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'Indeed！ Let's have it then！' said Frodo； unwisely interrupting。
'A stout little fellow with red cheeks；' said Mr。 Butterbur solemnly。 Pippin chuckled； but Sam looked indignant。 'That won't help you much； it goes for most hobbits。 Barley； he says to me；' continued Mr。 Butterbur with a glance at Pippin。 'But this one is taller than some and fairer than most； and he has a cleft in his chin： perky chap with a bright eye。 Begging your pardon； but he said it； not me。'
'He said it？ And who was he？' asked Frodo eagerly。
'Ah！ That was Gandalf； if you know who I mean。 A wizard they say he is； but he's a good friend of mine； whether or no。 But now I don't know what he'll have to say to me； if I see him again： turn all my ale sour or me into a block of wood； I shouldn't wonder。 He's a bit hasty。 Still what's done can't be undone。 '
'Well； what have you done？' said Frodo； getting impatient with the slow unravelling of Butterbur's thoughts。
'Where was I？' said the landlord； pausing and snapping his fingers。 'Ah； yes！ Old Gandalf。 Three months back he walked right into my room without a knock。 Barley； he says； I'm off in the morning。 Will you do something for me？ You've only to name it； I said。 I'm in a hurry； said he； and I've no time myself； but I want a message took to the Shire。 Have you anyone you can send； and trust to go？ I can find someone； I said； tomorrow； maybe； or the day after。 Make it tomorrow； he says； and then he gave me a letter。
'It's addressed plain enough；' said Mr。 Butterbur； producing a letter from his pocket； and reading out the address slowly and proudly （he valued his reputation as a lettered man）：
Mr FRODO BAGGINS； BAG END； HOBBITON in the SHIRE。
'A letter for me from Gandalf！' cried Frodo。
'Ah！' said Mr。 Butterbur。 'Then your right name is Baggins？'
'It is；' said Frodo； 'and you had better give me that letter at once； and explain why you never sent it。 That's what you came to tell me； I suppose； though you've taken a long time to e to the point。'
Poor Mr。 Butterbur looked troubled。 'You're right； master；' he said； 'and I beg your pardon。 And I'm mortal afraid of what Gandalf will say； if harm es of it。 But I didn't keep it back a…purpose。 I put it by safe。 Then I couldn't find nobody willing to go to the Shire next day； nor the day after； and none of my own folk were to spare； and then one thing after another drove it out of my mind。 I'm a busy man。 I'll do what I can to set matters right； and if there's any help I can give； you've only to name it。
'Leaving the letter aside； I promised Gandalf no less。 Barley； he says to me； this friend of mine from the Shire； he may be ing out this way before long； him and another。 He'll be calling himself Underhill。 Mind that！ But you need ask no questions。 And if I'm not with him； he may be in trouble； and he may need help。 Do whatever you can for him； and I'll be grateful； he says。 And here you are； and trouble is not far off； seemingly。'
'What do you mean？' asked Frodo。
'These black men；' said the landlord lowering his voice。 'They're looking for Baggins； and if they mean well； then I'm a hobbit。 It was on Monday； and all the dogs were yammering and the geese screaming。 Uncanny； I called it。 Nob； he came and told me that two black men were at the door asking for a hobbit called Baggins。 Nob's hair was all stood on end。 I bid the black fellows be off； and slammed the door on them； but they've been asking the same question all the way to Archet； I hear。 And that Ranger； Strider； he's been asking questions； too。 Tried to get in here to see you； before you'd had bite or sup； he did。'
'He did！' said Strider suddenly； ing forward into the light。 'And much trouble would have been saved； if you had let him in； Barliman。'
The landlord jumped with surprise。 'You！' he cried。 'You're always popping up。 What do you want now？'
'He's here with my leave；' said Frodo。 'He came to offer me his help。'
'Well； you know your own business； maybe；' said Mr。 Butterbur； looking suspiciously at Strider。 'But if I was in your plight； I wouldn't take up with a Ranger。'
'Then who would you take up with？' asked Strider。 'A fat innkeeper who only remembers his own name because people shout it at him all day？ They cannot stay in The Pony for ever； and they cannot go home。 They have a long road before them。 Will you go with them and keep the black men off？'
'Me？ Leave Bree！ I wouldn't do that for any money；' said Mr。 Butterbur； looking really scared。 'But why can't you stay here quiet for a bit； Mr。 Underhill？ What are all these queer goings on？ What are these black men after； and where do they e from； I'd like to know？'
'I'm sorry I can't explain it all；' answered Frodo。 'I am tired and very worried； and it's a long tale。 But if you mean to help me； I ought to warn you that you will be in danger as long as I am in your house。 These Black Riders： I am not sure； but I think； I fear they e from…'
'They e from Mordor；' said Strider in a low voice。 'From Mordor； Barliman； if that means anything to you。'
'Save us！' cried Mr。 Butterbur turning pale； the name evidently was known to him。 'That is the worst news that has e to Bree in my time。' 'It is；' said Frodo。 'Are you still willing to help me？' 'I am；' said Mr。 Butterbur。 'More than ever。 Though I don't know what the likes of me can do against； against…' he faltered。
'Against the Shadow in the East；' said Strider quietly。 'Not much； Barliman； but every little helps。 You can let Mr。 Underhill stay here tonight； as Mr。 Underhill； and you can forget the name of Baggins； till he is far away。'
'I'll do that；' said Butterbur。 'But they'll find out he's here without help from me； I'm afraid。 It's a pity Mr。 Baggins drew attention to himself this evening； to say no more。 The story of that Mr。 Bilbo's going off has been heard before tonight in Bree。 Even our Nob has been doing some guessing in his slow pate： and there are others in Bree quicker in the uptake than he is。'
'Well； we can only hope the Riders won't e back yet；' said Frodo。
