Post by sibby on Feb 27, 2009 0:08:03 GMT -5
Siboney was sitting under a large oak tree, relaxing in the shade when she heard the sound of laughter and shouting coming her way. The elf quickly placed her hat on her head before reeling back in her fishing line.
The hobbit children from the neighborhood came bounding over to her, waving happily at the elf. Two immediately launched themselves onto her lap while the others clustered about, each one trying to get her attention.
“Miss Sibby! Miss Sibby! Tell us another story!” they chorused in happy voices.
Siboney smiled and motioned for the hobbit children to sit. “Have you heard of the story of Mr. Spiffy and the Orc?”
The children’s eyes grew wide and they shook their heads.
“Well, sit and listen and I will tell you….The Story of The Hobbit- Eye…”
Mr. Spiffy is rather an adventurous hobbit as we all well know. His joy in exploring new lands comes only second to his joy of cooking and baking.
One day while tending his garden, he overheard two of his kin-mates talking about a place called North Downs. And the more he listened, the more intrigued he became. Creatures called Earth-kin, animals like a cow but only much, much bigger, wild men living in the hills, dragon-like lizards that breathed fire, and wolves whose cry would send shivers down anyone’s spine. He just had to see this land for himself.
Being the clever hobbit that he was, Mr. Spiffy’s journey took him no time at all. He learned many things but most of all, he made new friends with the Rangers at Esteldin. They welcomed the little hobbit, especially his talent for cooking delicious pies and tarts.
It was during one of his visits that Mr. Spiffy discovered a new berry. It was round and black with small little bumps. One of the Rangers had picked a small handful before returning back to Esteldin.
Mr. Spiffy’s mouth watered at the taste. It was exquisite! And he must have more. Imagine the tarts he could make with those berries! But in his eagerness to set out to collect more berries, Mr. Spiffy forgot to ask the Ranger if there was any danger near the berry bushes that he should be aware of.
After two nights of uneventful traveling through meadows and brush, Mr. Spiffy suddenly found himself standing at the edge of a forest. He spied a path and without thinking, took it.
It was a dark path, twisting and narrow but Mr. Spiffy’s mind was solely focused on berries. Suddenly, strong arms grabbed him and threw him into a sack! Mr. Spiffy had no time to cry out. He had been thrown upside down into the sack and was quickly disoriented.
After much jostling and jiggling, the sack that Mr. Spiffy was in, landed with a crunch on the ground. He was in a dark cave and there standing in front of him was an orc. A solitary orc. The orc’s eyes were dull and his teeth yellow and rotted. The unmistaken able smell of filth and waste clung to the orc. Mr. Spiffy’s eyes watered and he gagged.
The orc had lowered the sack and tied it tight around Mr. Spiffy’s neck so that only the hobbit’s head stuck out. As Mr. Spiffy watched in terror, the orc dumped out the hobbit’s knapsack. Several of Mr. Spiffy’s tarts rolled out and the orc gobbled them up greedily.
The orc started a fire and rolled an old black cauldron on top. To the hobbit’s surprise, the orc began to sing in a raspy voice, “Hobbit in the water. Water in my pot. When the water gets hot, I’ll get some Hobbit Soup!”
Mr. Spiffy’s eyes widened with fear but he remained calm. Thinking quickly, the chubby hobbit called out, “That’s not how you make soup! You need ingredients! Fresh ingredients! I make the best soup, just like my tarts!”
The orc spun around and stared at Mr. Spiffy. “You made those?” he asked as he licked his lips.
“I did indeed and you ate all of them!” cried Mr. Spiffy.
“I make good soup,” snarled the orc.
Mr. Spiffy turned his head aside and crossed his arms under the sack, “If you call that soup, I’ll have none of it even if you force me to try. I’d rather die!”
The orc frowned, scratched his head, and stared at the hobbit. “You in soup means you dead.”
