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Visit to distant relatives, part 9 - Long Losted Meeting
By Saelo Honeythumb There was not a single rock Hobbits did not check in Eregion while looking for Saelo, but he almost had faded into the thin air and disappeared (for those who knew him, he would solely to confuse and make fun of others, but it was not the case this time). Hence why Hobbits decided to sit and think where he could’ve gone, and maybe Elves could’ve helped them with their sharp eyes. The non-adventure will move to the next chapter on February 5th, at six bells, in Echad Mirobel.  Date: 5/02/2023 Time: 6:00 PM ((UK Time, 12 PM server time)) Location: Echad Mirobel, Eregion ((OOC: General: The initial aim of this journey is visiting Maur Tulhau in Enedwaith, while stopping in different settlements on the way. The whole journey will be spread through a long time span, and each leg will take place bi-weekly, either on Saturday or on Sunday (it will be announced beforehand every time). There is no fixed length of legs, meaning we can freely get distracted by stuff on the road for any reason, without rushing to make it to the end goal of the leg. We also might spend some time there (probably a day), doing some fun stuff. Although the event is mostly about Hobbits, other races we would meet on the way with their stories are welcome as well, even if it means being dragged out of the path. There is no level requirement to join the event, there will be enough hobbits to protect you. |
The Great Shire Cluck-Off: Trollshaws
By Lina Willowwood Hensational news, everyone! Tis time for another Grand Order of the Lost Mathom and Hobbitry-in-Arms hendeavor!  Join us at Sandson’s farm, where a very charming rooster called George has some dashing chores for us. Date: Wednesday 25th January 2023 ((OOC Details: To participate as a chicken you will have to complete the introductory Flying the Coop quests. To do these, travel to Sandson’s farm in the Delving Fields in the Shire and talk to a rooster called George. This will bring you to a quest chain called The Sky is Falling. You will need to complete these to participate as a chicken: More information is available on the LOTRO Wikipedia: The Sky Is Falling Quests and Flying The Coop Quests This time, we will do the Trollshaws run! During this event, there will be a few hobbits to herd (protect) our adventuring chickens from being eaten by the dangers lurking in the wild. It’s up to you whether you want to participate as a chicken or a herder. We will be using the regional chat (/regional) in-game in our chicken forms to communicate with each other. There will be someone in chicken form communicating with the herding team in order to keep us all connected. This is a hobbit-preferred roleplaying event, though we welcome well-behaved folk of other races. Meet
at Sandson’s Farm in the Delving Fields in the Shire near George the
Rooster. If you’re running behind, send a tell to an officer who will
assist you in finding us! )) |
A Hobbit Colony in Enedwaith
By Idabelle Piemaker. As a particularly wanting to be a wealthy hobbit, I have made it my business to sell pies. First, I grow great crops of pipeweed, then I follow around a traveling band giving away the pipeweed. After a few bowls full, they start getting the munchies, and I have overpriced bilberry pie to fill that need. So as I was traveling through Bree following a band of elves playing ethereal music on the stage and making good money selling strawberry pie, I overheard one of them say there was a hobbit colony in Enedwaith that had never heard of pipeweed. Now hobbits are famous for inventing, developing, and cultivating pipeweed. And, while there are hobbits in Breeland, I had never heard of hobbits outside Eriador. Seeing an excellent opportunity to open a trade route between The Shire and Enedwaith, I headed out with my trusted pony, cart, and a wagon load full of pipeweed. The journey through Eregion was uneventful. I reached the border of Enedwaith with little difficulty and stopped for my second breakfast. A ranger approached me and asked me what I was doing far from my hobbit hole. Unsure of what to say, I asked him if he had heard of a hobbit colony in Enedwaith. He puffed on his pipe. Obviously, the rangers knew about pipeweed and said that up the road a few more leagues was Maur Talhau, the hobbit colony. He also said that there was an excellent fishing hole there that hobbits used. He invited me to stay at his camp, and gratefully I accepted. We spent a glorious night singing songs of adventure, and though the food was plain, it was most filling. I shared a good portion of my pipeweed and not a few pies among these hardy folk and curled up under my cart for a night’s rest. The light of the fire died down, and the gray-cloaked rangers huddled together, puffing on their pipes and silently talking. Disturbed by dreams and the fact these hardy men seemed to be concerned about something, I drifted off into a fitful sleep. The