The very next day, I was still pondering the wisdom of my decision. I had let Fastred goad me into what might prove to be a rash action. I was still pondering as I walked with Bennie to her stables to meet the pony that was to carry me in the race. I had argued the point that some folk might look askance at my borrowing a pony from the stables of the very person who was organising and sponsoring the race. However, Bennie is never an easy one to enter into a debate with.

"Oh, come on Frodo. It’s all in good fun."

"That may well be. But there is money involved and people tend to take high stakes rather seriously." I replied.

"Well, I did set the rules and it is an open race, which means that anyone with a mount, be it borrowed or bought, can ride." Then she added with a mischievous smile, "I intend to enter, myself."

I raised an eyebrow. "I thought you weren’t going -" I began.

She cut me off with, "I changed my mind. Why shouldn’t I have fun, too? I’d rather be riding than watching, any day!"

How like Bennie, to ride in her own race. If she didn’t want to part with the prizes why on earth had she bothered to offer such tempting winnings? But then, knowing Bennie as well as I did, I realised that it wasn’t a matter of money, it was proving how good her ponies really were.

"Look, Frodo, if you’re really worried about offending other riders, I have a proposition for you..."

I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of that.

"Why don’t you buy the pony from me?" She suggested. "That would keep everything all nice and legitimate."

"What do I do with it after the race?"

"Well...you could ride it."

"I like walking."

"Or...I could buy it back....I’ll sell him to you for a very reasonable price."

I took a moment or two to deliberate. This last proposition sounded almost as questionable as borrowing one of her ponies. As I mentioned before, however, Bennie can be very persuasive and I soon found myself the proud owner of a pony called Patch.

As I stood in the stable, studying my new acquisition, I had to admit that at the very least he was aptly named. He was a handsome steed, mostly white but for a splash of black on his rump and some black markings that ran under his throat and over his ears. He had what Bennie referred to as a bald face, which meant, mostly white, except for the black patch of colour around one

The pony had once been renowned for his speed, but since he now had more than a few years behind him, he had been retired to the position of cart pony. But Bennie had assured me that he was still more than capable of besting just about any other pony in the Shire when it came to taking fences or running full out on the flat.

I spent most of the remainder of that day, at Bennie’s farm, getting acquainted with Patch. We took a break at teatime, with Bennie was on her best behaviour, making no attempt to entice me with her charming wiles into decorum unbefitting a Gentlehobbit. When it came to ponies, Bennie was all business, but her demeanor might also have been explained by the fact that her parents were in town and staying at her farm for the occasion of the race, not to mention they both happened to join us for tea.

After tea, it was back to the barn, and back in the saddle. Patch seemed to be possessed of an even temper and he stayed quite calm amidst the flurry of activity around us as workers went about noisily hammering in stakes for tents and setting up an impromptu grandstand for tomorrow’s events. Not even the flapping of the tent cloth unnerved him. And, I had seen many another pony upset by much less. But I wondered if this composure would work against our favour. Did he have enough spirit to summon the speed that would be needed to compete against younger equines?

But as Bennie put us through some paces, I was taken by surprise at how fleet of foot the gelding actually was. The gallop we had proved to be quite exhilarating. I decided that in the end speed didn’t really matter, as long as he didn’t toss me headfirst into a thicket of brambles or a stone wall.

"I think that’s enough for today." Bennie announced. "We don’t want to wear him out before the race tomorrow. I’ll see that he gets good rub down and a good supper later tonight."

"I could do with the same myself." I commented, before realising just exactly what I had said.  I Had only been referring to a much welcome supper. My blunder sparked Bennie’s first saucy comment of the day. I had honestly thought we might make it through the day without any indelicacies. I should have known better.

"Which would you like first?"

I was rescued from answering by the appearance of Bennie’s father, Bodo, who had come out to check on the preparations for race day and to invite me to stay for supper. I accepted the offer of supper and wondered briefly how he would have reacted had he known his lovely daughter had also offered me a rub down.

Before returning home that evening, I had settled with Bennie on a fair price for Patch and left with a full stomach and the satisfaction of knowing that my new purchase was happily boarded in his stall munching away on a flake of hay. But most surprising of all, for the first time since declaring my intention to enter the race, I had hopes of actually winning the race.