"Well, tell us what to do, " Tom said, grimly. Ned and Dondo looked at him in uneasy surprise, and Banco looked nervous.
Songo was trembling. Merry worriedly considered him. "You can wait here, til we come back before dusk, " Merry said quietly.
"If it frightens me, " quavered Songo, "then I'll wager it frightens him too. I'm coming, even if I rattle to pieces."
Tom fingered his reins, arranging them carefully in his grasp. "Aye, we'll all go. But where will we go? It's an awfully big place, looks like to me. That's what I'm asking."
Pippin looked unhappy, but stiffened. "We'll just have to look for him as best we can."
"Maybe we should split up, " Ned said uneasily.
"No!" snapped both Merry and Pippin together.
"Well, then, let's go," persisted Tom.
"All right, " said Pippin. Now that it came to it, he was even more afraid than he thought he would be. But he squared his shoulders, and mounted, fastening Bolco's pack to his saddle. Merry mounted as well. They formed a tight cluster, and grimly hoped that their intentions to stay together would be enough to keep them together. Ned wondered if they were going to stay so close, how they would cover any territory.
They wondered that Stormy joined the group. As they turned south, they were surprised to see him surge into the lead. He let out a long whinny punctuated by a decisive snort, swished his tail, snorted again, and set off at a decisive trot.
Dondo looked at Songo, and they nodded, and hope surged within them, and they pressed after Stormy. No one said anything at first, trusting in the pony's straight course and determined attitude. But after an hour, they grew concerned, and began to debate whether he was leading them to Bolco or to some other mysterious destination, and whether he could be under a curse himself, or other various frightening possibilities. They argued back and forth for quite a while as they trotted steadily on, Ned suspecting that the pony was leading them into some trap.
"Well, if he does, he does, " Tom said. "But I'm not turning back until we get to wherever he's leading us."
"Where has he led us?" wondered Dondo, for Stormy had suddenly stopped, and nickered.
They looked around. This barrow looked similar in many ways to many other barrows that they had passed, but for one major difference; there was an old, hollow, half-rotten tree by the standing stone. It stood perhaps twenty feet tall, thick and gnarled and unpleasant-looking, with dead brown leaves that rattled in the cold wind.
Stormy walked slowly up to the tree, and snorted, and nuzzled the bark.
The hobbits looked uneasily at each other, and then Merry and Pippin shook their heads and dismounted. "Stay here, and don't come any closer," they said, handing their reins to Songo and Banco. They slowly approached the tree.
"It's hollow, Merry."
"I know."
"You can see right inside it. Look."
"He's not where we can see him, is he?"
They craned their necks, looking into the hollow side of the tree, upwards, looking for any sign of Bolco. The other hobbits stared blankly at them.
"This is not Old Man Willow; this is nothing like him, Pippin, " Merry said slowly.
"Are you sure it's not his younger cousin," Pippin replied, skeptically.
"I don't know. Does it feel like a huorn to you?"
"Well... it doesn't look like one."
"It doesn't feel like one, " Merry insisted. "It's different."
"Where is Bolco?" Songo said. "Are you telling me he's inside a tree? The only tree on this whole moor, and he crawled inside it?"
"Or was caught, or trapped, somehow. Maybe," Merry frowned, thinking. "But Pippin, this doesn't feel like anything I've ever encountered. Not like Fangorn's huorns; not like Old Man Willow or any of the Old Forest trees; not like any of the ents. This is different."
"I don't follow you, " Pippin replied.
"I'm not sure I do, " Merry said. "I wonder."
The five hobbits exchanged glances. "What are you talking about?" Ned said.
Pippin saw that Merry was deep in thought, so he replied. "We met a lot of trees during the war," Pippin began. "Some of them, in the Old Forest, were just trees that were alive and bad, and cruel, or angry. There were trees in Lorien that were alive but in a different way, in a quiet and gentle way, patient sorts of trees. And then there was Fangorn Forest, where some of the trees were even more alive. They were the angriest of all the trees we'd met, in their own way. And then there were the ents, who were the shepherds of the trees."
