* A hearty meal shared with a Hobbit family eagerly awaiting the two much-heralded Messengers? Now this was adventure! Erling Greenhands sprang from his pony. Before his pulled leg muscles could catch up with him, he bounded away down the grassy knoll, out of sight of Hob and the ponies. Reaching a round red door, he tapped out a lively springle-ring rhythm until the lady of the hole appeared. *
* The knob wobbled and the door slitted open. A no-nonsense matron of sharp eye and quick tongue looked Erling up and down. * Yes?
* The Fallohide of pale-golden hair blinked under the gaze but managed an introductory bow. * Erling Greenhands, at your service. I'm one of the Messengers. You know, on the quest to gather Hobbit folk into the Shire.
No thank you, Hamson and I are not interested in moving a single step further West. Our hole here in Staddle is snug enough. No sense us picking up, packing up, and burrowing in somewheres new at our age. By the way, aren't there supposed to be two of you? * Behind the sturdy Hobbit lady, a dog sniffed, giving a couple of practice barks. *
But they said there'd be supper here? * Erling leaned closer, smiling and pulling out a small burlap sack which exuded a pleasing earthy aroma. * I've mushrooms for your stew. And my good friend Hob Heathertoes will be along in a few minutes.
Looks like we've got us some dinner guests, Snapper! * The matron waved off her dog and ushered Erling into the comfort of her hole, hollering for her husband to come meet the Messenger. *
* Meanwhile, little did Erling suspect that he had knocked on the wrong door by mistake. Soon he would be enjoying the hospitality of Mr. and Mrs. Goodbody, leaving poor Hob to wonder why Erling was nowhere to be seen at the Broadbelt smials ... *
[ September 12, 2002: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]
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