Post by sibby on Feb 18, 2009 18:00:37 GMT -5
Siboney was sitting under one of the oak trees outside the Pillager’s kin house when a group of chattering hobbit children came bounding over. She smiled at them and pulled out a bag of sweets to pass out. The children giggled and laughed, while skipping around the slender elf.
Suddenly, Siboney felt a small tug. Pushing her wide brimmed hat back, she looked over and saw a little hobbit girl with golden curls. The small hobbit girl grinned, her front tooth was missing, “Do you know any stories?”
“I know some,” replied the elf with a smile.
“Tell us a story!”
“I want a story!”
“One with dragons!”
“I want a scary one!”
“I want a happy one!”
Siboney laughed as the children shouted over each other, each trying to be heard. “Come and sit and I shall tell you a story.”
The children pushed and shoved but soon all were seated around the elf.
Siboney smiled at her small group of audience, straightened her hat, “Let me tell you the story… The Story of the Hobbit’s Song….”
Once upon a time a poor hobbit lived in a small hobbit hole right on the outskirts of Hobbiton. He had to work on his small plot of farmland, growing pipeweed, from early morning to late at night just to make enough money to keep his family – his wife and three children. But he was happy. All day while he worked he would sing.
Now, nearby lived a very rich hobbit. Her hobbit hole was large with many, many rooms. She wore fine clothes and ate delicious food. But she was not happy. All night long she would lay awake thinking (how to make more) and worrying (fearing it might get stolen) about her money. It would usually be near morning when she would finally fall into exhausted sleep.
Now as soon as the sun peeked up, the poor hobbit would get up and go straight to work. And as he ploughed and weeded, he would sing. His voice and his happy songs carried right up to the room of the rich hobbit and woke her.
“This is awful!” cried the rich hobbit. “I am tired and I need to sleep. I cannot sleep at night because I worry and think about my money and I cannot sleep during the day because of that noisy singing!”
She stomped around her bedroom and thought and thought about her problem. Her frown wrinkled up her chubby face as she glared out the window at the poor hobbit who sang loudly outside.
Her eyes narrowed, “Hmmm….if he had to worry about something, he would not sing as much.” A cruel and nasty grin split her face as an idea formed in her mind, “I know of a way to stop him!”
“Money! Everyone worries about money because they can never have enough. I know that hobbit has very little money but it doesn’t seem to worry him. In fact, he is happy even though he is poor.”
“Now I worry about money because I have too much. I wonder if that poor hobbit would worry if he suddenly had a lot of money.”
And with that plan in mind, she dressed quickly in her finest dress and put on her best hat. She marched out of her house and down to the poor hobbit’s small little plot of land.
“Good morning!” said the poor hobbit cheerfully, for he recognized his neighbor. “What can I do for you?”
The rich hobbit immediately thrust a bulging bag of coins at him, “Here, a present for you!”
The poor hobbit opened it up and gasped at the shiny gold coins. “I cannot take this money! I haven’t done anything to earn it.”
“Yes you have,” answered the rich hobbit with a particular sly grin on her face, “The coins are yours because of all your songs you sing. I am giving this to you because you are such a happy hobbit.”
Before the poor hobbit could protest again, the rich hobbit picked up her skirts and ran back to her house.
The poor hobbit sat down and poured out the coins. He began to count them one by one. He had counted to forty-seven when he heard the jingle and jangle of a wagon coming up the street. He looked up and saw one of the bounders of the Shire passing. The poor hobbit quickly scooped up the gold coins, covered the bag with his jacket and ran back to his small little hobbit hole.
Once inside, with the curtains drawn closed, he poured the coins out on his bed and began to count again. The coins gleamed and sparkled. How bright! So pretty! So many! He had never ever seen so much gold in his life. It seemed as if his tiny bedroom was now bathed in a warm glowing light.
“One hundred pieces of shiny gold coin! I’m rich! I’m rich!” he gathered the coins in his hands and hugged them close. “But…where shall I hide it to keep them safe?”
