[Bêthberry]

The blustery Mr. Broadbelt was providing some last minute advice to Hob and Erling.

Mind you now, I want to see a healthy, large group of hobbits back here next year; some more Fallohides would be nice. You bring them back in the right direction. Staddle's quite a comfortable place and as good as any in The Shire and we could use more families. No sense in letting Marcho grab up all the new one.

Hob had been busying himself with the buckles and straps of the cart, padding Cob's back with a blanket, and just generally nodding to the sagacity offerred. He turned steely-faced to elder hobbit when his packing was done.

Tell you truthly, Mr. Marcho's not spoken directly 'bout where to return. Best let thems that comes decides. Somes'll be farmin', somes fishers, somes likes the hunt.

Just as Hob was about to call to Erling, Mrs. Broadbelt appeared, bustling about with parcels and packages. Hob was thankful she had the good sense to wrap things that would keep on the long journey--for all her gossiping and flightiness, she was a shrewd domestic manager. They had extra seed cakes, leaves for brews over the fire, dried meats and berries, even an extra blanket for them both. But he noticed that she handed it all to Erling, so when she came round to give him the same motherly hug which Erling had received with happy good grace, he stood back, withdrawn and reserved, and she halted her movement, a bit surprised, and then gave him but a nod.

These Stoors, she thought to herself. They're so standoffish and touchy. Tsk Tsk. Too bad they can't be pleasant. What will it be like if we get more of them?

[ September 12, 2002: Message edited by: Bethberry ]