by The Barrow-Wight
Chapter 1
The Shire Fair
Every seven years, in accordance with tradition established shortly after the founding of their little country, most of the hobbit folk from the Brandywine River to the Far Downs came together to celebrate their good fortune and that of the King at Norbury. Feasts were consumed, contests of skill and artistry were decided, dances were held, and many fine kegs of ale were emptied. Also, of course, important speeches were given, ancient tales were retold, and sage advice was offered by the old to the young. Hobbits of all ages unanimously had a fantastic time at the Shire Fair.
Oddly, though Michel Crossing was one of the oldest settlements in the Shire, the Fair of 374 was the first ever to be held there. The Michel family was headed by the relatively young Gundab Michel (only 70 years old) and was probably the most influential hobbit clan in the West-farthing, but it still had taken a lot of political pull to get Bucca (1) to agree to locate the Fair so far away from the Marish. Gundab had been required to guarantee a spectacular event in order to host the celebration in his hometown, and he had lived up to his word.
The townsfolk of Michel Crossing had lavishly decorated the entire length of the King's Road. Tall poles of ash had been erected every 25 feet, each adorned with red, yellow and green streamers. Between them, brightly colored tents and buildings had been constructed, some large, some small, and each housing a different delight for the senses (and stomach).
Hobbits roamed happily between refreshment stalls where they enjoyed succulent roast chicken followed by thick slabs of fire-grilled steak and topped off with fresh-baked apple pie. They stopped by the brewers' tents to quench their thirst with stout South-farthing ales and hearty Marish lagers, and they visited the vintner huts to sample delicate wines from Arthedain (2).
Before, after, and between meals, sated hobbits wandered among the many merchant booths perusing the great variety of curiosities and wares brought from all corners of the Shire. Farmers offered fresh vegetables from the fields of the East-farthing and fruits from the groves of the South. The Ladies Club of Nobottle was selling warm, down-filled quilts, the Young Hobbits of Bywater had stylish hats and walking sticks for sale, and Barley Mulcher from Yale displayed a selection of sturdy leather boots, though most people only stared at them in curiously with buying them or even trying them on.
Overall, the Fair was a hobbit's paradise, and none in attendance, not even the old-timers, could remember a better one. But eating, drinking, and shopping were not the only attractions to be enjoyed. The competitive games were also much larger and more varied than those of previous years. Beyond the rows of tents and huts, over a grassy ditch crossed by many narrow bridges of wooden planks, a large field of summer wildflowers had been mowed, marked and divided into a series of tournament event areas where contests of all sorts were scheduled throughout the day.
Early in the day, young hobbits had run three-legged races and played rowdy games of football, cheered on by their excited parents to win trophies and ribbons. Afterwards, the crowds had watched distinguished judges determine the 'best of show' of a variety of barnyard creatures brought from farms across the Shire. Smiling farmers had marched proudly around the grounds leading their best animals in a stately parade of livestock. Later, between second lunch and first supper, the Whitwell Wanderers had soundly thrashed the Tighfield Ropers in a game of Bounding Ball, an odd cross between football and boxing peculiar to the West-farthing. Finally, before the sun set and the grand feast began, the most-awaited competition had begun: the archery contest.
Fifteen hobbits of all ages, from lads barely in their tweens to gaffers far beyond the three-quarter mark (3), stood side-by-side with their hairy toes touching a narrow stripe of yellow chalk drawn on the trampled grass of the contest field. 50 paces beyond the line were fifteen round straw bales painted with concentric circles of color: blue on the outside, then yellow, then green again, and finally a small white circle in the center. Scoring judges stood at either end of the row of targets, wisely distancing themselves until all shots had been fired.
Each of the contestants carried a short hobbit bow and a quiver filled with slender wooden arrows. Most wore normal day-to-day clothing, but a few had come in costumes similar to those worn by the King's Archers. These drew a couple snickers from some of the gentlemen and molre than few smiles from some of the ladies. These hobbits wore leather jerkins covered by surcoats embroidered with their traditional family emblem.
Old Jerrimal Maggot and his youngest son Merrimal, both from the deep South-farthing, wore dark brown coats emblazoned with seven white vertical lines symbolizing the fertile fields of the lower Shirebourne river valley. The diminutive Ferdinand Burra (yes, even hobbits can be considered 'short' amongst themselves) of the Scary Hills region of the East-farthing had a black jacket marked with silver and gold streaks and many colored stars that indicated the precious metals and gems he and his family excavated from the rocky cliffs in his homeland. And Bucca of the Marish himself stood proudly among the contestants in a long coat of dark burgundy decorated with elaborately woven images of silver fish and splashing blue waters. But everyone's attention was on a pair of archers that stood together near the center of the line.
Borman of Bywater and Olinard Tucca were the favored contestants of the day. They were considered to be the two most excellent archers in the Shire, but that was where any similarities between the them ended. Borman stood dark-haired, tall, and muscular, a man among hobbits, nearly fifty years old and a three-time winner of the tournament. His fancy clothing and expensive bow showed the wealth of the Bywater clan, and his demeanor reflected a haughtiness toward the other contestants around him.
