Hobbit Hole Homes - Well, We're Back

Growing food and eating it occupied most of their time.
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"In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit hole, and that means comfort." - An Unexpected Party, The Hobbit

This thread is to role play your daily life in your hobbit hole. Whether baking, gardening, upgrading your home, or just relaxing, there is almost no limit to the activities in the day of a hobbit! Feel free to invite people over for tea, or go take a walk and visit one of your neighbours.


Rules:

- Inter-kingdom visitors are most welcome, however only hobbits & hobbit NPCs can own a hobbit home.
- Please put your current location or address at the top of each post.
- When you make your first post at your home, I will add the address to the listings in the opening post.
- If you do not want visitors, please put your address in bold red at the top of your post.


Addresses

Hobbit Homes Realty Office
(Temporarily closed for renovations)
22 Bywater Road
Hobbiton
West Farthing

Arli (Aerlinn)
11 Mossflower Road
Bywater
Westfarthing

Dwim Took
10 Winding Way
Tuckborough
West Farthing

Henna Lightfoot (Lirimaer)
Willow Falls
1 Apple Tree Crescent
Bywater
Westfarthing

Iris Took (Rior Laegiel)
9 Cherry Lane
Bywater
West Farthing

Istya Alassea
108 Great Party Tree Circle
Hobbiton
Westfarthing

Menolly
13 Berry Lane
Bywater
Westfarthing
Last edited by Dwim on Sat Oct 17, 2020 7:35 am, edited 13 times in total.

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Dwim Took
10 Winding Way
Tuckborough
West Farthing

Dwim lived in a hobbit hole near the foot of the western Green Hills in Tookland. The path that ran by his residence was named Winding Way for quite obvious reasons, being that it snaked its way up through the hills for miles and miles, although in some places the track had become quite overgrown or lost. But the path never failed to reappear just around a corner, behind a clump of rocks, or amongst a gathering of trees.

No. 10 Winding Way was a charming hobbit hole previously owned by his parents, Willum and Emerald Took, who were both affectionately nicknamed 'Will' and 'Em'. They were quite old in age now and had recently moved into the mansions of Great Smials, where many of their relatives were. There was less work for them to worry about in their new home. “Leave it to young Dwim to manage the property now,” they'd said. “It's too much work for us and we've looked after him long enough to earn a rest. Time for us to put our feet up.”

There was not really too much work involved at No. 10 though. It was not a large property, although the front yard was well planted with flowers and shrubs (and a few weeds here and there). There was enough room on the property for a family of goats and a chicken coop, which had actually been a source of money for Dwim's parents for many, many years. There were not as many chickens now as there once were, but they still made quite the noise together when laying their eggs, and the rooster never failed with his morning crow.

Today was a rest day for Dwim. He did not actually have much to worry about today besides tending to the animals. The sun was out and he was taking advantage of it. He was sitting on a creaky old bench in his front yard, smoking on his pipe and having lively, sporadic conversations with his neighbours, in between greeting the occasional passers-by as they headed further up the hill, or down into town. He breathed a relaxed sigh as he leaned back on the bench. Mornings like this were very welcome after all the travelling back and forth he'd been doing lately.

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Menolly
13 Berry Lane
Bywater
Westfarthing

Menolly sneezed. She sneezed again as her broom kicked clouds of dust up from the stone flooring. How had she let every corner of her house get so dusty? She had vowed to herself that spring cleaning meant getting everything cleaned in spring this year, and yet here it was the first day of summer and there was still dust. To be fair, she had been away from her cozy house in Bywater more often than she had been in it these past few years, and although she had settled back in three months ago the corners of the house were still full of dust and cobwebs.

Frowning at the smooth stone floor with its coat of dust, Menolly set her broom to one side as the smell of baking biscuits reached her nose. Sweeping the guest room could wait, but buttermilk biscuits in the oven could not! Wiping her hands on her apron, she hurried back to the kitchen and pulled the pan of biscuits out of the oven. They were perfectly done, golden brown at the edges and steaming. She picked them up carefully so as not to burn her fingers, setting two of them on a plate and the rest on a cooling rack. She slathered the two on her plate with butter, her stomach growling as the butter melted into the warm bread. She poured a cup of tea into a rather irregularly shaped but brilliantly bright green mug and took both tea and biscuits outside to her front porch. The porch was a bit dusty around the edges too, but she paid it no mind as she settled into a weatherbeaten woven chair and surveyed the hills of Bywater before her. A perfect summer morning it was, especially for the first morning of a new summer.

Her toothless old black cat, Bernard, wound around the chair legs purring. She scratched his head, leaning back in her chair. A perfect morning indeed. Perhaps a visitor would come down the lane to share her tea and biscuits.
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Arli
11 Mossflower Road
Bywater
Westfarthing

"Well, they're just a little...flat," Arli muttered to herself as she stared woefully at the pan of frisbee-shaped would-be-biscuits. She broke off a piece to try anyways, but it tasted more of wood shavings than bread. She sighed in defeat and flopped into the lone kitchen chair with a basket of early-summer strawberries. Dishes were piled up in the sink, boxes of clothes and parchment and bits of wood blocked the hallways and her collection of lutes was strewn precariously across the floor of her future den.

She ate half of the strawberries, didn't touch the dishes, and went for a walk.

The warm summer morning, lush grasses, and sprawling gardens of her neighbors were a welcome relief from the overwhelming mess of her new home. Arli even dared to whistle and she wandered curiously down Mossflower Row and around the corner. Her eyes went immediately to the black cat on the porch of a home a few homes down and she hurried to greet it.

"Oh, hello!" she cooed, as she approached, "you're such a handsome fellow, you darling!" Arli was already crouching down to offer the creature her hand when she looked up to grin belatedly at the hobbit (Menolly) who's front porch she had so brazenly trespassed upon. "Sorry, I just can't resist a cat, or a pup, or anything with fur, really. I'm Arli, by the way! Just moved in down the way a bit there, from--are those biscuits!?"

Only food could ever distract her from animals. "I just had such a biscuit disaster, you can't imagine. I started days ago, you have no idea, but I realized I didn't have any butter, then after I bought butter I was out of milk, and by then I had completely forgotten how much flour and baking soda and salt I had already put in, though it might have been hopeless already because I haven't unpacked any measuring cups and Da never labels the sugar!" She stopped for breath and blushed.

"Er, good morning, that is. It's, uh, a lovely day..."
Last edited by Yávië on Sun Jul 12, 2020 4:38 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Menolly
13 Berry Lane
Bywater
Westfarthing

Menolly jumped a little in surprise as Bernard meowed. Only he was old and deaf as well as toothless, so his meow was more like MEEEOOOOWWW as it echoed off the front of her house and through her skull. The meow was followed up by a purr so loud it might have been mistaken for a passing pony-drawn cart clattering down the lane. "Bernard, what are you...oh! Hello," Menolly said. "Pleased to meet you, Arli! I see you've already made fast friends with Bernard. He's incorrigible really, but I love the old fool."

She laughed as Arli recounted her biscuit disaster. "Wouldn't you know, I've had my fair share of cooking disasters too! But these biscuits turned out quite nicely. Won't you come in for a bite to eat? I have the rest of the pan cooling on the rack, but I suspect they're still warm enough that a bit of butter would melt nicely on them. And of course the kettle is still warm too, if you'd like a cup of tea!"

She gestured for Arli to follow her inside as she scooped up Bernard and brought him in, ignoring his protests. The fool cat would insist on trying to catch the rabbits, only the last time he'd come close the rabbit had mercilessly kicked Bernard in the ribs and sent him off limping. "So did you just move to Bywater? I don't think I've seen you around before, and it sounds like you've still got some measuring cups to unpack."
they/them/actual hobbit in search of a merrier world

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Image Henna Lightfoot née Took

Willow Falls
1 Apple Tree Crescent
Bywater
Westfarthing

Since it was a sunny day, Henna had been up with the early birds, doing her washing and early baking. Now the bedsheets were hanging out to dry in the glorious sunshine, and the bread was ready to come out of the oven. Buns and biscuits were ready to go in, and perhaps later she'd even make a cake, since she had those walnuts from Old Dunco's enormous tree which leant precariously into her garden. She would take him a slice or two, in thanks.

Armed with oven gloves, Henna left the bread to cool as the rest of her busy morning's work entered the ovens. She was quite pleased with this kitchen, for she could cook generously without waiting too long with three ovens. She grabbed one of the new loaves and cut off a warm end, slathering it thickly with cool butter, so that it didn't entirely melt before it got into her mouth.

She was still munching her way through it when her kettle began to whistle imperiously, and was soon followed by the welcome sound of water filling her large teapot. The tea cosy went on, and the whole thing was put onto a wheeled tray with her poppy-patterned tea set. In earlier years, she'd have carried it out herself, but she was a little more unsteady these days, and her nephew Todo had been making all sorts of things to help her out in his carpentry shop - so she was delighted to use them. Another of Todo's designs was the front door - he'd created a stable door for her, so that she was able to keep if half open for guests. She opened the top now and latched it back, unlocking the door for potential visitors. Then she wheeled her tray on into her bright morning room, where she sat down on a flowered sofa and poured herself a cup of perfectly brewed tea.

She should just have time to drink it before the biscuits were done.

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108 Great Party Tree Circle
Hobbiton
Westfarthing

Istya
had gotten up from her right side of the bed a little later than she had intended to. Her husband had already left for some business in Michel Delving, so she found the house awfully quiet as she put on her robe from the armoire and then headed downstairs for their kitchens. She struggled down the steps, and then slowly waddled the rest of the way. She was anxious to eat something, and since she was eating for two it had to be a pretty hearty meal. So she went into her pantry and found some sausages, eggs and flour for her to cook with. She considered putting them all into her arms at once - she was starving, after all. But she was getting clumsier and clumsier by the day. So she carried the eggs out first (with both hands) before she went for the rest of the food.

