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Before　long；　washed　and　refreshed；　the　hobbits　were　seated　at　the　table；　two　on　each　side；　while　at　either　end　sat　Goldberry　and　the　Master。　It　was　a　long　and　merry　meal。　Though　the　hobbits　ate；　as　only　famished　hobbits　can　eat；　there　was　no　lack。　The　drink　in　their　drinkingbowls　seemed　to　be　clear　cold　water；　yet　it　went　to　their　hearts　like　wine　and　set　free　their　voices。　The　guests　became　suddenly　aware　that　they　were　singing　merrily；　as　if　it　was　easier　and　more　natural　than　talking。

At　last　Tom　and　Goldberry　rose　and　cleared　the　table　swiftly。　The　guests　were　manded　to　sit　quiet；　and　were　set　in　chairs；　each　with　a　footstool　to　his　tired　feet。　There　was　a　fire　in　the　wide　hearth　before　them；　and　it　was　burning　with　a　sweet　smell；　as　if　it　were　built　of　applewood。　When　everything　was　set　in　order；　all　the　lights　in　the　room　were　put　out；　except　one　lamp　and　a　pair　of　candles　at　each　end　of　the　chimneyshelf。　Then　Goldberry　came　and　stood　before　them；　holding　a　candle；　and　she　wished　them　each　a　good　night　and　deep　sleep。

'Have　peace　now；'　she　said；　'until　the　morning！　Heed　no　nightly　noises！　For　nothing　passes　door　and　window　here　save　moonlight　and　starlight　and　the　wind　off　the　hilltop。　Good　night！'　She　passed　out　of　the　room　with　a　glimmer　and　a　rustle。　The　sound　of　her　footsteps　was　like　a　stream　falling　gently　away　downhill　over　cool　stones　in　the　quiet　of　night。

Tom　sat　on　a　while　beside　them　in　silence；　while　each　of　them　tried　to　muster　the　courage　to　ask　one　of　the　many　questions　he　had　meant　to　ask　at　supper。　Sleep　gathered　on　their　eyelids。　At　last　Frodo　spoke：

'Did　you　hear　me　calling；　Master；　or　was　it　just　chance　that　brought　you　at　that　moment？'

Tom　stirred　like　a　man　shaken　out　of　a　pleasant　dream。　'Eh；　what？'　said　he。　'Did　I　hear　you　calling？　Nay；　I　did　not　hear：　I　was　busy　singing。　Just　chance　brought　me　then；　if　chance　you　call　it。　It　was　no　plan　of　mine；　though　I　was　waiting　for　you。　We　heard　news　of　you；　and　learned　that　you　were　wandering。　We　guessed　you'd　e　ere　long　down　to　the　water：　all　paths　lead　that　way；　down　to　Withywindle。　Old　grey　Willowman；　he's　a　mighty　singer；　and　it's　hard　for　little　folk　to　escape　his　cunning　mazes。　But　Tom　had　an　errand　there；　that　he　dared　not　hinder。'　Tom　nodded　as　if　sleep　was　taking　him　again；　but　he　went　on　in　a　soft　singing　voice：

I　had　an　errand　there：　gathering　waterlilies；
green　leaves　and　lilies　white　to　please　my　pretty　lady；
the　last　ere　the　year's　end　to　keep　them　from　the　winter；
to　flower　by　her　pretty　feet　tilt　the　snows　are　melted。
Each　year　at　summer's　end　I　go　to　find　them　for　her；
in　a　wide　pool；　deep　and　clear；　far　down　Withywindle；
there　they　open　first　in　spring　and　there　they　linger　latest。
By　that　pool　long　ago　I　found　the　Riverdaughter；
fair　young　Goldberry　sitting　in　the　rushes。
Sweet　was　her　singing　then；　and　her　heart　was　beating！
He　opened　his　eyes　and　looked　at　them　with　a　sudden　glint　of　blue：
And　that　proved　well　for　you　。　for　now　I　shall　no　longer
go　down　deep　again　along　the　forestwater；
not　while　the　year　is　old。　Nor　shall　I　be　passing
Old　Man　Willow's　house　this　side　of　springtime；
not　till　the　merry　spring；　when　the　Riverdaughter
dances　down　the　withypath　to　bathe　in　the　water。

He　fell　silent　again；　but　Frodo　could　not　help　asking　one　more　question：　the　one　he　most　desired　to　have　answered。　'Tell　us；　Master；'　he　said；　'about　the　Willowman。　What　is　he？　I　have　never　heard　of　him　before。'

'No；　don't！'　said　Merry　and　Pippin　together；　sitting　suddenly　upright。　'Not　now！　Not　until　the　morning！'

'That　is　right！'　said　the　old　man。　'Now　is　the　time　for　resting。　Some　things　are　ill　to　hear　when　the　world's　in　shadow。　Sleep　till　the　morning　light；　rest　on　the　pillow！　Heed　no　nightly　noise！　Fear　no　grey　willow！'　And　with　that　he　took　down　the　lamp　and　blew　it　out；　and　grasping　a　candle　in　either　hand　he　led　them　out　of　the　room。

Their　mattresses　and　pillows　were　soft　as　down；　and　the　blankets　were　of　white　wool。　They　had　hardly　laid　themselves　on　the　deep　beds　and　drawn　the　light　covers　over　them　before　they　were　asleep。

