The evening sky was approaching. I had stopped by Rivendell for a day whilst on my never-ending journey. Lord Elrond had advised me to check on the folk in The Shire. They didn't seem to have any kind of security and so I obliged. I traveled west, following along the East Road and used Weathertop Mountain as my checkpoint. I didn't directly go on the path, wary of any enemies in the shadows lurking around. There hadn't been many Orcs or "enemy spies" roaming about as much. But as someone wise said, evil will always look for a foothold in this world. After another night in Bree, I headed towards the green-tilled borders of The Shire.
I walked into the lightly forested area, where a dirt path was laid out. A couple carriages along the way past me, and the riders gave me some queer looks. I turned the corner at a fork in the road, and slowly more signs of Hobbit civilization showed as I walked out of the shade of the trees.
Making a couple more twists and turns here and there, I seemed to have arrived in the main town area. Short and stout figures roamed about. There were markets and vendors, children playing in the grass and running around. Much seemed like it was happening. Friendly chatter and laughter, the rolling and creaking of wooden carts stacked with the best and plump vegetables I had ever seen. It was quite a merry place, probably the most happy and innocent place I had seen in Middle-Earth. This region was very much secluded from the outside world, and folk here seemed to like it that way. Hobbits have always favored peace and good-tilled earth. Not to mention their six meals a day. Oh who wouldn't want to settle down in a place like this?
I strode along the markets and pathways, just observing the life here. Some questioning glances were aimed at me. I wouldn't blame them with my taller stature, dark cloak, my bow and quiver strapped to my back, and looking as if I had gone through all the wars of this world.
Night has started to fall, and all the life and merriment from the outside went indoors as many went into local bars and their dwelling spaces. I could hear even from a yard away, the joyful roars of cheers and lively music. The clanking of mugs and rhythmic pounding of tables. Quite a party they have in there even during this hour, I chuckle to myself.
Besides helping some folk with minor things like carrying items and entertaining some children, nothing in particular caught my eye that seemed to be foul. Even if I only spent a day with them, I've already grown quite fond of the Hobbits of The Shire. And such gentle folk could easily be frail and cut down from the dangers of this world. A part of me already wanted to protect this place for as long as I live, not wanting a single flower or blade of grass to be touched.
I walked down the paths of what seemed to be a neighborhood. I figured it would be my last walk around for the night. Suddenly, I heard the sound of another pair of footsteps on the same path I was on. These footsteps did not sound light or friendly. They were heavy and full of grime. Something told me this was not Hobbit folk, and if it were, they were a peculiar one indeed. Still, I decided to hide myself in the shadows behind one of the bushes. I faced my back to the path, still listening to the footsteps coming closer and closer. I felt the urge to be noble and face this unknown passer. But I did not get the chance to as I heard the steps retreat. The person was walking up the stone slabs of the hobbit hole I was in the vicinity of. He rang the doorbell and I decided to peek out. The man seemed bulky yet short, was mostly bald and had an impressive beard to say the least, even from a distance. He wore heavy clothing and a fur coat stopping at his shoulders, and what seemed to be some armory as well. Must be a dwarf I thought. He didn't look tall to be a man, certainly not an elf, and not a Hobbit (he was wearing boots). After a moment, a hobbit appeared and answered the door, no denying he looked bewildered at this new person.
I couldn't quite hear the small dialogues exchanged between them, but no doubt the poor hobbit was unprepared for this guest. I briefly heard his name was "Baggins." The dwarf(?) seemed to invite himself inside and the door closed. I waited for a short while if I heard anything suspicious. But, I heard no ruckus nor any sign of struggle, only more pairs of footsteps walking up towards the hobbit hole, and seeing more folk like the man from earlier! By looking at the party, no doubt they were dwarves. They didn't seem to be a threat, other than to Mr. Baggins, who kept getting surprised by the new number of dwarves at his doorstep. I started to find the poor Hobbit's night amusing, as he kept getting these uninvited visitors. And with every new dwarf, the louder it became inside the hobbit hole. Twelve dwarves I counted, even from the large group that toppled on top of each other when the door opened for them, and with another tall man with gray attire and a staff. Sounds of merriment and happy feasts echoed from the hole, much like the bars I had passed by. I finally stood up from my hiding place, seeing no other dwarf coming by.
Such a fascinating place indeed. Dwarves can show up without warning and dwell here as if this is their home. I chuckled to myself as I started walking down the path towards the woods where I would meet the border. I took one last look at the hobbit hole, shouts and laughter still erupting from its walls.
"Hopefully they can teach me how to party one day." I chuckle to myself, striding along the dirt path as the light of the stars followed behind me.
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A Short Stop at The Shire
FanfictionA Hobbit One-Shot where you are a ranger tasked to stop by the secluded area of The Shire, just to make sure things are in order. However, a strange visitor catches your eye...