following day was cold and clear, and I enjoyed a splendid breakfast with these chaps. They had made hard trail biscuits with scrambled eggs and some over-salted bacon. The leader took me aside and gave me a map of what roads I was to follow to find the colony. As a thank you for the excellent hospitality, I gave each ranger a barrel of long bottom leaf and headed out onto the road. I wasn’t so generous as to give out Gold-fire or Old Toby, but I did have plenty of Longbottom leaf I was willing to share. According to the ranger, my pony and cart would make it to Maur Talhou by the end of the day. It was a peaceful day. The sun shone warm on my shoulders, and I smoked my pipe as I clucked Daisy along the track. When I consulted the map, imagine my excitement when I ran across some hobbits in the field. I hailed them, and to my surprise, they attacked me with their javelins. Well, I never. I stormed out of my cart, drew my dagger, and made quick work of these evil hobbits. Was this what I was to expect in Maur Tulhau, and why hadn’t the rangers warned me of this devilry. Daisy and I ambled on down the road, but the day’s warmth had turned into rain, and I pulled my cloak up over my head and kept my eyes open for any more evil hobbits.  gate. His eyes narrowed in suspicion as I approached the gate with my cart. His eyes swept over my full cart, and he stated. “What’s your business.” I replied that I was not used to such treatment but was cold and wet and wanted to go to the inn. “I’m Idabelle Piemaker, and I have brought some pipeweed. Word has reached us in The Shire that you have no pipeweed.” He pulled back the canvas that was covering my cart and looked at the barrels, all neatly stored. “What is The Shire? What is in these barrels?” I was shocked. “You have never heard of The Shire? We are a group of hobbits that live in peace over yonder. And the barrels are full of pipeweed that apparently you have never heard of.” “How do I know you are not a Bugan, and this is not a trick?” “Bugan?” “Yes, they are out there just beyond our gate. They attack and kidnap us peace-loving hobbits, and I think this might be a trick to get into the village?” “Oh,” I said. “That is what that was. It attacked me on the road. I thought it was a hobbit, and it tried to kill me with his javelin, but I finished him off with my dagger.” The gatekeeper pursed his lips a bit, then nodded, “I can’t promise anything, but I am Rhus Cornchuthur, and I suggested you make straight away to Iolo Brochtû. He is our mayor just over the bridge and up the hill. I mean, no offense. It is just we are raided often. Perhaps the mayor will be interested in your pipeweed.” He opened the gate, and I clucked Daisy through the gate and over the bridge up to the mayor. From various hobbit holes, hobbits peered, eyes narrowed in suspicion. One woman called her child away from me. I made my way slowly, smiling at everyone. It seemed so odd to me that the rangers knew of their existence but had never bothered to ask them for pipeweed or tell them what it was. The mayor was sitting out in front of his hole at the top of the hill commanding a splendid view of the village and the landscape. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Who are you? I don’t recognize you.” I was tired, wet, and hungry. I had missed afternoon tea and was already late for dinner, and these hobbits didn’t seem inclined to welcome visitors. “I am Idabelle Piemaker. I have come from the shire to share our pipeweed. It has been a long hard journey, and I am tired.” The mayor, Iolo Brochtû narrowed his eyes for a moment, then hobbit curiosity overcame him. “Well, come on in, Miss Idabelle. The least I can do is give you a warm fire and some food.”  wood fires, tea, and cooking filled the air. Around the hole bustled a hobbit wife making a big dinner for three hobbit children. She looked up, startled when she saw me. “We have visitors, Iolo? Why didn’t you tell me?” She just came in from a place called the shire and brought with her some of her wares. She seems to think that pipeweed would grow here. I have never heard of it, but I felt we should offer her some food at the very least. Rhus at the gate thought her harmless enough. Dinner was sumptuous: bubble and squeak, steak and kidney pie, fresh strawberry tart (almost as good as mine), and big wheels of sharp yellow cheese. While we ate, the mayor and his wife pelted me with questions about The Shire and my adventures. “Do they normally let Hobbit lasses out of The Shire? Isn’t the open road dangerous?” “I normally go no further than Bree, where the big folk live, along with some hobbits. But I have been to Thorin’s Halls to deliver my best pipeweed to the dwarves. After a few bowlfuls, they get the munchies; that is when I take out my pies and make more than enough money for the whole trip. My most exotic strains are kept for Dane and the other dwarf lords. They must pay for it.” “Can I have a sample of this pipeweed?” The mayor asked. I went out and brought in a