IN THE SHIRE-RECKONING by Diane Finnis-Robb  

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Part One; Chapter Three "The Boldbuck"

   Gondo Bucklestrap came back east along the Great Road and crossed the Greenway, returning to the Bree-land from his new home in the Shire. He did not know the day nor the month, for he had quite lost count of such things out in the wilderness, but he believed it might be close to Mid-summer. As the stars were bright and the moon full in the east he could glimpse the silhouette of the old Clock-tower ahead just above the trees. Never, at any time which he could remember, had he been so happy to see it and the Bree-land so close before him.

   He had worked hard in the new land and lived there in the most spare way that he, or any other Bree-land hobbit, might imagine. Fortunately Gondo had some small skills as a hunter, so there was never any fear of starvation in such a plentiful countryside, but he also had lived many, many days without shelter or other provisions. It had been early springtime when he arrived in the new land and the nights were still very cool. The rivers and streams were full of clear running waters and he made his first camp in the fields and woods north of the Stonebows bridge, hunting in the early mornings, gathering wood for his fire in the afternoons and smoking or curing meats in the evening to store and carry on his long road ahead. Gondo had visited this land before of course, and from that earlier expedition a destination and an ambition was set firmly in his young mind; he would go south and west of the Far-Stone to the green hill country that he and his fellow explorers Marcho and Blanco had discovered on their last journey. There, about twenty-five leagues or more from where he was first camped, Gondo hoped to begin the excavation of his home, the first hole for hobbits in their new land.

   By the third week since leaving Twoody behind he came once more into the hills and valleys that he sought. He had lost his way at first, turning too far west after leaving the Road at the Far-Stone and walking into a low wooded area which gave him little view of the land all around. He wandered there for many lost hours but, eventually, he came to a clear spot and could see the green hills rolling away to the south. In this misguided way he had come upon that area from the northwest and been present to watch the way the setting sun fell upon the land and cast cool shadows in the little valleys. Coming to it unexpectedly as he did, Gondo found for himself a perfect spot; a tall knob of a hill that was the first in a chain with six smaller neighbours, its steepest side facing west like a mother bear shielding its young from the setting of the Sun. The hill was wide and sparsely wooded and Gondo knew that there would be cool breezes there in the mornings and warm light at the end of the day. There on the northern side of that tallest hill he dug the beginnings of his great home Sarehole1 believing he would one day make a family large enough to claim all the little hills around it.

   But he soon discovered that it was hard work building a home by yourself in an empty land. Gondo had only a small knowledge of how such work should be done and quickly became aware that it was quite impossible for one lonely little hobbit to accomplish much without proper tools and the help of workers more skilled than himself. Within the first week of digging he knew that he must return to the Bree-land and ask for help. But he had made the start, chosen his own destiny, and that was an important thing in the mind of young Gondo Bucklestrap.

   But he did not return right away, of course, for Gondo’s mind, as ever, was turned to exploration. He remained for many more weeks carefully charting the land around him. He found what he believed to be a system of small streams and followed them to a spot in a nearby valley perfect for the digging of a well. Spreading out from there he found pathways to nearby clearings and places which he thought might be useful for farming. More than once Gondo regretted not taking Twoody’s advice about bringing a pen and some paper for proper map-making but, lacking it, he did his best to gain all the knowledge he could of the surrounding area and commit it to his memory. But in the quiet nights spent in his cozy new (still uncovered and quite shallow) hole Gondo wondered how many hobbits would find any of his information useful or interesting.

   When he had crossed the Greenway on his return and took notice of the Clock-tower, and the border of the Bree-land which it represents, he was no more than eight hundred paces away from the Hedge.2

   ‘This will be the last time I come to my old home,’ Gondo had thought to himself, making yet another great decision for his life by following the very loud immediacy of his own heart. ‘I will never again come east of the Greenway.’

   It was not quite Mid-summer yet on that evening and Gondo had been somewhat exaggerated in his estimate of the time he spent in the new land. He was close in his estimation, for it was indeed the month which we now call June and, though he had quite forgotten it amongst his other concerns, he had also missed his own twenty-fifth birthday while working in the new lands (it had happened some two months earlier). Indeed, much had escaped Gondo’s notice while he was away. Twoody had been home now for many, many weeks of course and, with the help of their friend Alaura, the word of the King’s Agreement had spread to hobbits throughout the Northlands. Gondo knew none of this while he was away of course and so, standing there before the Hedge, he was therefore prepared for none of what he would discover; he simply wanted to come home for one last time to see Twoody and Alaura and, reunited, lay their plans for the future. He had decided that his head, if not all of his heart, was already thoroughly settled into the new lands. He would purchase whatever tools or supplies he could afford and return to his new home in the green hills. If he could convince others to join him then all the better. But he would certainly, and without argument, leave again as soon as he was able.

