The Hobble, or

There and Back Again

Chapter 1 The Begining

It was an ordinary sort of day in May when, of a sudden. there was great excitement amongst the younger inhabitants of Milltimber in the Shire. By some cunning magic Grandalf the Weigh had conspired to issue the following advert which miraculously appeared in each of the chosen ones mail box at the same time:

Challenging Expedition !!Young Hobbles wanted!!

Small chance of success against long odds, Recognition and reward (badge) almost guaranteed!

Must have own teeth, hairy feet advantageous, but not essential.

Apply in person to Grandalf the Weigh.There was much talk in the bar of the “Scouts Promise” that Friday evening but in the end only four stupid brave and hardy young hobbles put forward their names to Grandalf for a place in the coming Adventure, they were Thomas “Ferodo ” Fluck, his younger brother Harry “Bobo” Fluck, Cameron “Merry” Bell (the hobble formerly known as Annoyingly Optimistic Smurf) and Frazer “Pudin” Swanney. All had past the stringent criteria set by Grandalf of having (mostly) their own teeth, and had proved themselves in countless other smaller adventures involving midgies, ticks, scout latrines etc. etc. and of course the qualifying quest from Milltimber in the Shire to the land of the Templars on the mighty River Dee.So it was that our intrepid adventurers met one Wednesday evening in the snug of the “Scouts Promise” to discuss the how, what, when, where and who (not forgetting whither, whence, wherefore and whom) of the thing.“Where shall we go for our adventure, o wise one” said Bobo.“Well I rather thought we could go over the Misty Mountains, through Fanghorn forest to the Lonely Mountain and end up at the lair of Smug the dragon, we will then beard the dragon in his den, win our just rewards, and, all being well, what’s left of us should be home in time for tea the next day” replied Grandalf the Weigh.“Will there be gold in Smugs lair” asked Ferodo (stupid boy!)“Oh most certainly, there will be gold… of a sort of goldish nature…probably” replied Grandalf, rather defensively if truth be told.

“And will Smug the Dragon be like the sort of dragon that likes children and lives by the sea, and like frolics in the autumn mist and that sort of thing, like Puff the Magic Dragon”

asked Pudin helpfully.After a pause that some might feel was lengthy, Grandalf replied, ”Oh very likely, very likely indeed, Yes, I don’t think there’s any doubt whatsoever that Smug likes children…..yes, yes definitely he prefers children to adults …..on account of them being more tender and they require less chewing.”

The company fell silent while the Hobbles digested this news.“I can’t help thinking that’s the sort of expedition that explorer scouts should undertake” said Merry. “Couldn’t we have a slightly smaller adventure, say get the bus to Dinet and then walk up to the foot of Mount Doom, sorry Mount Keen, and back?”

And so it was agreed.

“Now as to who shall undertake this quest with us, as our guides and companions, I have sent out a request to the four corners of Muggle Earth to all the races in all the lands and have had this response”. Grandalf announced rather grandly, “From the Dwarves King Boing the Bouncy will send Dimli Halfwit, son of Gloomi Halflight, a giant of a Dwarf, with the dwarfish love of axes, beards, forges and fires. From the Elves, King Revlon of Cravendale has provided Legoland of Milkround, Prince of the woodland realm, where time stands almost still (at least according to his watch), keen eyed archer, and master builder of the pop up tent. Sadly from the younger races, that of men, the reply is rather more disappointing; I got back an out of office message from Finlodin King, Queen Katherine of ye Sundering Seas was out sailing, Arrogant the Lofty has a drill competition with his Rangers, and Borrowmor sent a note from his mum, so it looks like just the seven of us then.”

And so the Die was cast.

“Now little Hobbles listen carefully, we must now decide on what we will require for our great undertaking, I have prepared a kit list for you, but remember pack light, you have to carry it all yourselves”The kit list was as follows:

Knapsack,TentSleeping bagBedHot water bottleCooker (no more than two burner)Pots, pans, Cast iron frying pan (good for self defence)KettleCrockery (bowl, salad plate, and main course no bigger than 10 inches)Knife, fork and spoon (soup and dessert) Fish knife and salad tongsSmall axe, throwing axe, large axe. (Dimli only)

Long sword, short sword, dirk and penknife (these to be issued on a need to use basis)Waterproof jacketWaterproof trousersBootsSocksSpare SocksSpares to the spare socksClothesSpare clothesFoodMore foodSpare foodEmergency foodExtra foodSnacks & NibblesBreakfastLunch (x 2)DinnerSupperMidnight snackAfternoon teaWater bottleTorchSmall First Aid KitLast but not least a hat (preferably of an adventurous or flamboyant nature)

And so on, on to adventure and beyond!

