Chapter Four
“Up you get, then, little hobbits. I want to be leaving by noon!” The farmer chuckled as he lifted Blanco on the back of his wagon. Marcho soon followed his brother up.
The night before at the inn, the two brothers had met Ben. After sharing a drink with him, they learned that he was headed towards Fornost to sell his crops in the market there. Marcho was able to barter a spot for him and his brother on Ben’s wagon that was departing the next day. Their plan was to walk north to the capital, but to go by wagon would be far easier. Soon enough Ben had finished loading up his sacks and they were on their way.
“We’ll be taking the Greenway up north.” The farmer explained to them. The Greenway would take them right to the capital, and was used frequently by traders such as Ben to travel between Bree and Fornost.
They found Ben to be pleasant company. He had a bushy brown beard and a tattered straw hat that kept the sun out of his eyes. They traded songs and tales as they made their way up north. It was around midnight when they stopped to rest, pulling the wagon off the road and setting up a modest camp.
“What do you know of the land to the east, across the river?” Blanco asked Ben.
“Well, I can’t say that I’ve ever been there myself. Not many do. Used by the King and his lot to hunt. Apparently it’s nice and fertile ground there, but no one can farm there without the King’s consent.”
“Tell us about the King.” Marcho enquired.
“Curious ones, you two.” Ben laughed. “Called Argeleb. The second, I think. A good man, by all accounts. But I’m a farmer, so I can’t say I know him.”
They set out early the next morning and made good progress again. Ben continued to entertain the two of them with stories, most of them being about farming. The sun was almost set when a number of mounted soldiers halted before Ben’s wagon.
“Just a patrol, my friends.” Ben assured the two. “Keeping the Greenway clean from bandits.”
“Good evening, there!” One of the soldiers called out.
“And to you, friend!” Ben replied.
“What business are you on?” the soldier asked, approaching the wagon.
“Farming business.” Ben put it simply.
“Very good, then. Wait, what are the Halflings doing with you?”
Ben turned to Marcho and Blanco in the back of his wagon. “They be my farmhands, of course. Can’t expect a man to lift all these sacks alone now, can you?”
The soldier chuckled. “As you will. Can’t say they’ll be much good with heavy lifting”
Ben chuckled with him. “Have to be good for something, eh?”
The patrol let Ben pass through and once they were in the distance he apologised to the hobbits. “Better to give simple answers to avoid complicated questions.”
Their journey continued on for many more days, until they left the Bree-land and entered the North Downs where Fornost was to be found. Eventually, after what seemed like weeks to the hobbits, they did find it, in the far distance. Marcho and Blanco had seen the city before from this distance, but the sight of it was no less magnificent to them both. Its great walls were made of white stone that shone like a jewel in the sunlight. The outer walls appeared to be completely square, and inside many tall white towers could be seen. This was Fornost, the Norbury of the Kings. The capital of the Kingdom of Arthedain and seat of the King himself. It was both a city and a fortress, beautiful yet terrible. Their long journey from Bree was almost at an end.
Crossing what Ben called the Fields of Fornost, they approached the city on a long straight road the led to its gates. They were were open and welcoming to traders and citizens of Arthedain. Upon entering the city, the two hobbits found it full of Big Folk who were busy with their lives around the city; too busy to stop and talk. Stall merchants called out to them, lamenting of the quality of their goods. Once they thought that the buildings of Bree towered over them, but they appeared insignificant to the great stone towers that seemed to fill the sky above them.
“Here I must bid you farewell, friends.” Ben said to them sadly as his wagon pulled up in the bustling marketplace. “I must attend to my business, and you must attend to yours.”
“Thank you for your help, Ben!” Blanco exclaimed before embracing the farmer in a hug.
The two now set out to find the King’s palace in this great city that filled them both with awe and dread, leaving Ben behind at the market as he unloaded his goods at an empty stall. Having asked for directions, the hobbits struggled through the crowds of people who seemed not to notice them. Ascending and descending down many stone steps, and getting lost on more than one occasion, they finally found what was undoubtedly the residence of the King. A great tower that was both taller and wider than all others in the city stood before them. The green courtyard of the palace was well-guarded by soldiers in magnificent armour. As they approached the tall doors, they slowly opened for them both.
The large entrance hall that they entered was decorated in white marble. The shining walls had many tapestries depicting the great events of Arthedain’s history. Looking up, the hobbits saw that the tall ceiling was also adorned with a beautiful mosaic pattern of many bright colours. Among the majesty of this palace, the two hobbits felt quite insignificant.
They were approached by a Man wearing a dark green tunic patterned with silver stitching. Around his neck was an ornate golden necklace that seemed to affect his posture somewhat. He scanned the two hobbits, weary from travel, with his eyes.
“I am the King’s steward.” He announced proudly. “Seldom are Halflings found in the city of Fornost, let alone the royal palace. What is your business here?”
Blanco rummaged through his pockets and found the parchment signed by Sheriff Goodtwig. He passed it up the King’s steward. Without even reading the content, he passed it back to the hobbit.
“Very well. The king is in audience now.”
“May we speak with him, then?” Marcho asked.
“Soon enough.” The steward replied. “There are currently one hundred candidates waiting for the King’s ear.”
“We shall wait.”
“Indeed you shall. Perhaps you might wash and change your attire in that time.”
