Old Stoat threw a cloak, more mud-splattered than his other garments over himself and filled his pockets with any items he considered useful for his little spying mission. Finally he took his beloved knife, gave it a wipe on the cloak's hem and declared himself ready.
Ferny stood by the ancient water pump in the cobbled yard, giving instructions to another of the itinerant workers. Stoatie smiled. He knew that he gave not instructions for the care of the smallholding but instructions for a further spying mission. Each line was being cast out into the stream before Ferny drew in a Hobbit.
"I'm ready gov. You want me to head for Hobbiton, yes?"
"Aye, and keep your wits about you. Those folk may be small but they're far from daft. You'll not be able to walk in all casually like. You'll have to be a canny spy." Ferny barked at him.
Stoatie merely smiled. "Oh aye, I am that," and with that he turned about and set off down the lane. It was a fair journey to Hobbiton from the farm outside Bree. He glanced about him. He wondered if Ferny had another location in mind by way of a hide-out as a delapidated cottage, not much better than a shed, in open country, by the side of the lane was not suitable for the hiding of kidnapped children.
The day passed uneventfully. Old Stoat even managed to resist a little vagabond activity when faced with a fat farmer with an equally fat purse alone upon the road. He could rob someone at any time. His nefarious business with Bill Ferny was actually proving to be quite enjoyable.
He stopped and consulted his little map, hand-drawn on his last visit to those parts when he had met a man upon the road who had been seeking the inn. As he had done on that occasion, Old Stoat left the open road and completed his journey cross-country. He knew where he was headed for but had no intention of letting a soul know he was there.
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Auriel
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