He put the coins back in the bag and pulled his bedcovers over it. That didn’t work. The bed had a very large lump and someone could definitely see there was something hidden there.
He pulled his pillow over it and tried again. At that moment, the bedroom door opened and in walked his wife.
“Why are the curtains closed? Why is it so dark in here?” She moved over and pushed the curtains opened.
The poor hobbit yelled loudly and shoved his wife away, “Don’t do that! Are you dumb or what?”
His wife backed away fearfully, her eyes wide with shock and hurt because he had never spoken to her in such a way.
That night, at dinner, the poor hobbit could not eat because he was so worried that someone would steal his money if he left the house. He kept thinking of ways to hide his money for safekeeping.
The next morning as he worked in his field, he could not sing because of his worry. His feelings got worse at lunch and by suppertime he felt awful. He was grouchy and mean when he went to bed, refusing to speak to his wife.
Day after day, night after night, days soon turned to weeks and the poor hobbit grew unhappier and unhappier, constantly worrying about his money. He couldn’t eat. He couldn’t sing. Worse, he couldn’t sleep because he would think and worry about the gold.
Now, the rich hobbit was very happy now. She could now sleep during the day since there were no more singing to wake her.
After a month, the poor hobbit’s worries began to show. He grew thin and pale, and his face was always in a frown. His wife and children were unhappy too. At last, when he could bear it no more, he called his dear wife to him and told her the cause of his unhappiness and worry.
His wife looked at him, her eyes sad and wise, “Dearest husband, take back the gold. All the gold in the Shire is not worth as much to me as you. I miss your smile and your songs. I miss my happy husband.”
The poor hobbit hugged his wife, his heart warm and alive at her words. He grabbed the money bag and ran outside, past his small field, and up the hill to the rich hobbit’s house. He knocked furiously on her door until she came to open it.
As soon as the door opened, the poor hobbit all but threw the bag of coins at the rich hobbit. The poor hobbit’s face split into a wide happy grin, “Here is your bag of gold. Take it back! I can live without your money, I can live without riches, I can live without a fancy house, but I cannot live without my songs!”
And with a new spring in his step, the poor hobbit turned away and sang all the way home to his wife and children. His voice was once again full of happiness and cheer.
Suddenly, Siboney felt a small tug. Pushing her wide brimmed hat back, she looked over and saw a little hobbit girl with golden curls. The small hobbit girl grinned, her front tooth was missing, “Do you know any stories?”
“I know some,” replied the elf with a smile.
“Tell us a story!”
“I want a story!”
“One with dragons!”
“I want a scary one!”
“I want a happy one!”
Siboney laughed as the children shouted over each other, each trying to be heard. “Come and sit and I shall tell you a story.”
The children pushed and shoved but soon all were seated around the elf.
Siboney smiled at her small group of audience, straightened her hat, “Let me tell you the story… The Story of the Hobbit’s Song….”
Once upon a time a poor hobbit lived in a small hobbit hole right on the outskirts of Hobbiton. He had to work on his small plot of farmland, growing pipeweed, from early morning to late at night just to make enough money to keep his family – his wife and three children. But he was happy. All day while he worked he would sing.
Now, nearby lived a very rich hobbit. Her hobbit hole was large with many, many rooms. She wore fine clothes and ate delicious food. But she was not happy. All night long she would lay awake thinking (how to make more) and worrying (fearing it might get stolen) about her money. It would usually be near morning when she would finally fall into exhausted sleep.
Now as soon as the sun peeked up, the poor hobbit would get up and go straight to work. And as he ploughed and weeded, he would sing. His voice and his happy songs carried right up to the room of the rich hobbit and woke her.
“This is awful!” cried the rich hobbit. “I am tired and I need to sleep. I cannot sleep at night because I worry and think about my money and I cannot sleep during the day because of that noisy singing!”
She stomped around her bedroom and thought and thought about her problem. Her frown wrinkled up her chubby face as she glared out the window at the poor hobbit who sang loudly outside.
Her eyes narrowed, “Hmmm….if he had to worry about something, he would not sing as much.” A cruel and nasty grin split her face as an idea formed in her mind, “I know of a way to stop him!”