Istya took her time in bringing out a mixing bowl and spoon in order to get the eggs ready. She cracked three eggs into the bowl, and mixed in with it a bit of milk from their milk storage bins. And as she got into the cooking of her breakfast, she began to hum. She wasn't quite sure what tune she was humming exactly, but it made her smile enough that she tried doing a twirl in the middle of the kitchens.

Of course, due to her increasing clumsiness, the egg and milk mixture nearly flew off the table and onto the floor. She rescued it just in time, but then and there she told herself just to focus. She wouldn't want her sausage knife flying away from her during another attempt to dance and sing her morning away. Who knows what that could do?!

So she set her mind to the cooking before she finally arrived to her time to eat breakfast. She took her breakfast outside to the back of her house this time, and ate while watching the sun start to rise higher and higher in the sky. She looked on even farther to Hobbiton's markets and to hobbit children playing in the great fields around her neighborhood. This was going to be a good day, she decided. One day my child will be out there, being just as silly and busy as the rest of them!

Speaking of her child, the baby was starting to kick at her stomach as if it wanted to play for a little bit. So once she was done with breakfast, she went back inside to clean up the kitchen before she grabbed a few parchments for her to look over as she rested in the parlor. One was her grocery list. Another was a list of chores that she could do that day. The last one was a short story someone had given to her.

She'd start with the short story. She needed to relax her mind for a little bit before tackling the rest of her day.

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Image Henna Lightfoot

Willow Falls
1 Apple Tree Crescent
Bywater
Westfarthing

It rained in the afternoon, and several hobbit children darted in spreading muddy foorprints everywhere, with barely a 'H'are ya?' between them. Since they were between the ages of eight and twelve, Henna let them raid the larder by themselves, following them round with a mop and tutting ungraciously at the sight in her kitchen.

"You little Bagginses!" she said mock-severely, shaking a fist in their general direction. "Did nary a one of you think to wipe your feet afore you came in?"

"Sorry, Auntie Henna," came an unrepentant chorus of Took descendents delighted to be villified thus. "We just needed scones!"

"And sandwiches!"

"And pork pie!"

"And flapjack!"

The truth was that feeding the nation was what Henna did best, so the sight of her great nephews-and-nieces happily grazing in her kitchen was enough to turn her properly misty-eyed. In order to combat this effect, Henna put the kettle on to boil, and pretended she was too close to the rising steam until the feeling went away.

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Image Henna Lightfoot

Willow Falls
1 Apple Tree Crescent
Bywater
Westfarthing

Henna had long been a fan of Marjoram Hornbottle's beautiful hanging baskets, but since her own fingers were not so much green as a murky shade of yellow, she was somewhat unsuccessful in her attempts to emulate her neighbour. It would, of course, help if she knew what sort of thing went together nicely, but her own ideas were a little hit and miss, and so hanging around Willow Falls were a number of failed attempts which nonetheless got hung up since they were not completely dead.

Some had strawberry plants in, and while they were growing, there was not a chance in Butterbur's Brawn and Tripe Bites that she was getting rid of them. Quite a few had ivy, which she thought was pretty, but it did hog the water and several of the bulbs she'd put in were trying to grow over four feet tall!

She would have to go and see her neighbour and get to know her, and ask her to teach her a little bit about plants and things. It had always been Tom's passion, and if she reaped the benefits of his delight in gardening, she was not going to complain. As it was now, the grand-relations would come by and weed every week in exchange for cookies, cake, caramels and candy, and so she was not pressed into doing it herself by necessity. However, she had had a dream about Marjoram's garden and how it looked so neat and orderly, so she was going to make her acquaintance.

She began by making a cake.

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108 Great Party Tree Circle
Hobbiton
Westfarthing


The dragon was slain in the dark cavern by a single hobbit ... Please buy a few chicken breasts at the market, dear ... The hobbit wondered if he would ever get out of that hole without getting tempted by all the treasures around him ... Oh, and I am craving some Strawberry Ale tonight; mind going by the Brewery today to bring home a batch?

When the front door to Istya's hobbit hole opened, she stirred awake and realized she was reciting both her To Do list and her short story within the recesses of her napping mind. She and Eldor waved to each other as he entered the home, and then he sat next to her to relax on the couch. Eventually, he was napping too, and it was Istya who was wide awake.

She decided that once Eldor woke up that she would head to the market then and get everything that they both wanted. Then she planned to start cooking dinner early, just in case she dozed off herself before the dinner hour arrived.

But once Istya decided to stand up, she felt a twinge in her stomach she had not felt before. Then she found herself running off to the bathroom and then running back out. She woke her husband up from his place on the couch and then whispered to him, "We may have to wait on the Strawberry Ale and chicken breasts tonight."

"Wha-uggh - what?" he muttered, trying to make sense of her words. His arm went across his face, trying to protect himself from the light pouring into the hobbit hole.

"We need to go to the Shire's Medical Clinic - now!"

Istya gave her husband a meaningful look when he looked at her curiously. At that, he stood straight up, and began running around the hobbit hole looking for everything that they needed for the trip to the clinic. Istya just focused on her packed bag next to the front door and in putting on some decent traveling clothes before the two of them would take off for who knows how long?

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Menolly
13 Berry Lane
Bywater
Westfarthing

Menolly glanced curiously at Arli, who seemed reluctant to come inside for reasons she didn't understand. Finally she shrugged and wandered back into the house, calling behind her, "if you feel like a cuppa and a bite of second breakfast, do come in!"

In the meantime, there was plenty more to see to in her old dusty house. Bernard meowed piteously, protesting the lack of breakfast...or was it second breakfast? "I already fed you, you old fool!" Menolly said affectionately to him. She scooped up the old black cat and cuddled him to her face, risking an angry set of claws. She dodged as Bernard swiped at her, setting him back down on the floor and patting his head absentmindedly. He grumbled, but soon relented, and headbutted her in the knees while purring loudly.

What to see to first? Her house was certainly neglected, with no shortage of small projects. Perhaps the chimney today. Reluctantly Menolly set her sights on the swaying brick edifice. She rolled up her sleeves, collected a small broom, and ducked her head up into the chimney itself, dusting intently and coughing as little drifts of soot puffed out around her face.
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Iris and Lilah

Iris Took
9 Cherry Lane
Bywater
West Farthing


"Granny?" Lilah called as she opened the door to her grandmother's hobbit hole and stepped inside. "In the kitchen, dearie," the elderly hobbit answered but didn't have time to remind the lass to close the door behind her before Lilah had joined her in the kitchen and was now giving her a hug. Wrinkling her nose when she caught a whiff of the pie her grandmother was baking. It certainly was no delicious pie with fruits or berries because it didn't smell very good. "What are you making?" the lass asked as she pulled away from the hug. "It's a cheese and spinach pie. It will be ready any minute now. Would you like a piece?" when the lass shook her head in response Iris chuckled softly but wasn't surprised as her grandchild had never liked spinach.

"Oh, I almost forgot, I brought something for you. Dandylions. I picked them myself," she beamed as she held up the yellow bouquet of dandelions. "Thank you sweetheart. Do you want put them in a vase?" when she got and eager nod in reply she gave the lass a smile. It wasn't every day she got a bouquet of dandelions, only Lilah would think of picking them, most people thought of them as weeds and her husband had removed them from their lawn as soon as they popped up and threw them in the compost. "Let me just take the pie from the oven and put it away to cool and I'll go find a vase for you."

"Have you ever tasted a dandylion?" asking as she returned to the kitchen with a vase small enough for the bouquet.
"Eating dandylions? Can you do that?" With a surprised expression on her face she waited for Iris to fill the vase with water and hold it out to her before putting the flowers in and putting the vase on the kitchen table. "Yes. I sometimes like to use the leaves and flowers in salads." "Maybe another time, mom said I should hurry home, I just came to give you the flowers. Sorry I couldn't stay today granny, maybe next time?" "It's alright. Next time you may stay as long as you like." Following Lilah to the door they waved goodbye as the lass closed the gate before running along home and Iris closed the door she returned to the kitchen to start preparing for making another pie.
Rohirrim at heart, always.

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Dwim Took
10 Winding Way
Tuckborough
West Farthing

As Dwim finished smoking his pipeweed, then finished his second cup of tea, he watched his chickens wander about his front garden, scratching and pecking here and there. It began to bother him that they were scratching about in his vegetable patch. He hadn't let the chooks roam freely too often, but recently decided to make a habit of it. But he couldn't let them damage his vegie patch. It reminded him of the battles he'd had with the crows lately. He did not mind crows visiting his yard, but certainly minded them damaging his plants, scaring away the nicer birds, and harassing his chickens.

All of this brought him to a sudden resolution. There would be no more relaxing today. He had things to do! First he was going to fence off the vegetables from the chickens. Once he'd done that he was going to assemble a scarecrow. And then, if he managed to find the right one, he was going to get a dog. The dog would be his friend, and it would keep his property safe.

He knew exactly where to start. The fence around the grassy top of his burrow, which kept the neighbourhood kids from running around on top of his home, had fallen into disarray. The timber was rotting in some places, and many parts of the fence had simply collapsed. There were a few pieces laying around that he could use. They mightn't have been the strongest bits of timber anymore, but they would certainly be enough to keep the chooks out of his patch. He marched up top of his burrow, collecting old fence planks then dragging them back down to his garden. Even after a few minutes he was already feeling the heat of the late-morning sun. He wiped the newfound sweat off his forehead and wondered why he'd signed himself up for a whole afternoon's worth of work.

