These stories, as narrated at the weekly Green Dragon Friday roleplaying event, are based on the letters sent by a curious hobbit, one Filibert Diggle, to his cousin, the author, Wybert Diggings. Following up on a rumour of singing badgers, Filibert found himself in the village of Hidden, a place in the Shire scarcely anyone has ever heard of and from which, he discovered, it is impossible to leave. His own account of how he came to be there and of what he found out about the place and some of its inhabitants can be found in the author’s introduction to the stories, published here in this archive.
Settling In
When Filibert Diggle awoke the next morning, it took him a few moments to realise that he was not in his own bed at his home close to Woodhall in the Green Hills.
As he took in the bars on the small window and on the open door of Watchman Dudo Underfoot’s jail cell the events of the previous day started to come back to him – searching the village for the missing boy, Waldo Buggins; finding him asleep in a shack in the high woods; the creature, scarcely seen, that fled noisily when he discovered the boy. Not least, he remembered Dudo’s words to him at the inn where they had dined the previous evening when he had said he should be getting home – words kindly spoken but ominous nonetheless – ‘You can never leave!’
He had entered the village by stumbling through a narrow gap in a high, thorny hedge, and it seemed that that gap had at once closed behind him. The High Hedge seemed quite impenetrable, and it ran along the northern and southern boundaries of the village, ending only at the cliffs in the east, where the River Swashing entered at the Roaring Falls, and in the west at the treacherous, marshy Slue into which the river drained.
As Filibert pondered on his situation his train of thought was broken by a cheery voice saying,
“Ah, good. You’re up. Come along now, we’re invited to breakfast. You’re quite a hero in the village for finding young Wally. Lots of folk want to meet you. We need to sort out a place for you to stay, too – you can’t spend your days in my jail cell!”
Dudo ushered Filibert outside and they made their way across a village green to a building where a jolly, red-faced woman wearing a striped apron greeted them at the door.
“Come on in, come on in,” she urged, “they’re all waiting, and your breakfast is ready.”
She was introduced as Iris Bakewell, the village baker and wife of the miller, Bill Bakewell, who they had met the previous day. She led them into a crowded room where Filibert was sat down at a table spread with one of the finest breakfasts he could ever hope to set eyes on. The room was filled with the smell of fresh-baked bread and as Iris placed a laden plate before him, he needed little encouragement.
“Now then,” she said, “I baked the bread this morning, and everyone else brought things from the farm and our gardens. There’s bacon, eggs, sausages, tomatoes, mushrooms, tater cakes, bread and butter of course, home made jam and a nice cup of tea.”
As he tucked in, Filibert realised that the room was quite crowded with villagers who surrounded him, encouraging him to try everything and then have some more, watching his every move with interest. When he finally exclaimed “I couldn’t manage another thing right now,” the crowd parted for a hobbit woman of indeterminate age who peered down at him over her spectacles, saying:
“I’m Aunty Prue. I won’t waste time on fancy introductions, I knows yer name and ye’ll get to know me well enough afore long, I’ll be bound. Up you get, there’s things to do. I’m to sort you out – I’ve had word from the Big House. You come too, Dudo.”
Filibert was minded to tell her that he really needed to see about finding his way home, but there was something in her tone which brooked no contradiction. As they left, several of the villagers made to follow but she turned sharply with “No one else needed right now. I reckon Iris could use a hand or two washing up.”
The three of them made their way back across The Green and as they came to the road which ran past the Watch House they turned to the left. From here, Filibert could clearly see the High Hedge atop the grassy bank, which here extended as far as the roadside. To his surprise he noticed that along the length of the bank at this spot were doorways, some painted in bright colours, others seeming weatherbeaten and neglected.
“The Old Smials,” proclaimed Aunty Prue. “They say that the first hobbits who came to Hidden lived in these burrows, before they built the cottages and other buildings. Some of these haven’t had folk in for years, but some folk still prefer to live here.” She stopped before one with a door which had long been stripped of its paint, and a single window with a broken pane, and announced, “This’ll be your new home.”
Dudo led Filibert inside and it was clear that the place hadn’t been lived in for many years. Dust and spiders were everywhere and Filibert saw that only a few sticks of broken furniture remained.
“Don’t worry,” grinned Dudo. “Aunty Prue’s on the case and Norbert Handyman and his crew will have this place looking spick and span in no time.”
As they went back outside to where Aunty Prue was waiting, Filibert noticed a curtain twitch at the window of a neighbouring burrow. Then, as they turned to leave, a smartly dressed young hobbit girl dropped them a quick curtsey and a coy smile as she passed by, before going in at one of the doors further up the row.
“That’s Topaz Threadgold,” said Dudo. “Or perhaps it’s Miss Opal? She’ll be looking in on her old da. Quite a few old folks still live here in the Smials.”
“Right,” said Aunty Prue briskly, “I needs to take you back to The Shop – you can choose some furniture, and I needs a private word to set you straight on a few things. Dudo, a word.”
She drew him to one side and after a few whispered words in his ear he strode off with a cheery “See you later!”
Aunty Prue led the by now bemused Filibert back across the Green to a cottage with a large brick shed attached. “The Shop,” she announced, without further elaboration. She led Dudo inside and he was surprised to see a large shop counter across the back of the room, from beneath which a startled hobbit youth emerged. Aunty Prue bore down on him threateningly, grabbing a large broom which was leaning against the counter.
“Sleeping on the job, again, is it, you lazy good-for-nothing!”
At this she began to attack him with the brush as he cowered before her. “Get yourself into the shed and find some nice furniture for this gentleman to look at,” she cried, “or else!”
The young lad fled.
“My worthless, no-good nephew, Colum” she explained. “Now. There’s things you need to know. Sit down.” She indicated a chair in the corner of the room.
“I reckon Dudo’s told you already, you won’t be leaving. No one does, so you’d better get used to being one of us. Only a few arrive the way you did – can’t remember the last one – but we always reckon there’s a reason when one does. One thing I can do, is this. If you needs stuff we can’t make ourselves you ask me – I can get you stuff from ‘outside’ and I’m the only one who can. Just come to The Shop and ask. Also, if you wants to write to someone on the outside I can get your letters to them – just one person mind, so they knows you’re alright. Don’t ask me how I do this and you won’t get told no lies!
“For everything else the village will provide – we looks after everyone here. In return we expects everyone to do what they can – and we’ve already an idea how you can make a useful contribution to the village. Dudo will take you to find out what it is in a bit.
“Now come into the shed and choose some nice stuff for your new home. Gumbo will take it over for you on his cart and Norbert and his crew will have your new home in apple pie order in a couple of days.”
In the shed Filibert found himself surrounded by a cornucopia of furnishings, ornaments, gadgets and assorted household items from which he was invited to choose. As he did so he couldn’t help reflecting on the situation he found himself in. It was all quite unreal, but he found himself wondering too what it could be that these villagers thought he could offer them.