Chapter 2: Outward Bound!

It was a damp and dismal morning when the four Hobbles met at the coaching station at the foot of Milltimber Brae, in Milltimber in the Shire.The coach was on time, driven by a jolly fat driver (he was, however, not fat and jolly) “all aboard” he cried having relieved Merry of the entire contents of his purse, and gave him back naught but four small tickets, (good for travel on that day, one way only, as far as Dinet, no refunds, non transferable.) An hours uncomfortable journey in the back of the rattletrap coach saw the four companions leaving the safety of Aboyne on the edge of the Shire bound for Dinet and adventure unknown.“Dinet, All out for Dinet” cried the driver, but as the companions tried to leave the coach, disaster struck. The forces of evil, alerted to their coming by some evil farseer or enslaved burgher, trapped Pudin’s bag at the back of the coach! The four companions struggled manfully (well Hobblefully actually) with the enchanted bag. “do come on Pudin” cried Ferodo and Merry together, “the bus will leave with us still aboard if we don’t get off now”.Finally with a massive effort of will Pudin overcame the enchantment and just in time got off with bag and dignity intact.“Well done little Hobbles” cried Grandalf as he met them in the car park, accompanied by Legoland and Dimli. “you have passed the first of many trials, trial by Public Transport, well done indeed!”The Hobbles looked askance at the three fellows addressing them so, was that really Grandalf? Could this be the famous Legoland? Why was Dimli Halfwit so called?It was easy to understand their confusion, Grandalf had forsaken his usual pointy hat and flowing robe for a more sensible look involving a peaked cap, sensible trousers and stout hobnailed walking boots, Legoland had left off his usual woodland camouflage garb of lime greens, pink and yellow with furry slippers for a more practical outfit for such a doughty expedition. Dimli looked, as usual, like Dimli, except his axe(s)* was(were)* not in view, the Hobbles did not doubt that it(they)* was(were)* hidden somewhere about his person (perhaps in his beard?) Nor was anything on fire locally as far as they could tell.“Now” declared Grandalf, “get out your parchment charts and loadstones and show me where we are and where we must go”.The four Hobbles obeyed and, on the principal that the compass has four cardinal points, pointed in four different directions in answer to Grandalf’s enquiry as to which direction they should take.Grandalf was furious and began to talk in ancient tongues to the young Hobbles.“Gnarffle gnarffle piffock compass set granflarebog magnetic deviants bah humbug grid reference lines of position refractive index pointy pointy bearing peak grumble weed set to your partner belay that chatter mad hat contours!!” he cried. (or so it sounded to the companions)The Hobbles were aghast at having upset Grandalf so, they there and then elected Ferodo spokeshobble and demanded that he take the blame for everything there and

then.Dimli and Legoland helped to calm the old wizard of the mountains, and after some patient coaxing the Hobbles got the hang of map and compass.Once all four were pointing in approximately the right direction, they were off! Grandalf Dimli and Legoland hung back to ensure they were not followed (and of course for protection in case of ambush.)The road was straight forward to begin but soon a gate hove into view, by magic unknown, the gate was locked and barred. The hobbles waited patiently for Grandalf and the others to arrive.“Look, Oh ancient ones” they cried “the way is barred, the gate is closed and tied with string of an enchanted blue, must we find another way around?”“Fear not little Hobbles” declared Grandalf “you can just climb over, no harm will come to you I promise.”After a lengthy struggle the four companions managed to climb up and over the black gate which seemed to tower up a hundred feet or more.Once they were clear Dimli untied the string and opened the gate to cries of Boo, Cheat and similar from the Hobbles who were keen to see their elders clamber over.“Now my friends this gate marks the passage to the land of the Balrog, the goblin, the tick and the midgie, of vegetables both green and mysterious and other things too grim and terrible to mention, so have a care! What you see may not be as it seems, tread lightly and touch nothing, here the corn has ears and the potatoes have eyes!” whispered Grandalf.The four Hobbles had not gone far before they turned and cried out “Grandalf the path has gone, it is nowhere to be seen.”“Put your trust in map and compass and press on!” replied Grandalf.They pressed on.Dimli was soon soaked to the neck by the high grass, “ I can see nothing down here” he grumbled, “give me good solid rock over my head and its happier I would be”.“Don’t worry Dimli” replied Legoland “ Although the path as been stolen with my elven vision I can see the gates where it used to lay and with my photographic memory I’m sure we can find the way”.On they pressed.Soon they were hopelessly lost in the tangling vegetation and the companionship scattered.The elders, more experienced in the ways of the dark lords artifice went by paths unmarked and unseen towards their destination, the hobbles, in thrall to some unknown power of darkness, found themselves at the collapsed gate of a crumbling ruin in the middle of nowhere on an unmarked path……

Chapter 3: The Wizened Crone.

