A Knife in the Dark

           AstheypreparedforsleepintheinnatBree,darknesslayonBuckland;amiststrayedinthedellsandalongtheriver-bank.ThehouseatCrickhollowstoodsilent.FattyBolgeropenedthedoorcautiouslyandpeeredout.Afeelingoffearhadbeengrowingonhimallday,andhewasunabletorestorgotobed:therewasabroodingthreatinthebreathlessnight-air.Ashestaredoutintothegloom,ablackshadowmovedunderthetrees;thegateseemedtoopenofitsownaccordandcloseagainwithoutasound.Terrorseizedhim.Heshrankback,andforamomenthestoodtremblinginthehall.Thenheshutandlockedthedoor.

           Thenightdeepened.Therecamethesoftsoundofhorsesledwithstealthalongthelane.Outsidethegatetheystopped,andthreeblackfiguresentered,likeshadesofnightcreepingacrosstheground.Onewenttothedoor,onetothecornerofthehouseoneitherside;andtheretheystood,asstillastheshadowsofstones,whilenightwentslowlyon.Thehouseandthequiettreesseemedtobewaitingbreathlessly.

           Therewasafaintstirintheleaves,andacockcrowedfaraway.Thecoldhourbeforedawnwaspassing.Thefigurebythedoormoved.Inthedarkwithoutmoonorstarsadrawnbladegleamed,asifachilllighthadbeenunsheathed.Therewasablow,softbutheavy,andthedoorshuddered.

           ‘Open,inthenameofMordor!’saidavoicethinandmenacing.

           Atasecondblowthedooryieldedandfellback,withtimbersburstandlockbroken.Theblackfigurespassedswiftlyin.

           Atthatmoment,amongthetreesnearby,ahornrangout.