Modest_Proposal July 2, 2023 Cecil Brandybuck If Banna had told Cecil that the withered river Gladden was miles South of the Anduin, Cecil would have believed her. Only two weeks prior and a few days Northeast, Cecil had crossed the Great River. It was wide and proud and clean fed from mountain springs. Yet here it lead. Moss laid like a carpet upon the listless water, tattered by the leading boat. It clung to his oars with branched fingers, pulling as he stroked shallowly for fear of catching a root. In return, his boat struck the banks and caused more strain and wasted time. He felt as tired as when he entered the Misty Mountain foothills. This was to say nothing of the pests that stung and bit so greedily. To his relief, they preferred the dwarf, though there were enough pests for the both of them. They balanced their bodies upon the water and in the stagnant air along rivulets that blended into bush and branch. Banna "Have you heard of such tales in your own country, this Shire?" Cecil remained still and spoke much more softly than his usual tone. “Yes, we know. They say the Shire knows the tale and Buckland knows the story. Funny, that…” He did not speak more to it and seemed little engaged for the rest of the evening. Those more perceptive might have noticed Cecil reading a yellowed letter that night. “I should like to visit this place again. In fact, I must see to it.” He said to Barin, Dahr-Ol, Gramtyng, and Lachiel around the campfire before wandering behind the roots of a tree to sleep. While he drifted, he kept one sleepy eye on an empty boat. On the second day, he held his breath as they passed the Éafolc, whom the Woodman of the party spoke little about. On the sixth day: Rest! After worsening conditions and many close calls, he was pleased that the boats of men could take such abuse. But they were constructed with simple effectiveness and were no worse for the travel. Lachiel One such night Lachiel sat near Cecil to have her meal. "I have had only two other chances to spend time with a Hobbit, and both were short. Does your kind make their way from this Shire often? The way they told it, both were fierce with homesickness and fed up with Esgaroth." “Hobbits do not linger where they are not welcome.” He stuffed his pipe delightfully slowly. “Except in the company of other Hobbits.” Lachiel More to the point, have you too felt this loneliness? I hope our company is enough to stave it off," she'd said, brimming with a warm smile. He turned, directionless, sucking on his pipe. “No. Yes. Us Brandybucks use to live around here, you know. Might be some yet up in those hills peeking down at us right now! Who’s to say how far I am from home?" There was a slight anxiousness in his voice. He put an idle hand on his satchel and spoke more quickly, leaving the subject behind. "And anyway, you are fairer than any Hobbit and a better singer! What more could I ask for? Though between you and me, Dahr-Ol and Gramtyng could use a good dance." He puffed. "Do you ever get homesick? Seein’ as you’re so old, you must be use to it. Er, well. I mean. Is that right?”
Modest_Proposal July 2, 2023 Cecil Brandybuck If Banna had told Cecil that the withered river Gladden was miles South of the Anduin, Cecil would have believed her. Only two weeks prior and a few days Northeast, Cecil had crossed the Great River. It was wide and proud and clean fed from mountain springs. Yet here it lead. Moss laid like a carpet upon the listless water, tattered by the leading boat. It clung to his oars with branched fingers, pulling as he stroked shallowly for fear of catching a root. In return, his boat struck the banks and caused more strain and wasted time. He felt as tired as when he entered the Misty Mountain foothills. This was to say nothing of the pests that stung and bit so greedily. To his relief, they preferred the dwarf, though there were enough pests for the both of them. They balanced their bodies upon the water and in the stagnant air along rivulets that blended into bush and branch. Banna "Have you heard of such tales in your own country, this Shire?" Cecil remained still and spoke much more softly than his usual tone. “Yes, we know. They say the Shire knows the tale and Buckland knows the story. Funny, that…” He did not speak more to it and seemed little engaged for the rest of the evening. Those more perceptive might have noticed Cecil reading a yellowed letter that night. “I should like to visit this place again. In fact, I must see to it.” He said to Barin, Dahr-Ol, and Lachiel around the campfire before wandering behind the roots of a tree to sleep. While he drifted, he kept one sleepy