   Gondo was tired from his long two days spent walking and, after a small mishap in the digging of the new well, he was also a bit lame on his left leg. The pain of each day’s walk did not trouble him nearly as much as did his misjudgment of the time it had taken him to travel; for he had set out from the bridge before dawn the morning before hoping to make it home by supper, but it was now coming on to middle of the next night.3 ‘They say that “going home is always the slower trip,”’ Gondo thought to himself. ‘“Whether because you can’t wait to get there or because you’ve no desire to go at all.”’

   As Gondo drew closer to the town he could now see the Hedge-gate standing between himself and the Clock-tower. It was high summer, so the Hedge itself was lush, tall and thick, but it was also a time of peace and so no guard stood near to its gate. He entered without anyone’s notice, yet saw tremendous changes as he did.

   There was a good-sized stable just up the Road from the Clock-tower and next to Twoody’s father’s inn. Gondo had worked there in his younger years, but it was now owned by Twoody’s brother Childy and seemed to have been given great importance in Gondo’s absence and some additional building had been done there. It was now large enough to hold stalls for twenty ponies or even full-sized horses, and that is certainly a very good-sized stable for any small town like the Bree-land. He could see it from a distance, though he did not go there to investigate the building further. From the Clock-tower to those stables, the whole Road was now the home of hobbled ponies, carts, wains, barrows, carriages, trolleys and sledges. There were barrels and backpacks and crates and rolls of tarp and all matter of goods which seemed ready to be loaded; as if some great caravan had chosen to stop here in the Bree-land at the sign of the inn. Nearby he could see some small tents with cookfires. Some younger hobbits moved among the groups huddled there, keeping watch and calming the ponies, but each of them seemed much too busy to notice Gondo or remark, if any recognized him, on his triumphant return. From up the Road toward the stable he could hear the loud noises of animals; the bleating of sheep and the clucking of chickens, the snorting and snuffling of pigs accompanied by the caw-caw-cuckling of roosters. He had never seen such a bustle in the Bree-land before; this western area just inside the Hedge-gate had become a restless mass of packages, people, carts and livestock all on the ready to go. Gondo avoided the eyes of the young hobbits along the street as he moved forward and went directly into Twoody’s father’s place of business, the much loved home of his youth, the Inn of the Four Greenfields.

   But when he came through the door he found no one there to meet him. He could hear a great noise from the commonroom and, tired as he was, Gondo knew that he must go there and see to the commotion before finding a bed.

   Although he had grown up working for Twoody’s father here at the inn and the stables, Gondo had never, in all his younger days, seen such a crowd as he did on that June night. All the seats at all of the tables were filled and, with so many other folk standing about, he could hardly edge his way into the room. The very first thing which he noticed was how many hobbits were present. Now hobbits do like their time in a publichouse and that in itself should come as no surprise. In former days this old inn had catered more to the Big Folk of course and so, even after Twoody’s own hobbit father bought the place, Big Folk were generally found here in the greater number. But there were none of the Big Folk present that night from what Gondo could see. The room was instead filled with excited and energetic hobbits of many various ages and social stations, most of which Gondo did not know nor recognize. They clustered in groups; some small as two and some large as a dozen. They spoke in conspiratorial whispers and, more often, in friendly shouts. They drank from tankards so large as to require two hands; as if their boisterous manner might be matched by the size of their mugware. And the one thing that Gondo could hear in all of their conversations (while trying very hard to not be perceived as listening) was the word “Shire.”

   It is of course worth noting that Gondolpho Bucklestrap, later called “townfather of the Shire”, had never heard this word before. This was Alaura’s word and, following her lead, Twoody’s word for the hobbits’ future home which would come to spread far and wide amongst the hobbits of the North. It had been established while Gondo was away and, at first and upon hearing it from these other and somewhat foreign hobbits, Gondo did not quite know what it meant. But “Scyr” or “Shire” was the word on every hobbits’ lips; it had gone forward to the areas around the Bree-land through Alaura’s writing and became the only word for the new land familiar to all. But at first, on the night of his return, Gondo could not quite understand just what they were all talking about.

