Bill's Journey
Summary: This is the story of one often forgotten member of the fellowship. A pony, whose journey was no less life changing.
Disclaimer: None of the characters are mine. Sentences in italics are taken from the books.
Note: This story was written for the Teitho Challenge: "Growing Up". It placed second. Thanks everyone for voting!
Note 2: I have listed Sam and Aragorn as main characters, and they are both pretty major, but the real main character is Bill the Pony. Unfortunately, he was missing from the character list. This is not the first time I can't list a character because they are not on the list – Glóin and Thranduil (main characters in "Bad Idea") and Gilraen and Arathorn (main characters in "To Keep Hope for Myself") are also missing. I hope the site will one day add them. I think they all deserve to be there.
The tall mare shook her head, letting her shining dark mane glow in the bright sunlight. The magnificent horse trotted along the road, unaware of the two sad brown eyes watching her movements in awe and no small amount of envy. There was a hole in the wooden fence circling around Bill Ferny's yard, and a small animal had made his way there.
The poor creature was half-starved and to many he looked to be at death's door. To many, yes, but not to his master. Bill Ferny was not known for his kindness and taking care of his pony was the least of his concerns. To him it was enough that the animal lived, and he knew that the pony, skinny as he was, was not dying just yet.
The pony, however, was less than satisfied with his life although he knew that it was not less than he deserved. He often came to that hole and looked at the passing horses, silently admiring them. And yet, he knew that he was nothing like these beautiful creatures. Those strong and proud animals were born to bear tall men, lead them into battle and perform great deeds. And what was he born to do? Pull the cart laden with Bill Ferny's corn. Never would he be great enough to follow in those horse's footsteps and do deeds worthy of remembrance. He was small and insignificant. He was a little droplet in the boundless ocean that no one would ever remember.
The pony had rarely seen anyone else of his kind. Most of the time he saw the large horses, and the view filled his heart with grief and longing. He wanted to be one of them, but he was bound to carry Bill Ferny's corn until the rest of his days.
Besides the horses, the pony often observed their riders. Many of the men he saw in Bree were not much unlike his master and he had little respect for them. But there were still many who looked different, somehow nobler, and the little animal could not help wondering if his fate would have been any different if one of those men was his master. But he knew very well that it would have been the same. He was not born for anything bigger.
The pony had a special fascination towards the men called 'rangers'. They were always covered in mystery and to him they looked like wild horses – proud and untamed.
Besides riders, he saw many people walking on foot. And among them he noticed a different kind of men – little men with curly hair and hairy feet. And the poor animal saw how much like him those little people were – small and powerless, unable to change the world around them, bound to let the current wash them away and unable to fight back. And the desperate animal mourned that his master was Bill Ferny and not one of those little men. They would understand him better. They would know what it meant to be small.
-:-
When it happened, the pony could barely believe it. Bill Ferny sold him, and he sold him to four of those small and hairy men nonetheless! He heard the little creatures murmuring that his master had sold him for twelve silver pennies – at least three times his true worth. The animal had no idea how much twelve silver pennies were, but the thought that they considered him cheaper irritated him. But did he have any right to be irritated? Was he not just as cheap? And yet, he could not feel anger at the four small men because in their voices he could detect something he had never heard in his master's voice. Pity. He was glad that at last someone cared about him, but was pity the only feeling he was able to evoke? Would he never make others admire him just like he admired all the magnificent horses he saw?
There was a big man with the four small ones, a ranger called Strider. The pony could not help noticing how much the four small ones compared to Strider looked like him compared to the horses he loved observing. The ranger was wise and strong, knowing what he was doing and where he was leading them. The four small ones, on the other hand, seemed frightened and lost. Just like the pony.
Early morning the pony was laden with the company's supplies, and the feeling of being useful lifted his spirits a bit. His new masters were kinder to him and he thought that perhaps his burden would be easier to bear. As they departed, Bill Ferny called to them, mocking the ranger and one of the small ones, whom he called 'Sammie'.
The one called Sam answered with sharp words and quick as lightning turned back and threw an apple, hitting Ferny square on the nose. "Waste of a good apple," the little man said regretfully. The pony wanted to laugh. Perhaps the little one was not that helpless after all!
