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Chapter 9
THE GREY HAVENS
The clearing up certainly needed a lot of work, but it took
less time than Sam had feared. The day after the battle Frodo
rode to Michel Delving and released the prisoners from the
Lockholes. One of the first that they found was poor Fredegar
Bolger, Fatty no longer. He had been taken when the ruffians
smoked out a band of rebels that he led from their hidings
up in the Brockenbores by the hills of Scary.
‘You would have done better to come with us after all,
poor old Fredegar!’ said Pippin, as they carried him out too
weak to walk.
He opened an eye and tried gallantly to smile. ‘Who’s this
young giant with the loud voice?’ he whispered. ‘Not little
Pippin! What’s your size in hats now?’
Then there was Lobelia. Poor thing, she looked very old
and thin when they rescued her from a dark and narrow cell.
She insisted on hobbling out on her own feet; and she had
such a welcome, and there was such clapping and cheering
when she appeared, leaning on Frodo’s arm but still clutching
her umbrella, that she was quite touched, and drove away in
tears. She had never in her life been popular before. But she
was crushed by the news of Lotho’s murder, and she would
not return to Bag End. She gave it back to Frodo, and went
to her own people, the Bracegirdles of Hardbottle.
When the poor creature died next spring – she was after
all more than a hundred years old – Frodo was surprised and
much moved: she had left all that remained of her money
and of Lotho’s for him to use in helping hobbits made homeless
by the troubles. So that feud was ended.
Old Will Whitfoot had been in the Lockholes longer than
any, and though he had perhaps been treated less harshly