Pashwise Honeyleaf, hobbit of the shire, here. Tonight I spent the most pleasant evening at the Bird and Baby Inn in Michel Delving. I have had many a fine night here, infact once upon a time I used to spend every evening under that particular roof, passing the time by sipping fine ale and discussing the comings and goings of the westfarthing. Of course, in those days I had little knowledge of the lands outside of these borders. Indeed, I would get scared at the prospect of walking to ummm Scary! That was before my beloved Poppyjay departed on a foolhardy errand to Bree and beyond. Well what choice did I have but to follow her! Its true that a few tears were shed that day when I raced out of the Bird and Baby calling her name and vowing to act as her protector. Not least because I had not even finished my pint of ale!
Anyway thats another story! Since then I have spent most of my nights sleeping under the stars, whether in Breeland or Ered Luin. Poppyjay has even travelled to the Lone Lands, and being her self-proclaimed guardian I shall have to follow. But before heading off I decided to visit my old haunt once more, and have a few pints of Blagrove’s Brown with my old friends. However I soon tired of their endless mocking, as they constantly reminded me of my tears of anguish when I first heard that Poppyjay had left the Shire. Chubby Bunce was particularly cruel, insisting that he had thought it was for the best, particularly as my rapid disappearance had left him with a free jug of ale!
Making my excuses, I sloped off to the back of the Inn, an area that I had generally steered clear of. The gathering there told some frankly disturbing tales of troubles further afield. Being now more of a hardened adventurer myself, I decided to approach them and spent a fine evening embroiled in discussions surrounding my own travels. Indeed, they certainly understood the art of storytelling, and were soon adding much poetic licence to my stories and they made me feel quite the hero. Their names were Owen, Carlo and Jack, and I will long remember their company. At the end of the evening, they insisted that we raise a glass to their dear friend Ronald Dwale, who was detained in Dwaling – and on his birthday too! Following a toast to “the professor” (as they called him), I bid my farewells, and I departed feeling far more positive about the journeys ahead. Afterall, I am sure Owen, Carlo and Jack will be able to make quite a tale out of it!