Post by Zib on Dec 6, 2008 19:13:17 GMT -5
Zibric Zoot picked up his cap and dusted it off. He looked around at his feet and found the feather. Gingerly, he picked the feather up and placed it in the band of his hat. Once it was securely in place, Zibric placed the hat back on his head. He wiped the blade on some moss to clean the spider ichor. Looking around once more, the bounder set off for Buckland.
After passing through the gate from the Old Forest, Zibric nodded to Toly Brockhouse. The hobbit was assigned to mind the gate to keep children from entering into the Old Forest. It was not so long ago that the young hobbits could venture into the edges of the forest. But these days, things had changed. Wolves and spiders were pushing further north and west. So the bounders had taken to keeping the gate closed and patrolling the forest to keep the animals at bay.
“Shirriff Hayward sent word, he wants to speak to you upon your return Bounder Zoot,” Brockhouse said. “How was your patrol?”
“More of the same I am afraid, Toly,” said Zibric. “Spiders this time. They have pushed north of the creek.” Zibric grimaced as he recalled the recent skirmish. As he turned north towards Crickhollow he said, “Best not to keep the Shirriff waiting.” He passed through Crickhollow, not taking the time to stop into the Zoot family hall. He knew the Shirriff would be at his normal post at the north gate to Buckland.
“Queer times indeed,” thought the bounder. The Old Forest had always been an odd place. There were stories of tree herders there, but none had actually seen one. But spiders, this was all together different. Something was afoot. Zibric looked east to the Zoot family hall and noticed the lights on in the lowest windows. Typically this meant his cousin, Zibgar, was cooking in the oven. Zibric’s stomach growled at the thought of fresh coney pies. But the pies would have to wait, bounder business.
A few minutes later, Bounder Zoot arrived at the north gate. Stepping through the gate, he looked around and saw Shirriff Hayward. “Reporting as requested, Shirriff,” Zibric reported to Hayward.
“Excellent. How was your patrol, bounder,” asked the Shirriff.
Zibric planted the butt of his spear at his right foot and let the shaft rest against his shoulder. He pushed his cap back further on his head with an index finger. A worried look came over his face. “Spiders pushing north, Shirriff. Something is pushing them, but gosh darned if I can figure out what,” recounted Zibric.
Shirriff Hayward chewed on the stem of his pipe thoughtfully. After storing the information, he changed the subject. “That is something we will have to explore further. But it is not your task anymore.” Hayward fished into his vest pocket and took out an envelope and handed it to Zoot. “You have a new task, came in from HQ in Michael Delving just this morning.”
Zibric took the envelope and looked at the seal. Pressed into the wax was indeed the official seal of the Second Shirriff of Michael Delving. Zibric looked up at Hayward quizzically.
“It is time for you to find a second feather for that hatband. Congratulations, Honourary Shirriff Zoot,” Hayward broke out into a big grin. He put up his hands bidding Zoot to wait while Hayward explained. “We do not have any further openings for Shirriffs among the Farthings, but these are queer times. HQ realizes this and they are making provisions for it. You will learn more in there,” and the Shirriff tapped the envelope in Zoots hand.
Zibric looked surprised. He had been a bounder for several years, always with the East Farthing unit in Buckland. It was his home and his family was there. But the bounder had not expected a promotion for years. It wasn’t in the hobbit’s nature to seek such personal gain. “I, uh, am not sure what to say Shirriff,” stammered Zoot.
“Well, say thank you. And get back to your hole and clean up. HQ expects you to report to your new assignment the morning after next. More details are in the envelope.” With that Shirriff Hayward shook Zoot’s hand and shooed him off.
“Thank you, Shirriff,” said Zoot as the news sunk in. Zoot hefted the spear so that is was resting on his right shoulder. He slung his shield over the left shoulder and turned back to Zoot Hall. “Honourary Shirriff,” thought Zoot. He would wait to open the orders. As he neared the hall, he saw the lights had been snuffed out in the kitchen and the widows were drawn open. This meant the pies were ready!
