On arrival in Hobbiton, Peony found most the same situation she had left in Pincup, and had seen along the way. A terrible stench hung in the air like the awful smell in a slaughterhouse. It pinched the nose and made it crinkle in disgust. A meeting had been called together in the Hall due to the famine. She ran quickly as a hobbit farmer began to speak.
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"My dear friends, neighbors, and family, I ask for your full attention as I speak of a matter that affects us all," Anson said with surprising eloquence. Nobody had expected this, and they all leaned in a little closer. Anson rose grandly to the occasion. "As you are all aware, this year has not been good for the farmers of the Shire. There has been little rain and much sun. As pleasant as it is for our children to be able to play in lovely weather, it would be more pleasant still for them to have fuller bellies than they have been able to have lately. This day I found three sheep dead in my fields, from not an attack, nor old age, but from a disease. I don't know how this came about or what it is that is carrying this disease, but I know that this will do nothing but make the season worse."
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A voice towards the back of the Hall spoke up then. It was a Man.
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"It is not only the Shire being affected. Word from Rivendell has it that many of the lands all the way from here to there have been stricken by this disease. It is hosted in the plants, and is most concentrated in the grasses, which is why the livestock are dying. People there are suffering, just as you are. An emergency meeting has been called at the Prancing Pony, and I was sent to alert all of you. Will you come?"
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Peony looked back towards the hobbit farmer who nodded and readdressed the congregation.
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"Our friend has set before us an option that we need to look into, my friends. Shall we go?"
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Hobbits nodded in agreement and some spoke up. After thirty minutes of debate, it was decided that a group of selected hobbits would leave immediately for Bree. As a representative of Tuckborough and the Green Hill Country, Peony was to be among them.
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Peony smiled cordially and shook hands firmly with the hobbit farmer. Putting forth her best executive attitude, striving to make a good impression and prove to be very brave, she answered Anson definitely.
“Good morning sir. My name is Peony Fields of Pincup, daughter of Grombadoc Fields.” She waited for the name to register before she continued, “The plague has reached the Green Hill Country and Tuckborough as well. I have come for help. I attended your meeting this morning and would like to come with you and the rest to Bree.” The hobbit farmer’s face flashed a little sign doubt, “Oh I understand that it will be a rather dangerous journey and no ‘hobbit walking part’” she giggled, “but I am quick and will cause to delay.” Confident with her response, she stood up strait, resting her hand on the top of her canteen. Anson smiled.
“Very well then, I am thankful for your company.” With that, the hobbits began their trek to Bree. Minding the smell and dreary faces around them, Peony thought the day was rather pleasant. The sun was bright, not too hot though, and an autumn breeze fluttered gaily around them, dimming the stench of the disease. She smiled and quietly hummed a walking song.
“Eh what’s that song your singin’ lass?” queried one of the hobbits beside her. Peony looked at him, a twinkle in her eye and sang the words:
“The Road goes ever on and on, down from the door where it began. Now far ahead the road has gone, and I must follow if I can.” The hobbit nodded and began to sing with her. Soon the entire hobbit party was singing it too, but softly.
They walked long and the day began to wear on their feet. Finally Anson called a halt, and the hobbits made camp for the night. The hobbit to which she was speaking with earlier was named Fredegar. He started the fire while the hobbits gathered around smoking pipes and sharing stories. Someone had caught a few rabbits and they were cooking nicely. Peony went to sit by her friend who had just lighted his pipe.
“Good evening,” she said, taking a seat beside him on the dry ground. Fredegar nodded,
“Good evening lass.” Fredegar was an elderly hobbit, probably no younger than seventy years of age. He had a pleasant look about him, and there were crinkles by his eyes and the corners of his mouth due to smiling so often. Peony liked him, and he reminded her of her grandfather.
“Where do hail from little one?” he asked her.
“Pincup in the Green Hill Country. My father is Grombadoc Fields.” Fredegar nodded,
“That name is familiar.” He took a puff on his pipe as Peony began to talk some more.
“I don’t really care for adventures, but I guess most hobbits don’t either. My father is a very diplomatic sort of person though, and I was most fit to search for help, being the oldest of the family. I just hope it doesn’t take so long.” She sat cross-legged, her dress draped over the front of her knees. She fiddled idly with the tiny wooden buttons. The rabbit was served then in the form of a hearty stew. Peony spared a bit of bread that she had collected in Hobbiton and ate well. Exhausted then from the days walk, she fell asleep, wrapped up in her cloak, while the older hobbits talked a bit more.
[ March 23, 2003: Message edited by: maikafanawen ]