   Finding a corner for himself, he caught the eye of some new and very young serving hobbit and ordered for himself a mug of Breeland ale. Unrecognized, Gondo sat in the back of the room trying to understand who all of these new and formerly unknown hobbits were and just what was going on.

   ‘Are we off tomorrow, then? I cannot abide this waiting.’

   ‘Might be we could, but to where after, I wonder? The Road leads to the Bridge, we know, but I’d like to know where I’m to set my best stakes beyond that.’

   ‘There’s fields for farming just beyond the Bridge, they say, and I’d like to find my place there before it crowds up. But, by the stars, I’d go now if there was anyone going alongside me who knew the way.’

   ‘Oh, we’re all for a-going, each and everyone here. But who’s to lead us, I wonder?’

   ‘Them brothers Marcho and Blanco might, but I don’t know any that’s been able to coax them out of their little house north of the Hill. They’re bold enough when there’s talk and ale to be had, but less than interested now that we, any of us, decide to move.’

   ‘Oh, those two are more happy to be lauded than they are proven to be useful, if you ask any who know them. We need a true guide to move us forward. What about that Fastalk fellow we’ve heard of?’

   ‘Swiftalk it is, but I hear some tell he’s not been to the land himself.’

   ‘Well, that’s no help, is it? And better maps, I might ask for. I’d like a spot near that little lake, for it sounds lovely and comfortable. But “how far and where to go?” I can’t say, for it seems that there is no map to tell me.’

   Gondo sat for a time listening to their needs with increasing hope that no one would recognize him. He was dirty from the Road and a good deal slimmer from his labours and also quite shabbily dressed from his rough time in the wilderness. These characteristics certainly caught the eye of some of the other hobbits present but, thankfully, they did not recognize him any more than he recognized any of them. Indeed, there were very few hobbits present who might know him; for the Inn of the Four Greenfields on this night was full of the first hopeful pioneers who were waiting to go to the Shire. They had come from all over the Bree-land and some from as far away as Midgewater to the east and the far-off Grey Flood river to the south. They had seen Alaura’s pamphlet and assembled here waiting for someone to lead them into the west. But no single leader had yet arisen to take them forward into the unknown lands.

   Gondo sipped at his mug slowly and after a time convinced himself that the dirt on his face and the state of his clothing had placed him well and comfortably beyond detection. Finishing his ale, he started to look for an easy and immediate exit. He would go around the back and up the hill to the house of Twoody’s father and there, after that welcome greeting with old friends, take a long needed rest. He would see Alaura tomorrow, or perhaps the next day, and therefore be able to avoid all of these needy and unknown hobbits. He might even escape town without Twoody throwing some wretched party in his honor and, hopefully, get back to the serious business of building his new home.

   ‘Well! How dare you, you wooly-headed, road-dusted, and disgraceful truant!’ a loud voice called standing next to Gondo. ‘You, of all hobbits in all of the North, come again into my establishment and dare to order my ale with not so much as a simple “hello, fellow,” a kindly “well met,” an embarrassed “it's been awhile,” or even a gracious “by your leave, sir!”’

   The hand of the older, shorter yet somehow very frightening hobbit came quickly down and grabbed Gondo’s ear harshly. ‘You will come with me, you grub-headed, dirty-footed slowcoach!’ the old hobbit said, drawing Gondo from his chair. ‘My commonroom is a place for people with better manners than you have ever learned, you shiftless and wayward rover. I might need to teach you some of those niceties with a stick before this night is over, you mud-soaked, rook-toed, sand-digging delinquent!’

   And with that level of showmanship Twoody’s father Hincmar Swiftwalk pulled Gondo out of the commonroom of his inn and to a more comfortable meeting place just down the hall.

