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
I reached what looked like a city gate, and surly looking hobbit stood there manning the
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
I got off my cart and followed him into his neat, tidy hobbit hole. The smells of fresh
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
I spent two moons there. I was free with my Longbottom leaf, but I did charge for my
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.