The hobbit huffed angrily, “And thank goodness for that! A perfectly succulent hobbit wasted in your watery soup. I can’t bear to watch. Hurry up, cook me now!”
Now the orc was really puzzled. If the hobbit would rather die, in fact, it seemed to welcome it, than watch him cook the soup, then surely the hobbit was correct. The hobbit really must know how to make good soup. The orc’s mouth watered at the thought of having a really good hobbit soup.
The orc crouched in front of the hobbit and ordered harshly, “You will teach me how to make good soup.”
Mr. Spiffy grinned, “Finally, a smart orc! You sir, will become the orc known to make the best hobbit soup.”
“The first ingredients are….potatoes and corn…fresh dug up potatoes and cobs of corn from the gardens of the hill-men.”
The orc stood up and dumped the hobbit out of the sack. Grabbing Mr. Spiffy by the neck of his jacket, the orc dragged him to a wooden post near the back of the cave and tied him to it. Barely sparing a glance at the hobbit, the orc picked up the empty sack and headed out.
Now was Mr. Spiffy’s chance to escape. The hobbit struggled and wiggled but the knots were too tight. The poor hobbit twisted and grunted but he could not untie the knots. Before long, the orc had returned.
The orc looked messier than before and he walked with a limp. With a triumphant cry, he turned over his sack and dumped out the potatoes and corn cobs.
“That was tough. The hill-men shot arrows at me but I managed to get the ingredients.”
Mr. Spiffy hastily hide his look of disappointment.
“What next?”
The hobbit pretended to look over the purloined potatoes and corn, “You couldn’t find bigger ones?” The orc snarled.
“Sweet green onions,” the hobbit answered, “but only the onions where the aurochs graze up on the hills. That’s where the biggest and best onions are found.”
As soon as the orc left, Mr. Spiffy tried again at the ropes. He even used his teeth but to no avail. The orc returned shortly, huffing and puffing and holding on to his side painfully.
Large green onions tumbled out of the sack to join the pile of potatoes and corn. “Stupid bull tried to gore me!” barked the orc with a grimace, “Is that it?”
“Of course not!” responded Mr. Spiffy in a disdainful voice.
“You need water, but not just any water. You need the fresh, fragrant water that the Earth kin draw from their wells. Only they know where to dig for the best ground water.”
The orc limped off with a bucket reluctantly, but he was determined to have good soup.
The ropes were now beginning to loosen and Mr. Spiffy felt a surge of hope. But right when he was about to wiggle free, the orc staggered through the entrance, dripping wet and wide eyed but carrying a bucket full of water.
“Enough!!” he shouted, “I’m hungry! I had to fight off three Earth-kins and they took my sword and shield!”
Mr. Spiffy looked at the orc and lowered his voice conspiratorially, “There is only one more ingredient. The most, I repeat, the MOST important ingredient of all. For without this ingredient, the soup will taste like goblin pee.”
The orc trembled with anticipation. His goal of tasty hobbit soup finally within reach.
Mr. Spiffy glanced left and then right and beckoned with his head for the orc to come closer, “It is called the Trileaf Greens.”
The orc blinked. “What does it look like?”
“The Trileaf Greens is a plant with three shiny leaves on one stem. Now you must pay close attention. Find a large patch of it, I mean really large. The more you get of this plant, the better the soup will be.”
“Crush the leaves in your hands till the plant’s juices flow and drip from between your fingers. Better yet, roll on the leaves and crush them that way. But be sure to remove your armor because you don’t want to damage them with leather and metal.”
“Once done, quickly gather the juiciest, drippiest leaves and tuck them quickly inside your shirt and pants. You must keep them warm. They most not feel the cold touch of air or they will wilt before you get a chance to put them in the soup.”
The orc all but danced out of the cave to do as the hobbit told. He found a large patch of the plants, three leaves to a stem and proceeded to follow Mr. Spiffy’s instructions.
