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Monday Forelithe 17th
my bedroom
hobbitton
bag end
3.30pm
Mutti is shouting something up the stairs about how I am going to be late for
Uncle Bilbo’s three-millionth birthday party. I am trying to ignore her. I have
no intention whatsoever of going to Uncle Bilbo’s party as he is extremely old
and mad.
10.45 pm.
I was eventually forced to leave the house and accompany Mutti and Vati to the
land of the old and embarrassing. Wasn’t too bad in the end as at least Mer
and Pip and Sam were there and we amused ourselves by holding a contest to see
who could fit the most crisps in their mouth. Mer won, which is not surprising
as she does have the largest gob known to hobbitkind. Vati attempted to dance
at one point, but I shall draw a veil over that unfortunate incident and will
treat it with the contemptiosity it deserves. On the bright side, however, Uncle
Bilbo announced that he was finally buggering off and was planning to go off
and live in Rivendell for the rest of his days, which surely cannot possibly
be very many as he is already the oldest hobbit in the universe.
The party eventually ended at around 9 as all the old people clearly needed
to get home and… er… do whatever old people do all evening. Unfortunately, as
far as I am concerned the torture still isn’t over as Vati’s annoying friend
Gandalf has insisted on following us home. Why? Why?
11.00pm.
Apparently Bilbo left me some sort of family heirloomy thingy. Why me? What
did I do? Perhaps his senile old brain has me confused with somebody else. Still,
never look up a gift horse’s nose, that’s what I say. Or something.
11.05pm.
Family heirloom turned out to be a manky old ring. Oh, thank you very much,
Mad Uncle Bilbo.
Wednesday Forelithe 19th
on the phone to Mer
4.40pm.
Mer is wibbling on like a loon on loon tablets.
“…so I think he must like me, don’t you, Fro? I mean, he did dance with me at
your uncle’s party, and I know he danced with Lobelia and Ruby as well, but
I do think it meant more that he asked me first. What do you think?”
“Mer, I think you should shut up, now.”
About 12 Years Later
6.00pm
Am hiding in my room as Gandalf the Mad is coming round for dinner and will
probably spend fifty-three hours rambling on to Mutti and Vati about the old
days and how they all used to go dragon-killing together. Honestly, what is
wrong with my family?
11.30pm.
Sacre bleu!
Gandalf the Mad stomped straight up to my room when he arrived and started foaming
at the mouth about Uncle Bilbo’s ring, which apparently has some ancient curse
on it or something (I am not sure of the details as I stopped listening after
three syllables). According to him we must both immediately run off to Elfy-a-gogo
land and… er… take it back to the manufacturers, or something.
He is living in the universe of the very mad if he thinks I am going to agree
to this.
1pm.
in room
Rang Mer.
Mer said “Well, I think you should go. It could be important.”
I said “Mer, what you think is of no consequence as you are mad.”
5pm.
Sam came round. Have been feeling a bit awkward around him since attempted-snogging
incident last month but could not be bothered to hide so I went out and sat
in the yard with him while he wibbled on about gardening. Eventually I said
“Sam, if you don’t talk about something more interesting soon I may have to
give you a duffing up. It will be for your own good.”
He said “Mer says you are going to visit some elves. Can I come?”
Oh thankyou, Radio Mer.