barrel of Old Toby. I had taken with me a score or so pipes and shared them with the mayor and his wife. From the first puff, their eyes twinkled. “I understand why you grow it. It is splendid,” Iolo said. I gifted him the rest of the barrel. Though not my finest weed, it was better than average. “I can teach you how to grow it, and you can grow your own. I want some financial compensation for the seed and several barrels of pipeweed.” The mayor nodded delightedly. “You will stay here, of course, Miss Idabelle. We have plenty of room. When you are finished teaching our farmers and leaving some seed, we will ensure you are well-supplied for your journey back.” more exotic blends. I gave explicit instructions on how to grow them. It was a delightful time, and I returned to Bree. As I left the village, a ranger greeted me at the gate. He said he would escort me to the Bree as the lands had become more dangerous. Orc and goblins were coming out of the hills, and the Dundlingians were harassing merchants. The journey home was swift as Daisy wasn’t pulling a cart full of weed, and I made my way back to my hole in The Shire, wondering when I would see my friends at Maur Tulhau again. I noted it in my journal, penned this article for the Bramblebury Gazette, hoping a farmer would send supplies to the colony and climbed into my warm feather bed. |
The Fed Poets' Society Monthly Meeting, every second THURSDAY
By Aerinbard Fallohide We make out of the quarrel with
others, rhetoric, but of the quarrel with ourselves, poetry. -William Butler Yeats
Thank you to those who brought their
snippets and favourites to last month's get together!  This month's theme is : The Sea The literary technique we will try to
employ is: Juxtaposion Juxtapositon: placing two unlike things next to one another in order to develop a comparison and further develop a mood, tone, attitude or atmosphere. The comparisons can surprise and form a very vivid world for the reader to explore. It can even connect two concepts that might otherwise seem separate. If you would like to try your hand at writing such a poem, or if you have a favourite sea poem you would like to share, or you would just like to sit back and listen to some poems, join us at the Fed Poets' Society Meeting THURSDAY, February 9 at 7:30pm (UK Time). Share a hearty bite to eat and a feast of words as we settle back in our comfy chairs. As time (and memory!) did not allow us to do so last time, we will discuss an inspirational out-trip where we might fill our inner wells with inspiring imagery. See you there! THURSDAY, February 9th (changed from Wednesday so not to conflict with Night of the Muses) 7:30pm ((UK Time)) #6 Harrow Road Elderglen, Shire Homesteads
|
Songburrow end of Yule mathom tale tea
By Lina Willowwood Late Yule, old mathoms, good times!  All
good things must come to an end, including the yuletide. But let’s send
off them grand days in a festive manner! And share some mathom tales in
the process! Date: Sunday January 22 It is time to lower the yule trees. But why not make a party out of it? So, we invite all neighbours and friends along to help brush out the yuletide. We’ll remove them yule decorations, finish off the remaining yule food and enjoy them first brighter days together. After this, we invite to a short mathom tale tea! Do yer have an old, dusty shield hanging on yer wall? An old book yer are curious about? Have yer sometimes pondered if there weren’t something more to that old dishcloth yer inherited from yer parents? Do yer think yer have THE club the Bullroarer used during the battle of Greenfields? Just bring the mathom to Songburrow Hall, tell us a little about it, and our local historians will appraise it to try uncover its secrets! Welcome everyone! ((OOC: For
the mathom tale tea part, be prepared to show yer mathom and tell us a
little about it, and we’ll try our best to say what kind of object it
really is. Think of it as a hobbit version of the “Antiques Roadshow”,
and you’ll be good! )) |
The Fed Poets' Society Monthly Meeting every second THURSDAY
By Aerinbard Fallowhide Poetry is an echo asking a shadow to dance. -Carlo Sandburg  A new year brings new moments. Come one, come all to the Fed Poets' Society Meeting THURSDAY, January 12 at 7:30pm ((UK Time, 2:30 servertime)). Bring a favourite poem or your work in progress and share a hearty bite to eat with your fellow poets! We will be continuing our exploration of the poetry toolkit and discussing an inspirational out-trip where we might fill our inner wells with inspiring imagery. Then we will settle back in our comfy chairs and share our poems! See you there! THURSDAY, January 12 (changed from Wednesday so not to conflict with Night of the Muses) 7:30pm ((UK Time, 2:30 servertime)) #6 Harrow Road Elderglen, Shire Homesteads |
Shire Wassailing
By Lina Willowwood Spill cider for quality crops! The
Brandy Badgers go wassailing in the Shire again, singing songs to wish
all the local farmers a good harvest. Oh, and to sample ciders? Aye!