He came back into the cave and shook the crushed plants out of his clothing. “Time for soup!”
He turned to the hobbit and stopped. Mr. Spiffy was staring at him, a very hard stare. The hobbit’s face was stern and his eyes were wide open.
“Orc!” roared Mr. Spiffy, “You have just brought me the final ingredient for my ultimate, wonderful, and deadly potion. Prepare to feel my power! The power of the Hobbit-Eye!!”
The orc stood dumbfounded. and then began to laugh. “Good try little hobbit but I will not fall for your tricks.”
The orc picked up his tinder and flint and began to light a cooking fire.
Mr. Spiffy opened his eyes as wide as he could, “Careful orc, do not light that fire. For if you do, you will feel an urge….the urge….to scratch.”
The orc ignored the hobbit once more, turning his back to his victim. Behind him, the hobbit began to chant, “Hobbit-Eye! Hobbit-Eye! Mighty eye of stare! Make this ugly orc itchy everywhere! Make him itch, on his nose. Make him itch, on his toes! Make him itch in his hair! Make him itchy everywhere!”
Nothing happened. The orc grinned and dragged his pot over the flames. He poured in the water. He tossed in the potatoes, corn and green onions. With a grin, he began to untie Mr. Spiffy who continued to stare at him.
Suddenly the orc stopped. He reached up one clawed hand and scratched his nose. An itch! His ear twitched and he scratched the itch there. One scratch. Two scratches. And another! And another!
The more he scratched, the more he itched. The more he itched, the more he scratched. He tore at his rags as his skin became itchier and itchier. He rolled on the floor, seeking any comfort, any relief but there was none.
Finally he cried out, “Stop! Stop! Stop the Hobbit-Eye!!”
Mr. Spiffy smiled in triumph, “Release me orc! Set me free and I will stop my Hobbit-Eye!”
The orc fumbled with the ropes and all but kicked the hobbit out of the cave. With a skip and shout, Mr. Spiffy ran away. Not stopping until he had reached the safety of the ranger camp.
And that is how Mr. Spiffy beat the orc using nothing but his hobbit’s eyes.
The hobbit children from the neighborhood came bounding over to her, waving happily at the elf. Two immediately launched themselves onto her lap while the others clustered about, each one trying to get her attention.
“Miss Sibby! Miss Sibby! Tell us another story!” they chorused in happy voices.
Siboney smiled and motioned for the hobbit children to sit. “Have you heard of the story of Mr. Spiffy and the Orc?”
The children’s eyes grew wide and they shook their heads.
“Well, sit and listen and I will tell you….The Story of The Hobbit- Eye…”
Mr. Spiffy is rather an adventurous hobbit as we all well know. His joy in exploring new lands comes only second to his joy of cooking and baking.
One day while tending his garden, he overheard two of his kin-mates talking about a place called North Downs. And the more he listened, the more intrigued he became. Creatures called Earth-kin, animals like a cow but only much, much bigger, wild men living in the hills, dragon-like lizards that breathed fire, and wolves whose cry would send shivers down anyone’s spine. He just had to see this land for himself.
Being the clever hobbit that he was, Mr. Spiffy’s journey took him no time at all. He learned many things but most of all, he made new friends with the Rangers at Esteldin. They welcomed the little hobbit, especially his talent for cooking delicious pies and tarts.
It was during one of his visits that Mr. Spiffy discovered a new berry. It was round and black with small little bumps. One of the Rangers had picked a small handful before returning back to Esteldin.
Mr. Spiffy’s mouth watered at the taste. It was exquisite! And he must have more. Imagine the tarts he could make with those berries! But in his eagerness to set out to collect more berries, Mr. Spiffy forgot to ask the Ranger if there was any danger near the berry bushes that he should be aware of.
After two nights of uneventful traveling through meadows and brush, Mr. Spiffy suddenly found himself standing at the edge of a forest. He spied a path and without thinking, took it.
