An Adventure of Hobbit Proportions RPG

[Gwathagor]

Brown woke with dew on his face and the sun in his eyes.

He had slept that night at the base of a gnarled pine tree. The tree's wide, spreading branches had sheltered him from the drizzling rain that had continued to fall periodically during the night; only his feet had stuck out from beneath his blanket and from beneath the pine tree's branches, and they were now wet. Brown half-heartedly cursed the rain, the tree, and his wet feet, then sat up. For a moment he sat blinking and rubbing his eyes. He shook his head.

The fragrant pine woods in which he had spent his night were on the western shore of the Brandywine River, which he hoped to cross that day. But not before breakfast, he thought, and reached for his knapsack. Within an hour, he was sitting on a pile of pine needles before a small, hot fire underneath the canopy of the tall pine trees. The pine needles he had carefully cleared away from his fire pit, and as he sat and his feet dried, he chopped a tomato, a potato, a sausage, and a clove of garlic into a small pan. He threw in an enormous piece of butter and set the pan atop three rocks he had positioned in the center of the fire. While the simple, sturdy meal sizzled, Brown packed up his various possessions and prepared to move along. He had packed very light (for a hobbit). Other than the clothes he was wearing, he had his knapsack (which contained food, a spare shirt, and basic cooking gear), a walking stick made of hard maple wood, and his leather sling, which he carried at his belt.

In addition to this, he had with him a very old knife of curious workmanship. He had come upon the old thing while hiking in the North Farthing, where he had found it rusting in a field. Hours of polishing had removed the dirt and rust, revealing a broad, shiny, leaf-shaped blade which was pock-marked, but as sharp as the day it had been forged. Set in the hilt was a very small gem of the deepest blue he had ever seen. This had surprised him, but it had proved a useful tool or weapon in countless situations since, and had saved his life more than once. In dark forests, or on ancient hill-tops, the beautiful, ancient knife seemed to Brown to reflect a light that was deeper and older than the trees and the hills. When he drew the blade, he could feel himself join the ranks of mysterious warriors and wanderers and princes who had drawn the blade before him.

That is an extremely unhobbitlike idea, he thought to himself as he carefully strapped the knife to his knapsack, and sat down to eat. It's only a knife, and I am only a hobbit.

When he had finished his breakfast, he threw dirt on his fire and shouldered his pack. He would wash his pan in the river, so he carried that in his left hand, while he took his staff in his right, and then trotted down towards the Brandywine, leaving the piney hill behind him. A quarter mile downstream he found a fallen tree, which he ran across to the other side. He did not love water (particularly deep rivers, like this one), but it did not bother him as much as it did most hobbits. He had fallen in enough rivers during his countless rambles through the wildest parts of the Shire that it no longer held particular fear for him. On the eastern bank he paused to wash his frying pan and collect stones for his sling. If he was quiet, he might be able to bring a few quail to Fred, Tansy, and their family. The fat Shire quail made good eating, and that way he would not be completely imposing on their hospitality. He was, after all, unexpected.

When he had gathered ten good stones, he climbed to the top of the high river bank and then checked the sun. He was not sure of his exact position, but he had a good head for directions, and had wandered through these woods plenty of times while visiting extended family as a young hobbit-lad. If he made good time, he would be at Fred and Tansy's home by tea at the latest. Feeling well-fed and content, he climbed a stile over the hedgerow which marked the boundary of a farm, and headed towards a distant patch of forest, skirting around a newly planted field as he did so. The field was still soft from previous day's rain, but the sun shone warm over the tree tops. In the distance, smoke rose straight up from the farmer's cottage.

"No wind," he remarked. "It looks to be a good day. For walking, at any rate."

[littlemanpoet]

Gaffer Hugo was a happy hobbit in the main. He liked having enough coin - which he did - to be able to do what he wished. He liked having a nice little cart and old Mosy, his pony, to pull it, as often as not wherever Mosy's nose chose to take it. When he retired, he had sold his big drover's cart for something more manageable, and was quite pleased with his new one. He had it painted bright green. It was still big enough to do an odd job now and then for a grocer or butcher who needed something taken to one of the inns.