The hovel had a run down foreboding aspect, wolves, or worse, howled from within. Our intrepid travellers huddled together (a huddle of Hobbles) to discuss their options.“I’m not going” said Merry, “listen to that howling, I’m allergic to animals of the canine

variety, even the little ones attack me.”“You’re the oldest Ferodo”, added Bobo (so much for brotherly love), “and you’ve been abroad, a man of the world and all that, you should go.”“Seconded” added Pudin.“Oh very well then, but if I get turned into a toad or killed, I’m never going to speak to you again” Ferodo walked up to the door with some trepidation and hammered on the door knob. The howling and barking from within doubled in intensity, it sounded to the Hobbles like the hounds of Hell were about to fall on them.The door creeeeeeeaked open slowly and a disembodied voice from within said “Yes? What do you want?”“Excuse me old crone,” said Ferodo in a confident voice, “We are looking for directions to Glentaner”.“What do you mean old crone you cheeky young scamp I’m only 43”“Well sorry, but technically the term crone, while derogatory, can, in all historical dramas and fairy stories, be applied to any woman over the age of 40 , give or take, and this is an adventure after all, so there is a limited range of options for people living in a hovel”. Replied Ferodo.“Hovel! Hovel! I’ll give you hovel, you,you,you teenager you, I’ll have you know this is a prime investment opportunity in a rural setting with stunning views and opportunity to develop” shrieked the yet to be identified person from within.“Calm down dear, it’s only an adventure! Look I’m new to this expeditioning and adventuring lark, so what say I’ll give you the acceptable terms for someone living this far away from civilization in such a delightful “pied a terre”, (Ferodo had just come back from France and was keen to display his newly acquired linguistic skill) you can then pick whichever you prefer, can’t say fairer than that can I” said Ferodo.“Well, yeeesss that does seem fair” came the uncertain reply.“OK, in terms of habitation we’ve got Cave, Hovel, Hut (Fisherman’s or Shepherd’s)*, Cottage (Gingerbread or otherwise)*, Giant Toadstool, Ruin (Crumbling, Blasted or Mysterious)*, Castle (Fairytale, Ruined, Forbidding, Enchanted, Etc.)*, Tower (Watch, Ruined, Foreboding, or similar.)*, As to occupants the list is Crone, Hag, Harridan, Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, Cinderella, Enchantress, Sorceress, Witch, Princess, Goblin, leprechaun, Elf, Ogre or Troll. Each of the aforementioned is entitled to one or more of the following adjectives, Wizened, Venerable, Ugly, Beautiful, Evil, Kindly, Ancient, Old, Young, Tall, Short, Thin or Fat, but obviously some of them don’t go together very well, but it’s your choice. Except you can’t have Sleeping Beauty as that would make a nonsense of this whole conversation unless you talk in your sleep. ”“Can’t I have Farmhouse and be a plump, jolly farmer’s wife” (as opposed to a Jolly plump farmers wife.)“Sorry computer says no.” replied Ferodo.“Can I mix and match the habitation terms? And have like a “Mysterious Tower?”“Look this is an adventure, that means it’s a true(ish) story that nearly happened, if we

go around just making stuff up, that would put it into the realms of fantasy and once we go down that road we might as well just invent a time machine, start the story at the end and call it science fiction” replied a rather exasperated Ferodo.“In that case I’ll go for Gingerbread Cottage and Witch with a side order of Beautiful, STOP CHEWING ON MY WINDOWLEDGE YOUNG MAN” This last directed to Bobo who had already tried licking the windows to see if they were edible. (he often licked windows, so far without success, but he lived in hope.)“Sorry miss” mumbled Bobo through a mouthful of dry rot.“Now do hurry up boys, I haven’t got all day, I’ve got twins in the oven and they aren’t going to cook themselves. I caught them nibbling on the cement render yestere’en” She said, looking meaningfully at Bobo and Pudin who both looked away guiltily. “What exactly do you want?”“Directions, Oh Beautiful Witch of the Gingerbread Cottage, which way to Glentaner?”

“Go left out the gate, end of the road turn right, then straight on, you can’t miss it, it’s signposted, now would you like me to cackle in an eldritch sort of fashion? You know sort of HE HE HE,HAHA,HE HE HE, AHAHAHA. or set the dogs on you, or something? Perhaps something to help you sleep?” she asked hopefully.“No no. thank you no, that won’t be necessary, please don’t put yourself out.” Replied Ferodo, “you’ve been helpful enough already, so thank you and a very good day to you.”.“It’s no trouble, I’ve got some fresh toadstools I picked yesterday” she added in a rather desperate voice. “They’re red with white spots, probably not the least bit poisonous…..no? Oh well then do drop by again, anytime……..”