It was a dark path, twisting and narrow but Mr. Spiffy’s mind was solely focused on berries. Suddenly, strong arms grabbed him and threw him into a sack! Mr. Spiffy had no time to cry out. He had been thrown upside down into the sack and was quickly disoriented.
After much jostling and jiggling, the sack that Mr. Spiffy was in, landed with a crunch on the ground. He was in a dark cave and there standing in front of him was an orc. A solitary orc. The orc’s eyes were dull and his teeth yellow and rotted. The unmistaken able smell of filth and waste clung to the orc. Mr. Spiffy’s eyes watered and he gagged.
The orc had lowered the sack and tied it tight around Mr. Spiffy’s neck so that only the hobbit’s head stuck out. As Mr. Spiffy watched in terror, the orc dumped out the hobbit’s knapsack. Several of Mr. Spiffy’s tarts rolled out and the orc gobbled them up greedily.
The orc started a fire and rolled an old black cauldron on top. To the hobbit’s surprise, the orc began to sing in a raspy voice, “Hobbit in the water. Water in my pot. When the water gets hot, I’ll get some Hobbit Soup!”
Mr. Spiffy’s eyes widened with fear but he remained calm. Thinking quickly, the chubby hobbit called out, “That’s not how you make soup! You need ingredients! Fresh ingredients! I make the best soup, just like my tarts!”
The orc spun around and stared at Mr. Spiffy. “You made those?” he asked as he licked his lips.
“I did indeed and you ate all of them!” cried Mr. Spiffy.
“I make good soup,” snarled the orc.
Mr. Spiffy turned his head aside and crossed his arms under the sack, “If you call that soup, I’ll have none of it even if you force me to try. I’d rather die!”
The orc frowned, scratched his head, and stared at the hobbit. “You in soup means you dead.”
The hobbit huffed angrily, “And thank goodness for that! A perfectly succulent hobbit wasted in your watery soup. I can’t bear to watch. Hurry up, cook me now!”
Now the orc was really puzzled. If the hobbit would rather die, in fact, it seemed to welcome it, than watch him cook the soup, then surely the hobbit was correct. The hobbit really must know how to make good soup. The orc’s mouth watered at the thought of having a really good hobbit soup.
The orc crouched in front of the hobbit and ordered harshly, “You will teach me how to make good soup.”
Mr. Spiffy grinned, “Finally, a smart orc! You sir, will become the orc known to make the best hobbit soup.”
“The first ingredients are….potatoes and corn…fresh dug up potatoes and cobs of corn from the gardens of the hill-men.”
The orc stood up and dumped the hobbit out of the sack. Grabbing Mr. Spiffy by the neck of his jacket, the orc dragged him to a wooden post near the back of the cave and tied him to it. Barely sparing a glance at the hobbit, the orc picked up the empty sack and headed out.
Now was Mr. Spiffy’s chance to escape. The hobbit struggled and wiggled but the knots were too tight. The poor hobbit twisted and grunted but he could not untie the knots. Before long, the orc had returned.
The orc looked messier than before and he walked with a limp. With a triumphant cry, he turned over his sack and dumped out the potatoes and corn cobs.
“That was tough. The hill-men shot arrows at me but I managed to get the ingredients.”
Mr. Spiffy hastily hide his look of disappointment.
“What next?”
The hobbit pretended to look over the purloined potatoes and corn, “You couldn’t find bigger ones?” The orc snarled.
“Sweet green onions,” the hobbit answered, “but only the onions where the aurochs graze up on the hills. That’s where the biggest and best onions are found.”
As soon as the orc left, Mr. Spiffy tried again at the ropes. He even used his teeth but to no avail. The orc returned shortly, huffing and puffing and holding on to his side painfully.
Large green onions tumbled out of the sack to join the pile of potatoes and corn. “Stupid bull tried to gore me!” barked the orc with a grimace, “Is that it?”
