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the scouring of the shire 1323
of hobbits that had crept up out of the shadows. There was
nearly two hundred of them, all holding some weapon.
Merry stepped forward. ‘We have met before,’ he said to
the leader, ‘and I warned you not to come back here. I warn
you again: you are standing in the light and you are covered
by archers. If you lay a finger on this farmer, or on anyone
else, you will be shot at once. Lay down any weapons that
you have!’
The leader looked round. He was trapped. But he was not
scared, not now with a score of his fellows to back him. He
knew too little of hobbits to understand his peril. Foolishly
he decided to fight. It would be easy to break out.
‘At ’em, lads!’ he cried. ‘Let ’em have it!’
With a long knife in his left hand and a club in the other
he made a rush at the ring, trying to burst out back towards
Hobbiton. He aimed a savage blow at Merry who stood in
his way. He fell dead with four arrows in him.
That was enough for the others. They gave in. Their
weapons were taken from them, and they were roped
together, and marched off to an empty hut that they had built
themselves, and there they were tied hand and foot, and
locked up under guard. The dead leader was dragged off and
buried.
‘Seems almost too easy after all, don’t it?’ said Cotton. ‘I
said we could master them. But we needed a call. You came
back in the nick o’ time, Mr. Merry.’
‘There’s more to be done still,’ said Merry. ‘If you’re right
in your reckoning, we haven’t dealt with a tithe of them yet.
But it’s dark now. I think the next stroke must wait until
morning. Then we must call on the Chief.’
‘Why not now?’ said Sam. ‘It’s not much more than six
o’clock. And I want to see my gaffer. D’you know what’s
come of him, Mr. Cotton?’
‘He’s not too well, and not too bad, Sam,’ said the farmer.
‘They dug up Bagshot Row, and that was a sad blow to him.
He’s in one of them new houses that the Chief ’s Men used
to build while they still did any work other than burning and