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?

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!

Lilyberry tapped Calenglad on the shoulder. When he turned around, the fat little minstrel snickered and slapped him.  “That’s from Gandalf,” she explained.

The ranger gaped down at her.

I just stared.

“Oh, wait.” The chubby hobbit lass grinned. “It was from Aragorn.  So is this letter. He’s decided he can finally quit you.” She winked and leered as she handed Aragorn’s letter over. “I read it.”

Calenglad glanced it over impassively, then muttered something at Lilyberry. He reached down by the fire and handed her something.

“Don’t you-” I began.

Lilyberry’s explosion interrupted me. “What do you mean you cannot trust the words of this letter?!  And why are you giving me pie?”  She stepped back and crossed her arms in front of her, scowling at the ranger.  Her next words were annunciated very clearly and loudly.  “I want GOLD. I came all the way from RIVENDELL.”

I cringed.

She turned away from the ranger and whispered loudly to me. “He wants me to earn trust from his fellow Rangers.”

I sighed apologetically at Calenglad and shrugged at Lilyberry, starting to voice some comment about the value of trust.  Her attention shifted back to Calenglad, and she sidled closer to him.

“Hey Calenglad. . . ” She murmured. “Wanna blow the Horn of the Dwarrowdelf?”*

I don't know her.

*Reference to this.

Lilyberry berates a Healer.

“YOU!” shouted Lilyberry.  The little hobbit bristled and emitted a feral growl.  She was standing right in front of Ailin, who acts as a healer to the honest denizens of Western Malenhad.

I pretended I did not know Lilyberry and tried to think of a way to smooth over the insults that seemed inevitable.

“Living in a place like this,” the hobbit lass snarled, sounding cranky.  She pointed over her shoulder toward Eastern Malenhad and stared hard at the healer. “What’s WRONG with you? There are evil statues that suck the life right out of you!  RIGHT OVER THERE!”

Ailin ignored her.

Lilyberry got that obstinate look in her eyes and screeched,  “You’re IN LEAGUE with the EVIL, aren’t you?!”

I cleared my throat and motioned that we should continue on.

Lilyberry ignored me.  She pointed a chubby, stabbing finger at the healer. “HUSSY!” She accused. “You’re Sauron’s HUSSY. That’s right!”

I muttered that it was time to go and did so quickly.

The hobbit caught up with me.

She always does.

I had a wretched time of things today.

I woke up in an unfamiliar location with a bit of a bump on my head.  A local explained that I’d apparently been exploring, took a tumble off a mountainside, and then was knocked unconscious by a rock-throwing maddened hill beast.  The local sold me some foul smelling brew to ease my troubles.

Later, still feeling rather dreadful, I made my way to Evendim to look for various mathoms.  Nosing about the ruins, a kergrim spied me and gurgled threateningly.  I shrugged it off, only to be hit with an insulting faceful of something suspiciously vile. I suspect it originated from one end of the beast or the other.  On a whim, I carved the carcass up to see if Glosmir might be interested in kergrim bits. He makes the most amusing face when he’s disgusted.

My butchering was interrupted by a quartet of tomb robbers, and I slunk home in the rain.

However, Glosmir was most appreciative of kergrim bits.  He was willing to pay nearly two silver per wart, ‘The squishier, the better,” said he. And, “See if you can get some of the skin next time- it’s particularly fine.”

Fine for what, I wonder!

Mmm... LOTS of squishy warts.