Tom scowled, and stared at the tree that Stormy was nuzzling. It looked like any other old, dying, half-rotting tree. He wondered whether Merry and Pippin had gotten too much moonshine themseves. Banco also looked uneasy.
But Songo asked "What would a tree do to a hobbit?"
"Depends on the tree," Pippin replied absently. "I've seen Ents step on Orcs and flatten them; not a pretty sight. Merry and I were captured inside Old Man Willow, less than a day's travel from here. And we really don't know what the Huorns did to the Orcs; we just know that the Orcs never made it out alive."
None of this sounded particularly hopeful for Bolco, and Songo's heart sank. But Merry walked closer to the tree, and suddenly spoke to it. "What have you done with Bolco?"
The tree swayed, groaning in the wind, and the leaves rustled.
"We want him back, " said Songo threateningly. "Give him back. Give him to us."
The tree swayed again, and Merry glared at it. "Let him go," he ordered.
The tree branches reached toward Merry, creaking and groaning. "Merry! Get back!" Pippin shouted, and pulled him backwards by the shoulders. Merry let him, but demanded again. "Let Bolco go. Turn him loose."
Songo spurred his pony forward; he was riding the big bay, that he had renamed Bolco, but still called Bob around his dad. "Let Bolco free. Let him go," he shouted. "Give him to us!"
The tree branches reached for Songo, creaking, but the big bay pony walked right under them. Before Pippin and Merry realised how foolish Songo was being, the pony walked right up to the tree beside Stormy, and sniffed the tree. "Songo, get back! Songo!" Merry shouted. Songo heaved back on the reins, and the bay backed several paces, gagging. Pippin shook his head. "Wait. There's something I don't understand. Why isn't the pony afraid of the tree?"
Merry frowned. "Should he be?"
"None of the ponies are, are they?"
It was true. The tree creaked and groaned and rustled, and all the ponies stood waiting patiently, and Stormy stood right next to the tree.
Merry thought that over, and then shook his head. "I don't know why the ponies aren't afraid of the tree. But I am; and I want to know what the tree has to do with Bolco, and why the tree is hollow, and we can see inside it, but we can't see Bolco."
Tom snorted, and got down off of his pony, and walked forward. "You're telling me that you think Bolco is inside this rotten old trunk," he said skeptically.
"I know it sounds strange," Merry began.
"We were, " Pippin snapped, irritated with Tom's tone of voice. Tom sensed the Thain's son's irritation, and softened immediately. "We waited inside Old Man Willow until Tom Bombadil sang us out of there."
"But this tree isn't shut, " Merry countered, genuinely puzzled. "Unless he's being held high up inside?"
"Why hasn't he called us? We could call Frodo and Sam when we were trapped inside."
"He did threaten to kill us, " Merry said in a low voice. Pippin blanched.
Tom marched forward, threw himself on the ground at the base of the tree by Stormy's feet (Stormy snuffled him as he did) and despite Merry's cautions and Pippin's angry orders, Tom searched upward into the empty, hollow tree trunk. "I don't see nothing but the inside of an old hollow rotting tree." He squinted, frowning, and shook his head. "Nope. I can see daylight at the top, too. There's a hole there of some sort."
Pippin and Merry now came forward, cautioning Tom that he should not stay there any longer, and hesitantly they each took a look of their own up through the hollow tree. It was true. There was an owl's hole at the top of the tree, and the daylight showed that the trunk was empty.
They retreated from the tree, and exchanged dissatisfied glances, wondering what to do next. Tom looked around, and caught Merry's eye, and said, "The fog's not too bad. If we keep each other within sight, we can spread out in a line abreast, and search in widening circles. If the fog gets worse, we tighten up the line."
Merry and Pippin exchanged glances, and nodded. "All right. But we must be careful."
They formed their line, seeing how far apart they could spread and safely see one another. The dead leaves of the tree rustled as they did, and the wind seemed to sigh in its branches. As they rode down off of the hillside, the tree gave out a low moan, and several of them looked over their shoulder and shuddered.
