That was the most peculiar dream, not sure what to make of it really. Some say dreams are just showing us what we ‘want’ to see, others believe that in dream we are seeing things that have not yet come to pass -- and me, well I believe dreams are kind of important, for there is always a little bit of truth in them, and deep meanings we should strive to find and understand...anyhow, as per usual I am confabulating way too much, so let me tell you about this strange dream I had and the events that followed after because I think they are kind of all related, which is actually rather lovely.
A lost hobbit village in the mist, unchanged and invisible to the outside world, far far away from the Shire. Nonsense! I can hear you mumbling, and I would generally agree with that, but please be patient, let me explain. One thing about us hobbits is that our origins are shrouded in mystery. Some believe we are related to Men ( goodness me, that is a horrible thought ) but there are no records of us or this relationship in the Chronicles of the Elves, so no one really knows how hobbits came to be...well, what they are today. Anyhow, the ‘little-folk’ survived in Middle-earth for thousands of years, hidden away from the importance and the knowledge of other races.
The first records of our existence date from the beginning of the Third Age, when little-folk were said to be living in the Wilderlands, along the banks of the Anduin river, at the foot of the Misty Mountains. They were known to the Northmen and they were given the name ‘Holbytlan’ which means ‘hole-builders’. They were regarded as legendary creatures. The only famous tale about them is that...they seem never to be in any tale at all, choosing to be mostly invisible and hiding away from the tall folk (a sentiment I fully understand and share). On the very rare occasions when they were spotted by men, they would just vanish in a twinkling, and change their voices to sound like birds chirping away.
So there they lived, happy and unphased by the outside world until they became uneasy at the ever growing number of men from the east and also at by the shadow in Dol Guldur, and decided to cross the Misty Mountains in the hope to find a safer place to live. This period of hobbit history is called the ‘ Wandering Days’. A centuries-long migration of the ‘little-folk’ that saw them eventually settle in the green and pleasant land we know as the Shire today. And here I am, making a short hobbit tale waaaay too long...but I think some context was needed. Anyhow, some of these ‘ Wandering’ hobbits had a change of mind, and decided to go back, and there they apparently still live today, hidden away behind the mist from the mountains. Their existence almost forgotten, they became a legend.
In my dream I saw this mythical enchanted village where ‘Holbytlan’ lives, and I saw these distant cousins, and marveled at their way of living, so different and yet so familiar. When I woke up I could not believe my dream because no one in the Shire had ever met a ‘ holbytla’....until something happened to me the other day. On a fair evening I went to Michel Delving for some errands. Was just making me way to the bakery, trying to decide how many cakes and sweet buns I should buy, when I stumbled on a pebble and into a lad standing there, looking at the bakery’s window display.
“ I beg your pardon, I am so clumsy sometimes…” I mumbled.
“ Don’t worry Miss, no harm done. “ He replied with a happy smile on his face.
Standing there was not your typical hobbit lad. Taller and broader, Tanned skin, bright blue eyes, curls framing his smiley face, and….a beard ? Was that a real beard ? Yes of course it was. Hobbits with facial hair are kind of rare in the Shire. This lad was obviously not a local. His strong northern accent, and the fact he was wearing leather boots, a clear indication this lad was from outside the bounds. I smiled back, wondering what kind of impression I had made on him. Remembering my manners I introduced myself, and discovered his name -- Gamfric Bolga. After a few more pleasantries, he was more than happy to tell me he had just arrived in the Shire. Gamfric is from a place called Lyndelby, far to the east of the Misty Mountains, he had heard fabled tales of the Shire and decided to come and have a look at what that was all about.
There is one lovely word that comes to mind : - Serendipity - which means you accidentally stumble upon something nice ( like a lad with a beard from a far away land ) while looking for something completely unrelated (in this case, cakes and sweet buns). It is true also that people we meet are meant to cross our path for a reason -- that is what I believe anyway. So in the end, the dream I had about the hidden and enchanted hobbit village in the mist, was telling me that this place does exist, which is wonderful. Anyway, Gamfric has decided to stay in the Shire for the foreseeable future, and that is nice. We met at the Green Dragon and he was very impressed by the warm welcome he received, the quality of the ale, and the merriment. We walked together under the stars for a while after the party. One day he will go back to his land and his folk, he said, and perhaps I will travel with him, I said.
“ That would be a wonderful adventure.” Gamfric smiled.