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108 Great Party Tree Circle
Hobbiton
Westfarthing

Upon re-entering her hobbit hole, Istya checked over her shoulder to see how her sweet, sleeping little girl was doing. She was moving slightly in her sleep, hands pushed up towards her mother's curls but in a frozen position. Istya laughed quietly to herself as she took the sleeping baby through the house back up to the bedroom to let her sleep a little bit longer before her next feeding.

Istya's husband joined her as she let Adriela into the baby's new bed. For a few long moments, they just stood there and watched her. Any minute now, she was sure, the baby was going to wake up wanting various things changed as well as food. So she went and sat in an armchair nearby to potentially get in a nap before an expected very long, sleepless couple of nights to follow.

"Do you need anything to eat?" her husband asked her as he moved back toward the bedroom door.

"Sounds good to me! How does a sausage and cheese sandwich sound? Maybe two."

He laughed as he left the bedroom, and the next thing Istya knew, she was asleep against a few pillows with her newborn daughter not too far away from her.

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16 Longbottom Lane
Pincup
Green Hill Country
South Farthing


'I am home!', Eamila yelled as soon as she opened the round door of her house. A deafening sound could be heard.
'Good grace', she said to herself. She had gotten the message that little Myrthle wasn't feeling well, but this sound was quite alarming.
Her mother was sitting in the living room, holding the crying toddler on her lap.
'There now, mummy is here. I told you she would come!'
'Oh dearest... are you ill?', Eamila sat as she kneeled down and kissed her daughter on the forehead. Myrthle sobbed.
'She was cranky all night, but I had no idea she was developing a sickness. I wouldn't have let you watch her if I had known, mum.'
'Nothing I can't handle, dear', her mother smiled. 'I've been there before, with both you and Milo. But this little one wasn't just sick, but also longing for you. Come, sit down. What if you hold her a while, I will make a bath with oatmeal. It does wonders with itchy skin.'
So there was Eamila, sitting on the couch with her little one sobbing a bit less than before.
'Poor little thing...' Softly she started singing, as the last sobs faded away.
Please state the nature of the medical emergency!

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221, The Bee & Baker's Street
Hobbiton
Westfarthing


The First Day at Home

He had saved for some time, penny-pinching as much as any well-fed and boisterous Hobbit could, and had himself now enough to purchase a Hobbit hole. For many years he had lived in a small house, one on the outskirts of the town of Hobbiton, but he never shook the idea of living in a classic hole like so many other Hobbits. It wasn't for status or to cause envy, no that certainly was not it. He had no shame of living in a house, he rather liked his and over the last few years had made it as cozy as many a Hobbit hole in town. But there was something...Hobbitish about living in a hole. There was some sort of primal feeling associated with it for him. It was something he knew would make him immeasurably happy if only he could get there. And so the day came when finally he believed he had saved enough and contacted a local Hobbit realtor to find a new home for him and sell his old house. They didn't have to look long or very far, because a beautiful one just in his price range had opened up on the Bee & Baker's Street right in the middle of the west side of the town. It was on the opposite side of Hobbiton that he had intended to go to, but the price was right and the lure of fresh baked goods half a block away every morning pulled him in.

The current owner, a builder by the name of Robin Undertree, had built the home recently and was surprised to see someone placing a bid so soon. There were two other open bids on the place, one from a family in the Southfarthing and one from another local, a rival of the Shiriff's. They were an old school chum and now a celebrated educator, by the name of Ms. Mary Arttea. There had once been great friendship and love between the two, until he caught her dancing with another Hobbit at the Green Dragon. He had tried to get over it, but the row that they had still haunted him to this day. Ever since, they had been bitter enemies, as bitter of enemies as Hobbits could be. She would buy a pie he had his eye on before he could, or order the last bowl of soup right as he was trying to do the same! Oh for certain she was his nemesis, but she would not succeed this time. The Shiriff may have used a slight bit of his influence on the owner of the hole, as he told him, "Wouldn't it be better to have a Shiriff on this street? With so many bakeries, there's always mischievous young Hobbit lads and lasses running around, stealing a biscuit or two. It certainly would put everyone at ease to have someone like me around."

And that was all there was to it. He had thwarted his enemy while gaining a new home and only felt a little guilting at cheapening his position as he had. He felt even less guilty when the owner told him that since he did not have a family, they could repurpose one of the rooms into a new larder, bringing the number of pantries and larders up to three. The Shiriff nearly fainted when he told him that. It was a dream come true! A cellar, a pantry, and a larder? What more could any Hobbit ask for? It took some two weeks to close the sale of the new hole and his old house, but when he finally had the keys in hand he felt on top of the world. It was a beautiful Tuesday morning when he opened the front door and stepped inside, some of his possessions already having been moved in. It didn't quite feel like home yet, but it would soon. He started making plans to buy new furniture and where he would put it, how he would organize everything and what he envisioned his new home as. He had just finished mentally designing the living room when his stomach began to rumble. He had been so excited he had forgotten to eat second breakfast and was late to elevenses. Well, this will all have to wait. I'm famished, I'm already withering away, he thought, as he got up and made his way to the kitchen.

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221, The Bee & Baker's Street
Hobbiton
Westfarthing

An unexpected visitor by the name of Rilla Banks


Knock, knock.

Rilla rapped her knuckles on the door of the hobbit hole.

When (or if) the door opened, the occupant would find a hobbit lass wearing an orange hat decorated with a large scarlet flower applique. She was snuggled up in a green scarf and maroon coat over a yellow and violet checkered dress. She held a basket and would be grinning ear to ear because she was very much excited to see this particular hobbit hole had been sold and would now be occupied.

Why was she so glad, you ask?

Well, her family seemed to have this idea that a hobbit of her age (approaching 35 though she did not act like it) ought to find a home, a hobbit-husband, settle down and do what the Brandybuck-Bankses did best: birth more Brandybuck-Bankses...or whatever surname got added to the mix.

Rilla had other ideas. The words settling down were not in her vocabulary. There was a whole Shire and an even bigger world out there waiting to be seen (and more importantly, toured for culinary arts). So, she was very glad when this house was sold before one of her interfering family members could try to scoop it up for her, having overheard that very offensive prospect being discussed.

Whoever had successfully bid on the hole deserved her endless gratitude! Rilla clutched her wicker basket close and waited most impatiently to congratulate the new home owner.

High Lord of Imladris
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Granny Appie Smith
2 Orchard Way
Oatbarton


Appie was was walking very slowly and carefully from the wood oven in her kitchen to her table that was strewn with papers and books most of which were filled with the scratchy writing of Appie and the various recipes that she had tried and perfected over the years in the cases of several of the recipes perfected them until there wasn't a hobbit in all of the Shire or Oatbarton that could out bake her on those particular pies. Apple anything being her specialty. She set it down and headed to the pantry licking her lips tugging her shawl around her thin little shoulders thinking about a lovely apple fritter she'd baked yesterday that she'd been saving for her lunch tea today.

She pulled the sticky pantry door open and looked about for a moment before she saw the fritter in question. Her boney long fingers reached up and took the fine china plate that held the fluffy golden brown fritter the plate shaking as she brought it down off of the shelf and headed back towards the table her one hand clutching the china plate and fritter the other helping her across the wooden floor with the help of her heavy club headed wooden cane.

The plate clattered onto the table and Appie licked her lips again and very carefully maneuvered herself so she could sit on her chair. She set her cane down an folded her fingers onto her lap looking out the window to her left it faced out onto a small garden that she still managed to take care of for the most part. Fortunately most of the flowers were perennial and were almost as old and established as Appie herself, which had cosmos and marigolds and gladiolus swaying in front of her window with great big honey bees lazily flying about the flowers. She reached out and picked up her tea cup and took a sucking sip of the tea.

"OHHH MY LOVELY TEA." She said to herself far louder than needed but she was deaf as a stone, and set it down, and then reached out and picked up the fritter which was coated with sticky honey and strong smell of cinnamon and nutmeg and cloves before taking a big bite of it. She mumbled through her full mouth that she had of course once again outdone herself in terms of the fritter.

Balrog
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11 Winter Beech
Bywater
West Farthing

It was morning. Jorgy loved mornings. They were so full of light and color and possibilities. Heʼd listened to it rain all night and was eager to run out and see the morning dew and see if he could spot any rainbows. He loved rainbows. Heʼd never seen one until he moved to his new home. His first home ever. The first time he saw a rainbow he thought he was seeing things. The amount of colors just hanging in the sky like that, it completely bewildered the poor Hobbit lad. He didnʼt know whether to laugh or cry and jump with joy (he did all three in case you were wandering). He hadnʼt been with Pearl at the time so instead of asking her what in the wide world that glittery glowing arch was, he ran after it. It looked like it was just over the hill. He wanted a better look, to see the colors more clearly. How many colors were there? Where did it start? What was it made of? However, the more he ran, the more it seemed to be further away. Originally, he thought it was just over the hill, but now it seemed like it was across the local stream as well, then it was beyond the pear orchards. It was the oddest thing. He was certain he was moving, and he was certain the rainbow wasnʼt moving but he never got close enough to really good a good look at it. To tired to continue, Jorgy collapsed on a small hillock and simply watched it. It was the most beautiful thing heʼd ever seen. Well almost.

