[Kransha]

Toby Hornblower smiled warmly, a facial expression he wasn’t entirely accustomed to. He fixed the odd smile contorting his faced bit his lip, preparing for another rant. He quickly leaned forward as Roa, with a very comforting and gentle look on her face, turned back to him, also smiling. He put his arms on the table slowly, easing himself into a storytelling gait and setting the atmosphere for his tale.

“Alright, I am as aware as all of you that the Shire is not exactly an imperial power upon this Middle-Earth, but we keep our share of importance. Ever since the war, hobbits have forgotten the more glorious of our days, years and years ago. In the last age, we hobbit had our share of chivalrous warriors and ferocious epics and what not. Of course, a tale hangs upon that. After the Battle of Bywater, the thoughts of old were driven from the Shire’s mentality. But there are many of our wiser folk who still remember our grandest tale, the stories of the past. As a matter of fact, a great deal of our very culture can be described in this story. Many elders tell this story to children to teach them about our ways of life. If you truly want to know about the Shire, and about all Halflings, you are surely required to hear the stories about the Battle of Greenfields.”

He waited for some kind of visible reaction. There was technically none, but he could tell that he had at least piqued the interest of one of his two audience-members a little. His smile swelled, and his stomach began to bulge with obvious pride as he leaned back, nestling himself into an epic niche.

“You see, in the year of our reckoning, 1147, (that’s Shire-reckoning, by the way) there came a great host of beastly, savage, monstrous goblin-folk from the mighty citadel of Mount Gram (very big, looming place in the Misty Mountains) into this fair land, invading our territory with utter disregard for any hobbit’s safety. They looted and pillaged ruthlessly, destroying homes and stealing livestock to devour. Of course, the hobbits of that day would never stand for such things. So they banded together, they did, and made a force to stop those boorish orcs. They were led by Bandobras Took, called ‘The Bullroarer’ because of his great strength and height (he happened to be a family relative of mine), and the other respected hobbits of all farthings. My ancestor, Tolman Hornblower (distant uncle’s cousin of my current nephew, don’tcha know), was there too alongside him, as were the heralds of every great family (at the time, not very many, but still a few). Together, they met the foul orcs at Greenfields, in the Northfarthing (quaint little place, great for picnics), and battled heroically, losing not a single life among them. Then, as the conflict piqued, the horns of the Halflings sounded, echoing through the Shire. The powerful blasts from the Hornblower Horn (which gave my ancestor our family name) and the Horn-Call of Buckland, calling hobbits to arms, pushed our mighty troops forward. Finally, Bandobras came face to face with the most beastliest, ugliest, most foul and bad-breathing orc of them all, their leader, Golfimbul the goblin (many suspect he was a troll midget).”

He paused, realizing suddenly that his cheeks were extremely red, practically radiating uncomfortable crimson tinges. He let the bulge in his stomach leak out immediately, watching as he literally shrunk in place. He took another breath, gulping and gasping for air after the voracious rant. His listeners looked like they were ready for him to continue, so he began spending the breath on more ramblings, almost completely losing track of what he was saying as the mangled words poured out of the gaping, twisting maw that was formerly his mouth.

“And?” said Roa, with more of a suggesting nature than that of real, genuine eagerness to hear the story. Regardless, Toby’s mouth had already begun to move at an impossible speed.

“And Bullroarer, using his wooden club (many are of the opinion that it was either a great spiked mace or a piece of pipe-weed stem), struck off the head of Golfimbul and it sailed through the air, landing precisely in a rabbit hole (pity the rabbit wasn’t there, would’ve like rabbit for dinner). Unnerved, the goblins fled and the hobbits of the Shire were victorious. Legend has it that Bandobras first conceived the game of golf, striking Golfimbul’s head into that hole (very few play it much, but it’s still an achievement to invent it). Also, the Hornblower’s first obtained their family name (along with several other notable namings) and the Horn-Call of Buckland (alarm bell of those Brandybucks in the Eastfarthing) sounded for the very first time in Eriador.”

Toby took a very deep breath, slamming his hands on the table. He sat for a moment, staring blankly at the space between Roa and Snaveling, and promptly belched very loudly for no apparent reason.
“Ummm…sorry about that…It really couldn’t wait….What was I talking about exactly?”