[Child of the 7th Age]

Bandobras Took, popularly known as Bullroarer, peered nervously out the window of his study. It was early fall in the Shire, but snow blanketed the ground. It had been there all summer. There'd been no harvest that year, and food was running perilously short. Somehow, someway, the hobbits must find provisions before winter began.

Bullroarer could see hobbits approaching his front door in groups of twos and threes, buried under heavy cloaks and fur earmuffs. They'd come from every corner of the Shire. Their trips had not been easy, since many roadways has a thick coat of ice and snow that made travel very slow.

Once they arrived, each traveler was led into the Great Hall near the blazing hearth for a bit of food and drink. Soon, the meeting would begin. Then they'd decide whether to adopt Gandalf's strategy to send a band of hobbits to Rivendell to pick up food and supplies. Bullroarer personally hoped they'd adopt the plan. Anything was better than sitting here and doing nothing while hobbits went hungry!

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About forty hobbits gathered at the Took family mansion. They huddled near the fire for warmth, as the Wizard stepped forward to explain his idea. Gandalf was well armed with charts and maps, and focused intently at the serious, hungry faces staring up towards him. Some looked hopeful, while others seemed sunk in doubt and fear.

Gandalf patiently explained that the Elves were the only ones who'd had foresight to squirrel away provisions for hard times. Elrond had agreed to Gandalf's request that they share some of these, but he'd insisted the hobbits come to Rivendell on their own to get them. There was no other way. Yet, with the disastrous state of the roads and hungry critters out roaming the countryside, this seemed like an overwhelming task to many of those present.

Once the Wizard finished, hobbit after hobbit stood up to speak, all disagreeing with the proposal. One of the fiercest and loudest of these, Collin Boffin, faced the gathering with one hand on his hip and the other waving wildly in the air. "What madness is this! None of you will get through in this weather. You'll meet your death falling off some snowy cliff. And who's to say the Elves will help you?"

"Begging your pardon, sir," Collin turned toward the Wizard, and respectfully bowed, "But you are not a hobbit. What assurances do we have that these strangers will come through, when they are not even our kin?"

Collin turned once again to his hobbit neighbors and friends, wagging his finger in the air. "Stick to your own kind, I say. You'll be better off. This weather is bound to break, if you'll be patient a bit longer."

Gandalf shook his head and sighed, "One day, I fear, there will come a time when Middle-earth will not survive unless the free peoples band together and learn to appreciate one another's ways. That time has not yet come, but it does no harm to begin learning these lessons."

"But, beyond that, I worry that any change in the weather will come too late to help your kin. So far, despite hunger and suffering, you've managed to survive. But how long can that last? I've already seen death strike in Gondor and Rohan. If we do nothing, it's only a matter of time until that happens here too." Gandalf's dire words trailed off, as the Wizard gazed out at the assembled hobbits hoping for another voice to speak up in his support.

At that instant, Bullroarer heaved himself up, and pounded on the floor with a thick cudgel for everyone's attention. All forty hobbits, even Collin Boffin, fell silent as the hero of Greenfields stepped forward with a flourish and began to speak.

[ November 26, 2002: Message edited by: Child of the 7th Age ]