He asked Pearl that afternoon what it was, and she did her best, bless her, to explain to him what a rainbow was. The idea that such a colorful thing could come from water and light seemed the greatest mystery of all to Jorgy. But it was Pearl explaining it to him, so he accepted it as absolute fact. Had it been Silas or Rilla he would have assumed they were pulling his leg. Ever since that day, after it rained, he would run outside, not caring how much he splashed or slipped or slid in the water and watch the rainbow as it materialized. Even though he believed Pearl about the origins and means of a rainbow, he was still, also quite certain that he could find where one began, that he could sneak up and find it. One day, he was going to find the end of a rainbow and he was going to show Pearl and they would have a picnic there. It had not happened yet, but little Jorgy Underash had faith that it would.

He didnʼt have time to go chasing rainbows today though. This morning Pearl was going to come over for breakfast! He was going to ask her if she would like to go on a stroll along the Water. He was more focused on the breakfast though. There was nothing more important in Hobbit society than breakfast, unless it was second breakfast, Elvensies was up there as well. Either way, she was coming to see him for breakfast rather than the other way around. He often went to her house and had meals with her and her family (her brother Tom was a git but apparently younger siblings were just like that). There heʼd learn how to cook and clean, how to read and write, even once how to paint! That experiment hadnʼt gone as planned and now he was banned from using paint in the family room. He was told that any further art lessons would be conducted on the porch or in the backyard. Heʼd felt bad, getting blue paint out of cotton fabric was harder than he thought.

He was going to be making breakfast today. He was going to be making breakfast. For him, and for Pearl. And she wasnʼt going to be here while he was cooking to make sure he was doing it right. This was the ultimate test! He was ready though. Heʼd spent all evening meandering through his little Hobbit Hole trying to come up with a proper menu. He didnʼt want to create a menu too big and complicated (making crepes was out) but he wanted to do more than just toast and butter (what he usually made for himself). Finally, he came up with scrambled eggs with mushrooms, turkey bacon, orange juice, and muffins. It was complex, but he was very sure he could pull it off.

He woke up early. Two hours before he normally woke up in fact. He needed prep time! Chopping bacon, mushroom, and tomatoes was hard work. Jorgy was halfway done with the tomato when he realized he had the wrong knife. He only had four (and two were butter knives) but he could never keep it straight which knife was supposed to cut what. He was quite certain it was a scheme by… someone, to make people by all sorts of funny  looking knives. The eggs were easy, all he had to do was keep stirring until it got all lumpy, then he was supposed to take it off the heat. He forgot that last part and the eggs came out a little burned. Not to panic though! Jorgy squeezed the oranges himself (making a mess in the processes because he was not good a point the orange in the glass) and filled up two ceramic cups with the wonderful orange liquid ( he found the seed in Pearl’s cup before she arrived, thank goodness). The muffins were the hardest part. Because well, he didnʼt really know how to use his oven. They came out a little runny, the blueberries made up for it though, at least in his mind.

Everything was set! Jorgy even made sure to set his little table with a checkered tablecloth and a small bouquet of wildflowers from the field outside. He had been meaning to start a garden but when he went to the marketplace, he was completely overwhelmed with all the choices and possibilities. Perhaps he could ask Pearl’s opinion when they were on their walk. She knew a lot about flowers. What were her favorites? Jorgy would find out and plant a hundred of them!

What time was it? Sheʼd be arriving in twenty minutes! Jorgy’s was grinning from ear to ear. He was proud of what heʼd done. The dishes, well the dishes could sit in the backyard until he found out what to do with them but that was a problem for another morning. He was filled with nervous energy. She was going to be here any moment!
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

Black Númenórean
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24 Gooseberry Lane
Bywater
Westfarthing

Pearl awoke with the sun shining merrily through her bedroom window’s curtains. For several minutes, she lay still and smiling, soaking in the warm wash of light as a new day greeted her. Oh! she suddenly thought, remembering what day it was. I better get a move on! She threw off the covers, stood up, and stretched. She dressed in a cool blue skirt and a white shirt with puffed sleeves and little flowers embroidered along the collar in white thread. For good measure, she tied a matching blue bow into her hair.

It was unusual for Pearl to go out this early, but it was a special occasion. Or at least that’s what Jorgy had told her when he invited her to his house for breakfast. She knew it must be quite a special day, for Jorgy was not the most regular of cooks, nor was he the most practiced of hosts (this all came from being relatively new to the neighborhood, Pearl knew, but still). His housewarming party had been a great success, of course, but since then she had visited his home far fewer times than she’d expected. Instead, Jorgy often joined the Brockhouse family for meals and games and fun. She was glad of the chance to escape from her parents (not to mention Tom) for a day and even more glad to have been invited to this special breakfast, and so she accepted Jorgy’s invitation with a wide smile.

As she walked out the door, she called her farewells to her parents. “I’m just going to Jorgy’s for breakfast!” she said. “I’m sure I’ll be back before too long.”


The Roads of Bywater

The roads were damp underfoot, and morning dew and leftover rainwater sparkled in the post-storm sunlight. The Pool rippled in a gentle breeze; the morning sun reflecting off its surface dazzled her eyes, and she shaded them with one hand as she passed. When she turned off the main road and toward Jorgy’s home, she skipped a bit with glee at the feeling of the damp grass between her toes. Far from being bothered by it, Pearl found this sensation to be most refreshing. She felt connected with the earth on days like today - and that feeling, in turn, was why she loved to go out walking.

Before long, the little hill in which Jorgy lived came into sight around a corner. Pearl’s eyes lit up. Here was the home into which he’d settled not long after his arrival in the Shire. Pearl still didn’t know exactly which parts he came from, but he had taken to life in a smial like . . . well, like a hobbit. There was just that one slightly concerning habit of piling his dirty dishes in a heap out back, but she was sure she’d help him figure out how to wash plates and cutlery soon enough. Looking forward to a hearty meal and a good chat with her best friend, she skipped down the lane in an extra-springy fashion, covering the distance to his door in just a few moments.


11 Winter Beech
Bywater
Westfarthing

Upon arrival, Pearl knocked on Jorgy’s front door with a light rap-tappa-tap-tap! She waited a few moments. No one responded. Was he here? Had he perhaps gone out for a walk? Jorgy did like to go walking after it rained - he had been so taken with the first rainbow he’d seen that it had given him a taste for more of the beautiful things. Perhaps he had overslept. She wouldn’t blame him if he had. Pearl herself was not the most morningest of hobbits - she loved to sleep in. Hmmm. He had been so excited about this breakfast that she was sure he hadn’t forgotten. She peered in through a round little window and, not seeing him right away, called out, “Jorgy! Are you in there? It’s me, Pearl!”
she/her | Esta tierra no es mía, soy de la nocheósfera.

Balrog
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11 Winter Beech
Bywater
Westfarthing

Jorgy was utterly engrossed in the way the light reflected off the window and onto his new, fancy tablecloth. He closed one eye and tilted his head this way and that, leaned back, switched eyes and tripped over his own feet as he leaned too far to the side. He could have sworn heʼd seen a rainbow. It was the most unique rainbow heʼd ever seen though; it was pink then green then blue. Heʼd ever seen a rainbow like that. He was sure if he looked at the light in a certain way it would change but no matter how weirdly he looked at it (hopefully no one was looking in the window) the rainbow looked the same. Pink on top, green in the middle, and blue on the bottom. It was a new rainbow, but he liked it very much.

Brushing himself off, he looked at the floor. He should really find a good broom and mop. There was a lot of dust on the floor. How did other hobbits around here keep their houses so clean? His was not a nasty, dirty, wet hole filled the ends of worms and an oozing smell, but it was a sort of dry, bare, sandy hole with not much to sit on and (by hobbit standards) not a lot to eat. He was trying though. Young little Jorgy was a studious, eh, student of things. He saw how many colorful rugs Pearl’s family had in their home and thought he should do the same. He had gone to the Market a week ago and found out there were rugs for the walls as well! Tap… tape… tapestries. Why not just call them wall rugs? That had been Jorgy’s second question. His first had been “what is that badger doing with those squirrels?” He hadnʼt bought any tapestries that day, but he intended to, as soon as he bought a broom and a mop and bucket. He was going to have company over and… wait… PEARL!!

Jorgy had gotten so engrossed in thinking about how he was going to fix up his home (he really was becoming a good hobbit) that he nearly forgot his best friend in the entire world was coming over! He was going to make her breakfast. Oh no! Had Jorgy made breakfast? Heʼd forgotten if he had or not (that rainbow was really cool).

There came a light rap-tappa-tap-tap on his door. It was Pearl! She was using the secret knock he had devised to make sure he knew it was her. She had seemed less enthused (more confused actually) by his eagerness for a secret knock but, as the best hobbit in the whole world, she played along. Jorgy did a small jump joy (no, it was not a jump of startlement, not completely, okay it was) and ran to the door. He made it about five steps from his table before he tripped over the ottoman heʼd forgotten he put in the middle of the kitchen (why he decided to put it there is… well thatʼs a story for another time). He went sprawling. He tried to channel Socks, Pearl’s pet cat, who always landed on their feet. Unfortunately, he was nowhere near as coordinated as the average feline landed not on his feet but his face.

But there was no time! He picked himself up and didnʼt even dust himself off as he raced to the door. Mustnʼt keep Pearl waiting! It was rude to make oneʼs guests wait by the front door. Hopefully she had not gotten bored in the fifteen seconds it was taking him to race to the door and have breakfast somewhere else! He opened the door wide and smiled just as wide to… wait…

When he opened the door she was nowhere to be seen. Oh no! Oh no! Oh, ruined pancakes! Oh, this was the worst! Had someone learned his secret knock and decided to trick him? Was it Silas? Rilla? Master Dwim?

