We the Underlys
Yesterday I helped Mavis with her hedgehog fiasco and then after that I went to work on my duties. I rather forgot about writing for that time, but now I am glad to return to it.
In the last entry, I wrote of Underhome, and my fondness for it. Today I shall write of the Underlys, and what it is to be one. I think that is for the best.
I suppose I also write for purposes of safety, in part. To bring clarity in the event I and my fellows are reported missing or stolen away. Were I to perish well before my time, I should hope the reader of this entry notes well that Master Greengrove did not abduct myself or any other Underly. And I would quite happily wager he wouldn’t be the one to end us (though sometimes he looks at Mavis with a twitchy eye on account of her misbehaviours, but still, she is welcome).
Being an Underly means adorning a new name during service. Master Greengrove dubbed us all with forenames like ‘Hroom’, ‘Hoom’, ‘Hurum’, ‘Burarum’ (that last one is for Mavis, she misbehaves most), and many variations thereof. All united under the newly given surname ‘Underly’. What surprised all of us, though, is how quickly and readily we began responding to these designations.
Both of my surnames allude to a life lived underground, at least in part. But both lives really are quite different to one another.
For example, we ‘Underlys’ dress much as Master Greengrove does. There’s an awful lot of green things on me when I’m in uniform; from flowers and clumps of moss to webs of ivy spanning the length of my arms. We even wear boots, Stoors and non-Stoors alike! By comparison, as Freddy Tunnelly, I dress like any other hobbit that is no Underly; I’m fond of my suspenders, and the fresh air on my hairy toes. Clothes create feeling, and I feel altogether different as an Underly.
Between ourselves and Master Greengrove, friendship came first. We the Underlys are ‘misfit hobbits’ from all over Middle-earth. The ones who were thought odd and didn’t quite ‘fit in’ back home. There are natives of Maur Tulhau, Long Cleeve, Bree-town, Staddle, and Lyndelby, respectively, too. The former case is especially surprising as they are the least fond of big folk, but I suppose all of us came to love Master Greengrove and his wife in the end.
Last year at the turn of spring, Master Greengrove opened up the hatch in his main room and thudded down the ladder into Underhome. And as his mud-caked boots met the ground, he smiled to all Underlys and said:
“Hoom! Good evening, sweet Underlys. Now, might you all settle down? Kindly do less of that whispering while I speak, Burarum. Thank you. To those of you returning from the Shire, Staddle, and Bree-town for the coming spring, welcome back. And to those of you who have left your smials in the south and east forever more, you will always have a home here for as long as you wish. Everything that is mine, is yours. My home is now shared, along with all its belongings. However, Underhome is wholly yours. All I might ask for in exchange is for you to care for my garden, my home, and all visitors, be they free peoples or woodland critters. There is plenty to do around here, when it comes to chores, you know, and so often I and my dear wife have business beyond our walls. So, work hard, rest well, and be glad!”
If Master Greengrove is Keeper of the Trees, then I suspect we the Underlys are rather keepers of his home, along with all its comforts and creatures. I suspect I shall be writing more entries regarding Underly activities. Spring is starting to show, and with that means more Underlys in Underhome, and plenty to write about in the coming months.