Not wanting to be disturbed, Zoot snuck in the back door. He propped his shield and spear and club in a corner. His travelling cloak was hung on a peg. Zoot found a fresh pie and a mug of ale. He took them back further into the hobbit hole to his room, where he could read the orders in peace.
Zoot placed the pie on his writing desk. It was still steaming and too hot to eat. The frothy ale on the other hand was nice and cool. Zibric gulped down almost half the ale, licking the foam off his upper lip as he set down the mug. Then he placed the envelope on the desk and smoothed it out. He threw his hat onto his bed.
Inserting a finger under the top flap, he tore open the envelope without breaking the image in the wax. He silently read the orders. They told of his new, special assignment. It seems a new order of Bounders was being formed. One that would work with other communities on problems that extended beyond the bounds of the Shire. It told of the brigands pressing from the south, the Dourhands from the North East and even of goblins in the Greenfields. With all of this pressure, the Shire was looking to work with its neighbors to the common security. The Honourary Shirriffs would be the ambassadors of the Shire.
As Zibric read on, he learned that his overall mission was to forge ties with other free peoples of Middle Earth – the men of Bree, the dwarfs of Thorin’s Hall and even the fair elves. It was suggested that he should forge alliances to secure the Shire. If necessary, help our neighbors with issues so that they do not spill over into the Shire. Along these lines, Zoot was ordered to join with an adventuring band known as a kinship. This would help him establish contacts beyond the local neighboring cities in time. But more directly, Zoot was to report to Chief Watcher Grimbriar in Bree on the morning in two days.
Zibric sat back. He opened the second drawer on his desk and pulled out his pipeweed pouch and pipe. He tamped in some Old Toby and then lit the pipe. He thought back to a recent discussion with Zibgar. His cousin had spoken of one of these ‘kinships’, the Pillagers of Pipeweed. Zibgar had talked of them coming from various lands, but claiming Maltmead as their home. If Zibric left the next morning, he would have time to get over to Maltmead and meet with the Pillagers. Then he could report in to Bree for his next assignment.
As Zibric mulled over his plan, he blew a circular smoke ring. Then he sent a stream of pipesmoke through the ring. Satisfied, he checked his pie. It was still to hot to eat, Zibric sighed.
After passing through the gate from the Old Forest, Zibric nodded to Toly Brockhouse. The hobbit was assigned to mind the gate to keep children from entering into the Old Forest. It was not so long ago that the young hobbits could venture into the edges of the forest. But these days, things had changed. Wolves and spiders were pushing further north and west. So the bounders had taken to keeping the gate closed and patrolling the forest to keep the animals at bay.
“Shirriff Hayward sent word, he wants to speak to you upon your return Bounder Zoot,” Brockhouse said. “How was your patrol?”
“More of the same I am afraid, Toly,” said Zibric. “Spiders this time. They have pushed north of the creek.” Zibric grimaced as he recalled the recent skirmish. As he turned north towards Crickhollow he said, “Best not to keep the Shirriff waiting.” He passed through Crickhollow, not taking the time to stop into the Zoot family hall. He knew the Shirriff would be at his normal post at the north gate to Buckland.
“Queer times indeed,” thought the bounder. The Old Forest had always been an odd place. There were stories of tree herders there, but none had actually seen one. But spiders, this was all together different. Something was afoot. Zibric looked east to the Zoot family hall and noticed the lights on in the lowest windows. Typically this meant his cousin, Zibgar, was cooking in the oven. Zibric’s stomach growled at the thought of fresh coney pies. But the pies would have to wait, bounder business.
A few minutes later, Bounder Zoot arrived at the north gate. Stepping through the gate, he looked around and saw Shirriff Hayward. “Reporting as requested, Shirriff,” Zibric reported to Hayward.
“Excellent. How was your patrol, bounder,” asked the Shirriff.
Zibric planted the butt of his spear at his right foot and let the shaft rest against his shoulder. He pushed his cap back further on his head with an index finger. A worried look came over his face. “Spiders pushing north, Shirriff. Something is pushing them, but gosh darned if I can figure out what,” recounted Zibric.
