The Gathering-In, or The Quest of the 24 Messengers.

[Child of the 7th Age]

Perry sat on a tree stump at the edge of the road shaking his head in dismay. He had spent two hours listening to hobbit chatter. The trouble was that, after all that noise, not much had actually been said.

Bingo Took had brought Perry to a town meeting which included several of the important clan heads. They had all been polite and thanked Perry profusely for the rangers' help in putting down a band of outlaws who'd attacked the residents just a few months before. In gratitude, the hobbits had even sent a small wagon of supplies down to Bree. A back room of the main inn in Bree had long served as ranger headquarters, if you could give that name to a group which was largely hidden from public view and which seemed to come and go with the night winds.

But supplies were one thing, and junior rangers were another. Perry had made no progress on that account. Bingo Took had assured him that the town was devoid of eligible 'tweener boys, a claim Perry found difficult to believe.

But he did know one thing. If a lad didn't want to train as a ranger, it was better not to press. Perry had purposely waited around a bit on the treestump. Sometimes fathers said one thing, and lads felt another way. Many a time, he'd found himself accosted by the boys themselves after their parents had said no. Then a little visit back to the family and a twisting of arms usually ended up with the hobbit going off to train as a ranger. But here, even that didn't seem to be working. He'd join the Tooks for dinner and a soft bed and then be off in the morning. But it was a bitter disappointment to find no new recruits.

He was about to make his way to the house when he saw a small form come racing like the wind towards him. Perry looked up in expectation only to see the last thing in the world that he would ever want to see. For it was a pretty 'tweener girl with long golden curls and, as far as he was concerned, that could only mean trouble.