Lots! We hope yer will join us!  Date: Sunday January 8 Event details: The new year brings new beginnings and new hopes. Of course, one hope close to our hearts is to have a plentiful harvest, and not least to have good cider and ales to bring us through the cold of next winter. To help this along, the Brandy Badgers will go wassailing at various Shire farms, singing songs and wishing the farmers a fine harvest. We’ll follow this route:
We hope that you all will join us during the wassail! The new year has come, A little more information about wassailing! The purpose of a wassail is generally to wake the cider trees (or other crops) at a farm for the next harvest, and to chase away any ill spirits that have taken shelter in the orchards or fields during the winter. To do this, we’ll wander between the three farms mentioned above. At each place, the likely schedule is:
And off to the next place! ((OOC: Come join the fun for good-natured hobbit banter, a fine walk through the Shire, festive music and quite a bit to drink. This is a hobbit-preferred event, but should you have good reasons to visit the Shire and join our merry singing hobbits on the walk, then do come along! The last years we have managed to make a lot of apple trees
grow in the Hobbiton farm fields. We hope to make it happen this year
too, so please help with that if yer able to! You are able to help if you are an artisan farmer. You can buy the seeds, water and manure from Olo Proudfoot at the edge of the field. Remember, we’ll start at Longo Burrow’s farm just north-east of Tuckborough, then walk around. If you don’t find us, just send a tell to the organizers.)) |
January OAKS with Die bunten Vögel and Vilnir
By Acorne Oakley Hiya! A BIG thanks ta A Rock and a Hard Place fer bringin sum wonderful musical memories fer us in the audience at the December OAKS as they celebrated 10 Years of ROCKIN !! They gave us the rare treat of their special music for the past 10 Years .. ..from
the very first song they played back long ago when the Chosen Few was
tryin ta raise funds fer them poor displaced folks of Archet ...back in
ARCHET AID many luvly tunes from their many appearances on the
mountaintop at Weatherstock over the years ..includin one about ales
& EGGS ~giggles~ Those were the days! ( and yup they played that as well ) rite up ta the present times where they still inject their own special versions of sum well-known tunes around Middle Earth. Thanks
ta Master Bruzo, Lady Frie, and all the other Rocks fer a fabulous
concert filled wit luvly romantic songs, rousin drinkin challenges, and
sum mighty fine tunes that kept us dancin thru the nite in Oldfurlong! Just in case ya wants ta enjoy it all again .....thanks ta dear Miss Leddy we can.. Now it has become January! Yuletime is behind us ...time fer the January OAKS I cannot think of a better way ta start a New Year than wit the birds ...The Colourful Birds
! Die Bunten Vögel  and this time they will be here wit the one and only Vilnir This
New Year will come in wit another TREE-mendous OAKS that will have
everyone's feet dancin and yer minds carried away wit the images of
their lyrics in this truly awesum music. Bring all them ol' gaffers ..if ya wants ta see them smile again ..be there ...
where:
the town square of the Oldfurlong neighborhood in the Shire homesteads
((Altfurch auf Deutsch / Longuevieille en français)) when: Saturday January 21 at seven and a half bells in the evenin (( 19:30 UK time / 20:30 CET / 2:30pm server time )) I herd what ya start the New Year off doin ...ya're bound ta do over and over all year long... If so ...~winks~ Ya folks will be dancin wit a bear and have colourful birds
flyin all around!! ( sounds like an amazin year ta me ) Warm happy hugs, Acorne |
Interview with Wald Mugwort
By Idabelle Piemaker  Now hobbits, by and large, are a happier lot. To see one so depressed, I always stop for a couple of minutes to wish him a good day. But the burning curiosity in me decided to take the time to talk to him about why he was there and to interview him. I am hoping that the Great Smials will accept this manuscript and that it might enlighten hobbits on what is happening in the real world. This is a transcript of this interview. “Hullo, I am Idabelle Piemaker, and I wish to ask you a few questions about what brought you here to this dismal place.” Wald Mugwart: “Thank you for wanting to hear my story. It is a glorious tale, I believe. Where to start. Like most hobbits, I was born in the shire. My mother was a cook of some note, and we had a small café in Michel Delving. Still, my father was related to Bull Roarer Took in his distant past and was thrilled by tales of fighting goblins. Though mom tried to get him interested in farming to produce food she could cook in the café, he took to the road seeking out trade in cities such as Bree, Esteldin, North Cotton, and Rivendale. He brought back exquisite fare and drink from these faraway lands, and hobbits would always come over looking to see what was on the menus. We made enough and had a reputation for good food that eventually, mother let up on the lecture. But he would tell me tales of swamps and dead men walking, which sparked this young hobbit’s