Showing posts with label Nosey Hobbit. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nosey Hobbit. Show all posts

The Nosey Hobbit. Mysterious Travellers

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The Hobbit Collective sends out its seasoned social sleuth, Avellana Addlefoot, to investigate the appearance of a mysterious group of night-time travellers making their way through the Shire. With the help of a crafty disguise and much sweet-talk, she has learned that the Shire might not be as peaceful as she once thought! She also discovered that our Bounders could certainly use some help...

Greetings, fellow inhabitants of the Shire! Prompted by rumors of suspicious night-time disturbances in our beloved countryside, I decided to don a sneaky disguise and see what information I could gather. Is our peaceful life really at risk? You won’t believe the answer!

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To give credit where credit is due, I do have to commend Shire leaders for keeping a well-organized force of Bounders patrolling our borders day and night. True to his duties, this young Bounder (who, as I learned later, goes by the name of Boffin) reacted quickly when I approached him.

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“Good work, Bounder!” I thought. And yet, he seemed uneasy about something.

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Truth be told, it was a warm night for autumn, and anyone should be happy to spend time under such a clear starry sky. To prove my point, we were soon interrupted by a group of gentlehobbits making their way through the fields.

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Mr. Underhill, for that was the lead traveller’s name, introduced himself and his companions, extolling the virtues of an invigorating night-time promenade. However, no sooner had he said this, a chill did indeed come over us all! In fact, some mysterious presence seemed to have us quaking in our boots! I did manage to note, however (because even cowering should not deter a professional reporter from her duties) that Mr. Underhill remained strangely calm throughout this ordeal...

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At the prompting of his friend Sam, however, he finally slipped away with his companions, leaving Bounder Boffin and myself to confront the dark shape that was making its way toward us at breakneck speed.

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Now I have met some rude hobbits in my lifetime (more on that later), but the behavior of the stranger who accosted us was beyond that of the most unrepentant pie-stealing, ale-watering, mathom-hoarding hobbit. After making some vague threats involving his “master,” he asked repeatedly for directions to the hole of a Mr. Baggins. Was he looking for old mad Bilbo, who disappeared years ago? I certainly wasn’t going to offer up that information without a “please,” and he certainly wasn’t going to utter that word. Well, too bad for him! If he’d asked nicely...

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Well, dear readers, you won’t believe how huffy he got when we wouldn’t give him the answer he wanted!

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Good riddance it was, when he finally rode away! I hope he wasn’t going to bother Mr. Underhill and company, who were the most polite gentlehobbits I’d met in a long time. Well, nothing to be done now, I thought, as I turned back to our not-so-brave Bounder. Luckily, once he stopped cowering he suggested a quick escape route.

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However, I was soon to learn that there was once thing (besides the stranger on his murderous horse) that truly terrified Master Boffin.

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Fine, I thought, I’ll clear the spiders out from the path. Anything for a story, my beloved readers!

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Sigh.

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Fine.

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I think I’ll be investigating the hiring practices of the Bounders’ Committee for one of my next stories...

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I decided to guide our brave Bounder to safety (for it certainly seemed as if the tables had turned, and I was now his protector), but the third surprise of the night was upon us.

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Enter Mundo Sackville-Baggins, the Shire’s rudest hobbit next to old Lobelia. Claiming a brigand attack, he “asked” Bounder Boffin for assistance.

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Mind you, our Bounder friend hadn’t exactly shown himself to be a paragon of protection this evening, and he certainly wasn’t going to start now.

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And once again, we encountered strangers looking for a Baggins! Incredible!

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We tried to reason with them...

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...to no avail.

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I did, however, manage to extract some juicy information from them...

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... although I would eventually pay for my impertinence.

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I awoke much later, in a jail whose location I could not identify. A true reporter at work, dear readers! Once again, my innocent and beguiling semblance paid off, and I was able to learn more about these violent strangers.

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However, we were just getting to the juiciest tidbits when we were interrupted by yet another tall foreigner.

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Cursing his poor timing, I followed our rescuer out of the jail...

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...and was confronted by a shocking scene! The mysterious rider had reappeared, and was in frenzied battle with a man whose strength was obviously faltering.

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As usual, our brave Bounder confronted danger in the only way he knew.

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And alas, the brave defender fell.

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The dark rider, however, seemed distressed by the fire blazing around him. He did, however, provide yet another clue to our mystery as he galloped off.