He felt rather silly the moment he stepped outside to look. There was Pearl! He beamed and waved about like one of those crazy flags at the Market. “Pearl! Pearl you made it! I think Iʼve just finished up breakfast. Would you like to join me? I made sure to get a second stool for the table just like you said the last time. Now we can both sit and eat!”
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

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11 Winter Beech
Bywater
Westfarthing

There were a series of stumblings and crashing sounds from inside Jorgy’s hobbit hole. “Oh my,” Pearl said aloud, raising one hand to her mouth in earnest concern. Was Jorgy okay? He was not the most solid on his feet - that much had been clear ever since they’d first met on an outing with the Shire Walking Club. Jorgy had needed all the practice he could get, whether it was skipping, hiking, sprinting in a game of tag, or simply strolling through the lush fields of the Shire. He had improved by leaps and bounds (ha) over time, but still - sometimes he seemed a bit . . . tipsy. Pearl couldn’t think of a time when he’d over-imbibed on ale, but perhaps she was overestimating his tolerance.

She leaned in to peer nervously through the window again, hoping against hope that she wouldn’t see an injured Jorgy lying sprawled across the floor. Phew. No such sight met her eyes. But there was still no Jorgy. But then - oh! There he was, opening the door and smiling brightly in his Jorgy-est way. Pearl had forgotten that she’d crept out of sight to look in the window, and had to stifle a laugh at the confused expression upon her best pal’s face before he caught sight of her.

“Hello, Jorgy dear!” She beamed back at him and returned his energetic wave, then walked to the door. “It smells delightful!” It was true - the smells of a well-done breakfast were wafting through the open door and making her tummy rumble. “I’d love to sit down to breakfast with you!” She smiled and, taking his welcoming words as an invitation to enter his home, stepped through the door.

Inside was a hobbit hole home which, since he had come to live here, had been in a state of constant evolution. Where once it had been bare and echoey, it now had a lovely little table and a pair of stools, some clean dishes (!), and even a cheerful tablecloth and flowers to brighten the space. Perhaps Jorgy would even hang up his art one day - he had proved himself a skillful impressionist and abstract expressionist when painting over at the Brockhouse family home. One never really knew what he would create when one handed him a pallet and brush, but the result was always highly intriguing. Pearl had, in fact, spent many an hour contemplating one particularly transfixing abstract splash of reds and yellows and blacks. It reminded her, somehow, of a dream she’d had in which she and Jorgy had journeyed south to lands she knew only from the old stories.

But back to the breakfast!

“Oh! What a beautiful tablecloth,” Pearl gushed. There was genuine admiration in her voice and eyes. “Wherever did you find such a lovely thing? The market? You’ll have to introduce me to the shop owner! And those flowers are beautiful. Maybe you can show me where you picked them later on!” She blushed a bit, realizing she had arrived empty-handed. “I’m sorry, Jorgy, I should have brought over some flowers or something to share as part of our breakfast! But I woke up late and was so excited to get here that, well, I forgot.” She offered her most winning smile as a further apology and took a seat upon one of the stools.

“Well,” she went on, “what wonders have you cooked up today?”
she/her | Esta tierra no es mía, soy de la nocheósfera.

Balrog
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11 Winter Beech
Bywater
West Farthing

Little Jorgy beamed with pride. A compliment from his best friend was worth all the wall rugs in all the Shire! “Well,” he said, suddenly shy and self-conscious, “I know it wonʼt be as good as the breakfasts we have your familyʼs house, or over at the Green Dragon but I think I did a good job. I followed the directions for all the things we made the other day!” He had, in fact, started by following the directions but his mind wandered, as it was wont to do, and he ended up doing more improvisation that he had meant to (which was none). He only meant to add a sprinkle of cheese to the eggs but dumped half the block into the pan and by the time he realized it, it was all melted into the eggs. It wasnʼt so much eggs with cheese, as it was cheese with eggs. Would that still be good? Jorgy thought so. He liked cheese and he liked eggs, did the ratios really matter (he was very proud he had learned that word)? He followed Pearl inside and closed the door.

He was a few steps behind her when he heard her exclaim over the tablecloth and the flowers. He beamed as he entered to kitchen-dining room (he had not yet concluded that these two rooms ought to be separate but heʼs coming closer). “You think so? I found it at the Market. Pearl they have so many wild things at the Market! Things I never even knew existed. Have you heard of topiaries? Wait, thatʼs not the word, uh, tapestries! Thatʼs it. Theyʼre like rugs you hang on the wall, or like really fancy blankets. The hobbit I talked to about them thought my questions were weird. He said every home ought to have a tapestry or two in them. I suppose I should get a few in he thinks that. I do want my home to look nice and hobbit like. Oh! There as a woman selling tubas! Have you ever seen a tuba, Pearl? It was so big! And it sounds like the Old Gaffer when he falls asleep in his booth!” he broke out into giggles. They sat behind him one time in the Green Dragon and had been an audience to an accidental orchestra. “Well, I bought one! I was examining it, when I thought I saw a grasshopper jump in it. I tried to pick it out but ended up falling into the bowl. Iʼm sure it looked very comical on my head. She laughed at least, it was sort of a mean laugh, but Iʼm still trying to figure all the different kinds of laughs. Anyway, she said that no hobbit hole should be without a tuba so... I bought it!” He beamed. The tuba was in his living room, sitting on his chair (he forgot to buy a case for it, so the chair was the obvious place for it.

“And then yesterday I came to a married couple selling pipes. But not like, normal pipes, like those crazy long ones! They let me try out a few to see which I liked. They said any hobbit worth his salt would have a least one extra long pipe. I donʼt really smoke pipeweed but if I want to be worth salt, then clearly, I needed one! By the way, how much is salt worth? I have a feeling like I should know this before I go out and buy another pipe. Am I worth a lot of salt?” Jorgy was struck dumb by this accidently question of metaphysics and existentialism.

Thankfully, Pearl’s next question brought him out of his daydreams. “Oh! Yes! Breakfast, I nearly forgot.” Jorgy straightened up and pranced (well Jorgyʼs version of prancing at least) to the counter where heʼd lain out all his food (avoiding the ottoman still in the middle of the floor). “Well, I made eggs with mushrooms and, well a lot of cheese, and some turkey bacon, that stuff you told me about last time we had breakfast together, then I made fresh orange juice, I really donʼt know how you can aim the oranges to squirt all the juice in the cup, it was rather messy, then I made blueberry muffins!” Jorgy was most proud of, and most nervous for, the muffins. Pearl was a master baker, the best heʼd ever seen, and so baking anything made him very self-conscious. “I thought, maybe we could eat then go out for a nice walk? Maybe do some rainbow chasing? Iʼve seen quite a few good ones today already!”
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

Black Númenórean
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11 Winter Beech
Bywater
Westfarthing

“I’m sure your breakfast will be just as good as any in the Shire!” Pearl said, beaming. She listened curiously as Jorgy described his recent trip to the market. It seemed the local vendors had been trying out their best sales tactics on him. She was just thinking how glad she was that he hadn’t been taken in by any “you simply must have it for your home”s or “all hobbits have these”s when he started describing an acquisition she had somehow missed upon entering Jorgy’s home.

“A tuba?” she wondered aloud. “Oh my! I’ve heard those in the Shire Orchestra - they make big blat and splat sounds. They’re the foundation of every song!” She laughed at the comparison to the Old Gaffer’s snores. “That does sound about right,” she admitted. The Gaffer was known in the Dragon for his sudden bouts of lethargy, and he’d once fallen asleep so suddenly that his head had landed in a (fortunately lukewarm by that point) bowl of stew! He’d woken up right away that time and had spent the next several minutes grumbling and picking potatoes out of his hair.

Her mood darkened when Jorgy described the saleswoman’s unkind laughter at his little tumble into the tuba. “I wish that lady hadn’t mocked you,” she said. “If she does it again, you show me where her stall is, and I’ll give her a piece of my mind!” She found she’d put her hands to her hips and was scowling at the thought of someone making fun of her best friend. She’d tell that lady off if she ever met her! Still, it wouldn’t do to be all grumpy at this special breakfast, so she relaxed her arms and let her brow unfurrow.

Pearl found that she did somewhat agree with the statement that “any hobbit worth his salt would have at least one extra long pipe,” even if it had been deployed as a sales tactic. None of the grown hobbit men she knew went anywhere without at least one pipe on their person, and her father had quite a collection of arm-length pipes in his study at home. It hardly mattered if one smoked from the pipes or not - it seemed to be the fashion for hobbits to go about with a pipe (even an empty one) clenched in their teeth or gripped in their hands to make their gesturing more dramatic and pointed. Jorgy eventually came to wonder aloud about his worth, to which Pearl replied, “You are worth more salt than all the rest of the Shire combined!”

She rose from her stool and followed him to the counter to lay her eyes upon the feast he’d prepared. “Oh, Jorgy! Well done! This all looks marvelous.” She was quite impressed with the golden brown of the muffins - he had managed not to burn them! This was quite an improvement from his first attempt at baking. Jorgy was nothing if not a quick learner, Pearl reflected. She piled a plate high with a bit of everything and picked up a small glass of orange juice. “That’s all right about the juice,” she laughed. “This will be more than enough for me!” She returned to sit at the table and dug right in. Everything tasted just as good as it looked. “Jorgy, you’ve outdone yourself! This is the best breakfast I’ve ever had. And a walk later sounds perfect. Maybe there’ll be a rainbow or two lingering in the sky for us to see. But while we eat, tell me - are you going to learn to play the tuba? Maybe I should learn to play an instrument too! Then we can play duets.”
she/her | Esta tierra no es mía, soy de la nocheósfera.

