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.

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?

It rained earlier in the Shire — and then, after the sun set, there was mist all across Michel Delving. It was so still that I could hear the frogs croaking all the way from Frogmorton.

It was a dark and froggy night. . .

I have acquired a traveling companion, a rambunctious young hobbit named Lilyberry.  She was curious about exploring the world beyond the edges of the Shire, so I allowed her to accompany me on a trip to Imladris.

Upon securing the safety of the Last Homely House, she became most strident about some of the dangers faced in the High Moor.

“See the world, she said,” Lilyberry complained to anyone who would listen, stabbing her finger at me.  A dwarf looked at her sympathetically and handed her his pipe.  She looked at it and talked louder.  “O, and the world has GREAT BIG BEARS VIF TEEF LIKE DIF.  And flies, flies with giant needly sucker things that-”

I interrupted her tirade and pointed out that it was good to broaden her horizons.  Particularly since the rest of her was rather broad.

“Yer callin’ me fat,” exclaimed Lilyberry loudly.

“Wide,” I suggested, motioning for her to keep her voice down.  A pair of scholars looked over at us, frowning.  “Well nourished?”

Lilyberry patted her paunch and rear. “I,” she announced, “am a well-shaped figure of hobbit feminity shape. Not all… drawn and stretched-out lookin’ like an elf.”

It went downhill from there.   She found it necessary to take up smoking for the first time in Lord Elrond’s house and started retching.  I counted it a blessing when she procured a bottle of Dorwinion wine and fell asleep.

HHHAARGHHKK.

It may not have been that good of an idea to go splashing through puddles in the Shire.  I think my boots are ruined with mud.   It was a relief to get home and curl up in front of the fire with a mug of hot cider and a long-forgotten book of poetry borrowed from the enclave in Duillond.

Thawing out.

I bought a home in the quiet Eithel Ivrin neighborhood at the Falathlorn homesteads.  With this investment in civilization, I suppose I have less of an excuse to sleep under the stars now. There is a small garden, and the stream runs right behind the house.  I’ve already caught more dace than I could ever eat, and left the extras for a neighbor.

A local caretaker suggested that as my neighbor is away traveling, he may not appreciate a basket of rotten fish upon his doorstep when he returns.

2 Haven Way, Eithel Ivrin

Imladris saw a lovely light summer rain this morning.  Mist clung to everything (especially the Misty Mountains!), and it was very humid — but none too warm.  I sat by the river for hours and listened to its song.  A perfect day.

Rain in Rivendell

I spent the whole day harvesting wild blueberries in the mountains near Esteldin.

I’d like to start brewing some ale, but if I get started on the ale, I’ll muddle my wits and spend the next couple of days giggling.  So, tomorrow, I will be baking blueberry muffins. Lots and lots of muffins.

If I were a hobbit instead of an elf, I’d be as wide as I am tall.  Wouldn’t that be a sight!

Hunting the Wild Blueberries