In the Brandy Badgers
Wiberic—or "Wib" as he's known locally—Ruddyfoot was born to Waldoc Ruddyfoot of the Quick Post and Dorabella Sandybanks in the Westfarthing. The Ruddyfoots a-plenty, with a generous extended family including the Sandybanks, Wib grew up alongside cousin Paladric, who was more akin to an older brother.
Hearing of bolder hobbits than him doing outlandish and cracked things, Wib quietly rooted for them amongst the finicky folk around him that were averse to anything that wasn't plain and comfortable. He had hushed dreams of adventuring beyond the bounds, although a lack of nerve and staunch attachment the Shire held him back. He was affable enough, however, and with a knack for bouts of being bone-idle, it seemed his lot in life was to follow his father into the Quick Post. His innate clumsiness went hand-in-hand with his talent for misplacing letters, and so he wasn't out of place in the Quick Post. Those days were numbered, however.
Wib found himself aimless and restless after Paladric went wandering no-one-knew-where after a hiccup courtship. He imagined going after his cousin if nerve were a thing he possessed. But alas, it wasn't something that came naturally to young Wib.
It was only with a shove from his friends that he put his name forward for Deputy Mayor of Oldfurlong, and immediately regretted it. Red-faced, grudging, wanting to shrink behind a great Shire oak, he fumbled through an on-the-spot speech to the eager crowd. A speech singularly designed to sabotage his chances—only to have the cracked gathering find his honesty becoming of an ideal candidate and vote him in anyway! Although undertaken reluctantly, the post afforded him many more friends and a much-needed nudge out of his shell, so it was as reluctantly that he eventually stepped down to focus on other things.
Those Deputy Mayor days were also responsible for bringing the ginger hobbit into the fine-if-queer company of the Grand Order of the Lost Mathom. No longer does he shirk when grumpy old hobbits are afoot. Now he toots and strums and drums with the Brandy Badgers and likes occasionally dipping his toes into hushed adventures, which he documents in drawings when anchored home to The Shire.
His own lumbering feet.
An empty stomach.