-:-
The Black Riders were something the poor pony did not wish to remember. The mere thought of them chilled him to the bone. After the incident, however, the company decided to put one of the small men, the one called 'Frodo', on the pony's back. It seemed that he had been wounded and was unable to walk by himself. The animal had never been ridden before and this made him feel something foreign to him – pride. True, he was being ridden by one of the small and hairy ones, but it was still a step forward, and his new existence had some dignity. Moreover, his new masters were treating him kindly, especially Sam, and the pony did not hesitate to show his affection towards the small man. And when the pony showed everyone that he had developed a strange talent of choosing the path that would jostle his rider as little as possible, everyone wondered at him and their spirits rose.
-:-
Sam called him Bill. Bill. His former master's name. Only days ago he despised this name with a passion, but everything Sam said was good. He was Bill now and he would proudly bear his name.
-:-
The four hobbits, as Bill soon learned that the little men were called, and the ranger wondered at the great improvement they could see in the pony. Had the poor beast's treatment at Bill Ferny's place been so bad that life in the wilds seemed like a relaxing trip to him?
What they did not know was that the physical change in Bill was a result of the change in his spirits. The pony was witnessing something he had never seen before. He could see the way that loyal Sam was gently taking care of the injured hobbit, seated upon the little beast's back. He could see the strong support that each of the four hobbits had for each other. He could see how carefully Strider was watching over them all, making sure they were safe.
Bill Ferny had never taken care of him, or of anyone else, in this way. In fact, he had never seen any being care about another so much. And he was in awe of the strength of the bonds he had seen. Perhaps there was more in this world than what he had seen while serving his former master. Perhaps it was not just physical strength that made one go on in the times of hardship.
-:-
After some time the company met a stranger. He was the most beautiful creature that Bill had ever seen. He was tall like a man, but was more slender and had no beard. His hair, however, was very long, smooth and silky, and shone like molten gold under the bright sunlight.
And this unusually fascinating man rode the most magnificent horse. The stallion's hair was silver like the moon and there was grace in every movement he made. There was no contempt in the steed's eyes when he looked upon Bill. There was only warmth.
Strider handed Frodo to Glorfindel, for this was how this creature of light was called, and the ranger and the four hobbits followed with the pony. Where they were going, Bill still did not know.
-:-
In Rivendell Bill was surprised to see more of those wondrous, beautiful creatures. They took good care of their horses, and they took care of him as well. The stay at the Elven Haven changed him greatly – he was now glossy and looked younger. The starved, half-dead pony was gone.
As the Fellowship departed, Sam insisted that they took Bill with them. "That animal can nearly talk," he said, "and would talk, if he stayed here much longer. He gave me a look as plain as Mr. Pippin could speak it: if you don't let me go with you, Sam, I'll follow on my own." No one could argue.
"Look!" Glorfindel leaned towards Elrond and pointed at the pony. "He is the only one of the Company who does not seem depressed."
"And for a good reason," the Lord of Rivendell replied. "The poor beast cannot imagine what is awaiting him."
"Or perhaps he can," the golden-haired elf said thoughtfully. "Perhaps he knows more than you give him credit for."
-:-
Bill curiously observed his new companions. The four hobbits and Strider were there, much to his delight. There was an old man with a long, grey beard who appeared to be their leader. This was strange since he did not appear to be the strongest of them all, but maybe strength was not as detrimental as he had once thought. One of the fair beings was also coming, and he was constantly arguing with a smaller man, hardly taller than a hobbit, with a large, reddish beard. Another man was coming as well, one who looked much like Strider, but was better dressed and significantly cleaner.
What Bill noticed the most, however, was the fact that they had taken no horses. It was obvious that these were some great warriors who had gathered together to fulfill an important mission, and yet they had chosen to take no horses. They had chosen to take him instead. Him. Bill the Pony. And he swore to prove himself worthy of this honor.
-:-
Every night when everyone else slept Bill often remained awake to listen to Strider and Gandalf, as the old man was called, discuss their possible course. It seemed they were wondering if to go through the mountains or to follow a path darker and eviler of which they dared not speak. Bill's heart ached for the two of them, taking all the burden upon themselves and letting all the rest sleep in peace.
