Hobbiton was a beautiful place.
This beauty differed from any grand palace or luxurious estate. Upon verdant hillsides stood countless smials, comfortable and tranquil, while clear waters flowed gently at the slopes' base, irrigating vast fertile fields.
The sun proved most generous, its warm radiance making Hobbiton's scenery pleasant and delightful. It brought feelings of peace and comfort.
Such sensations could surely make weary travelers halt their steps, then conceive impulses to purchase land here, construct a smial, and dwell peacefully for several years.
Naturally, Aedric harbored no such impulse. His heart was set upon adventuring throughout Middle-earth, leaving many tales of his own making.
Along the roads, one encountered warm, welcoming faces everywhere, with friendly greetings arising from time to time.
"Good morning, Master Baggins! Is this a friend of yours?"
"Do come for tea later—I've just acquired a cask of the finest Old Toby. Let's see who can blow the roundest smoke rings."
Bilbo nodded to each in response, his feet never stopping as he made his way to his gardener Holman Greenhand's dwelling. There he borrowed a small boat.
Aedric entrusted the portly neighbor with "Carrot's" care, then stepped aboard and set off down the stream flowing from the Emyn Muil.
Holman gripped his fishing rod, looking up at the two figures upon the water—one tall, one short—and couldn't help asking: "Master Baggins, where d'you and this Big Folk gentleman intend to go?"
"We're off to the Barrow-downs." Bilbo called back loudly, gripping the oars tightly as he rowed with all his might. Looking back, he saw terror appear upon his gardener's face before the man dropped his fishing rod and rushed toward the village in great haste.
Aedric found a reasonably comfortable position, leaning against the bow as he pulled down his hood, wrapping his cloak tightly about himself.
"Master Baggins, I need to rest a bit. I traveled all night with Old Took yesterday."
Bilbo nodded: "No trouble at all, Master Aedric!"
He'd long noticed the weariness upon the other's face.
"Please, no ceremony—just call me Aedric, Master Baggins." Having spoken, Aedric closed his eyes, adding: "By the way, it'd be good to ask along the way whether anyone's got news of Saradoc and Christina."
After speaking, he yawned, listening to the water's splashing sounds and a "Just call me Bilbo" before drowsiness overtook him.
The elven cloak, besides concealing one's form in different environments, provided warmth against cold and protection from moisture. When rest was desired, one need only spread a blanket beneath and wrap the cloak tightly about oneself—it was superior to any sleeping bag.
It was indeed an essential item for adventurous wandering.
His weary body swayed gently with the small boat, and Aedric slept most soundly, scarcely dreaming at all.
When next he opened his eyes, the sky was azure-washed. Several white clouds drifted therein, while the sun—having released most of the day's light and heat—hung in the southwest, gradually descending toward endless Belegaer.
The riverbanks bore dense forests, and looking out, one could see small creatures darting to and fro within. Not far ahead, a stone arch bridge spanned the water.
"Bilbo, how long did I sleep? Where are we?"
Aedric looked toward his companion and guide seated opposite. Master Baggins who'd appeared quite respectable that morning, was now flushed red with exhaustion, his lips pale.
His rowing arms trembled slightly, his breathing extremely labored. Yet still he gritted his teeth, striving to row.
"It's afternoon now." Seeing Aedric awaken, he managed a smile. "You slept maybe seven or eight hours. We've just passed Brandywine Bridge—at this pace, we should reach the Old Forest by early tomorrow."
Aedric raised his brows in surprise. From Hobbiton to Brandywine Bridge must be nearly a hundred miles. To travel so far in seven or eight hours required constant rowing.
For the comfort-loving Master Baggins, this was no light task.
"Give them to me." Aedric took the oars from Bilbo's hands. He'd done enough.
Should the two children remain unrescued while this one collapsed from exhaustion, rather than helping, he'd have added to their troubles.
Bilbo sighed with relief, drawing out a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from his face.
"By the way, I questioned travelers along the way. They said yesterday they saw two children rowing a small boat downstream—their dress and appearance should be Christina and Saradoc."
These seven or eight hours he'd never once paused, and was indeed thoroughly exhausted. Yet bodily weariness wasn't a tenth of his heart's anxiety.
If his carelessly invented tale caused two children to vanish, or worse still—should they discover two cold corpses at the Barrow-downs—how could he face the grief-stricken families?
