Peppy

The Wood-elves generally conceive of their woods as their world, and the rare sight of stars shining through the branches of the trees is their great delight, for it is always dark in shadowy Mirkwood. Game animals are still plentiful in the northern part, and so the elves are comfortable and well provisioned with meat and skins. As they do not keep herds of animals, nor are they skilled at raising crops, having no cleared land fit for this purpose, the Wood-elves have abundant leisure time, which they spend in feasting, singing, dancing, and playing games.

Dear sir or madam,

Recently I subscribed to your very informative newsletter. Unfortunately, the past week or two I have received nothing. Is it possible you have misplaced my address due to the recent flurry of burrowswappings? If this is the case then please add my name and address to your list again. That is: Zara, at 5 Brookbank Street, Songburrow, The Shire. I would be most grateful to start receiving the Gazette again as I do enjoy keeping up with the goings on in the Shire.

Yours gratefully,

Zara

Dear Miss Zara,

On the morning of November first, just after elevensies, Uncle Peppy came to see me. He asked me if I would have time to accompany him to Brightdown, a nearby homestead. I said “Sure, Uncle Peppy! And how smart you are dressed today!”

Waking up in a unfamiliar bed in an unfamiliar guest bedroom, with the smell of an extensive hobbit breakfast being prepared in the background, it took me some moments to realize where I was. Slowly it all dawned to me again: I had met Yola's brother, Peppy, in Bramblebury. It was the best find in my search so far.

Bramblebury, a lovely and friendly neighbourhood, is special in many ways. They even have their own newspaper! Yet, when I first visited, I was not feeling comfortable or at ease at all. My first visit started with another disappointment: Someone else lived in my mother Yola's house. Where was I to look now? But then I met someone who changed everything for me.

It was evening when I rode to Waymeet and there turned south, onto the road to the South Farthing Homesteads. I was grieving the loss of my real mother, Yola Plumblossom. O, how I wished I could have known her! But that was not going to happen.

The sign on the door, deep down in Michel Delving’s Town-hole read: “Free Peoples Army. Division of Reconnaissance and Intelligence Gathering.” I was put on a chair near this door and was told to wait. I felt uneasy. It was like eyes were watching me. Literally, as I was sure that the eyes of the portrait on the wall blinked at some point. I got up and walked about a bit.

Dear Diary...

A couple of days have already passed since that magical day that I married the sweetest hobbit lassie, my Amorey. My lovely wife Amorey, I now call her.