 

*****

 

   Hincmar Swiftwalk, great enterpriser of the family line, bought the Inn of the Four Greenfields in 1554 of the Third Age and had done a good steady business there right from the start. His foresightedness in turning it into a publichouse which catered to both the Big Folk (the Men of Bree) and the Little Folk (as Hobbits were sometimes called) had created an environment of tolerance and friendliness among the two Peoples that was unlike any other found in all of Middle-earth. This practice of acceptance for a more diverse clientele, whatever their origins, set the inn and the Bree-land apart from any other settlement in all of Middle-earth and carried over into the future of the town and the land which surrounds it even today. Hincmar himself was, from a very young age, considered by most of his neighbors to be the shrewdest businessman in town but also, and rather paradoxically, he was thought of as one of the most well-liked hobbits under the Hill. For Hincmar had a bright smile and an infectious laugh, he knew the names and families of an almost inexhaustible list of his neighbours and clients, and he was famously quick with a story and had a strong voice for singing. There was not a more well-liked hobbit in all the Bree-land, loans or creditslips notwithstanding, than old Hincmar Swiftwalk. But he was also, as tales tell us, hard as nails at a bargain, had a sharp eye for a new opportunity and was a keen (but kind) judge of character. It was said that Hincmar could “tell the money in a strange hobbit’s purse by the look of their toenails” and, as Gondo, Twoody and Alaura all knew from experience, that old adage was not wrong.

   At the time of Gondo’s return, being well into his seventies, old Hincmar was not as regular a fixture in the commonroom of the Four Greenfields as he had once been. Even before Gondo and Twoody left for Norbury most of the inn’s daily operations had been taken over by Hincmar’s elder two sons, Hartnid and Childebrand. Gondo had not seen Hincmar enter or approach his quiet sitting place in the back of the commonroom and was then taken quite by surprise by the friendly old hobbit and his rough speech. Now he found himself being dragged down the hall to the north wing4 of the inn before he could manage to blurt out a word.

   ‘Master Hincmar, please-’ before he could finish a sentence Gondo felt the old hobbit’s still quite strong hands release his ear and his arms engulf him in a hug.

   ‘So you’ve returned to us,’ the old hobbit said quietly in the outer hall, with a broad smile and a carefully contained laugh. ‘Dusty from the Road, lean for want of proper eating and tangle-haired from lack of care! But, ho! You’ve returned just as Twoody said you would!

   ‘Come, my boy,’ Hincmar continued, ‘let’s get you into a safe corner away from all these strangers and their ridiculous questions.’

   The north wing of the inn had been built for hobbit travelers and had ten very pleasant rooms, five to either side of the long hallway, with nice round windows built low to the ground as hobbits like. There was a little parlor midway down the hall, built full-sized and therefore quite roomy, in which hobbits might entertain any of the Big Folk or hold private meetings of their own. Thankfully that room was empty when Twoody’s father ushered Gondo through the tall door. A lantern was already lit there and a half-filled mug of ale was left beside an empty serving tray. There was also an inkwell and a few sheets of paper sitting nearby on a small desk; the room had very recently been in use.

   ‘This wing is full, of course,’ Hincmar told him as they came into the room. ‘As is the whole of the inn. Filled entirely with hobbits! A most unexpected condition! Why, there is such a demand that some of them are even sleeping in the upstairs bedrooms! I’ve seen some of them Midgewater Marsh-hobbits warily climb the stairs at night as if each step brought them into greater and more desperate peril! Ha!

   ‘Here, let me just...’ the old hobbit said, looking in a nearby pantry with grave concern on his face. ‘Ahah! “Old habits become good guidelines,”’ he stated with assuredness, pulling a mug from the pantry and holding it aloft for Gondo to see. ‘I always used to keep some spare mugs about in the sitting rooms for unexpected guests. It seems that my boys, running the inn as they will, have been keeping up on the practice. Good, good!’

    He inspected the clay mug with a sharp eye, wiped it thoroughly with the edge of his waistcoat, and then went to the sideboard and poured some ale into the mug from a small cask which stood in waiting. Once filled to the brim he offered the mug to Gondo. ‘Sit, sit!’ Hincmar said, talking up the half-filled mug on the writing desk and dropping into the chair behind it. ‘Sit and talk with me and then we’ll see to getting you a bath and some proper supper. We have some hours left before middle-night and time enough to talk freely. You were right to not reveal yourself in the commonroom, Gondo, my boy, and, if you ask me, it was fortunate that I found you before anyone else did. Ho! What those folk would do to hear from a true explorer, a daring rover of the Shire!’

   ‘It is wonderful to see you again, sir,’ Gondo replied, smiling broadly and gratefully lifting his mug of ale. ‘But just who are all these hobbits? The inn is filled with them just as you say, but I don’t recognize a one of any. From as far off as the Marshes, did you say?’