The Hobbles scuttled off as fast as their little legs would carry them, when they got 100 meters away they looked back and the Gingerbread cottage had disappeared with only a grinning skull with a faded sign in crayon saying “Hill’s head” to show the way back.“That was a narrow escape” said a relieved Ferodo.“Those hellhounds were huge” added Merry, “They were almost the size of a small Border Collie.”.“I think I’ve got a splinter on my tongue” replied Bobo.“mmmmmmmmmwwhh” mumbled Pudin through a mouthful of roughcast “it wasn’t even real gingerbread.”.

Chapter 4: The Long Road

No sooner had the fantastic four (oops sorry that’s a different story altogether.)No sooner had our adventurers gone a few meters more when they realised that the Beautiful Witch of the Gingerbread Cottage had ensnared them in some mystic enchantment! Merry was sure she had said go left then right then straight on, Ferodo

remembered go straight on then turn right at the toadstool, while Bobo and Pudin were absolutely almost positive that she said go right then left, then right on straight ahead, past the ruined troll. They were lost! Again!“ Let’s call Grandalf on the thingumyjig”, said Bobo “you know, the magical my spacetimecontinuum.com (patent pending) device.”“Excellent idea” the others exclaimed. So they did.

“Now calm down Ferodo” Gandalf said clearly and slowly into the pocket sized device that had appeared in his hand after some passing bird alerted him to the call. “You cannot possibly be lost, look around you, can you see Merry, Pudin and Bobo? Yes. Good. Now this is important, can they see you? Well there you are then, you’re not lost at all, you just don’t know where you are, and that’s a fish on a different bicycle. Are your feet on a path or road? Good, good, then I suggest you follow the road until you get to somewhere else and then you will at least know where you’ve come from. Toodle pip.” Grandalf put the device back in his pocket and the three older companions marched on without further comment.

“Tweet Tweet Tweet” chirped the bird that seemed to have nested in one of Grandalf’s many pockets.“Hello? Yes this is Grandalf, Hello! Hello! Ah yes, Ferodo, well done! You have arrived somewhere at last, jolly good show, now where are you? Hang on I have my crystal ball here, now let me see yes, yes, have you passed a small lake? Yes, Oh good, go straight on to the next crossroads and wait for us there, we’ve taken a shortcut.”Some hours later the older companions arrived at the rendezvous with their somewhat relieved brethren. “Sometimes a shortcut takes longer” declared Dimli mysteriously. “If you don’t believe me ask a barber”.

“Well done to you all” declared Grandalf, “You have passed the second trial, trial by compass and passed it with flying colours. Many would have been lost forever when the Evil Lord Moron stole the path here, why even we three companions were sorely tested.”After a break for morning coffee and cake, to stave off the pangs of hunger until lunchtime, the four Hobbles headed off with their three older shadows following some way behind.They paused at a ruined building, slowly collapsing in on itself.“What manner of edifice is this?” asked Dimli.” It looks stout enough to be built by Dwarves.yet it is abandoned”“Ah that, my friend, marks the entrance to the cavern of Kazi-Kaboom” answered Grandalf, “it dates from the time of the wars of men, they used it to store essential supplies and munitions safe from prying eyes, once the wars ended so did the need for such subterfuge and it fell into disrepair. The cavern is a dismal and dangerous place now, full of poisonous marsh gas and noxious liquids, our path lies elsewhere.”

Meanwhile Ferodo had just crested a rise in the road when he was met by a terrible sight, a group of young humans staggering along like Napoleon’s retreat from Moscow, their faces twisted in agony and their clothes and baggage in disarray. “Help! Help! Oh please help us, we have escaped from the Evil Duke of Bronze and even now his minions are out hunting us, they are on our tail as we speak, They have pens and clipboards, risk assessments and regulations! We need somewhere to hide out, a hidden cave or similar, we can’t go on much further, oh please, please help.” They cried.Ferodo, confident of his new found navigational skills, gave them directions to the sanctuary of Home Farm. The escapees thanked him and staggered off, orange survival bags billowing in the breeze and pots and pans rattling in time to their flight.“Glad I at least know how to pack my knapsack” remarked Ferodo as they watched them disappear.“Wait a minute Ferodo, I packed your bag for you” exclaimed Bobo.“Oh that’s just called delegation” Ferodo responded loftily. “Anyway, you needed the practice.”

