this time to appear in the Shire.
There were rumours of strange things happening in the world outside; and as Gandalf had not at that time appeared or sent
any message for several years, Frodo gathered all the news he could. Elves, who seldom walked in the Shire, could now be seen
passing westward through the woods in the evening, passing and not returning; but they were leaving Middle-earth and were
no longer concerned with its troubles. There were, however, dwarves on the road in unusual numbers. The ancient East–West
Road ran through the Shire to its end at the Grey Havens, and dwarves had always used it on their way to their mines in the
Blue Mountains. They were the hobbits’ chief source of news from distant parts – if they wanted any: as a rule dwarves said
little and hobbits asked no more. But now Frodo often met strange dwarves of far countries, seeking refuge in the West. They
were troubled, and some spoke in whispers of the Enemy and of the Land of Mordor.
That name the hobbits only knew in legends of the dark past, like a shadow in the background of their memories; but it was
ominous and disquieting. It seemed that the evil power in Mirkwood had been driven out by the White Council only to reappear
in greater strength in the old strongholds of Mordor. The Dark Tower had been rebuilt, it was said. From there the power was
spreading far and wide, and away far east and south there were wars and growing fear. Orcs were multiplying again in the mountains.
Trolls were abroad, no longer dull-witted, but cunning and armed with dreadful weapons. And there were murmured hints of creatures
more terrible than all these, but they had no name.
Little of all this, of course, reached the ears of ordinary hobbits. But even the deafest and most stay-at-home began to hear
queer tales; and those whose business took them to the borders saw strange things. The conversation in
The Green Dragon
at Bywater, one evening in the spring of Frodo’s fiftieth year, showed that even in the comfortable heart of the Shire rumours
had been heard, though most hobbits still laughed at them.
Sam Gamgee was sitting in one corner near the fire, and opposite him was Ted Sandyman, the miller’s son; and there were various
other rustic hobbits listening to their talk.
‘Queer things you do hear these days, to be sure,’ said Sam.
‘Ah,’ said Ted, ‘you do, if you listen. But I can hear fireside-tales and children’s stories at home, if I want to.’
‘No doubt you can,’ retorted Sam, ‘and I daresay there’s more truth in some of them than you reckon. Who invented the stories
anyway? Take dragons now.’
‘No thank ’ee,’ said Ted, ‘I won’t. I heard tell of them when I was a youngster, but there’s no call to believe in them now.
There’s only one Dragon in Bywater, and that’s Green,’ he said, getting a general laugh.
‘All right,’ said Sam, laughing with the rest. ‘But what about these Tree-men, these giants, as you might call them? They
do say that one bigger than a tree was seen up away beyond the North Moors not long back.’
‘Who’s
they
?’
‘My cousin Hal for one. He works for Mr. Boffin at Overhill and goes up to the Northfarthing for the hunting. He
saw
one.’
‘Says he did, perhaps. Your Hal’s always saying he’s seen things; and maybe he sees things that ain’t there.’
‘But this one was as big as an elm tree, and walking – walking seven yards to a stride, if it was an inch.’
‘Then I bet it wasn’t an inch. What he saw
was
an elm tree, as like as not.’
‘But this one was
walking
, I tell you; and there ain’t no elm tree on the North Moors.’
‘Then Hal can’t have seen one,’ said Ted. There was some laughing and clapping: the audience seemed to think that Ted had
scored a point.
‘All the same,’ said Sam, ‘you can’t deny that others besides our Halfast have seen queer folk crossing the Shire – crossing
it, mind
There were rumours of strange things happening in the world outside; and as Gandalf had not at that time appeared or sent
any message for several years, Frodo gathered all the news he could. Elves, who seldom walked in the Shire, could now be seen
passing westward through the woods in the evening, passing and not returning; but they were leaving Middle-earth and were
no longer concerned with its troubles. There were, however, dwarves on the road in unusual numbers. The ancient East–West
Road ran through the Shire to its end at the Grey Havens, and dwarves had always used it on their way to their mines in the
Blue Mountains. They were the hobbits’ chief source of news from distant parts – if they wanted any: as a rule dwarves said
little and hobbits asked no more. But now Frodo often met strange dwarves of far countries, seeking refuge in the West. They
were troubled, and some spoke in whispers of the Enemy and of the Land of Mordor.
That name the hobbits only knew in legends of the dark past, like a shadow in the background of their memories; but it was
ominous and disquieting. It seemed that the evil power in Mirkwood had been driven out by the White Council only to reappear
in greater strength in the old strongholds of Mordor. The Dark Tower had been rebuilt, it was said. From there the power was
spreading far and wide, and away far east and south there were wars and growing fear. Orcs were multiplying again in the mountains.
Trolls were abroad, no longer dull-witted, but cunning and armed with dreadful weapons. And there were murmured hints of creatures
more terrible than all these, but they had no name.
Little of all this, of course, reached the ears of ordinary hobbits. But even the deafest and most stay-at-home began to hear
queer tales; and those whose business took them to the borders saw strange things. The conversation in
The Green Dragon
at Bywater, one evening in the spring of Frodo’s fiftieth year, showed that even in the comfortable heart of the Shire rumours
had been heard, though most hobbits still laughed at them.
Sam Gamgee was sitting in one corner near the fire, and opposite him was Ted Sandyman, the miller’s son; and there were various
other rustic hobbits listening to their talk.
‘Queer things you do hear these days, to be sure,’ said Sam.
‘Ah,’ said Ted, ‘you do, if you listen. But I can hear fireside-tales and children’s stories at home, if I want to.’
‘No doubt you can,’ retorted Sam, ‘and I daresay there’s more truth in some of them than you reckon. Who invented the stories
anyway? Take dragons now.’
‘No thank ’ee,’ said Ted, ‘I won’t. I heard tell of them when I was a youngster, but there’s no call to believe in them now.
There’s only one Dragon in Bywater, and that’s Green,’ he said, getting a general laugh.
‘All right,’ said Sam, laughing with the rest. ‘But what about these Tree-men, these giants, as you might call them? They
do say that one bigger than a tree was seen up away beyond the North Moors not long back.’
‘Who’s
they
?’
‘My cousin Hal for one. He works for Mr. Boffin at Overhill and goes up to the Northfarthing for the hunting. He
saw
one.’
‘Says he did, perhaps. Your Hal’s always saying he’s seen things; and maybe he sees things that ain’t there.’
‘But this one was as big as an elm tree, and walking – walking seven yards to a stride, if it was an inch.’
‘Then I bet it wasn’t an inch. What he saw
was
an elm tree, as like as not.’
‘But this one was
walking
, I tell you; and there ain’t no elm tree on the North Moors.’
‘Then Hal can’t have seen one,’ said Ted. There was some laughing and clapping: the audience seemed to think that Ted had
scored a point.
‘All the same,’ said Sam, ‘you can’t deny that others besides our Halfast have seen queer folk crossing the Shire – crossing
it, mind
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