eye on an empty boat. On the second day, he held his breath as they passed the Éafolc, whom the Woodman of the party spoke little about. On the sixth day: Rest! After worsening conditions and many close calls, he was pleased that the boats of men could take such abuse. But they were constructed with simple effectiveness and were no worse for the travel. Lachiel One such night Lachiel sat near Cecil to have her meal. "I have had only two other chances to spend time with a Hobbit, and both were short. Does your kind make their way from this Shire often? The way they told it, both were fierce with homesickness and fed up with Esgaroth." “Hobbits do not linger where they are not welcome.” He stuffed his pipe delightfully slowly. “Except in the company of other Hobbits.” Lachiel More to the point, have you too felt this loneliness? I hope our company is enough to stave it off," she'd said, brimming with a warm smile. He turned, directionless, sucking on his pipe. “No. Yes. Us Brandybucks use to live around here, you know. Might be some yet up in those hills peeking down at us right now! Who’s to say how far I am from home?" There was a slight anxiousness in his voice. He put an idle hand on his satchel and spoke more quickly, leaving the subject behind. "And anyway, you are fairer than any Hobbit and a better singer! What more could I ask for? Though between you and me, Dahr-Ol and Gramtyng could use a good dance." He puffed. "Do you ever get homesick? Seein’ as you’re so old, you must be use to it. Er, well. I mean. Is that right?”
Modest_Proposal July 2, 2023 Cecil Brandybuck If Banna had told Cecil that the withered river Gladden was miles South of the Anduin, Cecil would have believed her. Only two weeks prior and a few days Northeast, Cecil had crossed the Great River. It was wide and proud and clean fed from mountain springs. Yet here it lead. Moss laid like a carpet upon the listless water, tattered by the leading boat. It clung to his oars with branched fingers, pulling as he stroked shallowly for fear of catching a root. In return, his boat struck the banks and caused more strain and wasted time. He felt as tired as when he entered the Misty Mountain foothills. This was to say nothing of the pests that stung and bit so greedily. To his relief, they preferred the dwarf, though there were enough pests for the both of them. They balanced their engorged bodies upon the water and in the stagnant air along rivulets that blended into bush and branch. Banna "Have you heard of such tales in your own country, this Shire?" Cecil remained still and spoke much more softly than his usual tone. “Yes, we know. They say the Shire knows the tale and Buckland knows the story. Funny, that…” He did not speak more to it and seemed little engaged for the rest of the evening. Those more perceptive might have noticed Cecil reading a yellowed letter that night. “I should like to visit this place again. In fact, I must see to it.” He said to Barin, Dahr-Ol, and Lachiel around the campfire before wandering behind the roots of a tree to sleep. While he drifted, he kept one sleepy eye on an empty boat. On the second day, he held his breath as they passed the Éafolc, whom the Woodman of the party spoke little about. On the sixth day: Rest! After worsening conditions and many close calls, he was pleased that the boats of men could take such abuse. But they were constructed with simple effectiveness and were no worse for the travel. Lachiel One such night Lachiel sat near Cecil to have her meal. "I have had only two other chances to spend time with a Hobbit, and both were short. Does your kind make their way from this Shire often? The way they told it, both were fierce with homesickness and fed up with Esgaroth." “Hobbits do not linger where they are not welcome.” He stuffed his pipe delightfully slowly. “Except in the company of other Hobbits.” Lachiel More to the point, have you too felt this loneliness? I hope our company is enough to stave it off," she'd said, brimming with a warm smile. He turned, directionless, sucking on his pipe. “No. Yes. Us Brandybucks use to live around here, you know. Might be some yet up in those hills peeking down at us right now! Who’s to say how far I am from home?" There was a slight anxiousness in his voice. He put an idle hand on his satchel and spoke more quickly, leaving the subject behind. "And anyway, you are fairer than any Hobbit and a better singer! What more could I ask for? Though between you and me, Dahr-Ol and Gramtyng could use a good dance." He puffed. "Do you ever get homesick? Seein’ as you’re so old, you must be use to it. Er, well. I mean. Is that right?”