"Listen!" Merry said. "That's what I meant, Pippin. Can't you feel the difference between this tree and all the others we've known? There's anger, but not nearly as much anger as sorrow. Despairing." The company rode around the barrow in ever-widening circles. The afternoon wore on and on, and they found nothing, no body, no tracks that they could discern. As the sun was westering, Merry called a halt. "We're done for the day," he said.
But just then Pippin said "Hush!" Voices were calling Bolco's name. Pippin shouted, and hoofbeats approached, and Bunco and Toradoc rode into sight.
One look at Bunco's face wrung Merry's heart. Toradoc rode straight to Merry. "Anything?"
"No."
"His pony?"
"Stormy's by the tree, " Dondo answered. A tangled explanation followed, and after some more discussion they turned back to the barrow to retrieve the pony.
But Stormy would not leave. He had no harness on him; they looped a rope around his head as a makeshift halter, but the more they tried to lead him away, the more he balked. Finally Toradoc said, "Stop. He knows something. You say he hasn't moved away from the tree?" They watched as Toradoc scanned the horizon, and they waited. Bunco watched, hope rising in him. Toradoc was quieting himself, waiting for something, watching, listening. Bunco didn't know why Toradoc did this, but it was something his friend did more and more often these days. They waited.
What he said surprised them all. "I'm staying the night here."
"Toradoc, don't be a fool, " Merry replied.
"You go out to the road. I don't think the rest of you are supposed to stay, " he said, with a calmness that surprised even Bunco. There was something about his manner that brooked no argument, and although Pippin tried to countermand him, he knew he would not succeed.
"I'm staying too, " said Tom.
Pippin shook his head. "Well, I guess if you won't listen to my orders, then I can't stop you, although I'm tempted to drag you out bodily."
"I'd come back, " Toradoc replied serenely. "You fellows go on home. We'll wait here, with Stormy."
Songo gathered his courage. "I'm staying too, " he said, in a shaking voice.
"No, you're not, " Bunco said.
Toradoc shook his head. "I don't think you should, Songo. You go on with the rest. Tom and I will wait. We'll have our ponies, so if anything happens, we'll ride north and come tell you. Now you go on. It'll be sundown soon."
Not liking the arrangements at all, Pippin groused half the way back to the road. Merry was none too thrilled either, but something halted his own objections, and he rode mostly in silence. They all camped near the ditch that Bolco had dumped his belongings in; the water in it was surprisingly fresh and cold, and clean. Few of them had packed enough clothes, but they slept back to back for warmth, and took turns on watch.
Tom and Toradoc watched their friends ride away, and silence descended as darkness fell around the barrow. They explored the hill a bit. They stumbled into some bits of metal almost covered in the long grass, and they were more careful after that where they stepped. Finally they grew cold, and they brought their ponies back up to the stone and the tree at the top of the hill. Stormy snuffled them.
By silent agreement, they went to the western side of the tree away from the opening, and sat side by side with their backs against the tree. Their ponies grazed on long tethers, and they watched the sunset fade and the stars come out. The fog settled into the lowlying areas, and sitting on the little hilltop, they had a fine view of the sky.
"So, " Toradoc asked quietly, "I didn't want to ask anybody to stay with me, but I'm awfully glad you did. Thanks, Tom."
"My pleasure, " Tom replied, without much conviction, although he liked Toradoc just fine. Toradoc caught the skeptical tone in his voice. "Nothing personal, " Tom reassured him.
"It's not the camping spot I'd choose either, " Toradoc said. "But none of his family had the courage to stay, and their fears were too strong to ask them to. So staying fell to me."
"Some people seem mighty bothered by this place," Tom mused.
"The dangers are real," Toradoc replied. "Songo's and Dondo's fears are not unfounded, and all the love that they have for their brother can only hold them together for so long before they fall apart from sheer terror. And Bunco is almost at his wits' end already. Songo isn't much better off."
"Is he?" Tom replied, skeptical again.
"Oh, I know Bunco and Bolco had their differences, " Toradoc sighed. "And it was hard on Bolco, very hard."
"Aye, " agreed Tom.
