Lilyberry mentioned that she needed some silk for a new gown for the upcoming Spring Festival. A lot of silk, actually, since she’s a prime example of a well-fed hobbit.

Spiders make silk, yes? I remembered there were a lot of spiderwebs in this cave I found west of Gath Forthnir, so I helpfully took her to Torech-i-Bogbereth.

My ears are still ringing from her shriek of horror.

The itsy bitsy spider. . .

I was surprised to find this haven* in the Mines of Moria.  Later consultating with an overly-proud dwarf, I discovered these gardens are called Tharakh Bazan.  Such an ugly, gutteral name for such a lovely place. . .

Fancy a picnic?

*swarming with orcs, of course. Aren’t all havens?

Now the whole house smells like salmon.

15 pounds, no lie. I’ve heard tales of bigger fish, but those stories have a way of growing with the telling.  It was so big I couldn’t bear to eat it, so instead I brought it to Bree-town to have it preserved and stuffed with… stuff.  (The Men of Bree will do anything for a price.)

Lilyberry pointed out that as she loves salmon, I should save the next one for her.  She could finish it off in about ten  minutes.

What a tranquil little lake I have found!  There are a great number of intrepid dwarvish explorers  nearby, but it seems even they cannot spoil the peace of the place.

Sure it's tranquil.

Lilyberry expressed an interest in looting the Great Barrow in the Barrow Downs.  Having some familiarity with the unholy alliance forged there, I had some reservations that Lilyberry might not survive her greed, but nevertheless agreed to protect the reckless hobbit lass as she pilfered her way through Othrongroth.

She chattered incessantly.

Apparently her constant banter drives even the Dead and Ancient Evil to distraction.

Make it stop! PLEASE!

I saw this “pond” from a distance, and wondered at the water’s origin and peculiar color.

Actually. It’s not water in there.

Several noisome orc settlements atop nearby hills drain into the pond.

What an incredible smell you've discovered!

I convinced the hobbit to accompany me on a foray deep into Goblin-Town.  It went quite well for me. The hobbit later insisted that I deliberately tried to talk the goblins into trampling her.

Suicide by Goblin

I have a new home, a large smial in the Butterbottle neighborhood of Southfarthing, the Shire. It overlooks a tidy pond strewn with willow leaves and is just perfect, when you like “food, or sleep, or work, or story-telling, or singing, or just sitting and thinking, best, or a pleasant mixture of them all.”

I live in a hole in the ground now, okay?