Balrog
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11 Winter Beech
Bywater
West Farthing

Pearl’s bright face darkened a bit. Jorgy wasnʼt quite sure why until she said that the vendorʼs laughter had, in fact, been the mean kind. Heʼd never had anyone protect and defend him in his old life and when Pearl jumped in to say that what happened was bad and the lady was mean made him feel very warm inside. Once again, Pearl proved to be a true and wonderful friend, the best he could have ever asked for. How had he gotten so lucky to have accidently run into her the day of the Walking Club? That had been how it happened, right? He remembered something about a game of tag and bumping into a wizard and learning about second breakfast. That had been a very wonderful day indeed. He met so many interesting and admirable hobbits. “Oh, it's okay Pearl,” Jorgy said after a moment. He didnʼt want his friend to be upset, mood was everything for breakfast! It was the most important day of the meal, eh meal of the day. “Besides, I bet with you there sheʼd be very nice and proper.”

But enough of mean old bags who sold tubas (Jorgy made a mental note to practice his playing later in the evening, after he had a good think with his pipe), it was time for breakfast! Jorgy was positively buzzing with excitement. If one looked close enough, they might even see his hands shaking with eagerness. He was about to serve breakfast to a visitor for the first time! Oh, this was going to be the best! He watched Pearl pile her plate high with eggs and muffins and did the same, sitting across from her at his nice and fancy table. He turned a bright, bright shade of red as she began to lay compliments on him, especially the compliment about being worth more than all the salt in the Shire! He tried to thank her, but he got so tongue tied trying to come up with an equally gracious and heartwarming thank you that what came out was “And I think youʼre worth all the pepper in the whole Shire!” It was, well it was not the worst thing he could have said. It might have been the most outlandish, but it was far from the worst. “You really think Iʼm worth all that salt though? Thereʼs a lot of salt in the Shire.”

Pearl had been correct; this breakfast was quite good! Jorgy had managed to follow all the directions to a tee, more or less (somewhat less) and it had all turned out wonderful. The muffins tasted like fresh off the bush blueberries mixed with sunshine and summer showers. The orange juice was excellent too, heʼd only found a couple of seeds in his cup. He put them aside in a napkin. He was going to try and plant them later, the thought of having an orange tree delighted him. An orange tree and a blueberry bush. Thatʼs how his garden was going to start! But the conversation was back to his tuba. “Oh, I am absolutely going to learn to play! Do you think I could get good enough at tooting that I could play in the Hobbiton Orchestra some day? Oh, oh, oh! We should join together! I bet you could play any instrument that ever made a whistle or a ding! We could play duets too! I would love to do that!” Jorgy’s head was soon full of visions of them in the orchestra, fancy clothes and all, and playing along with some merry tune. It was going to be amazing!

He thought the eggs could have used a little more cheese, the more he ate them and thought about being in an orchestra, but there was always tomorrow where he could test that out. There were other kinds of cheese too. So many cheeses! He was going to try them all with his scrambled eggs and find out which was the best and then he was going to write a book!

Wait, what?

Pearl,” he said finishing a forkful of eggs and cheese, “I think I would like to write a book. I think I want to write about how to make scrambled eggs and how to use the best cheese to make them. And I want it all to be in poems!” That last part he made up on the spot, but it made him laugh the heartiest. Poems about scrambled eggs. Who would have thought of such a silly idea? “Oh! And rainbows! Scrambled eggs and rainbows. What do you think?”
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

Black Númenórean
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11 Winter Beech
Bywater
Westfarthing

Pearl scooped up another forkful of eggs, and a long stretchy strand of melted cheese trailed in its wake. As she chewed, she broke off the little strand of cheese and let it fall back into her plate. She had never had such cheesy eggs, but she found that she loved them! Jorgy was turning out to be quite the cook. She took a drink of orange juice, then laid down her fork. In response to his earlier comment about her worth in pepper, she picked up the little ferret-shaped salt and pepper shakers upon the table and set them side by side.

“You’re worth well more than all the salt in the Shire, Jorgy, and that’s a fact.” She pointed to the ferret with a small letter S painted on its chest. “All the grains of salt in this little shaker can’t even equal the tiniest fraction of what you’re worth! Not even one Jorgy finger or one Jorgy toe.” Pearl wasn’t ordinarily one to lecture or speechify, but this was important to her. She wanted him to know just how important a person he was. “But really, if I’m being honest, there’s no sense in trying to quantify your value. You’re a priceless treasure!” She smiled warmly and took another bite of eggs. “And as for me, I rather like this little pepper ferret, and I’m very glad to hear you think I’m worth all that pepper.” She laughed merrily. “Where did you get these shakers, anyway? Were these another find from the market? Can I go with you next time? You seem to find such good things for sale!”

She was quite pleased to hear that Jorgy intended to learn to play the tuba. “Hmmm,” she mused, “perhaps I’ll have to learn the flute. Or clarinet! They both can sound quite pretty. And we really should see about joining the orchestra - I’d love that!” Her eyes lit up. “Maybe we can look for some sheet music at the market, too. That way we’ll have something to play. Oh! We should probably also learn to read music, come to think of it.” Pearl knew that musical notation involved lines and dots but not much more. They might need to find a music teacher. All of this excited Pearl - she loved music, and she loved learning new things! She envisioned herself and Jorgy on stage in Hobbiton, playing a merry tune with the orchestra to the delight of a crowd of dancing hobbits. What fun that would be!

It was not long into this little daydream that Jorgy confessed his desire to write a book. My, he was going to be a busy lad! “That sounds wonderful, Jorgy!” Pearl said encouragingly. “A recipe book in verse? I would love to read that and cook dishes from it! Reading rhymes about scrambled eggs and rainbows would definitely make cooking all the more fun.”

She finished off her muffin and savored the sweet blueberry juice which burst from the little fruits. How had he managed to maintain all that moisture while also achieving such a lovely, golden bake? The many mysteries of Jorgy would take a long time to unravel. When it came to his baking, she was quite content to see him excel and felt lucky that she got to enjoy the fruits of his labor. “Judging by how these turned out, you’ll soon be teaching me how to bake!” She grinned. “I do hope you include a poem about how to bake muffins when you write your book!”
she/her | Esta tierra no es mía, soy de la nocheósfera.

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“Hmmm?” Jorgy had gotten so engrossed in thinking of clever ways to write haikus and sonnets about eggs and sausage that at first Pearl’s question about his salt and pepper shaker didnʼt register. “Oh!” Once it did though, his face broke out into the widest smile a hobbit ever smiled in all the history of the Shire. “Oh those! Well,” he straightened his shirt, cleared his throat, and started to use his “story voice” the same way heʼd noticed Mr. Brockhouse do a dozen times. “I was in the Market, really the most amazing place, when I passed a booth of an older hobbit marm selling ceramics. She had the most amazing little puppies and kittens; she even had a set of seven badgers all lined up in a row. I was all set to buy a tea set in the shape of rabbits when I saw these!” he picked up the saltshaker and tried to make the grinning face the ferret had. “Naturally, I thought of Jorgyferret and decided that these were a must! Iʼm not sure Mrs. Featherbottom was too pleased I decided to go for a salt and pepper shaker over a tea set, but I promised her I would be back for the tea set. Oh!” he beamed again. “Would you like to come with me when I go to buy it? I think that would be a splendid adventure to go on. We could get the tea set and then go for a walk into the woods and have tea in great outdoors!”

He took a sip of his orange juice, spilling a little down his chin. He grinned wiped it with the back of his shirt sleeve. Jorgy was still getting used to the idea of manners and napkins and not wiping oneʼs face with the back of oneʼs hand. He at least had the grace now to blush. “I think you would be wonderful playing either the flute or the clarinet!” He had no idea what either of those instruments were (he was really only familiar with the fiddle and the tuba) but he knew that Pearl would be magnificent at them, the same way she was with everything else.

He chomped into a muffin and a blueberry exploded, squirting a line of juice right at Pearl! He watched it happen in slow motion. He bit down on the sweet muffin and felt the berry shift just right under his teeth so that it burst in just the right (or wrong) direction. It was big stream of dark blue juice. It shimmered in the light of the midmorning sun. His eyes widened as he realized what was happening. There was nothing he could do though. He couldnʼt even warn Pearl it was coming, his mouth was so full of muffin.

Oh no!
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

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Westfarthing

Pearl smiled. A trip to the market with Jorgy would be a first, and no doubt a fascinating one too. Her best pal had a way of seeing things in a different light, such that the most routine of events became wondrous and splendid, and the most mundane objects shone with a new luster. This Jorgian gaze must be how he’d found so many things to treasure at the regular old market.

She was just about to tell Jorgy that she would be delighted to go with him to purchase his rabbit-shaped tea set when something caught her eye. Something blue and blurry and heading straight toward her - and fast! “Oh!” she cried, raising her hands to shield her face. She felt a light splash of something warm against her hand. She exhaled her relief that the collision had not been painful. Was there a bird in here, letting loose bird droppings willy-nilly? After the tuba, Pearl would not have been surprised if Jorgy revealed that he’d also bought a bird - sans cage - at the market. Equally as likely, maybe Jorgy had befriended a small bird while out on one of his morning walks, and it had followed him home.

Pearl separated her hands and peered across the table. Jorgy was wide-eyed with shock and perhaps a bit of guilt - or maybe that was just the large quantity of muffin still stuffed in his mouth. She gazed down at her hands and saw a small blue splat on her skin. In a daring move, she sniffed it. It didn’t smell like bird droppings at all! In fact, it smelled rather like the muffins they’d been eating. She licked the blue smudge and found that it was blueberry juice.