'I hope not； indeed；' said Butterbur。 'But spooks or no spooks； they won't get in The Pony so easy。 Don't you worry till the morning。 Nob'll say no word。 No black man shall pass my doors； while I can stand on my legs。 Me and my folk'll keep watch tonight； but you had best get some sleep； if you can。'
'In any case we must be called at dawn；' said Frodo。 'We must get off as early as possible。 Breakfast at six…thirty； please。'
'Right！ I'll see to the orders；' said the landlord。 'Good night； Mr。 Baggins … Underhill； I should say！ Good night … now； bless me！ Where's your Mr。 Brandybuck？'
'I don't know；' said Frodo with sudden anxiety。 They had forgotten all about Merry； and it was getting late。 'I am afraid he is out。 He said something about going for a breath of air。'
'Well； you do want looking after and no mistake： your party might be on a holiday！' said Butterbur。 'I must go and bar the doors quick； but I'll see your friend is let in when he es。 I'd better send Nob to look for him。 Good night to you all！' At last Mr。 Butterbur went out； with another doubtful look at Strider and a shake of his head。 His footsteps retreated down the passage。
'Well？' said Strider。 'When are you going to open that letter？' Frodo looked carefully at the seal before he broke it。 It seemed certainly to be Gandalf's。 Inside； written in the wizard's strong but graceful script； was the following message：
THE PRANCING PONY； BREE。 Midyear's Day； Shire Year； 1418。
Dear Frodo；
Bad news has reached me here。 I must go off at once。 You had better leave Bag End soon； and get out of the Shire before the end of July at latest。 I will return as soon as I can； and I will follow you； if I find that you are gone。 Leave a message for me here； if you pass through Bree。 You can trust the landlord （Butterbur）。 You may meet a friend of mine on the Road： a Man； lean； dark； tall； by some called Strider。 He knows our business and will help you。 Make for Rivendell。 There I hope we may meet again。 If I do not e； Elrond will advise you。
Yours in haste
GANDALF。
PS。 Do NOT use It again； not far any reason whatever！ Do not travel by night！
PPS。 Make sure that it is the real Strider。 There are many strange men on the roads。 His true name is Aragorn。
All that is gold does not glitter；
Not all those who wander are lost；
The old that is strong does not wither；
Deep roots are not reached by the frost。
From the ashes a fire shall be woken；
A light from the shadows shall spring；
Renewed shall be blade that was broken；
The crownless again shall be king。
PPPS。 I hope Butterbur sends this promptly。 A worthy man； but his memory is like a lumber…roam： thing wanted always buried。 If he forgets； I shall roast him。
Fare Well！
Frodo read the letter to himself； and then passed it to Pippin and Sam。 'Really old Butterbur has made a mess of things！' he said。 'He deserves roasting。 If I had got this at once； we might all have been safe in Rivendell by now。 But what can have happened to Gandalf？ He writes as if he was going into great danger。'
'He has been doing that for many years；' said Strider。
Frodo turned and looked at him thoughtfully； wondering about Gandalf's second postscript。 'Why didn't you tell me that you were Gandalf's friend at once？' he asked。 'It would have saved time。'
'Would it？ Would any of you have believed me till now？' said Strider。 'I knew nothing of this letter。 For all I knew I had to persuade you to trust me without proofs； if I was to help you。 In any case； I did not intend to tell you all about myself at once。 I had to study you first； and make sure of you。 The Enemy has set traps for me before now。 As soon as I had made up my mind； I was ready to tell you whatever you asked。 But I must admit；' he added with a queer laugh； 'that I hoped you would take to me for my own sake。 A hunted man sometimes wearies of distrust and longs for friendship。 But there； I believe my looks are against me。'
'They are … at first sight at any rate；' laughed Pippin with sudden relief after reading Gandalf's letter。 'But handsome is as handsome does； as we say in the Shire； and I daresay we shall all look much the same after lying for days in hedges and ditches。'
'It would take more than a few days； or weeks； or years； of wandering in the Wild to make you look like Strider；' he answered。 'And you would die first； unless you are made of sterner stuff than you look to be。'
Pippin subsided； but Sam was not daunted； and he still eyed Strider dubiously。 'How do we know you are the Strider that Gandalf speaks about？' he demanded。 'You never mentioned Gandalf； till this letter came out。 You might be a play…acting spy； for all I can see； trying to get us to go with you。 You might have done in the real Strider and took his clothes。 What have you to say to that？'
'That you are a stout fellow；' answered Strider； 'but I am afraid my only answer to you； Sam Gamgee； is this。 If I had killed the real Strider； I could kill you。 And I should have killed you already without so much talk。 If I was after the Ring； I could have it … NOW！'
He stood up； and seemed suddenly to grow taller。 In his eyes gleamed a light； keen and manding。 Throwing back his cloak； he laid his hand on the hilt of a sword that had hung concealed by his side。 They did not dare to move。 Sam sat wide…mouthed staring at him dumbly。
'But I am the real Strider； fortunately；' he said； looking down at them with his face softened by a sudden smile。 'I am Aragorn son of Arathorn； and if by life or death I can save you； I will。'
There was a long silence。 At last Frodo spoke with hesitation。 'I believed that you were a friend before the letter came；' he said； 'or at least I wished to。 You have frightened me several times tonight； but never in the way that servants of the Enemy would； or so I imagine。 I think one of his spies would … well； seem fairer and feel fouler； if you understand。'
'I see；' laughed Strider。 'I look foul and feel fair。 Is that it？ All that is gold does not glitter； not all those who wander are lost。'
'Did the verses apply to you then？' asked Frodo。 'I could not make out what they were about。 But how did you know that they were in