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Madoc nodded as Tom walked away. He planned on taking full advantage of his invitation. He knew that once they hit the road, it would be cold rations and thin soup for the most part, and some days, only hot water, or ‘white tea’, as it was called in these days of scarce rations. He looked about the room and felt almost guilty at the quantities of food that had been brought out for them. Larders, he knew, were almost bare. But the friends and neighbors who had shared what little they had, were grateful that this little group would make the journey to find supplies. And their gratitude was expressed through food and drink.
From another corner of the room there came the sound of singing. Someone had started up a song, and mugs of ale were being raised to the singer. Madoc grinned widely. If he shut out the perpetual snow that fell in a white curtain outside the windows of the room, he could almost believe that the bad times had gone away, and spring was almost round the corner.
Someone had brought seedcake, a favorite of his, and there on the table next to it was a bottle of Gaffer Greenhand’s dandelion wine. The Gaffer was sitting at the table, pouring out small tots of the strong brew and slicing the cake paper thin to stretch it out. ‘My goodwife made this, laddie,’ he said as Madoc and Cedric approached his table. He laid a thin slice of the delicious cake in their outstretched hands. ‘Last bottle of summer’s sunshine,’ he went on, pouring each of them a generous portion of the golden wine. ‘You lads are doing a brave thing, you know.’ He tapped his thin little sticks of legs with his beech-wood cane. ‘If my pins weren’t so old and used up, I’d be going with you, you know.’
The Gaffer banged his cane on the ground and looked up at them with his rheumy eyes. ‘I was there, you know, when Bullroarer laid that Orc creature low.’ He motioned them to lean in closer, as if speaking of Orcs might bring them from the shadows in the corners of the rooms. ‘Here’s my advice to you youngsters. Orcs like to single their targets out. Like the wolves, they are. They’ll try to cut you out of the herd and then take you down.’ He tapped each of them on their shoulders. You stick together; don’t panic and get separated.’ He looked round the room at the women there. ‘They’re weaker, but they can fight, too, if threatened. Put the men in a ring around them facing outward. Fire’s good to scare them away – make sure you take some pitchy brands with you. A brand in one hand and your knife in the other. Give the women sharpened staves, long ones. They can poke ‘em at the critters. Put your bowman behind you, too. They can shoot out between a pair of lads in the outer ring.’
Madoc was all ears as the Gaffer spoke, taking in each bit of advice and filing it away for future use. ‘We can pile some brands and long poles on one of the wagons we’re taking,’ he told Cedric. ‘And I wonder if any of the others going with us tomorrow can use a bow?’
Someone else had come up to the table, and the Gaffer had turned to speak with them. Madoc finished his cake and wine and went to fetch his cloak. ‘I think I’ll go back home for now,’ he said to Cedric, who had followed him to the door to say good-bye. ‘Get some rest for tomorrow. See if my sister will loan me her old bow for the journey.’ He paused and held out his hand to the other Hobbit. ‘Glad to have met you, Cedric. I’ll look for you tomorrow. Perhaps we can walk along together.’ He waved as he reached the last step off the porch. Then, adjusting his hood about his head, he headed back to his house.
Just a little time left to pack a last few things and see his mother and sister before the journey began.
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