imagination.” Idabelle Piemaker: So you wanted to see the sights yourself? Wald Mugwart: I spent hours sitting at the feet of Old Mad Baggins, listening to his tales in Erebor of trolls and giants. I wanted to see these lands and collect what mathoms I could. Then a man from the north, some say he was a ranger, came to our restaurant and said that the Witch King of Angmar was rising and putting more guards on The Shire. As a young hobbit in my tweens, I approached him and said I would help and asked where I needed to go.” Idabelle Piemaker: “Did you get his name?” Wald Mugwort: “Aye, he said his name was Halros, and he was tasked with keeping the shire safe. He suggested I go to Bree and meet up with his chieftain Strider. He would know what to do. Strider was currently at the Prancing Pony on tasks of his own. So grabbing my walking stick, I went to Bree. My mother cried over me, trying to talk me into staying in the shire where it was safe. My father had more pride and got in a terrible row with my mother, saying that a young lad needed to find his own mathom and that it would be okay.” Idabelle Piemaker: “So, did you make it to Bree?” Wald Mugwort: “Oh, yes. I signed up to be a recruit. I helped defend the Prancing Pony against a Bill Ferney raid. I cowered in my hobbit room when the Black Riders searched for Strider. Eventually, they sent me to The Lonelands. They told me of a bar there that needed to have its ceiling worked on. I know it sounds like a terrible idea, but while I was there, the Inn League came and got some Swill and Foresaken ale. I had long been a member, so I was aware of them. Anyway, the roof of the Foresaken Inn was rotten; great holes allowed rain and moonlight to bathe the interior of the smokey inn. The food and drink were terrible, but the goblins in the nearby ruins kept me busy.” Idabelle Piemaker: “How long were you stationed there?” Wald Mugwort: “About three months, a nasty drafty assignment. My room in the inn was in the basement, and the constant moaning of ghosts would keep me awake for most nights. However, as I got good at killing goblins and spiders, a sergeant recruited me to go to Ost Guruth and report to the sergeant there. So I packed up my belongings, said goodbye to my drafty room, mounted my pony, and struck out to the city. Along the way, I was ambushed by orcs, half-orcs, and a fair amount of wargs, but I was with a stout mixed company of free folk, and we made it safely.” Idabelle Piemaker: Did you like Ost Guruth?” Wald Mugwort: “It was much better than The Forsaken Inn, but it was a ruin. The men and women that lived there had a hard life on the doorstep of Garth Agarwen. I did a sorte into the swamp and the ruins and rescued an ancient hobbit name Sara Oakheart. She moved so slow I thought I would strangle her. If I had been captured by the beings in that place and I had rescuers, I would pick up my feet and move, but we got her out and faced the red maid. It was a thrilling battle, but we came out victorious. We then went to Ost Haer to deal with wights and wraiths in that ruin. A small camp of men was there. They were battle-hardened and weary. We brought them fresh supplies and collected various fungus and bog crawler parts. However, one of their guards had died of an infection and needed to be replaced. So they left me to fill the slot.” Idabelle Piemaker: Did you want that post?” Wald Mugwort: “Would you? I am here until someone relieves me of my duty with nothing more than some exhausted men and ghosts for company. I penned a letter to the Inn League to deliver Thistlebelly Brew, my favorite from the Ivy Bush. I sit at this spot, drenched in the rain, fighting off wights and spirits attacks. I have requested a transfer many times, but I am told no one to replace me, so here I must stay. I must admit that this is not as fun or exciting as I thought I would have as an adventurer. “ Wald sighs and takes another sip of his Thistlebelly Brew. Feeling sorry for him, I leave an entire keg. Perhaps this story will reach the sergeants gathering troops for the battle with Angmar, or perhaps not. But the Inn League members should take a moment and talk to him. He is bored and frustrated, and with how things are going, he will be here for a long time. Though I suppose he does collect some mathoms at his station. |
Grand New Year’s Snowball Fight
By Lina Willowwood The highlight of Shirriff season! A
new year awaits! Full of promise, opportunity and pies! No better way
ter celebrate than ter pelt yer best hobbit friends with snowballs!  Date: January 1st Snow, snow, snow, right now! No better time, then, than ter go play in the snow! So let us gather our hobbit forces, enter them snowy fields, throw snowballs at each other and be merry! I am sure there will be lots of firework too! And perhaps some mulled wine by the fire while we wait fer the next round? If the weather is grand and many hobbits show up, we will try fer a nice group drawing as well! And we’ll certainly visit the theatre afterwards. Welcome hobbits! OOC: The event is run in-character. Please don’t talk about modern-day stuff, but keep dialogue relevant for hobbits living in Middle Earth! |
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