Over the years, Doddy had done many things for payment, food, or lodging. Nothing of a dark or questionable nature to be sure - but when it came to working the farmlands of the Shire, Doddy Stump had done it all. Or, so he thought.
That night he stood corrected, for in front of him stood a great and terrifying wolf. Its eyes glowed horribly in the light of the Hobbit lamps, its massive frame crouching threateningly near Mr. Cam Puddifoot’s pigsty. The mere sight of it turned Doddy’s knees to jelly - and not the delicious kind you serve with tea and scones.
“Get on with it, Stump!” Mr. Puddifoot shouted from behind his bale of hay. The pig farmer had taken cover as soon as the cry of “wolf” had been taken up. A host of other Hobbits from Budgeford had gathered to see the wolf as well, though at quite a safe distance.
Armed with the dual-bladed axe he kept for chopping firewood, Doddy took a deep breath. This was mad - he wasn’t a bounder, or a warrior. He was just a farmhand. He had never killed so much as a butterfly. But he was the hired hand and, while under wages, he felt a responsibility to Mr. Puddifoot and his property. Summoning up his courage and seizing his axe in both hands, Doddy took a step towards to wolf. The beast didn’t like that at all; it snarled and spit at him with each step Doddy took.
Finally, when Doddy was within a few meters of the animal, it sprang towards him! The young Hobbit let out a yell of fright as he raised his axe above his head. Closer and closer - the great shaggy fiend was almost on top of him! He judged it close enough when he could see his frightened reflection in the wolf’s eyes. Closing his own two eyes, which he hoped he would keep, Doddy brought the axe down with all of the strength granted to him through years of hard labour.
He felt the axe make contact, though not as he expected. He knew he kept his axe sharpened to a fault - so he had been prepared for a clean blow through, or perhaps a soft wet thud. What he felt however, was a hard and heavy smack that sent vibrations into his hands and throughout his entire body. Promptly falling on his bottom, he sat there with his whole body a-tingle.
When Doddy finally opened his eyes, the demon wolf had vanished. He was told that apparently the grip on the axe had rotated in his hands and he had hit the poor animal on the head with the flat of the axe blade – causing the creature to run away in a disoriented fashion. A dreadfully silly tale to be sure, but it is one that still gives poor Doddy Stump nightmares.
