Hidden Chronicles Chapter 9
Reflections
Nearly eight months had passed in Hidden since the events which led to Dudo Underfoot and Amber Bloomblush getting married twice – once in a very private and formal ceremony for the benefit of Amber’s gammer, and shortly afterwards in a quite magnificent wedding held on The Green with the whole village in attendance, at which Amber wore the beautiful dress made for her by her best friends Opal and Topaz Threadgold.
Now, on a cold and frosty December morning, Filibert Diggle was on his way to visit his good friend Araminta Digroot, the village healer, at her hut in the fields close by the High Wood. He allowed himself a moment of quiet satisfaction as he recalled his own part in helping his two young friends, who were clearly meant for one another, to marry without upsetting anyone, even if it had taken two ceremonies to do it.
It was two years now since Filibert had arrived in Hidden. Tricked by a crafty carter with a tale of singing badgers, worse the wear from too much ale, dishevelled and robbed of his purse, he had woken from a drunken stupor to find himself abandoned in a heap on a narrow lane. He had literally fallen into the village after clambering through a hole in The Hedge which had at once closed behind him. The villagers welcomed him warmly, but it was made quite clear that any arriving in the village from ‘the outside’ could never leave.
Filibert had to admit that he wanted for nothing – he had been set up in a comfortable home in one of the Old Smials and Aunty Prue, who ran ‘The Shop’, had told him to let her know whatever it was he might need – not only could that inscrutable lady obtain almost anything, including items from ‘the outside’, but she allowed Filibert to regularly send letters to one person of his choice outside the village, and of course he chose me, his own cousin, Wybert, which is why I am able to tell you these tales. How she was able to do this was something Filibert was intensely curious about, but so far he had never been able to resolve that mystery.
Of course, Filibert had got off to a good start in Hidden, for on his very first full day there he had helped to find a missing child, little Waldo Buggins, an imaginative lad who had gone off to the High Woods to look for elves. The villagers never ventured far into those woods for it was said that a wild creature lived there, but Filibert had guessed that it was where the boy might have gone and he and Watchman Dudo had found the little lad asleep in a rough shelter – as they approached it, a shambling figure had rushed from within and fled into the trees before they could stop it. The boy remembered only that he had got lost and fallen asleep in the woods – someone, or something, must have carried him into the shelter while he slept.
In the Hidden community every hobbit had a part to play and to a very great extent the village was self-sufficient – supplemented by the little extras Aunty Prue was able to obtain from ‘outside’, pretty much everything that might be found in any other Shire village was available to the folk there.
It had been made clear to Filibert that he was expected to play his part and, as the old schoolmistress Gammer Bracegirdle had become too frail to perform her duties and the village children were in pressing need of schooling, it had been decided that, as an educated hobbit who had experienced the world, he was the perfect replacement. He often thought afterwards that the coincidence of his arrival in the village at just this time might not have been a coincidence at all – but how could that be?
As a bachelor Filibert’s only experience of children was through his nephews and nieces – but of these he had many as the Diggles, Diggings and Delvings back home in Woodhall had large families, all intertwined. In truth, despite his initial apprehension Filibert had come to enjoy his time at the school and as well as filling his pupils’ heads with knowledge and teaching them essential skills he took a close interest in them as people and was always ready to help them with any problems or concerns beyond the classroom.
The sun shone brightly on the snow-covered ground as Filibert crossed the Green, surrounded by little cottages, and passed the inn, the Singing Badger, which, alongside ‘The Shop’ and the village bakery, served as one of the social centres of this thriving little hobbit community. As his friend Araminta was always telling him, life was good here – he had a comfortable home, good friends and an occupation he had never dreamed he might follow yet in which he found immense satisfaction.
As he crossed the bridge on the path leading out of the village he smiled in anticipation of the time he would spend with Araminta. They loved to take walks together, roaming the surprisingly varied landscapes found within the village bounds. It was as if someone had taken little pieces from every part of The Shire and fitted them together within the confines of just a few square miles.
Filibert remembered summer walks through The Gardens, which lay close by his home in the Old Smials. Here bees buzzed lazily among the multicoloured blooms whose scent, together with that of ripening fruit from Bodo Buggins’ apple orchard, combined in an intoxicating perfume. A short walk took one down to the Fishing Pool, a place where the river slowed and widened just before it was lost in the marshes. Here, brightly coloured mayflies danced inches above the surface and old Izaak Threadgold dozed on the bank beside his rod at all hours of the day.
