As much as Bell loves the Shire, she loves adventure more. An invitation to the royal wedding was too much temptation, so she packs her bags and sets off.
First stop is the Ivy Bush, and then the Green Dragon (after all, she has to farewell the Shire properly). At the Green Dragon the usual crowd gathers, and Bell enjoys their company one last time (not that she tells them that): there is singing, and dancing, and some very good fried taters. She is going to miss those fried taters.
In the morning (after a complete hobbit breakfast) she rides to Stock, stopping at the Golden Perch for the best fried taters in the East Farthing. Lunch soon turns into dinner, and dinner becomes an after supper morsel. She should really have ridden on, but it is good to see the sun set over the Shire one final time.
Bell and Campion (her pony) begin the journey proper, crossing the Brandywine in bright sunshine. The road to Bree is familiar now, like an old friend, when only a few years ago it was a great adventure. After a night of memories at Adso's campfire she rides on to Bree. The Prancing Pony is her last comfort before the long leagues of Eriador, and the last place where they know how to fry taters properly.
Even here the wedding celebrations have begun, for the King himself was once a regular at the Pony in the days before the war. It was here that Bell met him, on her first journey there, and struck up the brief acquaintance that gained her the invitation. She liked him at once: he was a gruff and grumpy no-nonsense sort of fellow, but there was much warmth and laughter to him nonetheless. Bell has never minded a crusty exterior, it is true rudeness she despises: the rudeness of the heart, that hides behind false smiles and cruel jests.
This brings her to thoughts of Matzo Shenanigen, who has a similar crustiness. And when she watches the unruly revellers of Bree dancing on the tables in the Pony, she recalls an earlier occasion when she, in excess of joy at her newfound freedom, had danced on a table in the Dragon, and trodden on Matzo's pie. And it occurs to her that she has never properly apologised for this, but only teased the poor fellow about it. A matter she determines to resolve: perhaps a peace offering of pies, baked by her aunt, with the ingredients grown by Bell herself. Yes, that would be appropriate.
When she leaves Bree the adventure begins in earnest. The next night is at the Forsaken Inn, and the last with a roof over her head for many days. Not that it is anything like a proper inn, the accommodations are quite basic, and the food barely palatable. Bell suspects that the average goblin could fry a tater with more skill.
After that the lands are desert: barren hills split by twisted spinneys and nasty swamps. Bell looks with interest at the fascinating ruins she can see among those hills. Once she passes Weathertop she has never come so far before: the wildness of the land and its creatures has always held her back.
No longer! Her scholar's heart itches to explore every inch of those ruins, and find out all she can about them, and bring home all the interesting mathoms she can find. After she returns home, that will be her next adventure!
Days pass, and she comes to the Greyflood, crossing it at the Last Bridge. The land changes to a wild forest, still broken by ruins and lofty crags. Bell and Campion are happy enough in their own company, with their own fire to warm the night. There is good food in the saddlebags still, and Bell is an expert forager: with her extensive botanical knowledge she can always find greens, fruits and tubers that are at least edible. Even if she misses her aunt's cooking.
And there is still hospitality to be found, surprisingly. At Barachen's camp, on a hill south of the road; and in the ruins of Thorenhad. Men do dwell in these lands, if sparsely; and will offer shelter to a lone traveller as small and inoffensive as a hobbit.
Days more and she comes to the Loudwater, and the Misty Mountains rise ahead. Regretfully, she turns south and follows the river. Bell has heard of the hidden land of Rivendell that lies beyond, an elvish land and a great centre for scholarship. She dreams of the library of Imladris, and the boundless knowledge to be found there: but she does not know the way, and they don't call it a hidden valley for nothing.
The path south is difficult, and Bell must ford the river three times before she finds a way up eastward. There is shelter in a humble fisherman's cottage on the west bank (where at least they know how to cook fish, even if they don't have any taters); and a beguiling ruin on the east. Once again, she vows to return for further exploration.
She comes now into Hollin: a wide moorland, cut by swift streams flowing westward. The ruins here are older, and elvish, and yet more fascinating, and the wind sings sweetly in the stones. Bell wonders if even the fair folk could live long enough to explore all the secret places she has seen, the world is so very very large. She dreams then of the Shire, and its smallness, and feels the yearning for it that all shirefolk know. But at least she has a kettle to comfort her, whistling on the campfire. A cup of tea washes all sad thoughts away.
It is here that her journey becomes harder. First she attempts to pass the mountains by Redhorn Gate. The area is infested by goblins, as a hobbit she sneaks past them easily; yet the path is not clear and she cannot find the way, and must turn back.
Then she crosses the Glanduin into Enedwaith, only to find that these lands are full of dangerous men: they offer no friendship and seek to waylay strangers. She is attacked and must flee. In desperation Bell casts herself into the river and swims to safety. Campion's baggage is swept downstream and scattered, she must search all day to find its bedraggled remnants.
They come to the ruins at Mirobel and make a miserable camp. There is no alternative: they must turn back, Bell's adventure is at an end, and she will miss the wedding.
But fortune smiles upon her. Some rangers come to Mirobel, passing on their way to Minas Tirith for the wedding. Far better armed and equipped than foolish Belladonna, who had thought to make the journey alone. She is recognised, and when they find she has a proper invitation, under the King's seal, they gladly permit her to join.
The rest of her journey passes uneventfully, although the catering is not what it could be. She comes to Minas Tirith in time for the great event.