Gaffer Hugo liked it, too, that Snatch sat right next to him on the cart's big bench most of the time. Snatch was three years old, a true bred North Farthing Tunnel Dog, which meant he was small as dogs go; it also meant that his body was strong and he could jump very high for his size. His fur was short and bristly, his snout strong, his ears short and pendant, his eyes bright as sunshine in a pond. His bark was loud and brisk and high pitched, and he used it often whether in greeting or chasing game. True to his breed, Snatch chased game into their burrows, and had a nack for snatching them when they thought they was safe; and so his name.

Gaffer Hugo was not in his cart, but in the home of his grandson Rudy. It was a fine house Rudy owned, for house it was instead of a hole - these Bucklanders were strange, even when they were Hugo's own kin. It felt a little odd to sleep above ground, Hugo thought, but it was all right. Hugo had just got up from a good night's sleep. After stretching and cracking and rubbing his old achy knees and toes and fingers, he let Snatch out for a morning romp; he checked in on Mosy, who was doing fine, for Rudy kept a fine stable too. Hugo went back inside where he could smell the rashers of bacon and the eggs and cakes on the griddle. He sighed with delight and patted his tummy in anticipation. Mira could cook a fine breakfast.

"Good morning, Mira! It smells wunnerful in here!"

[Finduilas]

The rain of yesterday and last night had left the field wet and bright green. As Mira got ready for the day, she kept looking out through her round window into the garden that bordered the hobbit dwelling. The air was fresh, and Mira was happy.

As Mira started to the kitchen to prepare breakfast, she whistled, but stopped abruptly when she remember father didn’t like whistling. “Oh well,” she thought, “I’ll just get out sometime today, and whistle as much as I like.”

Mira was wanted to talk to somebody, but neither Gaffer Hugo, nor Rudy were around, though Mira knew they were both up.

“I want to see someone today. Maybe... I haven't seen Tansy in several months. I wonder if Gaffer Hugo would mind taking me.” She thought, deciding to ask him when she saw him. By this time Mira had gotten griddle cakes frying, the bacon beginning to crisp, and was starting to cook the eggs.

Mira wasn't too surprised when she saw Hugo at the door, who greeted her with a, “Good morning, Mira! It smells wunnerful in here.”

She turned around smiling, “Why thank you. And good morning to you. Did you sleep well?” When he answered in the affirmative, she continued, “Oh, can you take me to Brandy Hall to visit Tansy? I haven't seen her for so long!”

[Boromir88]

Rudy liked the rain. He never understood why everyone else seemed to hate it. Rain was refreshing, the drip-drip-drip on the rooftop was quite relaxing, and it was cooling. In fact, as long as it wasn't ice cold rain, Rudy could not think of a reason to dislike rain.

Rudy woke up to the fine smell of bacon cooking. He loved bacon too; it was his favorite. His younger sister, Mira, always was a great cook. That was a good thing, because Rudy never was much of a cook. He knew how to cook eggs, but that was about it. Before Rudy found out there was another cook in the family (his mother, Rosemary, was another good one) he was forced to make his own meals. Eggs are tasty, but when you have to eat them two or three times a day, they lose their appeal. Rudy tried to make bacon once, but that didn't turn out so great. Two of the pieces were still raw and had a rubbery texture. The other two pieces were charred and tasted like ear wax.

Mira made great bacon; she really made great everything, but bacon was Rudy's favorite. It has been a while since Rudy has had any. The last time Mira made bacon she ended up asking Rudy if she could cross the Brandywine and go all the way out to Woodhall to see some friends. That was a little over three months ago. At times Rudy felt bad for Mira, how she is couped up at their house in Crickhollow. She has to get out, and be on her own, eventually...right? No, she's still far too young. What really made Rudy say yes was the bacon. By now Mira definitely knew how to get a "yes" out of Rudy. There really is no harm in travelling through The Shire...is there? As long as she never asks to go parading though the Old Forest; no amount of bacon will get him to say "yes" to that.

