The Return of the Shadow. Christopher Tolkien

giddy. There are some houses that have three stages, bedrooms above bedrooms. I slept in one once long ago on a holiday; the wind kept me awake all night.’

      ‘What a nuisance, if you want a handkerchief or something when you are downstairs, and find it is upstairs,’ said Odo.

      ‘You could keep handkerchiefs downstairs, if you wished,’ said Frodo.

      ‘You could, but I don’t believe anybody does.’

      ‘That is not the houses’ fault,’ said Bingo; ‘it is just the silliness of the hobbits that live in them. The old tales tell that the Wise Elves used to build tall towers; and only went up their long stairs when they wished to sing or look out of the windows at the sky, or even perhaps the sea. They kept everything downstairs, or in deep halls dug beneath the feet of the towers. I have always fancied that the idea of building came largely from the Elves, though we use it very differently. There used to be three elftowers standing in the land away west beyond the edge of the Shire. I saw them once. They shone white in the Moon. The tallest was furthest away, standing alone on a hill. It was told that you could see the sea from the top of that tower; but I don’t believe any hobbit has ever climbed it.⁷ If ever I live in a house, I shall keep everything I want downstairs, and only go up when I don’t want anything; or perhaps I shall have a cold supper upstairs in the dark on a starry night.’

      ‘And have to carry plates and things downstairs, if you don’t fall all the way down,’ laughed Odo.

      ‘No!’ said Bingo. ‘I shall have wooden plates and bowls, and throw them out of the window. There will be thick grass all round my house.’

      ‘But you would still have to carry your supper upstairs,’ said Odo.

      ‘O well then, perhaps I should not have supper upstairs,’ said Bingo. ‘It was only just an idea. I don’t suppose I shall ever live in a house. As far as I can see, I am going to be just a wandering beggar.’

      This very hobbit-like conversation went on for some time. It shows that the three were beginning to feel quite comfortable again, as they got back into tame and familiar country. But even invisible sniffs could not damp for long the spirits of these excellent and peculiarly adventurous hobbits, not in any kind of country.

      While they talked they plodded steadily on. It was already late afternoon when they saw the roof of a house peeping out of a clump of trees ahead and to their left.

      ‘There is Farmer Maggot’s!’ said Frodo.

      ‘I think we will go round it,’ said Bingo, ‘and strike the lane on the far side of the house. I am supposed to have vanished, and I would rather not be seen sneaking off in the direction of Buckland, even by good Farmer Maggot.’

      They went on, leaving the farmhouse away on their left, hidden in the trees several fields away. Suddenly a small dog came through a gap in a hedge, and ran barking towards them.

      ‘Here! Here! Gip! Gip!’ said a voice. Bingo slipped on his ring. There was no chance for the others to hide. Over the top of the low hedge appeared a large round hobbit-face.

      ‘Hullo! Hullo! And who may you be, and what may you be doing?’ he asked.

      ‘Good evening, Farmer Maggot!’ said Frodo. ‘Just a couple of Tooks, from away back yonder; and doing no harm, I hope.’

      ‘Well now, let me see – you’ll be Mr Frodo Took, Mr Folco Took’s son, if I’m not mistook (and I seldom am: I’ve a rare memory for faces). You used to stay with young Mr Marmaduke. Any friend of Mr Marmaduke Brandybuck is welcome. You’ll excuse my speaking sharp, before I recognized you. We get some strange folk in these parts at times. Too near the river,’ he said, jerking back his head. ‘There’s been a very funny customer round here only an hour back. That’s why I’m out with the dog.’

      ‘What kind of a customer?’ asked Frodo.

      ‘A funny customer and asking funny questions,’ said Farmer Maggot, shaking his head. ‘Come along to my house and have a drink and we’ll pass the news more comfortably like, if you and your friend are willing, Mr Took.’

      It seemed plain that Farmer Maggot would only pass the news in his own time and place, and they guessed that it might be interesting; so Frodo and Odo went along with him. The dog remained behind jumping and frisking round Bingo to his annoyance.

      ‘What’s come to the dog?’ said the farmer, looking back. ‘Here, Gip! Heel!’ he called. To Bingo’s relief the dog obeyed, though it turned back once and barked.

      ‘What’s the matter with you?’ growled Farmer Maggot. ‘There seems to be something queer abroad this day. Gip went near off his head when that stranger came along, and now you’d think he could see or smell something that ain’t there.’

      They went into the farmer’s kitchen and sat by the wide fireplace. Mrs Maggot brought them beer in large earthenware mugs. It was a good brew, and Odo found himself wishing that they were going to stay the night in the house.

      ‘I hear there have been fine goings on up Hobbiton way,’ said Farmer Maggot. ‘Fireworks and all; and this Mr Bolger-Baggins disappearing, and giving everything away. Oddest thing I have heard tell of in my time. I suppose it all comes of living with that Mr Bilbo Baggins. My mother used to tell me queer tales of him, when I was a boy: not but what he seemed a very nice gentleman. I have seen him wandering down this way many a time when I was a lad, and that Mr Bingo with him. Now we take an interest in him in these parts, seeing as he belongs here, being half Brandybuck, as you might say. We never thought any good would come of his going away to Hobbiton, and folk are a bit queer back there, if you’ll pardon me. I was forgetting you come from those parts.’

      ‘O, folk are queer enough in Hobbiton – and Tookland,’ said Frodo. ‘We don’t mind. But we know, I mean knew, Mr Bingo very well. I don’t think any harm’s come to him. It really was a very marvellous party, and I can’t see that anyone has anything to complain of.’ He gave the farmer a full and amusing account of the proceedings, which pleased him mightily. He stamped his feet and slapped his legs, and called for more beer; and made them tell his wife most of the tale over again, especially about the fireworks. Neither of the Maggots had ever seen fireworks.

      ‘It must be a sight to do your eyes good,’ said the farmer.

      ‘No dragons for me!’ said Mrs Maggot, ‘But I would have liked to have been at that supper. Let’s hope old Mr Rory Brandybuck will take the idea and give a party down in these parts for his next birthday. – And what did you say has become of Mr Bolger-Baggins?’ she said, turning to Frodo.

      ‘Well – er, well, he’s vanished, don’t you know,’ said Frodo. He half thought he heard the ghost of a chuckle somewhere not far from his ear, but he was not sure.

      ‘There now – that reminds me!’ said Farmer Maggot. ‘What do you think that funny customer said?’

      ‘What?’ said Odo and Frodo together.

      ‘Well, he comes riding in at the gate and up to the door on a big black horse; all black he was himself too, and cloaked and hooded up as if he didn’t want to be known. “Good Heavens!” I said to myself. “Here’s one of the Big People! Now what in the Shire can he want?” We don’t see many of the Big People down here, though they come over the River at times; but I’ve never heard tell of any like this black chap. “Good day to you,” I says. “This lane don’t go no further, and wherever you be going your quickest way will be back to the road.” I did not like the look of him, and when Gip came out he took one sniff and let out a howl as if he had been bitten; he put down his tail and bolted howling all the way.

      ‘“I come from over yonder,” he answered stiff and slow like, pointing back West, over my fields, Woodhall-way. “Have you ever seen Mist-er Bolg-er Bagg-ins?” he asked in a queer voice and bent down towards me, but I could see no face, his hood fell so low. I had a sort of shiver down my back; but I didn’t see why he should come riding so bold over my land. “Be off!” I said. “Mr Bolger-Baggins