Fatty warns the Bucklanders about the Black Riders in the Shire.
The call resounded across the Buckland, waking those who would hear. Danger -- it did not matter what sort -- had come.
Fatty collapsed against the door-bolster, heaving for breath. The mile-long sprint had been too much for him, the hobbit family thought. If they only knew.
If they knew what Fatty had seen, they would have froze where they stood. No bell would have rung.
Black horses. That cursed wind that stole his breath. Pillow-feathers flying, doors broken in, and the blood-curdling scream.
They little guessed the danger. Yet that brave, stuttering hobbit saved the Shire. Until tomorrow.