In days to come, guilt and unease would torment him nightly. No matter how comfortable Bag End's feather bed, peaceful sleep would prove elusive.
Thinking thus, Bilbo's face showed deep worry, even overlooking fear and dread. Those were the very Barrow-wights and downs that most Shire-folk spoke of with terror!
"Good." Aedric nodded. "This shows we're traveling in the right direction."
As he spoke, brown paddle blades entered the water, ripples spreading as the small boat drifted downstream at greater speed.
"It's the only good news right now." Bilbo smiled bitterly as he sat down, breathing softly to recover his strength.
Suddenly, a "gurgling" sound arose. He raised his brows and touched his stomach. It wasn't him.
Aedric smiled embarrassedly. Due to constant practice of Celorn recently, his strength and endurance had changed greatly, naturally increasing his appetite as well. That morning's small meal had long since been digested.
Gurgle
Hunger seemed contagious. This time it was Bilbo's stomach.
His breakfast had been interrupted, followed by seven or eight hours of continuous rowing. Not only had he missed lunch and afternoon tea, but teatime as well had been delayed. He too was thoroughly famished.
Both looked at each other, the atmosphere growing somewhat awkward.
"Regardless, we should eat first."
Thereupon the Hobbit, as if performing magic, drew from the boat's corner a delicate small stove under Aedric's amazed gaze. Then he produced tinder to light the charcoal within.
Cooking smoke curled upward as a frying pan appeared atop the stove. Sausages, mushrooms, and bacon entered the pan, followed by thinly sliced white bread. They sizzled upon melting butter, growing hot and crispy while appearing ever more delectable.
As garlic and other spices joined the pan, tempting aromas spread across the water.
Dusk was also gradually falling. A delicious supper filled both their bellies while drawing them much closer.
"Aedric, d'you think we can catch them in time?" Having leisure, Bilbo began worrying again.
"Trust me—we certainly can." Aedric waved dismissively, sitting with confidence. "Those children seek adventure and won't hurry their journey, while we've traveled day and night without too much delay."
Seeing Bilbo's worried expression, he comforted him: "Don't worry too much—perhaps Christina and Saradoc haven't reached the downs before we overtake them."
"Even if we fail, the Barrow-wights likely slumber. Without their master's summons, awakening proves difficult indeed."
Though Aedric spoke to comfort Bilbo, all was truth.
"The Barrow-wights have a master?" Bilbo's eyes widened.
"Certainly." Aedric narrowed his eyes as a black figure appeared in his mind.
Clad in black robes, wearing a black iron crown, with a meteor hammer in his left hand and a Morgul-blade in right, his entire being emanated a spine-chilling aura. Known as the Witch-king of Angmar! Even Gandalf the White couldn't easily defeat him.
However... the ending held dramatic irony.
He replied slowly: "That's an evil, cruel being who single-handedly destroyed Arnor's heritage and still pursues those survivors living under false names."
Seeing ever-increasing tension upon the Hobbit's face, he quickly changed tone. "Don't worry—right now he should be thousands of miles distant. We won't encounter him."
"That's good, that's good." Bilbo patted his chest with lingering fear.
Barrow-wights were troublesome enough—should they encounter their master as well... No, no...
Bilbo shook his head, casting off such negative thoughts. Looking up at the confident human face, his heart also steadied.
Next, he washed the utensils with river water, then wrapped himself in blankets and lay upon the boards. After much tossing and turning, soft snoring arose.
Aedric washed his face, then took up the oars once more to continue forward. His eyes constantly observed both riverbanks.
The nighttime forest wasn't as tranquil and peaceful as by day. Strange rustling sounds emerged from the dark depths, while trees standing riverside grew increasingly odd and eerie in form, like faces hidden in darkness, silently watching passing travelers.
Countless branches stretched densely toward the river's center. Like resentful claws harboring grievances, seeking to waylay travelers passing through.
Time flowed silently onward. Night deepened, the river current quickened, and scattered lights once visible in the distance vanished completely.
In the pitch-black night, only brilliant stars and bright moonlight guided their path forward.
Suddenly, Aedric frowned deeply, standing abruptly with a grave expression as he looked toward the eastern bank. Whether illusion or not, those branches extending to the river's center seemed to move without wind, deliberately targeting the boat's two occupants.
More precisely, targeting the sleeping Hobbit.
No illusion!
