Post by Salur on Nov 28, 2003 12:46:41 GMT -5
I was born and raised in Oatbarton with my father Sancho Proudfoot and my Gaffer Olo Proudfoot. My father is a Gentlehobbit. No one knows, save other Gentlehobbit sons, how hard it is to grow up expected to be perfect just because your father is of the upper class.
I actually had a great childhood, save that one nagging thorn under my fingernail that were those unrealistic expectations. I was a good lad and lived up to most of those expectations. That is, until I turned 20. I had decided that my life was mine to live and I could not live up to those expectations any longer. (What I have told you so far may not be acurate, but those were the excuses I used to justify what I did next.)
I left home and went to the town of Bree accross the river. I stayed with my Aunt Sallera, who was actually my Great Aunt, but she didn't like the sound of that title unless I was calling her that as a compliment after some tasty mushrooms that she had prepared. I became a regular at the Prancing Pony and was drawn in by all the stories and news from outside the Shire.
While at the Prancing Pony one night over a month after leaving Oatbarton, I met Glorfindel Lissësúl, a messenger of Elrond. I sat with him and talked almost all that night about the happenings in Middle Earth. He told me that he was returning from the west with news to the house of Elrond in Rivendell. He could not tell me what the news was, but was surprisingly uplifted when I asked to go to Rivendell with him.
We talked of other things including the meaning of his name. He meantioned that it meant "Swift and Silent". I informed him that Hobbits can be stealthy as well when need arises. I returned to my Aunt's house to pack while he rested (whether that means sleep or not, I have no knowledge) at the Prancing Pony. We set out that next morning after breakfast. On the journey to Rivendell, I learned much about elves, their songs, tales of king of old, and wizards like Gandalf who visited Bilbo Baggins at Bag End.
We finally arrived at Rivendell and parted ways. He had errands to run for Elrond, and I wanted to stay and take in all the new sights. The elven people were fair as were their voices. Songs in a language that I had never known were building shapes in my mind of sad times that made me weep and happy times that made me dance and scary times that made my hair stand on end. Despite all the wonders of Rivendell, my yearning to return home was unbearable.
After a few weeks (time is hard to measure in Rivendell), I asked leave of those where were gracious enough to house and feed me. I returned home. The journey back to Oatbarton was full of dread. I feared my father and gaffer would never accept me back into the family. To my surprise, they recieved me with open arms and had a feast in honor of my return. I decided to go into public service and become a Shirriff. I have been a Shirrif every since.
I am now 33 and have come of age according to the tradition of the Shire. I love the Shire and hope to never have to leave it, but the wolves around the Shire at record numbers tells me that something is amiss in Middle Earth. I may be required to do what must be done to protect the way of life of the Shire. Only time will tell.
I actually had a great childhood, save that one nagging thorn under my fingernail that were those unrealistic expectations. I was a good lad and lived up to most of those expectations. That is, until I turned 20. I had decided that my life was mine to live and I could not live up to those expectations any longer. (What I have told you so far may not be acurate, but those were the excuses I used to justify what I did next.)
I left home and went to the town of Bree accross the river. I stayed with my Aunt Sallera, who was actually my Great Aunt, but she didn't like the sound of that title unless I was calling her that as a compliment after some tasty mushrooms that she had prepared. I became a regular at the Prancing Pony and was drawn in by all the stories and news from outside the Shire.
While at the Prancing Pony one night over a month after leaving Oatbarton, I met Glorfindel Lissësúl, a messenger of Elrond. I sat with him and talked almost all that night about the happenings in Middle Earth. He told me that he was returning from the west with news to the house of Elrond in Rivendell. He could not tell me what the news was, but was surprisingly uplifted when I asked to go to Rivendell with him.
We talked of other things including the meaning of his name. He meantioned that it meant "Swift and Silent". I informed him that Hobbits can be stealthy as well when need arises. I returned to my Aunt's house to pack while he rested (whether that means sleep or not, I have no knowledge) at the Prancing Pony. We set out that next morning after breakfast. On the journey to Rivendell, I learned much about elves, their songs, tales of king of old, and wizards like Gandalf who visited Bilbo Baggins at Bag End.
We finally arrived at Rivendell and parted ways. He had errands to run for Elrond, and I wanted to stay and take in all the new sights. The elven people were fair as were their voices. Songs in a language that I had never known were building shapes in my mind of sad times that made me weep and happy times that made me dance and scary times that made my hair stand on end. Despite all the wonders of Rivendell, my yearning to return home was unbearable.
After a few weeks (time is hard to measure in Rivendell), I asked leave of those where were gracious enough to house and feed me. I returned home. The journey back to Oatbarton was full of dread. I feared my father and gaffer would never accept me back into the family. To my surprise, they recieved me with open arms and had a feast in honor of my return. I decided to go into public service and become a Shirriff. I have been a Shirrif every since.
I am now 33 and have come of age according to the tradition of the Shire. I love the Shire and hope to never have to leave it, but the wolves around the Shire at record numbers tells me that something is amiss in Middle Earth. I may be required to do what must be done to protect the way of life of the Shire. Only time will tell.
