Oh, the tea was great; Auntie Iris is still baking the best extra deliciously tasty biscuits in the whole Shire. And she was grinning like a Breeland cat when I gave her the recipies I collected on my travels.
Where was I? Right, the next surprise. In Michel Delving I managed to walk right into another old friend when I came out of the auction house. I had stepped on his toes, and it was not until he stopped spinning around and wailing with pain that I recognised Tolpan. He looked marvellous. No one would have guessed that he was the very same wracked figure I picked up from the bogs once. Oh, the terrible state he was in then! And lucky that I had arrived just in time.
I was digging for ore in the bogs that night, but the nasty gnats were so importunate that I was on the verge of turning around and marching straight home. Near the waterfall I suddenly heard a loud thud. Thinking a giant fish had found his way to our end of the Shire, I went looking for it. And what I found was a completely soaked, completely drunk und half drowned hobbit. Somehow I managed to get him to our home - and the gnats were the smallest problem on our way. Next day he still was unable to talk, while Auntie Iris came to visit every other hour, bursting with curiosity. After having had about twenty decent meals and some of Ma's special blueberry ale, he started to ask where he was. Two hours later, we were able to understand it and tell him how we found him. Then we asked him who he was. Then he started to ask himself who he was. It turned out he had lost his memory. He did not know his name, nor where he came from, or how he got into this terrible state and washed down the waterfall. However, we found on his jacket - or what was left of it - the name "Tolpan" embroidered, and that is what we started calling him.
After he had recovered, he went on living with us and was helping around wherever help was needed in Needlehole. He did not like the name Tolpan, he even doubted it was his real name, and his memory was still a mess. Once he went to graze Daffodil, Filibert's cow, and when coming back with her, he kept calling her Daisy. It often happened that his pockets were full of weird stuff - and he had not the slightest idea where it all came from.
Then one day, he was delivering some letters for master Redsmith to Bywater. One was for Barmy Rootknot, who looked at him in total surprise and said: "There you are, old fellow! We were missing you on our Fridays! Thought, something serious had happened to you - but here you are, working for the quick post. Tolpan, old friend!" Tolpan did not know whether to laugh because he had been missed and now found by a friend, or to cry because it turned out Tolpan was his real name after all.
Of course, shortly after that his friends helped him to move back into his old hole in Bramblebury and to get some bits of his memory back. He often passed through Needlehole later when travelling to Ered Luin and stayed with us for a day or two then.
And here he was again, and how much did we have to tell each other! We spent a happy afternoon in Michel Delving, having some ales and ciders, until suddenly he remembered a birthday invitation for the very same evening. At first I was disappointed, but then he simply asked me to come, too. His friend would surely not mind if he brought another hobbit lass, Tolpan said, winking at me.
And this was how I met Master Simbo and many of his friends, many of them from the famous Grand Order of the Lost Mathom. I wished I had some of the many catfish pies left, but they were all gone. We had a jolly party in Simbo's hobbit hole, with pies and ale and music and dancing. I very much enjoyed being with so many hobbits of about my age while home in Needlehole there were not too much of them. Later on, we even danced on the table! Oh, I'm blushing while writing this, because if I remember right (after all the ale and cider and wine) I did step into the cheese once. Or twice.
What I do remember right is that it was far after midnight when I set off for home. It was such a warm summer night, even in the bogs I could smell summer flowers, and I kept singing the merry tunes Miss Lina had played.