“I was just wondering how you managed to retain all the juices in the blueberries!” she laughed. “But where did that come from?! Surely you don’t have a catapult launching blueberries at me?” She wiped her hand on a napkin and smiled widely. In all her relief that there was not, in fact, a blue-pooping birdie flying about the place, she neglected to check if the blueberry juice had landed anywhere else. Unbeknownst to her, there was a fair quantity in her hair and a small bit splashed across her crisp white shirt. She picked up an orange pip she’d fished out of her orange juice and, with a smile, flicked it across the table at Jorgy - just in case he was attacking her with blueberries.
she/her | Esta tierra no es mía, soy de la nocheósfera.

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A catapult for blueberries? Now there was an idea. He finished chewing the rest of his bite of muffin, his eyes still wide as saucer plates. He had expected, well what had he expected? Heʼd never accidently sprayed a friend with blueberry juice so he wasnʼt exactly sure how big a faux pa it was and how large the retribution might be. Pearl was usually even tempered (unless her brother Tom was involved, but siblings skew the statistics) though, and it was only blueberry juice not... Jorgy’s mind went through all the things it could have been and in the end he was very happy it was only the juice. He looked out the window, just to make sure there were no birds about (one could never be too careful with those crafty creatures).

He was just about to say something along the lines of “Oh Pearl Iʼm so sorry, I think is some blue still in your hair” or “that shade of blue looks really nice your hair, do any hobbits you know have blue hair, by the way Iʼm sorry for accidently spraying you” but neither of those sentences made it out of his mouth. Before he could actually speak,
Pearl launched an orange pip at him!

Jorgy knew what was about to happen. He'd heard about it once at the Green Dragon. A food fight! Instead of fighting with swords and clubs, they fought with mashed potatoes and blueberries. He was so excited for what was about to happen that he forgot to dodge the orange pip.

He noticed it far too late. He was daydreaming of a catapult designed for blueberries and when the pale orange seed entered his field of vision. He had no time to dodge. He had no time to shield himself or fall over backwards. The seed hit him square in the nose, Pearl had excellent marksmanship. The seed bounced perfectly off his nose, up into the air, and onto his cheek, were it stuck. Not knowing this, Jorgy began to search the floor for the naranjin projectile. If Pearl wanted a food fight, then a food fight she was going to get! As soon as, you know, he found the orange pip.

He did not find the orange pip, still stuck to his cheek. He wished he had some mashed potatoes, or some creamed corn. Those, as he understood them, where excellent weapons in the war of the kitchen. All he had, however, was blueberries. Heʼd been a fool and ate all his eggs already.

“Oh yeah?” he rose from the floor, scooped a bit of muffin onto a spoon and used it as a makeshift catapult (his daydream had worked out for him after all) and launched the breakfast food at his best friend. “Take that!”
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

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The orange pip stuck its landing on Jorgy’s cheek, and Pearl let out a rather unladylike guffaw of laughter. Had her mother observed this, she would have scowled her disapproval and taken the opportunity to teach Pearl a bit about maintaining her composure. Luckily for Pearl, Mrs. Brockhouse was nowhere to be seen, and so she carried on laughing at Jorgy’s wide-eyed shock and the orange seed clinging to his face. Having never participated in a food fight before (though she had cleaned up after a fair few in the Dragon), Pearl was not accustomed to the feeling of pulling off a perfect shot. She was so used to reining in her impulses to smack Tom that she found this innocent bit of retribution quite exhilarating. She would have to try launching some food at her little brother’s face sometime when her parents were out!

While Jorgy searched in vain for the little seed, Pearl rolled up the remaining bits of her muffin into a sticky, doughy ball. Her fingers shone with buttery grease, but she didn’t mind. This was war! Tidiness would be the first casualty.

It seemed that Jorgy had a similar idea. He had been clever enough to turn his spoon into a catapult, and Pearl instantly regretted that she’d given him the idea. “I never should’ve mentioned catapults!” she squealed as the bits of muffin soared toward her. Ducking behind her chair for cover, she blindly tossed her little muffin ball in Jorgy’s general direction. She peeked her head above the table to see where it had landed and to gather her next round of ammunition: a large clump of eggs and mushroom slices. Pearl grabbed her spoon and tried her best to mimic the catapulting action Jorgy had used just moments ago, but the eggs flopped off the spoon before she could launch them. They landed right in her lap.

“Oh no!” she moaned, laughing some more. She retrieved the largest bit of mushroom she could find and loaded it onto her spoon. This time, she had much better luck with the spoon-catapult. She launched the mushroom with a loud “HA!” and ducked for cover once more.
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Jorgy couldnʼt believe the fun he was having. Having only ever heard of food fights he was not sure how such a thing progressed and why everyone was always so happy about it. Fighting over food? Food as a fight? On the face of it, it seemed like the most unhobbit like thing in all the world, but now that he was getting to participate in one (with his best friend in the whole wide world too) he understood just how quintessentially hobbit a food fight was. It was not about winning or actually fighting with food (though a duel with breadsticks would be quite fun too), it was about spending the best time with those you loved and wanted to be around. It was something to tell stories about for years and years to come. Jorgy hadnʼt quite gotten to thinking about years and years to come but he knew a food fight would be something to talk about and write stories about for a good long while.

And that being said, Jorgy was determined to win this food fight with Pearl at all costs. He watched the muffin balls (a term he believed he invented on the spot without realizing Pearl had done the same just moments before) fly through the air. Somehow, he was able to math out their trajectory and opened his mouth wide. He caught one (they were delicious, these muffin balls) but the other exploded all over his shirt, leaving a very obvious blue stain with bits of grease and muffin. He shrugged and chomped down on the delightful muffin ball.

He was so busy eating the muffin ball that he didnʼt see the eggs and mushroom flying at him. It had all been a ruse! He saw the yellow blur out of the corner of his eye but only had the time to shriek and throw his hands over his face. The eggs, of course, splattered harmlessly off his jacket and onto the floor.

The floor?! Food on the floor was an absolute travesty. Yes, this was a food fight, but some lines could not be crossed (never mind that there was already food all over the place). He picked up the eggs, pulled his chair over and hid behind it like heʼd seen Pearl do and, using his blueberry catapult, relaunched the eggs. They went a little wide, or a little narrow depending whatever it was Jorgy was aiming at (or, as he would tell the story later, exactly what he meant to do) and bonked Pearl’s orang juice cup. The clay mug teetered on the edge of falling and staying up for what felt like forever. Then, finally it tipped over, spilling all over the table, leaving no corner un-oranged.

“Take that!” he burst into giggles.
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

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Westfarthing

Everything on the other side of the table was unusually quiet for just a few moments too long. What was Jorgy up to? Was he sneaking toward her on silent hobbit feet? Hobbits were quite good at sneaking about, it was true. She hadn’t imagined that Jorgy would have occasion to sneak up on her while at breakfast, but there was never a shortage of surprises when she spent time with her best friend. Cautiously, she peered above the table once more - just in time to see Jorgy make a spectacular catch of a muffin ball with just his mouth!

“Wow!” Pearl blurted out, giving away her location while also expressing her amazement at his accuracy. She clapped her hands to her mouth and ducked again when she saw him return fire with her very own eggs, which she’d flung at him only minutes ago. Luckily for Pearl, the clump of eggs did not hit her full in the face. Unluckily for Pearl, the clump of eggs broke apart midair and rained down upon her in a kind of yellow, greasy hail. She raised her arms above her head to shield herself and screamed, “Arrrghh!”

Desperately, she pulled her plate from the table to her hiding spot. What was left? Two fat slices of bacon, a sizeable clump of eggs and cheese (mostly cheese), and . . . orange juice? Why was her plate covered in orange juice?

The answer cascaded over the table’s edge, along her chair, and onto Pearl’s skirt as soon as the thought crossed her mind. “My juice!” she lamented. She was a bit sad that her food was soaked in orange juice, of course, but mostly she was sad because she found she was quite parched - food fights were thirsty work!

Jorgy, I sure hope you have some more juice somewhere!” she cried. To really drive the point home, she picked up the bacon - one piece in each hand - and, leaving a trail of orange juice in her wake, ran over to Jorgy and began waving the bacon strips wildly above him. Droplets of orange juice flew in all directions, but she made sure to concentrate them on him.

“For the eggs! And the juice!!” was her battle cry.
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When Jorgy heard Pearl’s battle cry, he knew he was in trouble. Battle cries were what winners had. He didnʼt have a battle cry. “Jorgy!” wasnʼt really a battle cry so much as just his name very loud. Someone people did that though. It was odd, but that pleasant happy fellow that occasionally came to the pub liked to say “FEZZIWIG!” when heʼd down a particularly large pint of ale, then everyone else repeated his cry. Jorgy got to do it with him once. It was a very fun experience.

This was also a fun experience, but in a very different way. He was being saturated by bacon seasoned orange juice. It was weird, but it was fun. He was too busy giggling to crawl away and, when he finally did, bumped his head on the ottoman still sitting in the middle of the kitchen. Why was this even here?! Jorgy! He tried to crawl over it, but between getting bonked on the head and giggling too hard he tripped over the ottoman. “Ahhhhh! Where is the juice? Where is the juice?” It was his only hope, to be so weird and goofy that Pearl stopped her relentless assault to giggle at him so that he could think of something. He looked in his kitchen, it was spinning and upside down. That was not gonna help. “Where is the juice!” he cried again.

Finally, pulling on his last weird idea, he stood up and began to flail his arms and run in a circle. “UNACCEPTABLE! UNACCEPTAAAAAAAAAAABLE!”