Shirriff Hayward chewed on the stem of his pipe thoughtfully. After storing the information, he changed the subject. “That is something we will have to explore further. But it is not your task anymore.” Hayward fished into his vest pocket and took out an envelope and handed it to Zoot. “You have a new task, came in from HQ in Michael Delving just this morning.”
Zibric took the envelope and looked at the seal. Pressed into the wax was indeed the official seal of the Second Shirriff of Michael Delving. Zibric looked up at Hayward quizzically.
“It is time for you to find a second feather for that hatband. Congratulations, Honourary Shirriff Zoot,” Hayward broke out into a big grin. He put up his hands bidding Zoot to wait while Hayward explained. “We do not have any further openings for Shirriffs among the Farthings, but these are queer times. HQ realizes this and they are making provisions for it. You will learn more in there,” and the Shirriff tapped the envelope in Zoots hand.
Zibric looked surprised. He had been a bounder for several years, always with the East Farthing unit in Buckland. It was his home and his family was there. But the bounder had not expected a promotion for years. It wasn’t in the hobbit’s nature to seek such personal gain. “I, uh, am not sure what to say Shirriff,” stammered Zoot.
“Well, say thank you. And get back to your hole and clean up. HQ expects you to report to your new assignment the morning after next. More details are in the envelope.” With that Shirriff Hayward shook Zoot’s hand and shooed him off.
“Thank you, Shirriff,” said Zoot as the news sunk in. Zoot hefted the spear so that is was resting on his right shoulder. He slung his shield over the left shoulder and turned back to Zoot Hall. “Honourary Shirriff,” thought Zoot. He would wait to open the orders. As he neared the hall, he saw the lights had been snuffed out in the kitchen and the widows were drawn open. This meant the pies were ready!
Not wanting to be disturbed, Zoot snuck in the back door. He propped his shield and spear and club in a corner. His travelling cloak was hung on a peg. Zoot found a fresh pie and a mug of ale. He took them back further into the hobbit hole to his room, where he could read the orders in peace.
Zoot placed the pie on his writing desk. It was still steaming and too hot to eat. The frothy ale on the other hand was nice and cool. Zibric gulped down almost half the ale, licking the foam off his upper lip as he set down the mug. Then he placed the envelope on the desk and smoothed it out. He threw his hat onto his bed.
Inserting a finger under the top flap, he tore open the envelope without breaking the image in the wax. He silently read the orders. They told of his new, special assignment. It seems a new order of Bounders was being formed. One that would work with other communities on problems that extended beyond the bounds of the Shire. It told of the brigands pressing from the south, the Dourhands from the North East and even of goblins in the Greenfields. With all of this pressure, the Shire was looking to work with its neighbors to the common security. The Honourary Shirriffs would be the ambassadors of the Shire.
As Zibric read on, he learned that his overall mission was to forge ties with other free peoples of Middle Earth – the men of Bree, the dwarfs of Thorin’s Hall and even the fair elves. It was suggested that he should forge alliances to secure the Shire. If necessary, help our neighbors with issues so that they do not spill over into the Shire. Along these lines, Zoot was ordered to join with an adventuring band known as a kinship. This would help him establish contacts beyond the local neighboring cities in time. But more directly, Zoot was to report to Chief Watcher Grimbriar in Bree on the morning in two days.
Zibric sat back. He opened the second drawer on his desk and pulled out his pipeweed pouch and pipe. He tamped in some Old Toby and then lit the pipe. He thought back to a recent discussion with Zibgar. His cousin had spoken of one of these ‘kinships’, the Pillagers of Pipeweed. Zibgar had talked of them coming from various lands, but claiming Maltmead as their home. If Zibric left the next morning, he would have time to get over to Maltmead and meet with the Pillagers. Then he could report in to Bree for his next assignment.
As Zibric mulled over his plan, he blew a circular smoke ring. Then he sent a stream of pipesmoke through the ring. Satisfied, he checked his pie. It was still to hot to eat, Zibric sighed.