   ‘Oh, yes, my boy,’ Hincmar said, ‘and further still. There’s folks out there who come up from as far as the Greyflood hoping to get more first-hand news of the Shire. And as it stands right now there’s only those two laze-abouts Marcho and Blanco, and yourself of course, who might give it to them. Yes, it's good that no one but myself recognized you, Gondo. Otherwise and you would be drowned in silly questions and offers of employment as pathfinder by now.’

   Gondo was quick enough to understand then that the word “Shire” must be some strange turning of the name which the King had used and that somehow hobbits from all over the northlands had heard of the King’s Agreement and come to claim it for their own. Just how this had happened so quickly however, he could not imagine, for he had not heard of Alaura’s proclamation and its distribution throughout the north. Still, as he reflected on the sound of the word, “Shire”, it felt like a very appropriate and very gracious name for the new land.

   For the past months Gondo had been alone in that open land. He knew that he had not yet seen but a small portion of what the king had granted to them and often, in his solitude, he despaired that there might never be enough hobbits to build a community in such a vast and wide country as the King’s Agreement had allowed. Hobbits are very productive workers when put to it of course, but in these past weeks Gondo, alone and without the support of friends, had gained some practical idea of just how much work needed to be done to dig a well and build a home. If the truth was to be asked of him as he walked the lonely Road east back to the Bree-land that day, Gondo would admit to doubting his earlier ambitiousness; but all these new and unfamiliar hobbits changed matters.

   ‘You mean to say that all these hobbit-folk are here to settle in the new land, sir? To go and settle it in their own way?’ Gondo asked, a new energy coming to him suddenly.

   ‘To be sure,’ Hincmar said with another smile. Any who knew him well, and Gondo no less so than others, knew also that gentle light of entrepreneurial insight which came often into the old hobbit’s eyes. And, no less observant a hobbit himself, old Hincmar could see that the mind of the youngster he had raised was also now churning with possibilities. ‘Gondo, my boy, there might be as many as five hundred hobbits between here and Staddle ready to take on the job which you, Alaura and my Twoody have put to them. They want to go west to establish this Shire of yours. But they are simply lacking in a person with the abilities to show them how. Why, Childy, Twoody’s older brother has already left behind his responsibilities at the inn to begin the business of provisioning these settlers. Ah! Would that I was young enough to join you all in this venture!’

   Tired as he was, Gondolpho Bucklestrap would come to lead a party of over two hundred hobbits out of the Bree-land late the next morning. This party, quite unexpected in his return to the Bree-land, happened largely through the involvement of Twoody’s good-natured and far-seeing father.

 

*****

 

   After they had an hour’s consultation together Hincmar presented Gondo to the press of hobbits who were still gathered in the commonroom with an old showman’s delight. He introduced the young hobbit as “one of the king’s own favourites and the single-most experienced explorer of the Shire-land” also calling him “chief discoverer, skilled map-maker, bold trail-blazer and attentive surveyor. The daring rover, the dauntless buck, the bold buck, and the most tireless pioneer of that new land.”

   ‘He has toiled there alone these past ten weeks,’ Hincmar told them (with obvious pride on his round face as he turned to pat the dust out of Gondo’s clothing), ‘and comes to us tonight still dirty with the earth of the Shire in his toes and his hair! He is faster, sharper and wiser than you all, for he, alone and unaided, has been busy digging the first hobbithole in the new land!’

   There was great applause and much cheering at this introduction and it was only Hincmar’s old skills as a salesman and his respected position as host which kept any order among the crowd after such an announcement. Hincmar had wisely positioned Gondo near the largest fireplace in the room for this introduction and all of the guests now left their seats to gather around him and hear tales of the new land. Drink and food was offered (and graciously accepted) as Gondo answered question after question about the Shire and all that he had seen there.

   Twoody was called for by his father and the two friends were happily reunited in front of all the prospective pioneers. For three more hours they answered questions together about how the land should be fairly settled and the kind of cooperation which would be needed from each of them to do so. It was readily agreed that hobbits would need to count on one another’s most courteous nature and work together to build cities and roads and all the things which they dreamed of in the empty lands. All the while and despite the late hour, old Hincmar sat watching the two youngsters with a prideful smile on his face; he (if anyone) had noticed then (if not before) the obvious abilities of Twoody and Gondo which would make them such natural leaders in the years to come. Some say that after this last night at the Four Greenfields old Hincmar seldom returned to the inn again, that he left it and all of his businesses in the management of his sons and retired peacefully to his hole on the western side of Bree-hill, living out his days playing with his grandchildren and hearing tales from far away lands.

