Yola

So there I was, the proud owner of a burrow in Bramblebury. It was just as cozy as my temporary home in Pinewarrens and with an equally stunning view of the Homestead. The people who live in Bramblebury are, no exception, most kind and friendly. And they all have known my mother Yola, ofcourse. They tell me stories about her and tell me how much I look like her. It always makes me feel both good and sad when they say that.

Finding my Uncle Peppy was the best that happened to me after hearing that Pa and Ma were not my real parents. The worst thing was, finding out that my real mother, Yola Plumblossom, was no longer alive. Just as bad was, that I could not find a single trace of my real father.

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.

As if I was a soldier in the Free Peoples Army myself, I reported back at their Town-hole’s office, Reconnaisance and Intelligence Gathering Division, one day later, exactly on the appointed hour.

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.

Dreams haunted me that night I slept in the Green Dragon. I saw my mother Yola being captured by awful and ugly warriors of a relentless, cruel enemy. I screamed in horror, but she looked at me and smiled, like she smiled in the picture I had found of her in an old newspaper. I reached out to her, but I could not reach her. She waved at me and then vanished in a puff of smoke.

I looked around helplessly, the music in the Green Dragon sounded faint and far away as I seemed to go in and out of consciousness a few times. I had to force myself to stay with it, to face what I had found just now.  I had been so happy to find a person, in Stock, who had actually known my real mother Yola, although she could not tell me where I could find her. But now this!

When I was in Bree I had met a jeweller, called Madge Woodsey. I showed her the coloured pebble I carried with me, this gift of  Yola to her daughter.  To my surprise and great pleasure I was told the stone was called a rubellite. Oh! This is where I got my name from!