In　the　dead　night；　Frodo　lay　in　a　dream　without　light。　Then　he　saw　the　young　moon　rising；　under　its　thin　light　there　loomed　before　him　a　black　wall　of　rock；　pierced　by　a　dark　arch　like　a　great　gate。　It　seemed　to　Frodo　that　he　was　lifted　up；　and　passing　over　he　saw　that　the　rockwall　was　a　circle　of　hills；　and　that　within　it　was　a　plain；　and　in　the　midst　of　the　plain　stood　a　pinnacle　of　stone；　like　a　vast　tower　but　not　made　by　hands。　On　its　top　stood　the　figure　of　a　man。　The　moon　as　it　rose　seemed　to　hang　for　a　moment　above　his　head　and　glistened　in　his　white　hair　as　the　wind　stirred　it。　Up　from　the　dark　plain　below　came　the　crying　of　fell　voices；　and　the　howling　of　many　wolves。　Suddenly　a　shadow；　like　the　shape　of　great　wings；　passed　across　the　moon。　The　figure　lifted　his　arms　and　a　light　flashed　from　the　staff　that　he　wielded。　A　mighty　eagle　swept　down　and　bore　him　away。　The　voices　wailed　and　the　wolves　yammered。　There　was　a　noise　like　a　strong　wind　blowing；　and　on　it　was　borne　the　sound　of　hoofs；　galloping；　galloping；　galloping　from　the　East。　'Black　Riders！'　thought　Frodo　as　he　wakened；　with　the　sound　of　the　hoofs　still　echoing　in　his　mind。　He　wondered　if　he　would　ever　again　have　the　courage　to　leave　the　safety　of　these　stone　walls。　He　lay　motionless；　still　listening；　but　all　was　now　silent；　and　at　last　he　turned　and　fell　asleep　again　or　wandered　into　some　other　unremembered　dream。

At　his　side　Pippin　lay　dreaming　pleasantly；　but　a　change　came　over　his　dreams　and　he　turned　and　groaned。　Suddenly　he　woke；　or　thought　he　had　waked；　and　yet　still　heard　in　the　darkness　the　sound　that　had　disturbed　his　dream：　tiptap；　squeak：　the　noise　was　like　branches　fretting　in　the　wind；　twig　fingers　scraping　wall　and　window：　creak；　creak；　creak。　He　wondered　if　there　were　willowtrees　close　to　the　house；　and　then　suddenly　he　had　a　dreadful　feeling　that　he　was　not　in　an　ordinary　house　at　all；　but　inside　the　willow　and　listening　to　that　horrible　dry　creaking　voice　laughing　at　him　again。　He　sat　up；　and　felt　the　soft　pillows　yield　to　his　hands；　and　he　lay　down　again　relieved。　He　seemed　to　hear　the　echo　of　words　in　his　ears：　'Fear　nothing！　Have　peace　until　the　morning！　Heed　no　nightly　noises！'　Then　he　went　to　sleep　again。

It　was　the　sound　of　water　that　Merry　heard　falling　into　his　quiet　sleep：　water　streaming　down　gently；　and　then　spreading；　spreading　irresistibly　all　round　the　house　into　a　dark　shoreless　pool。　It　gurgled　under　the　walls；　and　was　rising　slowly　but　surely。　'I　shall　be　drowned！'　he　thought。　It　will　find　its　way　in；　and　then　I　shall　drown。'　He　felt　that　he　was　lying　in　a　soft　slimy　bog；　and　springing　up　he　set　his　fool　on　the　corner　of　a　cold　hard　flagstone。　Then　he　remembered　where　he　was　and　lay　down　again。　He　seemed　to　hear　or　remember　hearing：　'Nothing　passes　doors　or　windows　save　moonlight　and　starlight　and　the　wind　off　the　hilltop。'　A　little　breath　of　sweet　air　moved　the　curtain。　He　breathed　deep　and　fell　asleep　again。

As　far　as　he　could　remember；　Sam　slept　through　the　night　in　deep　content；　if　logs　are　contented。

They　woke　up；　all　four　at　once；　in　the　morning　light。　Tom　was　moving　about　the　room　whistling　like　a　starling。　When　he　heard　them　stir　he　clapped　his　hands；　and　cried：　'Hey！　e　merry　dol！　derry　dol！　My　hearties！'　He　drew　back　the　yellow　curtains；　and　the　hobbits　saw　that　these　had　covered　the　windows；　at　either　end　of　the　room；　one　looking　east　and　the　other　looking　west。

They　leapt　up　refreshed。　Frodo　ran　to　the　eastern　window；　and　found　himself　looking　into　a　kitchengarden　grey　with　dew。　He　had　half　expected　to　see　turf　right　up　to　the　walls；　turf　all　pocked　with　hoofprints。　Actually　his　view　was　screened　by　a　tall　line　of　beans　on　poles；　but　above　and　far　beyond　them　the　grey　top　of　the　hill　loomed　up　against　the　sunrise。　It　was　a　pale　morning：　in　the　East；　behind　long　clouds　like　lines　of　soiled　wool　stained　red　at　the　edges；　lay　glimmering　deeps　of　yellow。　The　sky　spoke　of　rain　to　e；　but　the　light　was　broadening　quickly；　and　the　red　flowers　on　the　beans　began　to　glow　against　the　wet　green　leaves。

Pippin　looked　out　of　the　western　window；　down　into　a　pool　of　mist。