‘Now there’s a good sign,’ said Gorby to his cousin. ‘If only the weather will hold til we get to Bywater.’

‘Bywater!’ said Madoc, a certain gleam in his eye. It was not often he traveled north, but when his business took him there he liked to stop in at the Green Dragon. ‘So we’re going north then,’ he said, turning to Tom, who stood near him. ‘I was afraid you would want to go across the Green Hill country. Too dangerous by half these days! The wolves there are as starved as we Hobbits. It will be safer passage for us to Bree along the Great East Road.’

Madoc climbed back up to the wagon seat. Miz Tunnely, seated between him and Hob, smiled up at him and threw a corner of the quilt over his legs. ‘Gorby is going to push your wagon along for now, Hob, if you don’t mind,’ said Madoc, picking the reins up in his hands. ‘He’s full of energy and wants to walk.’ He lowered his voice to a whisper and leaned in closer to his two seat mates. ‘Though if you ask me, he’s sweet on Daisy Waggot.’ Hob and Estelle turned round just in time to see Gorby pull the wagon up alongside Daisy and flash her big smile.

In the still frosty air, the breath from the ponies could be seen circling up to the overhang of leaves. They stamped their feet, jingling their harness. Eager to be off, one of them whinnied. Madoc released the brake on the wagon and flicked the reins lightly against their backs.

Melody, Tom, Ivy, Cedric and Merimac walked in front of the wagon. As did Gorby with Hobb’s hand wagon, his red curls bobbing as he chatted up Daisy. The ponies kept to a slow pace as they followed the group. Madoc, his eyes, looking to the lightly forested area on either side of the small road that led north spoke low to Hob. ‘Probably not a concern, yet,’ he began, ‘but could you keep a look out for movement in the trees as we go along. You, too, Miz Tunnelly. There are other creatures looking to feed themselves, same as us.’