If one took the path to the west along The Hedge from his front door, the ground began to rise sharply and the gentle beauty of low hedgerows and flower meadows was replaced with a more rugged outlook, where bracken and heathers grew and rocky outcrops protruded from sparse patches of grass. Here lay The Croft, home of the lonesome shepherdess Lorelei Goosefoot, and her faithful dog, Sam. In the springtime lambs gambolled on the hillside. As one drew nearer, the thunder of the Roaring Falls filled the air. The waters tumbled down from the sheer cliffs which formed an impenetrable barrier between the rest of the world and this end of the village and disappeared into the deep gorge where the River Swashing began its journey in a seething cauldron of foam and spray before rushing on in a series of rapids.
Another path down the hillside brought one to the steep riverbank, for the river still flowed fast through a narrow channel here until it reached a watermill just beyond the wooden bridge. A stone-built forge lay a little way from the path, the abode of Durnir Ironfinder, the village blacksmith. Durnir was a dwarf and Filibert had often wondered how he had ended up in a hobbit village, but he was a dwarf of few words and Filibert had never found an opportunity to engage him in conversation to satisfy his curiosity. Across the bridge and past the mill the path led away from the river which slowed and widened here as it wended its way towards the village centre.
Scattered stands of low trees and bushes grew round about until one came to a building set some distance from the path. It was easily the largest building in the village and Filibert had never seen its like before anywhere in The Shire. It comprised a square-built main building of two storeys constructed from dark grey granite blocks overlayed in places with a lighter coloured limestone decorated with strange symbols and carvings of all manner of creatures and among them the faces of dwarves and men, of elves and hobbits. It was joined at its western end to a cupola above which stood a tall tower at whose top were windows looking out on the village in every direction.
Filibert had once thought that he saw a figure moving at one of the windows, but he couldn’t be sure as it was impossible to get close. The building was completely encircled by a fence of spiked railings, and the only entrance was by way of a pair of tall iron gates. The Hall or ‘Big House’, as it was known, was home to the mysterious ‘Maister’ whose word, so it was said, held sway over everything that went on in the village but whom no one would admit to having ever seen. Few were inclined to visit, but anyone approaching the gate would at once be accosted and told to leave by either Alwin Mugwort, the burly steward, or by his sour-faced wife Oleander, the housekeeper.
At harvest time Filibert and Araminta had sometimes strolled up to the Muckles’ farm, passing by Roderigo Rumble’s malthouse and brewery, home to those famous brews Roderigo’s Rocket and Rumble’s Old Reekie, on the way. Golden barley ripened in the fields, cows lowed contentedly in the pasture and members of the Muckle family and their farmhands paused in their work to offer a cheery wave. Down the hill from the farmhouse one came to the pigsties where Ivo Mudd, the young pigman, cared lovingly for his charges, often assisted by Peppermint Muckle, the farmer’s youngest daughter, who, of late, wasted no opportunity of being in Ivo’s company.
A muddy path led from the sties to the very edge of The Slue, that treacherous and impassable marsh that formed a barrier between this end of the village and the rest of The Shire. It was a wild place, bordered by reedbeds from which could be heard the haunting cries of all manner of wildfowl and the constant croaking of frogs.
Yes, Filibert thought to himself, Hidden is indeed a beautiful place – yet, though he knew that he should be content, he could not forget the tall and thorny Hedge that ran the length of the village on both sides and through which he had found no means of escape, though he had explored every inch of it, for a part of him still longed to return to his old life in The Shire and he had never given up hope that one day he might do so.
As he trudged through the snow across the fields to where Araminta’s hut lay, all at once he heard a cry from up ahead. Looking up he saw Araminta herself rushing towards him.
“Oh, Filibert, come quick!”
Together they hurried to her home, and she led him to her kitchen area where jars lay overturned and food lay scattered about.
“What happened” asked Filibert, “are you alright?”
“Yes I’m fine,” she replied. “I disturbed it…him!”
She explained that she had heard a noise and when she went to investigate, she discovered a tall creature dressed in rags stuffing food into a sack. On seeing her it had at once given a terrible cry and ran past her out into the snow, leaving the sack and food behind.
“I don’t know what it was, it was such a terrible sight, and it gave me such a fright!” She shuddered and Filibert put a comforting arm round her.
“Should we send for Dudo?” he asked. “He could get some lads together to hunt it down.”
“No,” said Araminta firmly. “Whatever it was, it looked frightened…and hungry!”
She led him outside and pointed at the snowy ground. A clear set of large footsteps led away from her hut.
“It’s heading for the High Woods,” she said. “I reckon we should follow it.”
Filibert remembered the shambling figure he had seen once before in those woods and it was his turn to shudder.