One night Gandalf was about to retire after the usual argument when the ranger stopped him. "There is something else that troubles me," Strider said. "It is the pony. We will not be able to take him with us until the end and I fear that we will have to part with Bill in the time of greatest danger. And Sam is too fond of him. Let us send Bill back now, when he can still return safely to Rivendell instead of waiting for fate to take this choice from us."
"Sam will never agree to part with Bill unless it is necessary," the grey-haired man countered.
"Gandalf, I fear that we will have to send back Bill in a time and place from where he will not be able to find safety! It will break Sam's heart. And you know as well as I do that Frodo will not get far without Sam. This brave gardener will need all his strength to support the ring-bearer and grief over this poor beast will not help."
"You can try telling this to Sam," Gandalf said with a smile, but Strider frowned.
"It is not his decision to make. If we keep Bill we might be leading the animal to his death."
"Most probably we are all going to our deaths," the old man reasoned.
"This is true, but we have made our own choices. Bill has to make his choice himself." With those words Strider walked forward and knelt in front of the pony.
"You were eavesdropping, were you not?" He asked with a smile. "Listen to me, Bill. Sam said that if you have stayed in Rivendell a while longer, you would have learned to talk. I do not know if this is true, but I know that you can understand me now. And I beg you, heed my words. Our journey has not yet begun. We will meet fire and water, snow and stone. We will fight wolves and orcs too numerous for us. Many trials await us, and the road ahead is not fit for a pony. If you turn back now, you will be able to reach Rivendell safely and no one will hold it against you."
Bill met his gaze. It was true that he could not reply, but he understood every single word. The road ahead was not fit for a pony? Was it fit for a hobbit then? Certainly not. And yet, none of the hobbits ever considered turning back. They all stayed. And they stayed because of each other, because the thought of returning to safety while their friends remained in danger terrified them all. And the thought of turning back while Sam and the rest of the Company still followed this dangerous road terrified Bill.
Not too long ago Bill had believed that it was physical strength that drove one forward. Now he knew that he had been wrong. There was something else, something much more powerful than long legs and muscular arms. Friendship. Loyalty. Love.
'I have always admired you, Strider,' Bill wanted to say. 'I have always dreamed to be like you – tall and strong, a leader among my kind. But I am not like you. I am like Sam. And, believe it or not, I am no longer ashamed. I am proud of it! Sam has no strength to help him endure the times of need, but, believe me, he will be the last one to abandon the Quest. He will always go on because Frodo needs him. And I will go on because Sam needs me.'
"As you wish," Strider murmured as if he had understood every word the pony had wanted to say. "I can see that you have made your choice and nothing can change your mind."
-:-
Bill eyed the doors of Moria in dismay. They had survived the horror of Caradhras, where the pony had been of useful help and had even carried Gimli through the snow. They had fought with wolves, and to his shame Bill had to admit that he could not remember feeling more afraid. But he was still with Sam and this reassured him. Now, however, they were faced with a new evil – a door, leading to a dark road everyone seemed hesitant to take. He could hear a few conversations and they did not reassure him at all.
"But in any case we cannot take the poor beast into the Mines," said Gandalf. "The road under the mountains is a dark road, and there are places narrow and steep which he cannot tread, even if we can."
"Poor old Bill!" said Frodo. "I had not thought of that. And poor Sam! I wonder what he will say?"
"I am sorry," said Gandalf. "Poor Bill has been a useful companion and it goes to my heart to turn him adrift now. I would have travelled lighter and brought no animal, least of all this one that Sam is fond of, if I had had my way. I feared all along that we should be obliged to take this road."
Bill's brown eyes shimmered with rightful rage. They could not leave him behind! He was a member of the Company! He would follow the ring-bearer to the very end.
Strider seemed to notice his anger and swiftly approached him. Besides the hobbits, the ranger was one of those who understood the pony the best, perhaps because he had been one of the first that Bill had met. Truth be told, he had seen the man many times in Bree as he had seen many more of his kind. His presence somehow put the pony at ease as it reminded him of home.
"I can see that you are unhappy with those arrangements, Bill," the ranger said sympathetically. "But Gandalf is right. The Mines are no place for a pony. Or for a Hobbit," he added as an afterthought, his gaze turning sad. Then he looked worriedly at Legolas, who was leaning against the wall. "And certainly not for an Elf. And not for a Man either." He then gazed at Gandalf and his eyes darkened in sudden apprehension. "But, most of all, I would say that the Mines are no place for a Wizard." He sighed and smiled sadly. "Well, they are a place for a Dwarf perhaps, but in those dark times I am not even sure about that."