“Money! Everyone worries about money because they can never have enough. I know that hobbit has very little money but it doesn’t seem to worry him. In fact, he is happy even though he is poor.”
“Now I worry about money because I have too much. I wonder if that poor hobbit would worry if he suddenly had a lot of money.”
And with that plan in mind, she dressed quickly in her finest dress and put on her best hat. She marched out of her house and down to the poor hobbit’s small little plot of land.
“Good morning!” said the poor hobbit cheerfully, for he recognized his neighbor. “What can I do for you?”
The rich hobbit immediately thrust a bulging bag of coins at him, “Here, a present for you!”
The poor hobbit opened it up and gasped at the shiny gold coins. “I cannot take this money! I haven’t done anything to earn it.”
“Yes you have,” answered the rich hobbit with a particular sly grin on her face, “The coins are yours because of all your songs you sing. I am giving this to you because you are such a happy hobbit.”
Before the poor hobbit could protest again, the rich hobbit picked up her skirts and ran back to her house.
The poor hobbit sat down and poured out the coins. He began to count them one by one. He had counted to forty-seven when he heard the jingle and jangle of a wagon coming up the street. He looked up and saw one of the bounders of the Shire passing. The poor hobbit quickly scooped up the gold coins, covered the bag with his jacket and ran back to his small little hobbit hole.
Once inside, with the curtains drawn closed, he poured the coins out on his bed and began to count again. The coins gleamed and sparkled. How bright! So pretty! So many! He had never ever seen so much gold in his life. It seemed as if his tiny bedroom was now bathed in a warm glowing light.
“One hundred pieces of shiny gold coin! I’m rich! I’m rich!” he gathered the coins in his hands and hugged them close. “But…where shall I hide it to keep them safe?”
He put the coins back in the bag and pulled his bedcovers over it. That didn’t work. The bed had a very large lump and someone could definitely see there was something hidden there.
He pulled his pillow over it and tried again. At that moment, the bedroom door opened and in walked his wife.
“Why are the curtains closed? Why is it so dark in here?” She moved over and pushed the curtains opened.
The poor hobbit yelled loudly and shoved his wife away, “Don’t do that! Are you dumb or what?”
His wife backed away fearfully, her eyes wide with shock and hurt because he had never spoken to her in such a way.
That night, at dinner, the poor hobbit could not eat because he was so worried that someone would steal his money if he left the house. He kept thinking of ways to hide his money for safekeeping.
The next morning as he worked in his field, he could not sing because of his worry. His feelings got worse at lunch and by suppertime he felt awful. He was grouchy and mean when he went to bed, refusing to speak to his wife.
Day after day, night after night, days soon turned to weeks and the poor hobbit grew unhappier and unhappier, constantly worrying about his money. He couldn’t eat. He couldn’t sing. Worse, he couldn’t sleep because he would think and worry about the gold.
Now, the rich hobbit was very happy now. She could now sleep during the day since there were no more singing to wake her.
After a month, the poor hobbit’s worries began to show. He grew thin and pale, and his face was always in a frown. His wife and children were unhappy too. At last, when he could bear it no more, he called his dear wife to him and told her the cause of his unhappiness and worry.
His wife looked at him, her eyes sad and wise, “Dearest husband, take back the gold. All the gold in the Shire is not worth as much to me as you. I miss your smile and your songs. I miss my happy husband.”
The poor hobbit hugged his wife, his heart warm and alive at her words. He grabbed the money bag and ran outside, past his small field, and up the hill to the rich hobbit’s house. He knocked furiously on her door until she came to open it.
As soon as the door opened, the poor hobbit all but threw the bag of coins at the rich hobbit. The poor hobbit’s face split into a wide happy grin, “Here is your bag of gold. Take it back! I can live without your money, I can live without riches, I can live without a fancy house, but I cannot live without my songs!”
And with a new spring in his step, the poor hobbit turned away and sang all the way home to his wife and children. His voice was once again full of happiness and cheer.