   ‘But when shall we go?’ someone asked.

   ‘Yes, all this talk of deeds and titles, records and fairness, or roads and wells and fences and such is certainly important. But when shall we see where to put them?’ someone else asked.

   ‘I’ve got pigs and chickens and children all ready and waiting here beneath the Hill for a new home,’ asked another. ‘I’d like to see where that might be before the noisiness of my own charges drives me mad from waiting. Will you go scouting again soon, Master Boldbuck?’

   'No, I will not,’ Gondo said with a great firmness which surprised all those assembled. ‘It has grown late in the evening and I have walked two full days before coming to the Hedge-gate. I was sorely tired then and wanted nothing more than to see my old friends, drink good Bree-land ale and fall asleep in a fine bed. But earlier tonight, as I came to the Crossing Stone at the Greenway, I vowed that this would be my last trip to the Bree-land. I have found my new home in the Shire and I must return there to build it; not as a scout but as a citizen.

   ‘But I had never expected to find this great assembly of hobbits who are also ready to make such a home and a future. Your ambitiousness has given me fresh energy and assured me that my choice was the right one.’

   All the hobbits in the room were quiet as Gondo spoke. Only Twoody, knowing his friend’s mercurial nature, showed any sign of concern.

   ‘No,’ Gondo said firmly, ‘no new scouting mission for me; instead I will leave in the morning, never to return to the Bree-land, and I will take as many of you with me who are ready and able for the trip.’

   There was great cheering among the hobbits as they heard this, but Gondo, still having the crowd under his control, quieted them with a gentle movement of his hands.

   ‘Dear master,’ he said to Hincmar who was seated beside them at the fireplace, ‘I thank you for all of your many years of kindness and the home that you have given me here. Bless you, sir, and should you ever join us in the new land I will be most happy to welcome you to my home as you have done for me.’

   He then turned back to the crowd and said, ‘I will not sleep here tonight but will leave in the morning with all who are ready. Leave your pigs and your wives and your chickens and your children here to wait a little longer, friends! We will need more lightly burdened walkers than heavily loaded ponies, more shovels and hammers than blankets and foodstores and more able-bodied, enterprising and fair-spirited hobbits than we will families; for whoever goes with me tomorrow will be the first in the land to establish homes and farms and even the placement of our first small towns. It will be hard work at first and we’ll miss many comforts. But we will go and we will set the way together so that others may follow. I promise you, those who come with me tomorrow will be the fathers of the Shire and I will remain there with you, as committed as a fellow father, for as long as I may.’

   Gondo looked again at Twoody and Hincmar, smiling in a way which seemed grateful but mysterious. ‘I will not return to the Bree-land, happy though I am for the time I have spent here.’ He then looked back to the mass of hobbits who seemed to await his next words. ‘The Shire is now my home. Who will build their own home there with me?’

   There was greater applause at that time than when Hincmar had first introduced him and Gondo knew, as tired as he was, that the work of building the new land was about to begin.

 

*****

 

   There are many accounts of the first migration of hobbits who left the Bree-land for the Shire on the next day. Those records tell us that there were two hundred and thirty-seven of the “pioneers”, lightly packed as Gondo had suggested, assembled and waiting under the Clock-tower just after dawn. Alaura was not present that morning, but Twoody met with each of the intrepid hobbits briefly and saw that their names were registered in a small leather bound book which she would eventually compile as “THE FIRST FAMILIES OF THE SHIRE.” To be strictly accurate this title was insufficient for the occasion itself as, also in accordance with Gondo’s instructions the night before, only the younger adult male hobbits of these families went forward to explore the new land; no wives nor sisters, oldfathers, mothers nor young children registered or went forth on that day.5

   The name and signature of Gondolpho Bucklestrap was not entered into this book for he was not present most of the morning. But a heading, written in Twoody’s own hand, declares that the expedition of the pioneers was to be led by “the Bold Buck, First Citizen for the Shire.” It seems that here is the first time in which Gondo was referred to simply as “The Buck,” a name he would continue to carry.