Bill neighed worriedly and looked around. Strider continued. "Neither of us was meant for this place, but it is our only road and we cannot turn back. I know that you feel the same and want to follow Sam until the end, but there will be passages too narrow or steep for you. Already you have done more than what was expected of you. Go now, Bill, and you will always have our gratitude."
Bill gave no sign that he had heard the words. How could they ask this of him? Why had they chosen a road he could not follow? And where did they expect him to return? Back to Bill Ferny who would treat him like before?
Sam had not heard any of the arguments and he looked up at Gandalf's next words.
"While I am searching, will you each make ready to enter the Mines? For here I fear we must say farewell to our good beast of burden. You must lay aside much of the stuff that we brought against bitter weather: you will not need it inside, nor, I hope, when we come through and journey on down into the South. Instead each of us must take a share of what the pony carried, especially the food and the water-skins."
Bill glared at the wizard as well as a pony could glare. He would only turn back if his master told him to, and so far the hobbit did not look too willing to follow Gandalf's advice.
"But you can't leave poor old Bill behind in this forsaken place, Mr. Gandalf!" cried Sam, angry and distressed. "I won't have it, and that's flat. After he has come so far and all!"
Bill neighed in approval and stood by his master in silent support.
"I am sorry, Sam," said the wizard. "But when the Door opens I do not think you will be able to drag your Bill inside, into the long dark of Moria. You will have to choose between Bill and your master."
How could Gandalf say that? The pony shook his head angrily. Of course he would follow anywhere!
"He'd follow Mr. Frodo into a dragon's den, if I led him," protested Sam, as if reading Bill's mind. "It'd be nothing short of murder to turn him loose with all these wolves about."
"It will be short of murder, I hope," said Gandalf. He laid his hand on the pony's head, and spoke in a low voice. "Go with words of guard and guiding on you," he said. "You are a wise beast, and have learned much in Rivendell. Make your ways to places where you can find grass, and so come in time to Elrond's house, or wherever you wish to go."
Bill nuzzled Sam, who had burst into tears. The rest of the Company started unlading food and water from the pony's back. Bill looked at them in clear disapproval. He had not agreed to turn back yet!
-:-
Gandalf had spent a long time trying to open the doors and at last he succeeded, in quite an unexpected way. As the gate opened, however, the lake decided to come alive. The foul waters moved as if a host of snakes were swimming up. Snakes! First wolves and now snakes! This was too much for the poor animal. When Frodo fell with a cry, Bill neighed in fear and turned tail and dashed away along the lakeside into the darkness.
Bill could not remember how long he had run in the darkness, afraid that those terrifying creatures were upon him. As he stopped, however, the magnitude of his deed hit him full force. He had escaped like the filthiest coward! He had abandoned his friends in a time of need!
Horrified, Bill turned back and ran to the Gates of Moria as fast as his short legs could carry him. As he approached, his heart beat wildly in fear. Everything was deadly quiet. Was everyone dead, or had they entered the cave already? The pony walked forward cautiously and suddenly stopped in surprise. The entrance was sealed! Sam had entered, and now he was unable to follow!
The sound that escaped the little beast's mouth sounded like a whimper. The pony looked around, his vision clouded in grief. Sam was gone! The only master that had ever been kind to him was gone, and he did not know if the hobbit would survive to see him again.
Engulfed in his grief, Bill did not hear the approach of a lone wolf. When he heard him, it was too late – the animal was already upon the pony's back, trying to make a bite for the throat.
The pony bolted in panic and threw himself on the ground. The wolf was forced to release his prey and stood in front of Bill, growling and baring his teeth. The pony turned his back towards the beast and gave a sharp kick. A whimper of pain pierced the silence and the wolf rolled a few times, stopping close to the foul-looking lake. Suddenly a few tendrils stretched out of the water and pulled the wolf beneath the dark depths.
Bill stared mesmerized at where the beast had just disappeared. He could barely believe he had escaped this attack alive, but there was no time left for wonder. This place was not safe. He had to leave.
