[Dunwen]

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NAME: Sam Tunnelly

AGE: 34

RACE: Hobbit of Bree

GENDER: Male

WEAPONS: A long leaf-shaped steel knife, like those the Elves used to carry, but of Sam's own making. He also has a hobbit-sized bow and arrows from his youth, and like many hobbits is quite accurate at throwing stones or other objects at a target. Sam is a fine wrestler as well, although he only does so for sport.

APPEARANCE: A full 4 feet tall, Sam is slightly less plump than most hobbits, and has broad muscular shoulders and arms developed from years working at the forge in Bree. He is very strong for a hobbit, and is even capable of besting a Man in a wrestling match, as he has proven during some of the rowdier evenings at the Prancing Pony. Sam has a broad, generally friendly-looking face surmounted by curly dark brown hair. His eyes are blue.

PERSONALITY/STRENGTHS/WEAKNESSES: Easy-going and placid, Sam is used to hard work. While he wouldn't have chosen to be a smith of his own accord, he knows he's lucky to have been placed in a profitable line of work with a kindly master, so he doesn't complain. He takes pleasure where he can: a pint of ale after a hot day in the forge, tending the smith's garden, spending time with his friends. One of his greatest assets is his physical strength, which is combined with remarkable agility. Sam was forced to learn letters and ciphering during his apprenticeship, which has come in handy on occasion over the years. His even temper is a double-edged sword: while he doesn't often become angry, he tends to go along with others instead of taking the initiative, and he has seldom tried to set a goal himself and reach it, always preferring to take direction from others.

HISTORY: Sam, named after the famed Samwise Gamgee, is the second son of Magwich and Aminta Tunnelly. He has an older brother, Frodo, and two younger sisters, Begonia and Lobelia. He spent his early years on the family farm near Bree, but was apprenticed at the age of 14 to the blacksmith in Bree, and has lived at the Bree forge ever since. While he remains close to his family, he made several friends in Bree over the years, including Eric Wadell, one of the Big Folk his own age. Sam is currently a journeyman smith, permitted by his master to take commissions. He is conscientious in his work, but he'd by far rather be outdoors tending a bit of garden of his own or rambling through the woods. Now that he's of age, he enjoys visiting the Prancing Pony regularly.

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Dunwen's post

Normally, Sam Tunnelly liked Big Folk. After all, he'd lived in Bree since he'd been apprenticed at the age of fourteen to the town smith, who was a Man himself. But at this day's town meeting, their sheer size made it hard for a Hobbit, even one as strong as Sam, to get through. Alas, he'd arrived too late to get a seat on one of the benches, so he had to listen as best he could. Seeing over the heads of the crowd would be unlikely for any of the Little Folk; seeing through the press of bodies a matter of luck.

Some town meetings attracted only a scant number of people of either size, but this one was about the rash of mangled animal corpses that had shown up all over the Breeland and it was packed. Sam's own Dad, a farmer on the outskirts of town, had sent word only yesterday that they'd lost one of their two milk cows and that a barn cat had been found torn to bits. Losing the cow was a hard blow for the family, as the extra dairy goods had brought a small but steady income to the farm. But the cat was scarier, for they seldom strayed far from the barn, and the barn was an easy walk from the door of their burrow. According to the neighboring farmer who'd brought word to Sam, his Dad wasn't letting his mother or two younger sisters step outside unless he or his oldest son, Sam's brother Frodo, was with them.

Many others were as frightened as his father, he learned as he listened carefully to the talk in his immediate vicinity. Sam recognized several voices. He stood up to his full four feet when he heard his old friend Eric Wadell speaking. Sam approved of Eric's suggestion for a group of Breelandrs to find the thing and stop it. He frowned at the mayor's high-handedness in telling Eric he had to be one of the searchers, though. He'd bet a gold piece that Eric hadn't intended to go on the hunt. His friend had a mother and sisters to support, after all.

As talk went on in the meeting, Sam had a small debate with himself. He didn't like the idea of going out and looking for some unknown and bloodthirsty thing, but there were others, Big and Little, who volunteered to join Eric in doing just that. He thought of his Dad's fears for their womenfolk. It occured to him that he was probably the strongest hobbit in Bree and at only 34 years old, he had no one depending on him for support. He'd learned some woodcraft as a boy hunting with bow and arrow. And if one of his best friends was going --

"Hi!" The burly hobbit jumped and waved his hand to get the mayor's attention. "I'll go, too." He cleared his throat and added, "Sam Tunnelly, journeyman smith," somewhat unnecessarily, as he was known to most of Bree.

'Well, I've put my toes in the fire now,' he thought unhappily, as the meeting went on around him. 'I hope they don't get eaten along with the rest of me.'


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