Having a close encounter with the minions of the Metallic Duke was bound to work up an appetite for the adventurers and after what seemed an age the Hobbles finally reached their planned lunch stop (and about time too!), the idyllic bridge over the Water of Tanar, but wait, have we forgotten Grandalf’s warning?.......

Chapter 5: The Battle of the Bridge

Once Grandalf, Dimli and Legoland arrived the company settled down, spread their picnic rugs, unlimbered the occasional table and chairs and settled down to lunch, it was a simple affair comprising of cold meat, bread and cheese, followed by dessert, but very welcome none the less. However hardly had they begun to eat when the Hobbles

noticed that the midges were starting to be rather bothersome.“Ha! Call these midges! When I was your age we had proper midges, midges who didn’t just bite you, but ripped your arm off and took it home to feed the children,” responded Dimli to their complaints. “Why, I remember one year, it must have been ’06 or 07, or maybe ’05, or was it ’08? Anyway back in the day, the troop went on camp to Sluggain Bridge away to the west lands, the midges were so thick there, they blotted out the sun, Legoland can tell you for he was a young elf then and was there himself, and may my beard turn black if a word of this is a lie, we fought a pitched battle there with the fell forces of midges and ticks, and were sore beset with wasps and other unmentionable creatures, it was an epic struggle celebrated in song and story…” at this point Dimli began to croon in a deep voice:

“Doon by Sluggain Bridge the midgies lay in hidingAs the 65th frae the east came striding,Loud the proud Dulnain, ‘tween them baith was roarin,Laughing at the sight as they crossed at Sluggain

Watchin frae the woods, the parasites and midgies.Scouts a’ loaded doon wi’ kitchen sinks and fridges,Ane by ane they crossed, staggerin;’ and stumblin’as they onward cam’ ower the Brig o’ Sluggain.

The leaders gave a shout, OOHYA,.as the bugs came swarmin’ Stopped dead in our tracks wi’out any warnin’Midgies all around, tho’ they’re small they’re troublin’As we flailed aboot on the Brig o’ Sluggain.

All the 65th ran in tae each ither,Some got turned aboot, Some cried for their mither,Some jumped o’er the side in the river Dulnain,Some were forced to flee aff the Brig o’ Sluggain.

Tried to make a stand (the thought still makes me shiver)Wished wi all my might my midgie net was bigger,Then we ran awa, loudly we were cursin’We left half our gear on the Brig o’ Sluggain.

Try what’er ye like, ye’ll find it quite distressin’Avon skin so soft? they think it’s salad dressin’Johnstone’s deep woods off, roll on Deet or AutanThe midgies won the day at the battle o’ the Brig o’ Slugain

“It was there that Peter de Gaston fell, pierced through the breast by a kamikaze tick fired by a fiendish midge plot involving underpant elastic and a wild rose bush. Course as with all scouts, he fell as a result of an untied bootlace, but the tick was real enough, aye it looked bad for him, all my skill, and there are many here in this company as can vouch for my prowess with a tick hook, was to no avail, the tick was too deep for any earthly ability. It looked like curtains for Peter, aye curtains and matching pillow cases, when from nowhere his mother Catriona le Fey appeared, and, plunging a red hot knife into his bosom, cut out his heart, sucked out the poison and stuck it back in, before he even had time to cry out or blink” Dimli ended, looking around to see if any doubted the story.He was disappointed to notice that no one was paying the slightest attention to him, they were all too involved in fighting off the waves of midges that had started to attack from three sides of the bridge.“What’s this? Cried Dimli rousing himself from his reminiscing, “Battle? Why doesn’t any one tell me these things. Bring your pretty face to my axe.” This last to a particularly large and angry swarm. “Ha! Two! Two already!” He cried delightedly to Legoland.“I’m on seventeen” the elf replied. “Huh? I’ll have no pointy ear outscoring me! Anyway your cheating Legoland!” Dimli declared.“Two hundred and fifty….thousand” responded his friend, “what do you mean cheating?”“You have your arms bared to encourage them” Dimli accused whilst swatting left and right.It was plain that no matter how bravely the companions fought there could be only one outcome in the long run, no matter how many midgies fell more seemed to come from nowhere.A worried Ferodo asked “what shall we do Grandalf?”“Run, fool of a Fluck” came the reply. The four hobbles set off as fast as their little legs would go, while Grandalf, Legoland and Dimli remained at the bridge like a latter day Horatius, and his companions Spurius and Titus facing the Etruscan horde at the Sublician Bridge over the Tiber. (Go look it up if you don’t believe me.)“They shall not pass!” Declared Grandalf stoutly, but pass they did, so the stout companions legged it after the Hobbles and their longer stride soon caught up at the foot of the Misty Mountains.