Then it suddenly hit Rudy: 'Oh no...the bacon...what does she want this time?' Rudy didn't bother changing out of the clothes he slept in. He went racing out of his room, but stopped when he saw Gaffer Hugo in the kitchen with Mira.

“Oh, can you take me to Brandy Hall to visit Tansy? I haven't seen her for so long!”

"What's this!" Rudy exclaimed. "Brandy Hall? Visiting Tansy? How can you ask such a thing from the Gaffer? Mira you should know better. You will have to excuse her, Gaffer, sometimes she forgets her manners."

[littlemanpoet]

"Manners?" Hugo retorted. "I've seen worse manners in a Sackville Baggins!" He patted his vest pockets. "Now what have I done with my right off the plant corn cob pipe?" He looked from side to side in the kitchen as if his pipe would somehow be seen other than where he had placed it (which was beside his bed).

"Anyways, I'd like to see Brandy Hall myself. I'll take you, Mira! And Rudy, why don't you come too? We can make a holiday out of it! ... soon as I find my pipe. Mmm! Smell that bacon!"

With that, Hugo seemed to forget all about his pipe and pulled a chair from the table, took a big hand towel and tucked it under his chin, and picked up fork and knife in eager anticipation.

[Finduilas]

Gaffer Hugo was about to reply, and Mira was sure it would be yes, when Rudy barged in. Mira was disappointed with how he responded to her idea.

"What's this! Brandy Hall? Visiting Tansy? How can you ask such a thing from the Gaffer? Mira you should know better. You will have to excuse her, Gaffer, sometimes she forgets her manners."

She brightened up again immediately when Gaffer Hugo spoke in her defense. As he sat down she served him, giving him an extra piece of bacon as a thanks.

“Yes, Rudy, do come. It will be a lovely day, perfect for a ride. And you'll enjoy yourself.” She almost added that he could boss her around more thouroghly if he came, but refrained, as she would prefer to have him in a good mood. She served him a full plate, then filled her own, covering the remaining cakes and bacon for her father.

As she sat down, she asked, “So when can we start?”

[Thinlómien]

As usual, Tansy had been the first one to wake up. She always slept very lightly and seemed to need less sleep than her other family members. She was already up and around, walking in the garden and enjoying the fresh air, when someone finally woke up.

"Tansy! What are you doing here?", Robin Bogsworth asked curiously.
"Oh, good morning, father. I was just having a morning walk."
"In this weather?"
"Yes... A little rain every now and then harms no one."
"When you've done with your problemsolving walk, do come in, I'm hungry and Maylily's not up yet."

The old man closed the backdoor with a slamming sound. He was always too careless with things like that, just like his son, Tansy thought. They both got into accidents on daily basis, but Robin Bogsworth had survived his life with minor injuries, unlike his son.

"Tansy!" a croaking voice called.
"Grandma Daphne, I'm coming", she said and ran to the old woman's window.
"Close the window! Who on earth has opened it! It's so chilly here inside. No, don't close it just yet! What is that expression? I can see you're up to some mischief again." The crone made disapproving sounds with her tongue. "Always doing this and always doing that. Won't you ever settle down and..." The rest of her words were swallowed by a violent cough. Tansy closed the window and hurried inside to see if her grandmother was alright. When she reached the room, her grandmother was snoring loudly. Tansy shook her head. Grandma Daphne knew she was planning something and Dad had seemed to suspect something as well. Better to talk with them as soon as possible, she concluded.

Her mother was already making porridge when she arrived at the kitchen.
"Look at yourself, all wet and brow creased like an old woman's! What have you done and what is troubling you?" Maylily asked.
"Where's dad? And Fred?"
"Robin has gone to fetch Fred to come to have breakfast with us. Even though if you ask me, it should be you, not him, doing it, you're the young one with a strong back..."
"No problem, Maylily!" Robin's voice came from the corridor. "I and Fred are handling this just well. Besides, I will get stiff if I never get exercise."
"Men", Maylily sighed. "But Tansy! What are you idling there! Go to wake up that friend of yours, if she prefers her porridge hot!"