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Who, or what, is DĂșnedan? I suspect I’ll be investigating that little scrap of information in the near future. In the meantime, though, it was time to tend to the defender’s wounds.

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Sensing my competence (or Boffin’s lack thereof), this Ranger person, Strider, sent me to the nearby town of Archet with Celandine and Mundo. Yes, dear readers, I had been whisked away from my beloved Shire in the course of this adventure! Incredible!

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What will happen next? I’ll keep reporting from my current post in Archet, because I’m determined to get to the bottom of the matter! No more idle gossip for this hobbit reporter! I’ve seen the threat to our community, and am willing to risk my second breakfast to eliminate it! In any case, it’s not like the Bounders are going to do it for us...

The Nosey Hobbit. A funny thing happened on the way to Weatherstock...

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The Hobbit Collective sends out its seasoned social sleuth, Avellana Addlefoot, beyond the borders of her beloved Shire to cover the event of the year in Middle-earth: Weatherstock! And she almost made it...

So there I was, with my pack full of bread and jam, and a bottle of Blagrove’s Brown in a flask (courtesy of my dear Pumpkinella). I had made the long trek up to Weathertop hours before the festival, and looked around for a choice viewing spot.

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I finally sat down next to a handsome Dwarf, making small talk until nightfall (he assured me that the postal service in Thorin’s Hall was the most efficient in Middle-earth) and writing down a poetic description of romantic Amon Sul.

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And then I received some interesting news from a fellow hobbit who had recognized me. One thing led to another, and before I knew it I was heading back to Michel Delving, map in hand. Yes, dear readers, I am that easily distracted.

But all is not lost!

Before I rushed back down Weathertop, my gallant Dwarf agreed to take careful notes during the concert, and relay them to me immediately. His company didn’t pass through the Shire several days later, but I now have his notes on the table in front of me. The pages are ale-stained and burnt from the fireworks, and his scrawl is frankly unreadable at times. But I’m transcribing them as best I can. Never say that I’m not a dedicated reporter!

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A Weathertop Evening

by B.

for Miss Hobbit Reporter

The Weathertop Music Festival, hosted by The Lonely Mountain Band, featured several talented musical groups in a two-part competition. First, each band had a chance to showcase their talents on the main stage.

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Then a battle of bands ensued, with one band in each corner.

The Sons of Numenor:

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The Hobbiton Philharmonic:

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The Green Hill Music Society:

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More bands! (Sorry, Miss Hobbit, I’m not good with names):

[Edit: This is the Eriador Music Society. Thanks, Rebecca!]

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[Edit: This is Ingolemo’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. Thanks, Rebecca!]

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The main presenter was Harperella, who announced the bands and events:

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Harperella was later joined by her co-host Galenswerd, to announce the winners:

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I forget who the winners were.

The night was lively and no weapons were drawn, although some clumsy hobbit singed my beard with his contraband fireworks (not meaning a slight on your people, Miss Reporter).

At your service and your family’s!

B.

That’s all I could decipher, unfortunately.

And what did the hobbit whisper in my ear that made me abandon this assignment? That, dear reader, will be revealed soon. The wait will be worthwhile!

I’ll do better next time!

Avellana Addlefoot, Nosey Hobbit

*******

[A very special thank-you to my wonderful partner, who made his Dwarf trudge up that long hill to Weatherstock. My little laptop couldn’t handle the large number of people for long, and all the screenshots other than the two first ones are his.

Also, if I have gotten any details or band/character names wrong, please leave a comment, and I will correct the error(s). I’m also missing a couple of band names; if anyone knows them, please leave a comment as well]

The Nosey Hobbit. Fireworks in the Shire

The Hobbit Collective sends out its seasoned social sleuth, Avellana Addlefoot, to delve into a story that has caused an uproar from Michel Delving to Hobbiton! Avellana interviews some local folk, including the woman at the center of the scandal: Lobelia Sackville-Baggins.

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There have been rumours around Michel Delving of a feud between mayor Will ‘Flourdumpling’ Whitfoot and Lobelia Sackville-Baggins. This seems to be supported by the mutterings I hear from the mayor and his assistant when I quietly approach them. I distinctly hear the names ‘Lobelia,’ ‘Lotho,’ and ‘Mundo,’ as well as mentions of money and “that nuisance of a family.” I’m on the right track!