“Of course not!” responded Mr. Spiffy in a disdainful voice.
“You need water, but not just any water. You need the fresh, fragrant water that the Earth kin draw from their wells. Only they know where to dig for the best ground water.”
The orc limped off with a bucket reluctantly, but he was determined to have good soup.
The ropes were now beginning to loosen and Mr. Spiffy felt a surge of hope. But right when he was about to wiggle free, the orc staggered through the entrance, dripping wet and wide eyed but carrying a bucket full of water.
“Enough!!” he shouted, “I’m hungry! I had to fight off three Earth-kins and they took my sword and shield!”
Mr. Spiffy looked at the orc and lowered his voice conspiratorially, “There is only one more ingredient. The most, I repeat, the MOST important ingredient of all. For without this ingredient, the soup will taste like goblin pee.”
The orc trembled with anticipation. His goal of tasty hobbit soup finally within reach.
Mr. Spiffy glanced left and then right and beckoned with his head for the orc to come closer, “It is called the Trileaf Greens.”
The orc blinked. “What does it look like?”
“The Trileaf Greens is a plant with three shiny leaves on one stem. Now you must pay close attention. Find a large patch of it, I mean really large. The more you get of this plant, the better the soup will be.”
“Crush the leaves in your hands till the plant’s juices flow and drip from between your fingers. Better yet, roll on the leaves and crush them that way. But be sure to remove your armor because you don’t want to damage them with leather and metal.”
“Once done, quickly gather the juiciest, drippiest leaves and tuck them quickly inside your shirt and pants. You must keep them warm. They most not feel the cold touch of air or they will wilt before you get a chance to put them in the soup.”
The orc all but danced out of the cave to do as the hobbit told. He found a large patch of the plants, three leaves to a stem and proceeded to follow Mr. Spiffy’s instructions.
He came back into the cave and shook the crushed plants out of his clothing. “Time for soup!”
He turned to the hobbit and stopped. Mr. Spiffy was staring at him, a very hard stare. The hobbit’s face was stern and his eyes were wide open.
“Orc!” roared Mr. Spiffy, “You have just brought me the final ingredient for my ultimate, wonderful, and deadly potion. Prepare to feel my power! The power of the Hobbit-Eye!!”
The orc stood dumbfounded. and then began to laugh. “Good try little hobbit but I will not fall for your tricks.”
The orc picked up his tinder and flint and began to light a cooking fire.
Mr. Spiffy opened his eyes as wide as he could, “Careful orc, do not light that fire. For if you do, you will feel an urge….the urge….to scratch.”
The orc ignored the hobbit once more, turning his back to his victim. Behind him, the hobbit began to chant, “Hobbit-Eye! Hobbit-Eye! Mighty eye of stare! Make this ugly orc itchy everywhere! Make him itch, on his nose. Make him itch, on his toes! Make him itch in his hair! Make him itchy everywhere!”
Nothing happened. The orc grinned and dragged his pot over the flames. He poured in the water. He tossed in the potatoes, corn and green onions. With a grin, he began to untie Mr. Spiffy who continued to stare at him.
Suddenly the orc stopped. He reached up one clawed hand and scratched his nose. An itch! His ear twitched and he scratched the itch there. One scratch. Two scratches. And another! And another!
The more he scratched, the more he itched. The more he itched, the more he scratched. He tore at his rags as his skin became itchier and itchier. He rolled on the floor, seeking any comfort, any relief but there was none.
Finally he cried out, “Stop! Stop! Stop the Hobbit-Eye!!”
Mr. Spiffy smiled in triumph, “Release me orc! Set me free and I will stop my Hobbit-Eye!”
The orc fumbled with the ropes and all but kicked the hobbit out of the cave. With a skip and shout, Mr. Spiffy ran away. Not stopping until he had reached the safety of the ranger camp.
And that is how Mr. Spiffy beat the orc using nothing but his hobbit’s eyes.