But where could he go? Gandalf had told him to go to Rivendell, but he did not want to return there and rely on the kindness of the elves, kindness he did not deserve. How could he face them now when he had betrayed his friends? How could he expect the elves to take care of him now?
No. There was only one path left for him. He would return to Bree, the only home he had ever known. He knew the way. Yes, he knew that he would face his former master again. But he was not afraid.
-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-
"Mr. Elrond, sir?" Sam eyed the elven lord carefully. He knew very well why Lord Elrond had come to Minas Tirith. It was time for him to say a final goodbye to his only daughter whom he would not see until the end of all days. Surely Samwise's silly question was the last thing on the elf's mind! And yet, the hobbit had wanted to ask him this since he had seen the elves from Rivendell arrive.
"What is it Sam?" Lord Elrond asked. The kindness and respect in his voice encouraged the hobbit.
"Um, I was wondering if my Bill ever made it back to Rivendell. With all those wolves around and all other horrible creatures, and he is so small and afraid if you know what I mean. He is very brave, sir, trust me, but I do not know if he made it alive."
The elf sighed sadly and looked at the hobbit sympathetically. "I am sorry Sam. Bill never returned to us."
Sam bowed his head, fighting back tears. Was Bill dead then? Or had the pony found another path? Before he could stop himself, the hobbit's body shook in quiet sobs and Elrond's gentle hand on his shoulder had no comfort to offer.
-:-
The hobbits were eager to return to the Shire once again and when they finally reached the Prancing Pony they were all happy and relieved. The talk with Butterbur was quite interesting and useful, not to mention the priceless look on the poor innkeeper's face when Sam told him who the King of Gondor and Arnor was. The news which Butterbur had for them, however, was far from good. It seemed that everything had gone ill in their absence. Nevertheless, there was a bright ray amidst all the darkness.
"I've something that belongs to you," the innkeeper said. "If you recollect Bill Ferny and the horsethieving: his pony as you bought, well, it's here. Come back all of itself, it did. But where it had been to you know better than me. It was as shaggy as an old dog and as lean as a clothes-rail, but it was alive. Nob's looked after it."
"What! My Bill?" cried Sam. "Well, I was born lucky, whatever my gaffer may say. There's another wish come true! Where is he?" Sam would not go to bed until he had visited Bill in his stable.
"Bill!" Sam cried and put his hands on the pony's head. "My Bill! It seems a few wolves are not enough to scare you!"
Bill neighed happily and nuzzled his master's face. Sam was alive! And Bill swore to himself that he would never leave his master again.
-:-
The hobbits' joy was somewhat lessened when they realized that their return to the Shire would be quite different from their expectations. It seemed that things had gone from bad to worse while they had been gone. Who those mysterious Chief was, they could not begin to guess, but when they discovered that the Chief's Big Man was no other but Bill Ferny, their anger boiled.
"Bill Ferny," said Merry, "if you don't open that gate in ten seconds, you'll regret it. I shall set steel to you, if you don't obey. And when you have opened the gates you will go through them and never return. You are a ruffian and a highway-robber."
Bill Ferny flinched and shuffled to the gate and unlocked it. "Give me the key!" said Merry. But the ruffian flung it at his head and then darted out into the darkness. As he passed the ponies one of them let fly with his heels and just caught him as he ran. He went off with a yelp into the night and was never heard of again.
"Neat work, Bill," said Sam, meaning the pony.
The look on Bill's face was very close to a grin. He had had his revenge. He would never bow before this piece of filth again.
And when the Shire was finally rid of Saruman and his minions and peace and harmony were at last restored, Sam built a stable close to his hole, so that Bill would always be near him. The pony often helped with work in the garden, but unlike before, now he was happy to help and was not ashamed of pulling around a cart of vegetables. There was always an honor in helping a friend.
-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-:-
Legends tell that before the end of his days Samwise Gamgee left the Shire and went on one final journey – to the Undying Lands, where he would see his beloved master once again. As he had carried the One Ring for a while he deserved this honor. Some of the tales even claimed that the hobbit took his loyal pony with him. The Valar agreed to let the pony enter their realm because of his loyalty and friendship towards this brave member of the Fellowship.
He was no strong horse who bore a great warrior into battle. He was no magnificent stallion who would win every race. But his heart was no smaller than those of the horses he had once admired. He was Bill the Pony. And this was enough.
The End