Chapter 6: The Misty Mountains

The company halted to get their breath back and tend their wounds after the forced march from the Bridge. “Well Done again brave hobbles” said Grandalf, “you have passed the third trial, trial by combat, now onwards and upwards”!

The company moved off, heading up the mountain pass into low swirling mist.“I like this not” said Legoland, “my far seeing eyes are clouded by this rain and mist, and my Elven senses dampened, someone or something wants us blind and deaf.”“Well not to worry,Legoland ,if my brother Dumli was here we would have the full set of wise monkeys” Dimli capered around at his jest and continued, “No matter we have low clouds and heavy rain, our light hearts and high spirits will make up for it.”On the companions trudged, while the mist thickened and the rain grew heavier until even Dimli’s cheerful banter was silenced by the water sloshing in their boots and the rain running down their necks. On and on and ever on they climbed through the clouds mist and rain until finally, after an hour or so, exasperated, Dimli declared “we must have crossed the river by now, I am certainly wet enough to have been in a river, is it just me, or is it very wet here, I find it very wet indeed, In fact I think we must be in the river now, I am completely sodden, I’m surprised to find I can breath under water for we Dwarves are not renowned swimmers and bathe infrequently, I am sure we shall be swept away momentarily by the flood, how is it up there Legoland, is your head above the water surface, shall I find a rock to stand on and join you? We are surely in the river now, it is the only logical explanation for this amount of water.”“No, my friend we have not yet reached the shoulder of Clachan Yell, but we are surely close to the pass, and after that the river is not far.” Replied Legoland peering into the murk and failing to see further than Grandalf who was no more that two meters in front.A little later they came upon a sodden mass that turned out, on closer inspection, to be the hobbles huddled miserably at the side of the path.“We think we are at the top of the pass Grandalf” said Ferodo “for look you can see the deer fence there and it is marked on the map.”“Well done again young hobbles, we are indeed at the pass and must now descent to the river, Dimli and I will go ahead and find a ford, for if the river is impassable, we must go back on our track and cross at the bridge further down”so it was that Grandalf and Dimli led off with the others following behind.

Chapter 7: Crossing the River

Grandalf and Dimli soon reached the end of the track where it disappeared into the river. The river was angry and swollen, the ford (other car makes are available) looked dicey at best.

“I shall look further up river” declared Dimli “the water here looks like it would be over my head” Dimli set off and soon found a likely spot (likely to drown him that is,) and crossed, the water only reached up to his chin so he was only mildly wetter than he had been before entering the river. He took off his boots, rung out his socks and headed back down the river to meet up with Grandalf who had forced the ford (using magic in Dimli’s opinion due to his looking remarkably dry compared to the dwarf). Legoland and Grandalf were in the process of getting the Hobbles across as Dimli arrived, soon all seven were across along with their supplies and gear only slightly wetter than before and the fellowship set off for their final destination that day which lay a short mile further on, nestling in the forbidding shadow of Mount Keen.

It continued to rain.

Chapter 8: Rest and be Thankful

Although they were all very wet and very tired, all were very happy indeed to have reached the end of their journey for that day, even though the rain and mist seemed to be attached to them by some invisible tie, and they were looking forward to a night in a

cheerful inn beside a roaring fire with a flagon of something nice to wash away the trials of the road. However more shocks awaited the intrepid travellers as they approached the famous drovers inn called the “Shilling at Glentanner” all that remained of the building was a blackened, burnt out ruin! “What’s this!” declared Dimli confused, Why the very stones of the building seem to be melted and misshapen, where are the people, where are the flocks of animals, there should be any number of sheep and cattle in the pen yonder, and yet the pen itself seems to have disappeared!”Grandalf studied the ruins carefully, while Legoland and Dimli went to the field where the animal pens had once stood. “Well it is obvious to me that there was a large flock recently here for look at the sheep droppings all around” said Dimli. “Indeed” replied Legoland “and by the quantity I would say the sheep were particularly scared by something.” Legoland searched the horizon with his sharp elven eyes, and suddenly grabbed Dimli’s arm. “Look over there, Dimli, it looks like a knight’s pavilion at the other end of the field.”“Indeed it does,” his friend replied squinting to see so far as the elf ”and yet it seems deserted and forlorn, no fire, no horse nor squire, this bodes ill I fear.”The two returned and reported to Grandalf who had finished his own inspection around the ruins. “Well it is obvious to me that this can mean only one thing” he declared, “the drovers inn burnt to the ground, a flock of nervous sheep disappeared and a knight errant vanished into thin air with bag and baggage…….there must be a dragon nearby”.The hobbles starred at him open mouthed. Merry recovered first and managed to stammer “but but but I though you said that Smug lived far away under the lonely mountain, he surely wouldn’t come this far from his lair would he?” “This does not look like Smug’s work Merry” replied Grandalf “This looks like the work of his younger brother Smog.” Grandalf went on to tell the hobbles of how Smog, who had been a thoroughly bad egg ever since he was laid, had terrorized the big cities for over a hundred years previously, killing thousands with his noxious fumes, stunting the growth of the children, and blackening and eroding the very buildings. He told them of how the world of men, by working together and cleaning up their act, had finally driven him off by the 1970s and now lived a life in the sun free of Smog and with only a slight hint of acid rain to remember him by. Gandalf finished his tale by adding, “he has obviously set up in this area, perhaps in “Balnamoon’s Cave” over the pass above or some other dark and unknown lair, hence the thick impenetrable mists that we passed though earlier “.

