as well set out for the Moon. Strider sat silent for a while, looking at the hobbits, as if he was weighing up their strength and courage.
‘Ponies would not help us to escape horsemen,’ he said at last, thoughtfully, as if he guessed what Frodo had in mind. ‘We should not go much slower on foot, not on the roads that I mean to take. I was going to walk in any case. It is the food and stores that trouble me. We cannot count on getting anything to eat between here and Rivendell, except what we take with us; and we ought to take plenty to spare; for we may be delayed, or forced to go round-about, far out of the direct way. How much are you prepared to carry on your backs?’
‘As much as we must,’ said Pippin with a sinking heart, but trying to show that he was tougher than he looked (or felt).
‘I can carry enough for two,’ said Sam defiantly.
‘Can’t anything be done, Mr. Butterbur?’ asked Frodo. ‘Can’t we get a couple of ponies in the village, or even one just for the baggage? I don’t suppose we could hire them, but we might be able to buy them,’ he added, doubtfully, wondering if he could afford it.
‘I doubt it,’ said the landlord unhappily. ‘The two or three riding-ponies that there were in Bree were stabled in my yard, and they’re gone. As for other animals, horses or ponies for draught or what not, there are very few of them in Bree, and they won’t be for sale. But I’ll do what I can. I’ll rout out Bob and send him round as soon as may be.’
‘Yes,’ said Strider reluctantly, ‘you had better do that. I am afraid we shall have to try to get one pony at least. But so ends all hope of starting early, and slipping away quietly! We might as well have blown a horn to announce our departure. That was part of their plan, no doubt.’
‘There is one crumb of comfort,’ said Merry, ‘and more than a crumb, I hope: we can have breakfast while we wait – and sit down to it. Let’s get hold of Nob!’
In the end there was more than three hours’ delay. Bob came back with the report that no horse or pony was to be got for love or money in the neighbourhood – except one: Bill Ferny had one that he might possibly sell. ‘A poor old half-starved creature it is,’ said Bob; ‘but he won’t part with it for less than thrice its worth, seeing how you’re placed, not if I knows Bill Ferny.’
‘Bill Ferny?’ said Frodo. ‘Isn’t there some trick? Wouldn’t the beast bolt back to him with all our stuff, or help in tracking us, or something?’
‘I wonder,’ said Strider. ‘But I cannot imagine any animal running home to him, once it got away. I fancy this is only an afterthought of kind Master Ferny’s: just a way of increasing his profits from the affair. The chief danger is that the poor beast is probably at death’s door. But there does not seem any choice. What does he want for it?’
Bill Ferny’s price was twelve silver pennies; and that was indeed at least three times the pony’s value in those parts. It proved to be a bony, underfed, and dispirited animal; but it did not look like dying just yet. Mr. Butterbur paid for it himself, and offered Merry another eighteen pence as some compensation for the lost animals. He was an honest man, and well-off as things were reckoned in Bree; but thirty silver pennies was a sore blow to him, and being cheated by Bill Ferny made it harder to bear.
As a matter of fact he came out on the right side in the end. It turned out later that only one horse had been actually stolen. The others had been driven off, or had bolted in terror, and were found wandering in different corners of the Bree-land. Merry’s ponies had escaped altogether, and eventually (having a good deal of sense) they made their way to the Downs in search of Fatty Lumpkin. So they came under the care of Tom Bombadil for a while, and were well-off. But when news of the events at Bree came to Tom’s ears, he sent them to Mr. Butterbur, who thus got five good beasts at a very fair price. They had to work harder in Bree, but Bob treated them