"But losing Bolco was hard on Bunco, " Toradoc continued.
"Was it?"
"Oh, he tried to hide it; then and now. He tries to shrug it off, and cuss and bluff his way around it. But he loves his son. He loves all of his sons, and Bolco perhaps the more because he reminds him so of his Lavender."
"Oh?"
"I never knew her, but all the townsfolk assure me that they are quite alike. She was slight of build, and sensitive, and dreamy, always singing songs with a starry-eyed look. Bunco adored her. When Bolco disappeared the first time, Bunco was beside himself. Now he's beside himself again. I told him that at least this time, Bolco had left a trace; people had seen him leave. Now I wonder."
"Well, confound the lad, I say, " Tom grumbled. "If he does show up, I'll be giving him a piece of my mind."
Toradoc turned to study Tom's profile, silouetted vaguely agaist the stars. "Oh?"
"My Missus Pansy is beside herself with worry. And my Daffodil--" Tom's voice threatened to break, and he cleared his throat. "My Daffodil--" his voice broke again. "Drat you anyway, Mister Bolco, " Tom flared. "What you were thinking of I don't know, but there's a heartbroken little girl with nobody to pick berries with anymore. And I have no more intention of returning home without you than... Ah, confound you, lad. Drat you!" Tom followed with a string of imprecations, and faded off into frustrated silence.
Toradoc sighed. "Well, Tom, that makes two of us. I can't abide watching Bolco's family suffer over him either. Although I suspect, " he chuckled, "that I'll be a bit more merciful to him when we do find him. Perhaps I should be the first one to greet him?"
"You sound awfully hopeful that he's alive, " Tom replied after a silence.
"I don't know why, Tom, but I am," Toradoc said.
"Damned selfish of him to run off like this, that's what it is, " Tom grumbled.
"Yes, it is, " Toradoc replied.
"You sound pretty calm about it, " Tom groused.
"Despair is usually selfish, " Toradoc replied. "Bunco is the same way. On the way here I had to work hard to keep him out of the inn; he wanted desperately to drink his sorrow away; I had to tell him again and again that he was needed sober for this search. All he can think of is his own sorrow. He doesn't even see the sorrow of his own sons."
"I guess Bolco comes by it honestly then," Tom said.
"That much is quite certain, " Toradoc replied.
They fell silent for a while, and watched the stars brighten.
"What happens if we fall asleep?" Tom said.
"What if we do?"
"Well, I'd rather not be spirited away myself, " Tom replied. "And I might not beleve all the ghost stories I hear about this place, or tree-stories neither, but people do disappear when they're careless, and I'd rather not find out the real reasons why."
"I see, " Toradoc mused. "Well, we could tie ourselves together somehow, so that if one of us is moved, we'll wake the other."
"Good idea. A belt would work, several times around our upper arms."
"All right."
"Eh-- Toradoc? Would you mind using your belt? Mine's a bit necessary."
"Been off your feed lately, Tom?" Toradoc said with a raised eyebrow, barely visible in the starlight.
"I have not, " Tom replied in a very injured voice. "I've been cleaning every single dish my wife puts on the table for me. She's a right fine cook, she is. None better in all of the Shire."
"Well, then, why so dependant on your belt being snug?"
Tom sighed. "The worry, " he muttered at the ground. "I eat all I'm used, but fretting does take the pounds off of you. And for one reason and another, I've hardly stopped fretting over Bolco since he came to my house. It wears on you after a while."
Toradoc nodded. "Bolco was right about you, " he said softly. "You are a good friend."
"Did he say so?" Tom asked.
"Yes, he did."
"I'll miss him, Toradoc. I've come to expect him to always be in my house. Like a cousin."
"Now, Tom, " Toradoc replied. "We haven't given up yet. Don't say you'll miss him before we've given up all hope. And even then, I fancy you should wait at least two years and four months, before you quit looking out for his return."
"You're right, Toradoc." Tom settled against the tree, wishing its bark was not quite so rough. But they had had a long day, and they chose watches, and each let the other sleep. The rest of the night passed in silence.