The hobbles looked at each other nervously (but hopefully not as nervously as the sheep had looked earlier) Ferodo spoke for all four when he asked “shouldn’t we think of getting as far away from here as possible as quick as we can?”“Calm yourself Ferodo” answered Grandalf, “the amount of fire it took to burn down a stone built inn will have given him heart burn, he has gorged himself sick on roast mutton, and it will take him all night to digest the knight’s armour he will be curled up in his lair fast asleep by now, I do not think we need worry before daybreak tomorrow. We shall camp here, rest and eat, and head off early in the morning before Smog rises”The mention of food stiffened the hobbles resolve and very soon their little camp was up and they were eagerly getting ready to cook their dinner.“What manner of elven trickery is this” declared Dimli watching the Hobbles light their stoves.

“They are called matches” replied Bobo, “have you never heard of them?”“Pah! Elven fire sticks are no match for Dwarvish flint and steel” mumped Dimli as he stompped off damply to light his own.Sure enough the heavy rain meant that the Hobbles fire sticks were damp and would not work, so they were forced to ask Dimli for his flint and steel to get their fires going.Ha! Told you!” puffed Dimli rather pompously the hobbles thought.

The rain continued to pelt down and indeed if anything seemed to be even heavier than before, “I fear we shall never be dry” again grumbled Dimli, looking at his wrinkled skin which was only in part due to his great age. (“He’s at least 67” his wife, had been known to state wrongly under duress)

After a splendid repast involving Mathieson’s marvellous mystery meat Sausage (warning! May contain pork products, not suitable for vegetarians) the company’s spirits rose and they prepared to have an early night.No sooner had they turned in than they were awakened by an eldritch screech! “What manner of creature it that?” Asked Ferodo nervously.“Ah!” declared Granalf “that sounds like ‘Smemaw, he was once a young leader with the Scouts, like our friends Arogant, and Borrowmore, Finlodin and Queen Kate, but the power corrupted him and he was cast out, he was lucky as many Scouts wanted him to be put to death for his cruelty and oppression, but that is not our way so he was banished to wander the hills alone. Although it could just be a rutting stag now I come to think about it.”The eerie noise continued for some time, leading Ferodo to be overcome with pity for the lost YL ‘Smemaw, “It’s a pity they didn’t kill him while they had the chance.” He mumbled to himself in his sleeping bag as he dropped into an exhausted sleep in spite of the racket coming off the hillside.

The rain continued unabated.

Chapter 9: On the Road Again

“Come along! Come along little Hobbles its time to get up we must be away before the sun rises on the second day and we look to the East for our salvation” declared

Grandalf at an indecently early hour.“We cannot get up Grandalf, we are trapped by some cantrap sleight” declared Merry, “the sleeping bags are warm and comfy, we have no will of our own to rise.”“Merry is right!” Cried Pudin from the tent, “outside looks cold and hurty, and besides our boots and socks are wet, we cannot rise.”“Aye” declared Ferodo “We are bereft of dry shoes and fresh socks, the lack thereof means we must not rise.”“Without dry footwear and more socks (and perhaps some breakfast in bed) we will not rise,” exclaimed Bobo.Things looked bad for our heroes until, by sheer force of will and with superhuman (or Superdwarfish) effort Dimli put on his wet boots and socks and got up to address the company.Thus spake Dimli Halfwit, Son of Gloomi Halflight: “Sons of Milltimber! Of the shire! My brothers. I see in your eyes the same fear that would take the heart of me. Wet Feet! A day may come when the courage of our company fails in the face of wet boots, when we forsake our friends and break all bonds of fellowship, because of sodden shoes, but it is not this day. An hour of wet socks and soggy footwear when the Feet of Men come crashing down, but not this day! There may come a time when the boots of men are dry and their socks are warm and cozy, but not today! This day we march! By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you stand, and put on your boots!”The Hobbles moved, (or bored), to tears, grumbled but got up, they knew that in the event of Dimli’s speech not moving them to rise, his next move would be to demolish their tents with them still inside.Breakfast was a desultory affair compared to the feast of the night before, comprising of Pot noodle with only a hint of midgie for added protein, washed down with cold water. The Hobbles were unhappy.“Has he never heard of second breakfast?” Moaned Bobo, “I may die of starvation, if my feet don’t get me first, they’re killing me!”“I’m not sure he’s even heard of breakfast” replied Pudin, chewing on midgie flavoured pot noodle.“Hurry Hobbles, hurry! Said Grandalf “we must be away before Smog rises and starts looking for his breakfast. We need to be safe inside Mirkwood within the hour!”The hobbles packed with ill disguised reluctance, badgered and harried by Grandalf Dimli and Legoland who were all packed and ready to go.Once the harassed Hobbles had started out, only a little behind time, the three elders cast around the campsite for evidence that they had been there that could give them away to the dragon Smog or worse. Satisfied, (having buried the remains of the Hobble’s elven fire sticks scattered around) they hurried off after their companions. After an hour or so of forced march, Dimli was heard to exclaim “I'm wasted on cross-country! We Dwarves are natural sprinters, very dangerous over short distances”.