   Though they had not been at the Four Greenfields when Gondo gave his speech many friends of his age were present who lived in the Bree-land and, hearing the news, showed up that morning ready to go forth. Gondo and Twoody knew and liked many of them, but were skeptical about their seriousness. Perhaps they simply wished to build for themselves a life of moderate adventure which promised to offer great reward. Twoody looked at them in their casual walking clothes, their picnic-style haversacks and their silly sunhats and worried about their usefulness; it seemed to him that they were dressed more for a holiday than for hard work. But many many more there were who came from the areas east and south of the Bree-land; they were also young and hopeful, but their eyes held the desperate look of resolute people who had escaped from difficult times into an unknown and unguessable future.

Twoody did not join Gondo on the Pioneer’s Quest (as the date was later named and recorded). Some accounts say that the two friends talked long into the dawn hour together and if some attempts were made to either convince Twoody to go or Gondo to stay no one can be certain. Either way each one well knew the other’s feelings on the matter and accepted this second parting.

   ‘They will need deeds and titles and equipment in this project, Gondo,’ Twoody said. ‘My brother Childy has already set up a shop with much store of equipment and the organizing of those other things can best be managed from here rather than some shack by the Road-side.’

   ‘More the banker than the pioneer, once again,’ Gondo said, and both the friends smiled at the memory. ‘But, Twoody,’ he continued, ‘you must know that I do not intend to return to the Bree-land and wish to take my friends with me. Will you ever be convinced?’

   ‘Build me a proper little town,’ Twoody said laughing. ‘With a cozy little publichouse and a good brewery beside it. A spot for a shop would be nice, for your friends there will be needing all sorts of goods in the Shire as the next dozen years come. Yes, Gondo, that would do nicely and make even a boring old banker like myself rethink his future.’

   After being recorded and assembled, the company did not depart until nearly noon on June the 5th. Gondo had seemingly disappeared that morning and none of the new pioneers knew him well enough to guess at where he might have gone or why. If they asked Twoody or any of the other Breefolk they received no answer other than to wait and the assurance that Gondo would join them shortly.

   For Gondo Bucklestrap, “The Bold Buck,” had indeed decided that he would never return to the Bree-land.

   So, tired as he was from two days full of walking and a night full of talking, just after dawn Gondo bathed and put on fresh clothes and went up Bree-hill to settle his affairs.

end of chapter three

Chapter End Notes

Notes

1) Sarehole was the name of the small rural village four miles from the center of Birmingham where Tolkien, his mother and his brother came to live in 1895. He considered his young life there to have a great impact on his feelings about nature and, more specifically, the Shire. I wanted to use it in some capacity here, but I particularly like the idea of using it as wordplay; Sarehole becoming slang for “it’s our hole.”

2)  Most of the description of Bree (at this time called “The Bree-land”), comes from my own writing in the first book of The Fall of Arnor entitled Out of the Bree-land. The Clock-tower and the Hedge are described in greater detail there and this book is, after all, just an adjunct to that larger work.

3)  Some 225,000 words into this novel’s first draft I became alerted to miscalculations in the distances in the Shire map and, in particular, the distance from Bree to the Brandywine (or Stonebows) bridge. It seems that Tolkien had made this miscalculation himself and I had not come across the topic of it in all my other research. I would take a hobbit two days at least to travel between Bree and the Brandywine, not one as the Professor suggests at the end of LotR. Gondo makes this same mistake for me. But at this point, with the book nearly finished, I had to recalibrate all of the math and timetables of the later chapters causing a major reworking of dates and some events.

4)  In my own writings about the Bree-land the Inn of the Four Greenfields is a predecessor for the Inn of the Prancing Pony, possibly on the same location and given a lot of the same design. In FotR it is described that rooms built to accommodate hobbits were built in the north wing of the Prancing Pony and it is there that Frodo and his friends stayed. There is also a small sitting room on that end where Frodo and Strider speak at length. I imagine that this meeting of Gondo and Hincmar takes place in that same room, or one much like it, nearly 1500 years earlier.

5)  This may seem like a small point to make, but I make it to reflect upon the male-dominate world of Tolkien’s fiction; perhaps not wholly inappropriate for its time, though certainly potentially disappointing for modern readers. The world that the Professor grew up in, the experiences he had and even the tales in which he was interested all had an impact on this idea that it is men who go on dangerous adventures and women do not. This led to the silly idea that LotR is “a boy’s book” for my own generation of readers. I hope to dispel that idea here and also to create engaging characters who might interest young readers of any gender identity. But I want to indicate that it is Gondo and Twoody who very much believe in “man’s work” as appropriately in line with Tolkien’s generation; it will come back to haunt them later.

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