Swish
Aedric dropped the oars and drew Mithreleth. Silver radiance blazed as several twisted branches fell severed, splashing into the water. Yet more shadows struck like arrows.
"Bilbo!" Aedric danced his long sword into a brilliant curtain of light, severing the flying branches one by one while shouting loudly: "Bilbo!"
Perhaps sleeping too late and too wearily beforehand, despite the loud calls, the Hobbit merely turned over, his snoring growing even louder!
Aedric swung his arms, his sword cutting down several eerie branches reaching toward the "sleeping beauty." His foot stamped down, catching the recently discarded oar.
Using luggage as fulcrum, the oar's other end rose high before falling with a "smack," striking Bilbo Baggins squarely upon the nose!
"Oh! Heaven above!" The sleeping Hobbit clutched his nose, wailing as he sat up. Opening his eyes, he saw a tall figure wielding silver light to repel layers of shadow assaulting from the east.
What was happening?
Amidst his confusion, angry roars reached his ears: "Stop gaping! Row to the western bank—west!"
Aedric's situation was dire, rather resembling a desperate defense. Yet he and Bilbo weren't safely sheltered within, but those were standing exposed!
As the boat continued forward, great trees lining the shore constantly extended branches from darkness, covering the small boat like a hail of projectiles.
No sooner had Aedric severed one wave than another, having escaped destruction, prepared for assault. It was truly endless—impossible to cut them all.
More frustrating and difficult than any battle he'd faced!
No means of counterattack!
"Quickly!" Aedric's great shout echoed throughout the night sky, finally rousing the Hobbit from confusion and pain.
Bilbo frantically seized the oars, about to place them in water. Instantly, a phosphorescent, branch-like green lightning wound past the sword-edge, binding Bag End's Master Baggins together with the oars like trussing a pig.
Splash
The boat rocked as the branch dragged man and oar into water, seeking to pull them back to the eastern shore.
Hearing the commotion, Aedric turned to look, his face changing greatly. His right foot stepped upon the boat's edge as he leaped up. Still airborne, his arms extended to deliver a cleaving blow.
Cold Star danced, becoming a sharp sword-beam that severed the glowing branch. From the shore came an angry muffled groan, like a strong wind through dense willow branches.
Great rushing sounds arose. The riverside trees seemed to riot, countless branches moving like serpents striking together.
Aedric fell into the water with a "splash." The spring night's chill sharpened his spirits.
Then he opened his eyes. The recently fallen Hobbit had vanished without a trace.
A pale, slender figure floated before him. She wore silver-green silk robes with glittering silver threads adorning them, golden hair swirling and dancing in the water like countless bright golden ribbons.
Her faintly glowing face smiled as she nodded and waved her arms in friendly greeting.
"What?" Aedric's heart filled with amazement, thinking exhaustion had caused hallucinations.
He closed his eyes and shook his head. Upon reopening them, the beautiful figure had vanished, leaving only Bilbo Baggins struggling in water, blowing bubbles as he sank.
Nearly reaching bottom!
Aedric swam quickly with hands and feet, grasping the still-glowing branch upon approach and kicking upward toward the surface with the Hobbit in tow.
Splash—water scattered everywhere.
As if divinely aided, Aedric appeared beside the small boat with Bilbo in tow, then climbed aboard with difficulty. Simultaneously moving away from the eastern shore, those clawing branches could only dance helplessly, no longer reaching the boat's two occupants.
"Cough... Thank... thank..." "Cough, cough... Thank you, Aedric." The Hobbit alternated between gratitude and violent coughing.
This was good—it meant he hadn't lost consciousness from oxygen lack, and his lungs functioned normally without taking water.
"Nothing... it was proper." Aedric responded once, immediately sitting down against the gunwale and breathing heavily.
In less than ten minutes, he felt more exhausted than fighting desperately with Wargs at the cave mouth. It was quite thrilling, though.
His choice to forgo settling in Lindon and journey forth alone was precisely to witness more of Middle-earth's wonders. Naturally, such perilous experiences were best kept to a minimum.
At some unknown point, the heavenly stars had gradually faded while the moon disappeared as well. One brilliant star shed its radiance, appearing in the west.
"Aedric." Bilbo finally caught his breath, leaning against the boards as he asked with lingering fear: "What happened? Those... those trees actually moved and attacked us."
"It's most strange indeed!"