During this utter display of lemon like weirdness, he caught a glimpse of... Yes! Yes! There was a loaf of bread on the counter! It was not breadstick sword, more like a breadstick dagger, but it would work! He grinned and darted across the kitchen, avoiding the ottoman that was just sitting there (Jorgy move the ottoman!) and grabbed the little loaf of bread. “En garde Pearl!” his form was terrible, as any swordsman or actor could tell him, but form didnʼt matter to Jorgy, only victory!
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

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Westfarthing

Drat! Pearl thought. Her bacon was growing hopelessly dry. Bereft of both grease and orange juice, she nonetheless continued waving the bacon strips threateningly at Jorgy as he retreated into the kitchen in a most undignified manner. She couldn’t help but laugh at his confused crawling, not to mention the ottoman that, for some reason, he seemed to be keeping in the middle of his kitchen floor. Maybe he liked to put up his feet while waiting for his muffins to cool?

Pearl didn’t have much time to speculate before Jorgy uttered a shriek the likes of which she had never heard from him - let alone in all the Shire in her entire lifetime. Where had he learned such a thing?! This seemed like the kind of thing a rotten child like Tom might scream when he wasn’t allowed thirds at dessert. It was altogether unlike sweet, kind Jorgy. Still, it was hilarious. Once the initial shock wore off, Pearl doubled over laughing, all bacon weaponization forgotten.

“What?!!” she managed to gasp between giggles. “What on earth?!?!” Tears rolled down her cheeks and she let her bacon slices fall to the floor. Poor Jorgy was going to have quite a mess to clean up later. She would help tidy up, of course, but she knew how he felt about food on the floor.

It seemed that bacon was not the only food to be weaponized on this fine morning. She found herself confronted by a long loaf of bread, pointing directly into her face. At its opposite end, Jorgy looked ready to duel! “Wait just a second!” she cried. “I’m unarmed!”

She ran about Jorgy’s kitchen, looking desperately for other weaponizable foods. She came across some eggshells and a few stray, shriveled blueberries - no doubt Jorgy had discarded these for the plumper ones in his pantry. There were knives, of course, but she wasn’t about to enter a food fight with an actual weapon - that would be cheating.

At last, she came across a thin triangular slice of cheese. The sharp cheddar! Its name boded well for a pseudo-sword fight. With a grunt, she hoisted it into the air (it was from a very large wheel of cheese; perhaps Jorgy had begun to buy his dairy products in bulk?) and, remembering a fellow named Clarence who had died from consuming too much cheese in liquid form (or so the legends said), cried, “FOR CLARENCE!!”

Before Jorgy could strike, Pearl zigzagged forward, dodging his bread sword, and bopped him squarely on the nose with the cheese. The end of her little cheese sword promptly broke off and fell to the floor.

“Ha ha!” she crowed. “Got ya!”
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Heʼd made a mess of things. Heʼd zagged when he should have zigged, and he zigged when he should have zagged. It was going to be a while before Jorgy was ready to join any sort of Hobbit Defense Force, unless they needed someone who could make muffin balls, then he was going to the best they ever had! However, his efforts thus far had been, as heʼd shouted and waved his arms about, unacceptable (on an unrelated note, why did he have a craving for lemon candies?). “I yield! I yield!” He couldnʼt keep his face straight, even as he threw his hands up and dropped his bread sword, he burst into a fit of laughter. “You win!”

Thus went Jorgy’s first official food fight; by normal standards, meaning those set down by Old Faramond Bramblethorn in “Food Fights and Other Culinary and Confectionary Conflicts” in 1313 SR, the fight had been more a tater tussle than a food fight. Jorgy, however, hadnʼt read that book yet so he proudly filed away this wonderful morning as the morning of his first food fight. It had been the most fun heʼd had in ages! And heʼd gotten to have it with Pearl, which obviously made it even more fun!

“Wow! That was a food fight huh?” Slowly he stopped laughing and wiped a tear from his eyes. He then looked at his kitchen and dining room. Breadcrumbs, bacon grease, muffin bits and muffin balls, eggs, mushrooms, blueberries, and even orange juice were all over the place. During the battle heʼd not thought about the consequences. His home was a mess! There was only one thing for him to do at this point. He burst into another fit of laughter. There was going to be a lot of cleaning ahead, but that could all wait. Jorgy was far too busy laughing and crying at how much fun heʼd had and the mess heʼd made. This was the first time he really made a mess to this degree that wasnʼt entirely accidental. The work had to be admired, in the space of just a few minutes, he and Pearl had managed to make an enormous mess.

“Making messes with friends is the best way to spend oneʼs time,” he concluded, catching his breath. He sat on the ottoman in the middle of the kitchen (aha, it has a purpose!) and sighed with deep satisfaction. “Thank you for that Pearl. A food fight was exactly what this breakfast date needed.”

Wait... date? Jorgy... uh, what did you say?

Either Jorgy hadnʼt realized he said it or did not realize the heavy weight that word carried because he didnʼt look the least bit embarrassed.

“What would you say to a walk? Maybe we can find some rainbows to catch or some butterflies to follow?”
Strange Fruit got holes in the flesh but it ain't gonn' spoil cause it never was fresh

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Despite the damage done to her cheese sword, Jorgy declared Pearl victorious. She threw the remaining cheese into the air and jumped with joy. “Yay!” she cried. She had never won a food fight before! It was a good feeling to win a fight that wasn’t really a fight. Pearl wasn’t much of one for actual fighting, but she did find that she had thoroughly enjoyed this mock battle with Jorgy. Once her brief celebratory leap was out of the way, she joined him in an outburst of giddy laughter.

“It was quite the food fight, I assure you,” Pearl said, still breathless from all the laughing. “I’m so glad you think it’s a good time to make messes together!” she continued, smiling brightly. Her eyebrows rose slightly at the word date, but since Jorgy continued on as if nothing had happened, she decided that she would, too.

“A walk sounds just perfect! I am afraid we’re going to leave behind quite the disaster, though. I know how you hate food on the floor!” She grinned, thinking about the many expressions of chagrin and profuse apologies that followed any incident of Jorgy dropping food on the floor at the Brockhouse home. Her parents never minded, what with three children growing up in the same house, but Jorgy sure seemed to.

Still, her eyes sparkled with mischief - perhaps emboldened by the way their highly civilized breakfast had devolved into an all-out war of wittles. “But if you don’t mind leaving the mess, Jorgy, I’m ready to go for a walk right now!” She skipped across pools of orange juice, dodged a slick strip of bacon that almost made her slip, and spun around a large clump of muffin crumbs and muffin balls till she made it to the front door. She turned the doorknob and opened the door. The breeze which floated into Jorgy’s home smelled of fresh grass, light rain, and flowers. The Shire was a beautiful place, and days like today made that more obvious than usual.
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There was nothing like a large mess of food and drink and dishes to get one out of the house in a hurry. Jorgy, never a huge proponent of orderliness and cleanliness, was happy to leave the mess to be cleaned later. He took a long look at the bacon, muffins, orange juice, bread, and cheese all over the floor and table and thought “now was the perfect time to run, that way the brownies to come by and feast and clean without having to worry about being seen.” Was this true and factual? Well, I’m not about to tell whether or not brownies are real and if they come to visit Jorgy’s home when he’s not around, but if it were true, then Jorgyferret would know. Perhaps the reader should ask him?

As for Jorgy Underash, he bounded after Pearl like a cat was chasing him. He darted nimbly over the piles and puddles, almost in a dancing manner. He got so caught up in the little game (because what was life without silly games to play with oneself) he did a pirouette as soon as he bounded into the living room. To his own surprise (he was not the most nimble or graceful hobbit), he did not fall over himself but managed to stay upright! “Haha! I finally did that without falling over!” He was more than a little excited having finally seemingly mastered the pirouette. There were still lots of things young Jorgy was going to need to know about dancing before he could call himself a dancer, but it was one of the many things he was determined to get good at. After all, what would he do if there was an autumn festival and there was dancing, and he was going with Pearl? She might like to dance, right? Well, he needed to be prepared. Never mind that he was learning ballet dancing instead of ballroom dancing, that was semantics really.

With another hop and a bound, he was out the door standing next to Pearl. He beamed as widely as was hobbitly possible. The morning was still beautiful and bright. The sunshine was golden, crisp, and warm; the breeze was cool and refreshing, carrying a parade of leaves in a whirlwind of color and patterns. There were a dozen different scents wafting on the air: grass, flowers, and fruits. His skin prickled with excitement. Since coming to the Shire (how long had it even been, Jorgy lost count of the days and weeks), he’d never seen it more beautiful. This was a moment, a morning, he wanted to make last forever. Everything was perfect. He felt the warming sensation of peace and contentment spreading through his chest. He looked out to the horizon and sighed. The entire world was wide open to he and Pearl. Now to find a rainbow!

“Shall we?” He took Pearl’s hand and began to hum.
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She finished her elevensies and wiped her crumbs off of her chest and licked her fingers clean of honey before she stood up and tottered to the sink with her plates. She glanced around and decided it was far too nice of a day to stay inside. She grabbed a shawl and a nice big floppy hat to keep the sun off of her head and her garden basket and shears.

She opened the door and took a breath of nice cool fresh air and stepped over her threshold and into her yard. She toddle over to the left and her window flower box catching sight of a weed and plucked it out. "RAGWEED. WORSE THAN WOLVES" She 'muttered' to herself. She headed to see how her carrot patch and her potatoes were doing to see if there were anymore weeds in there as well. Of course there were they were a good bit more difficult for her as the garden patch was much older. She got out a hoe and hacked the weeds down - of course being an old woman the weeds were not terribly big as she had little else to do during the day and she was highly against dusting. Which she hadn't done in at least a month. Possibly a year.

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