Modest_Proposal January 1 Cecil Brandybuck The weed of men was harsher than Cecil liked, and not as clean (there were always bits of twig and dirt in the pack). Still, he was thrilled to have another piper. He offered Magric a pinch of pipeweed before laying down to close his eyes and listen. “Try this, would you? Smooth as a dry leaf.” Three weeks of near-constant travel had done much to improve his keel. His blisters had softened while at Mountain Hall and had not returned. No longer did he lag behind, though he still thought the pacing too timely each morning. He opened an eye at the talk of wizards. A strange term for strange men. Smoke lifted from the crack of his grin. “Yes, Gandalf. We called him Gandalf. An old hawk, maybe older than Radagast, if you can imagine. And a good deal friendlier, at least to the peculiar sort of hobbits. Big white beard! Haven’t seem him since… the dragon incident.” He raised an eyebrow. “I suspect he got bored with us, as travelers do, and took his tricks Eastward. Radagast may be a keen sort, but I don’t see what good he’d be on the road or in a marsh. Best to let him wave his crooked stick and point it out to use poor fools, instead.” His eyes softened as he looked at Barin and Dahr-Ol. “Anyway, I have cross-purposes in Gladden, though I don’t expect it to concern any of you. Ernstyr - what do you know about Dwimmerhorn? We had heard that - those that seek it often become lost. That it is a cursed place.”
Modest_Proposal January 1 Cecil Brandybuck The weed of men was harsher than Cecil liked, and not as clean (there were always bits of twig and dirt in pack). Still, he was thrilled to have another piper. He offered Magric a pinch of pipeweed before laying down to close his eyes and listen. “Try this, would you? Smooth as a dry leaf.” Three weeks of near-constant travel had done much to improve his keel. His blisters had softened while at Mountain Hall and had not returned. No longer did he lag behind, though he still thought the pacing too timely each morning. He opened an eye at the talk of wizards. A strange term for strange men. Smoke lifted from the crack of his grin. “Yes, Gandalf. We called him Gandalf. An old hawk, maybe older than Radagast, if you can imagine. And a good deal friendlier, at least to the peculiar sort of hobbits. Big white beard! Haven’t seem him since… the dragon incident.” He raised an eyebrow. “I suspect he got bored with us, as travelers do, and took his tricks Eastward. Radagast may be a keen sort, but I don’t see what good he’d be on the road or in a marsh. Best to let him wave his crooked stick and point it out to use poor fools, instead.” His eyes softened as he looked at Barin and Dahr-Ol. “Anyway, I have cross-purposes in Gladden, though I don’t expect it to concern any of you. Ernstyr - what do you know about Dwimmerhorn? We had heard that - those that seek it often become lost. That it is a cursed place.”
