[Ainaserkewen]

Knowing full well the lateness of this partygoer to be…he thought it would be wasteful to show up discreetly. So when the sun finally set on the seemingly endless day, and the fireworks exploded in the mess of blue and black sky, was the time when our latecomer decided it was finally time to try out…er, arrive at this event.

Never before had such a sound been heard in the quiet hills of the west. All the guests who had previously arrived could identify something familiar in the far off music that could be heard. But there was something strangely¾ well, strange.

“Is that a cat?” Someone’s voice rose above the mess of sounds that competed with the light display.

However, he was only 1 in 30 right. Unimaginable, crazy, absurd; some said. Rolling up, over the hill came a carriage. Nothing unusual about the carriage itself, though it looked quite expensive. But what was drawing the carriage. Not a horse, or pony, but dozens of cats! Black cats, orange tabbies, white ones, and brown ones. The lot were all different.

“Is there no end!?” Another voice called.

The whole vehicle, along with the cats’ steps vibrated with the unmistakable sound of “A shortcut to Mushrooms” from the Fellowship of the Ring soundtrack playing at full volume, bass pounding. A few guests nodded in agreement with the music selection and wondered who in Middle-Earth had a cat-drawn carriage.

Who indeed, was this stranger who stepped from the now still coach? Tall he stood, and stocky in an unusually coloured floor-length trench coat. Hardly Middle-Earth fashion. But something didn’t seem right. This man (for he so obviously was) seemed too tall, especially when he crossed the gate and the others saw his cheery face. He looked like a Hobbit! His face was round, brown and creased, but he was at least seven feet tall! Who in the wide-world-known was this!?

He smiled at all who looked but gave no name except “Mr. Big”. His walk was odd as he made his way through the crowds towards the food table, pausing briefly to catch his balance. People noticed his feet were bare and hairy, like a Hobbit’s should be. Also, he seemed to bend in odd places when he swayed, and shuffled a lot. He could barely walk. Some murmured that he must have gotten into his own supply of ale before he arrived.

“Walk straight!” Came a loud whisper. The stranger looked up in alarm to see if anyone had heard.

“If we had practiced this…” he muttered under his breath, and his odd hat.

“Excuse me?” The hobbit closest to him asked, figuring that this tall, foreboding character was addressing him.

The man looked surprised. “No, sorry, just talking to myself.” Then came a sound of impact and a grown from the man’s middle region.

“What was that?” The Hobbit asked.

“Nothing….just my uh…stomach growling. I need some food.”

And with that, he stumbled off into the grass, tripped and fell. All were surprised in what they saw. The trench coat had unbuttoned and come apart and instead of just one falling, three fell out of the coat when they toppled. Three Hobbits, all looking very red and embarrassed.

“Uh…hello all.” They said nervously in chorus.