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"
Raise
the
Shire
!
"
said
Merry
.
"
Now
!
Wake
all
our
people
!
They
hate
all
this
,
you
can
see
:
all
of
them
except
perhaps
one
or
two
rascals
,
and
a
few
fools
that
want
to
be
important
,
but
do
n't
at
all
understand
what
is
really
going
on
.
But
Shire-folk
have
been
so
comfortable
so
long
they
do
n't
know
what
to
do
.
They
just
want
a
match
,
though
,
and
they
'll
go
up
in
fire
.
The
Chief
's
Men
must
know
that
.
They
'll
try
to
stamp
on
us
and
put
us
out
quick
.
We
've
only
got
a
very
short
time
.
"
Sam
,
you
can
make
a
dash
for
Cotton
's
farm
,
if
you
like
.
He
's
the
chief
person
round
here
,
and
the
sturdiest
.
Come
on
!
I
am
going
to
blow
the
horn
of
Rohan
,
and
give
them
all
some
music
they
have
never
heard
before
.
"
They
rode
back
to
the
middle
of
the
village
.
There
Sam
turned
aside
and
galloped
off
down
the
lane
that
led
south
to
Cotton
's
.
He
had
not
gone
far
when
he
heard
a
sudden
clear
horn-call
go
up
ringing
into
the
sky
.
Far
over
hill
and
field
it
echoed
;
and
so
compelling
was
that
call
that
Sam
himself
almost
turned
and
dashed
back
.
His
pony
reared
and
neighed
.
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"
On
,
lad
!
On
!
"
he
cried
.
"
We
'll
be
going
back
soon
.
"
Then
he
heard
Merry
change
the
note
,
and
up
went
the
Horn-cry
of
Buckland
,
shaking
the
air
.
Awake
!
Awake
!
Fear
,
Fire
,
Foes
!
Awake
!
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Fire
,
Foes
!
Awake
!
Behind
him
Sam
heard
a
hubbub
of
voices
and
a
great
din
and
slamming
of
doors
.
In
front
of
him
lights
sprang
out
in
the
gloaming
;
dogs
barked
;
feet
came
running
.
Before
he
got
to
the
lane
's
end
there
was
Farmer
Cotton
with
three
of
his
lads
,
Young
Tom
,
Jolly
,
and
Nick
,
hurrying
towards
him
.
They
had
axes
in
their
hands
,
and
barred
the
way
.
"
Nay
!
It
's
not
one
of
them
ruffians
,
"
Sam
heard
the
farmer
say
.
"
It
's
a
hobbit
by
the
size
of
it
,
but
all
dressed
up
queer
.
Hey
!
"
he
cried
.
"
Who
are
you
,
and
what
's
all
this
to-do
?
"