[Kransha]

Tobias Hornblower cursed obscenely under his breath, reciting every foul word he knew. He wasn’t a having a very good day by any standards. His expensive vest had been destroyed, along with most of his pricy overcoat, he had lost every item that he’d pilfered during the day, much of it in an uncomfortable fiery explosion, and he’d almost been caught stealing by the prying eyes of that fellow, Valthalion.

The operative word of his problems was, of course, ‘almost.’ Toby was outside now, coughing loudly and keeping up his injured façade rather nicely, in his opinion. He wasn’t the best thespian on Middle-Earth, but he fancied himself a hobbit with a flair for the dramatic, especially after a night of good ale. The elder hobbit would have to avoid the man Valthalion and that other woman if he wanted to get away with what little he’d gotten away with, which, coincidentally, wasn’t very much. He’s managed to scurry sneakily away from the fray when that sniveling human had drawn Valthalion’s attention away from him. He tried to rest easy, but the steadying of the commotion worried him. Without mayhem, he wouldn’t be able to continue his habit.

About then, another very surprising sight found its way to Toby Hornblower.
“Fredgar…Fredgar Hornblower?” He spoke to no one in particular, just to himself.

On the lawn of Bywater Road, just outside the quelled fire of the Green Dragon, one of his cousins, Fredgar Hornblower, was supervising a number of hobbits and men in a directorial fashion. Toby wasn’t sure if it was a stroke of good fortune or a curse from above. He barely knew Fredgar, one of his many distant cousins in the Hornblower family branches. He knew that this particular Hornblower was an inhabitant of Hobbiton rather than Longbottom, and had actually attained the position of Shirriff there. It dawned on Tobias that this was definitely luck, finally something working out for the good instead of the bad.