The Lord of the Rings

more. There is a real king now, and he will soon put the roads in order.’
    ‘Thank you, my dear fellow!’ said Bilbo. ‘That really is a very great relief to my mind.’ And with that he fell asleep again.
    The next day Gandalf and the hobbits took leave of Bilbo in his room, for it was cold out of doors; and then they said farewell to Elrond and all his household.
    As Frodo stood upon the threshold, Elrond wished him a fair journey, and blessed him, and he said:
    ‘I think, Frodo, that maybe you will not need to come back, unless you come very soon. For about this time of the year, when the leaves are gold before they fall, look for Bilbo in the woods of the Shire. I shall be with him.’
    These words no one else heard, and Frodo kept them to himself.

HOMEWARD BOUND
     
    At last the hobbits had their faces turned towards home. They were eager now to see the Shire again; but at first they rode only slowly, for Frodo had been ill at ease. When they came to the Ford of Bruinen, he had halted, and seemed loth to ride into the stream; and they noted that for a while his eyes appeared not to see them or things about him. All that day he was silent. It was the sixth of October.
    ‘Are you in pain, Frodo?’ said Gandalf quietly as he rode by Frodo’s side.
    ‘Well, yes I am,’ said Frodo. ‘It is my shoulder. The wound aches, and the memory of darkness is heavy on me. It was a year ago today.’
    ‘Alas! there are some wounds that cannot be wholly cured,’ said Gandalf.
    ‘I fear it may be so with mine,’ said Frodo. ‘There is no real going back. Though I may come to the Shire, it will not seem the same; for I shall not be the same. I am wounded with knife, sting, and tooth, and a long burden. Where shall I find rest?’
    Gandalf did not answer.
    By the end of the next day the pain and unease had passed, and Frodo was merry again, as merry as if he did not remember the blackness of the day before. After that the journey went well, and the days went quickly by; for they rode at leisure, and often they lingered in the fair woodlands where the leaves were red and yellow in the autumn sun. At length they came to Weathertop; and it was then drawing towards evening and the shadow of the hill lay dark on the road. Then Frodo begged them to hasten, and he would not look towards the hill, but rode through its shadow with head bowed and cloak drawn close about him. That night the weather changed, and a wind came from the West laden with rain, and it blew loud and chill, and the yellow leaves whirled like birds in the air. When they came to the Chetwood already the boughs were almost bare, and a great curtain of rain veiled Bree-hill from their sight.
    So it was that near the end of a wild and wet evening in the last days of October the five travellers rode up the climbing road and came to the South-gate of Bree. It was locked fast; and the rain blew in their faces, and in the darkening sky low clouds went hurrying by, and their hearts sank a little, for they had expected more welcome.
    When they had called many times, at last the Gate-keeper came out, and they saw that he carried a great cudgel. He looked at them with fear and suspicion; but when he saw that Gandalf was there, and that his companions were hobbits, in spite of their strange gear, then he brightened and wished them welcome.
    ‘Come in!’ he said, unlocking the gate. ‘We won’t stay for news out here in the cold and the wet, a ruffianly evening. But old Barley will no doubt give you a welcome at
The Pony
, and there you’ll hear all there is to hear.’
    ‘And there you’ll hear later all that we say, and more,’ laughed Gandalf. ‘How is Harry?’
    The Gate-keeper scowled. ‘Gone,’ he said. ‘But you’d best ask Barliman. Good evening!’
    ‘Good evening to you!’ they said, and passed through; and then they noticed that behind the hedge at the road-side a long low hut had been built, and a number of men had come out and were staring at them over the fence. When they came to Bill Ferny’s house they saw that the hedge there was tattered and unkempt, and the windows were all boarded up.
    ‘Do you think you killed him with that apple, Sam?’ said Pippin.
    ‘I’m not so hopeful, Mr. Pippin,’ said Sam. ‘But I’d like to know what became of that poor pony. He’s been on my mind many a time, and the wolves howling and all.’
    At last they came to
The Prancing Pony
, and that at least looked outwardly unchanged; and there were