Delioron had not managed to find an inn in Bucklebury, but a friendly stable-hand informed him that he had advised the other visitor from Bree to find lodgings in the Brandy Hall, on top of the Buck Hill. Unlike the Shire, Buckland was accustomed of sometimes getting ”Big Folk” visitors from Bree, and hobbits here were not as shy as the hobbits on the western side of the Brandywine. The Brandy Hall was the place where such visitors usually stayed, being a grand mansion with hundreds of rooms. But such visitors were relatively rare these days, as evidenced by the curious glances the stable-hand threw in Delioron’s direction. It was a good thing that the sun had already set and the streets of Bucklebury were dark and mostly empty of traffic.
Delioron climbed the paved street leading up the Buck Hill, arriving in a thrifty yard with lush gardens full of colorful flowers and apple-trees. The mansion itself had been built upon the side of the hill and consisted mainly of low roofs and round doors and windows, typical of hobbit architecture. Delioron saw dozens of windows, most of them alight, but he did not want to knock on a door if he could help it. As he saw nobody in the yard, he turned left and climbed a steep slope to look inside one of the windows. He was lucky, because he espied a spacious dining room with many hobbits and Greengage sitting around a long table.
Delioron knocked on the glass pane of the window, and many curious eyes turned to look at him. Delioron beckoned to Greengage, who said something to his dinner companions and excused himself from the table. A few moments later he came out of one of the main doors and the two men stood staring at each other in the yard of the Brandy Hall.
Greengage had changed during his two days on the run. His face was thinner, his hair messy and his eyes staring and frightened. Delioron gazed at him steadily until Greengage looked away.
”Have you talked to anyone about what happened in Bree?” Delioron asked.
Greengage looked at him. ”No.”
”Good. Then there is still a chance.”
”A chance of what? I didn’t think you’d come here. I…”
”Shut up”, Delioron interrupted. ”I want you to go back inside and wait. Sleep if you can, but do not come outside again. You will have visitors in the morning.”
”Visitors? What visitors?”
”That is none of your concern. They will introduce themselves when they come.”
”None of my concern? But…”
”They are Rangers”, Delioron said. ”Rangers of the North. The Dúnedain. They will ask you a lot of questions, and you will tell them everything they want to know.”
”And what happens then?”
”Nothing. They will take you away from here. You will live.”
”Is there anything I should not tell them?”
”No”, said Delioron. ”Tell them everything. If you lie, if you leave anything out, they will know and they will kill you. If you tell them the truth, you will live. That’s it.”
”Have you made some kind of a deal with the Dúnedain?”
Delioron looked at Greengage as if he was looking at an insect. He could not conceal his contempt anymore.
”Yes”, he said. ”The kind of deal that will save your miserable life. Now get back inside.”