However, when I finally speak to the mayor, he’s tight-lipped about the whole affair. He will only say that the negotiations to settle the fallout from Mundo’s kidnapping are private (kidnapping!!???), and that he is not involved in Lobelia’s latest tantrum, which actually includes the respected Tuckborough fireworks maker, Hyacinth Took. That, he assures me, was the real reason the Westfarthing is awash with gossip.

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So I hop onto my pony and ride east; Tuckborough seems like a good place to start. On the road, I can already see signs of discontent with the Sackville-Bagginses; a gentlehobbit in Waymeet has a strong opinion about Lobelia’s latest antics:

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More curious than ever, I make my way up the steep road to Tuckborough, where I find Hyacinth Took standing outside her fireworks shop. This is what she has to say:

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Avellana: Ms Took, how would you describe Lobelia Sackville-Baggins?

Hyacinth: She’s (here, her face contorts... it’s quite frightening to watch, actually)... She’s... aaargghhhggrmph!

Avellana: Would you say that she’s a difficult customer then? I’ve been told that you’re making some fireworks for a very special party she’s hosting.

Hyacinth: She... can’t... make... up... her... MIND!!!! And she wants it all NOW NOW NOW!!! And I’m missing ingredients! And a cart was stolen! And... and... {here she seems reduced to unintelligible whimpering).

Avellana: Um... anything I can do? (There must be some way to make her talk!)

Hyacinth: (She finally dries her tears, honks noisily into her flowered handkerchief, and looks up). Well, actually....

Back down the hill. Hyacinth has entrusted me to carry out the transaction with Lobelia herself! Now I should get to the bottom of what we can justifiably call ‘the Lobelia effect.’

But first, a stop at the Ivy Bush Inn, purveyor of Hobbiton-Bywater’s finest ales and distributor of the Shire-famous Hornblower pies! The Ivy Bush Inn is a proud sponsor of The Nosey Hobbit.

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Up the Hill...

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... and I decide to make a stop at the Party Tree, to have a look at the preparations for Lobelia’s mysterious feast. Neither the Planner nor the workers will answer my questions, but I can guess their mood by the way they carelessly toss the tables and benches onto the green, and by the frayed edges of the Planner’s notebook.

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I decide to make one more visit before hitting Bag End, and ride back down to Bagshot Row, where respected gardener Gaffer Gamgee is tending a small vegetable patch. He, too, refuses to say much about Lobelia, mentioning only his “beloved Bagginses” and “the end of happiness as I knows it.” He does, however, give me a lovely apple pie (although I did have to pick the apples for it myself!).

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So off I go, back up the Hill. And here I am finally, at Bag End.

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Lobelia is, conveniently, outside the house, talking with her son Lotho. Well... talking is not the right word, as I soon discover. I’d say haranguing, or tormenting. But then, this is what I now must assume passes for a conversation with Lobelia.

I try to catch a few words from a distance...

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... but Lobelia has an eagle’s eye! She imperiously beckons me over, and I figure this is as good a time as any for an interview. She could look a bit friendlier, I suppose, but here goes

Avellana: So, Lobelia-

Lobelia: MRS. SACKVILLE-BAGGINS!!!

Avellana: Mrs. Sackville-Baggins...

Lobelia: Who are you? Are you here with the money? The fireworks? Or are you one of those good-for-nothing hobbits who still think there’s a treasure trove in my cellar? I assure you, I’ve checked, and-

Avellana: The fireworks! I’m here about the fireworks! So, Mrs. Sackville-Baggins, rumour has it that you’re hosting-

Lobelia: I’m hosting the biggest party Hobbiton has ever seen! Where are my fireworks?

Avellana: Well, I spoke to Hyacinth Took, and she tells me that-

Lobelia: Hyacinth Took? Did she give you the fireworks, lass?

Avellana: Well, no, but...

Lobelia: THEN WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE, IF YOU DON’T HAVE THE FIREWORKS??? THE PARTY IS TOMORROW!!!

Avellana: Well, I was just wondering...

Lobelia: WONDERING??!!! Wandering is more like it! You get yourself back to [NAME] and tell her that I need those fireworks TODAY!!!

Avellana: But I-

Lobelia: NOW! GO!

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Forgive me, dear reader, for not having a better ending to this story. There are these fireworks to put together, you see, and it seems that I’m now in Lobelia’s service.

I’ll do better next time!

Avellana Addlefoot, Nosey Hobbit