A little later the three reached the relative safety of Mirkwood and could slacken their pace. Grandalf went off searching for rare herbs or something, while Legoland and Dimli pressed on after the others. About a mile further on they found the Hobbles resting in the Half Way Hut (although half way to what, where or when was not clear from the sign). Bobo had his boots and socks off and was contemplating their contents, which rather surprisingly turned out to be his feet, this was difficult to determine since most of his feet had long since disappeared beneath a plentiful layer of Mr. Compeed’s Blissful Balm ‘n Blister Remedy, some parts, however, seemed to be bare, and they were in fact still at the end of his legs so the others gave them the benefit of the doubt (and a wide berth as well).Grandalf arrived looking more relieved than he had all day and declared ”you have all done very well, the worst is over and its downhill all the way from here,… apart from the bit of uphill left at the end of course. You can press on from here past the bridge where we battled the dark horde and we shall meet up for luncheon at the ruined tower that marks the entrance to the caverns of Kazi-kaboom we passed yesterday.”Was it only yesterday? The Hobbits felt like it was a lifetime ago they had passed the tower and met the midgie horde on the field of battle at the bridge, and passed up and over the Misty Mountains, and crossed the river, and feasted at the foot of Smog’s lair, they could hardly believe they had had so many adventures in such a short time!

Chapter 10: The Fellowship is dispersed

The trip to the ruins of Kazi-Kaboom was uneventful, even the rain had slackened and disappeared as they travelled further east away from Mount Keen. Spirits rose in spite of the pitiful state of the Hobbles feet after their forced march. They luncheoned on the remains of their victuals and their bags were considerably lighter than the day before. “Look a signpost” declared Merry.Sure enough a signpost has mysteriously appeared on the path, pointing towards Dinet.“Well this is a good sign” declared Grandalf, “and I don’t know if you have noticed, but the path that was stolen is made new!”Sure enough the Hobbles and their companions looked down to find an excellent path in good repair beneath their tired and hurting feet.“What magic is this” declared Dimli “it is not on any map and yet here it is plain as the beard on my face! Can it be trusted though?”“Fear not my friend” Grandalf replied, “this looks like the work of the forestry pixies, (they have a commission you know.) I recognise the runes on the signpost, this is indeed our lost path, the pixes must have moved it to keep it safe from the fell forces of erosion.”

In no time at all the companions found themselves battered, damp, bone weary and footsore back in Dinet where they had set out only the day before.

“Well done little Hobbles, you have passed all the trials set and richly deserve your reward” so saying Grandalf the Weigh handed each of the Hobbles the coveted Expedition Challenge badge, that none in the Shire had seen for at least a year.

“I thought there was talk of gold, when we were planning this expedition”, said Pudin.“That’s right” declared Ferodo, “you definitely said there would be gold.”“Ah! Yes I’m glad you reminded me” replied Grandalf, This Expedition Challenge badge is the final piece for your Chief Scout Gold award which you will be given before the whole troop……, provided you have all the other required badges” he added quietly.

No sooner had the Hobbles taken this information in than the coach back to Milltimber in the Shire arrived and the Hobbles hobbled aboard. Their return journey was uneventful and the Hobbles slept most of the way home, where they regaled their long lost families with tales of derring-do, midges, water, pot noodles and blisters, most of which could or should have happened, (except for the blisters, they were very real indeed and all involved felt they could have just as easily been done without, without affecting the tale too much.)

And so the fellowship and story ends….until next year