Olinard Tucca, on the other hand, was a very different hobbit. Only 25 years old, this was his first time as a participant in the archery games, and he stood nervously avoiding the smiling glances and friendly cheers of the spectators. Like many of the other archers in the contest, he wore his family colors (three green arcs representing the Green Hills of his homeland), but his frayed clothing and worn, hand-made bow and arrows belied the financial difficulties the Tucca clan still suffered so long after the last Plague. The Green Hills had been hit the hardest by the disease, and some families had not survived at all, but Olinard's clan was finally, very slowly, coming back toward its former social prominence, and this tournament was a great opportunity for him and his kin.
Despite their differences, both hobbits were known to be expert shots with their bows, and most of the spectators had gathered in a great knot behind them to get the best view of their shots. They watched in impatience as Grolly Whittelwell, the Chief Judge-in-Charge and first-cousin of Gundab Michel, slowly walked the line checking the gear of each contestant and chatting briefly with those he was familiar with (which was most of them). At last, he finished his inspection and made his way to a tall wooden podium at the end of the line. He cleared his throat with a long pull on his ale mug and shouted at the top of his very loud voice.
"Hobbit archers, draw… your… bows!"
The crowd cheered wildly as the contestants each pulled a slender arrow from his quiver, notched it to the line, and pulled it back in readiness to fire. Grolly looked around with a broad grin, hesitated a moment for dramatic effect, and finally yelled out.
"Release!"
Fifteen bows sang out, and fifteen arrows shot across the field to thump into their targets. The scoring judges rushed frantically to check the scores, and the crowd roared as both Olinard and Borman received white flags to indicate they had struck the target center. The young Tucca smiled broadly and seemed to relax a little, but Borman pretended to not be affected by the excitement. Several other shooters received green or yellow flags, but Bucca was very disappointed to have gotten the only blue flag. The contingent from the Marish seemed quite embarrassed that their leader had only hit the outermost ring on his target.
"Draw… your… bows!"
"Release!"
Again, fifteen arrows whistled towards the painted hay bales, and the scorers raced back and forth among the targets. Borman and Olinard, and Ferdinand of Scary, too, each received a white flag, but Denni Bushey, the local favorite, blushed brightly when he was awarded a red flag to show he'd missed the target altogether. The Marish crowd breathed a sigh of release that their hobbit had managed a respectable green flag.
"Draw… your… bows!"
"Release!"
The third round of arrows shot out, and a fourth, and a fifth, and flags were awarded accordingly until finally the archers stepped back from the line and waited for the Official Scorer to run up from the targets. He soon did, writing down his final tallies as he trotted up and climbed the podium to confer quietly with the Chief Judge-in-Charge. After much whispering and several drinks, the First Round winners were finally announced.
"The First Round is over," began Grolly, " and everyone has done a tremendous job. Let's give them all a hand!"
The gathered hobbits cheered loudly and the applause took some time to die down until the Chief Judge-in-Charge could continue.
"The hobbits to continue to the Second Round, with perfect scores, are Borman of Bywater and Olinard Tucca. Also moving forward, with two out of three center shots, Ferdinand Burra, Merrimal Maggot, and Cramer Tunnely. Congratulations!"
Everyone again cheered wildly and celebrated with great toasts to each other and the winners. The disappointed losers marched away but quickly forgot the sorrow of their loss at the nearest beer tent. Meanwhile, a team of several young hobbits worked in a frenzy to remove all but one target, which they dragged a further 25 paces back from the line. The winner of the next round would win the entire contest, but they would have to do it from a much greater distance.
The five remaining archers moved toward the center of the line and aligned themselves with the target. Olinard was still grinning cheerfully, and Borman continued to feign indifference, but Cramer Tunnely couldn't stop jumping up and down and yelling back and forth with his large group of family and friends in the crowd. He really hadn't expected to progress to the second round, and the excitement of it was almost more than he could contain. The Chief Judge-in-Charge had to remind him twice to quiet down so they could begin the next round.
Finally, he shouted, "Draw… your… bows!"
"Release!"
Arrows flew, but this time there was only one scoring judge. The Second Round of the archery tournament was scored very differently than the first. Rather than accumulate scores over several shots, contestants were only allowed to continue based on their shot compared to others. The person who's arrow was furthest from the center was immediately eliminated, and in the case of a tie, both archers would be removed unless the contest was down to the final two shooters.
The scorer raised a hand and shouted, "First out, Ferdinand Burra!"
The small hobbit groaned and hung his head as he trudged away into the crowd. His friends ran up to congratulate him on such a good finish, but he seemed almost ready to cry. He stopped finally, and turned to watch the four remaining contestants.
"Draw… your… bows! Release!"
This time it was Cramer Tunnely who had to withdraw.
"Draw… your… bows! Release!"
Merrimal Maggot walked away dejectedly and joined Cramer and Ferdinand in the crowd. Their voice soon joined in the clamor as the entire mass of hobbits began to chant at the top of their lungs.
"Borman…. Olinar…. Borman…. Olinard…."
Their voice continued to rise as the last two contestants prepared to take their shots. Everyone had been expected that Borman and Olinard would be the final archers in the contest, but it was still incredibly exciting. The next shot would be the deciding one. The arrow closest to the center would belong to the victor. And though most hobbits are not gamblers by nature, many of them nevertheless began trading odds of who would win, and Borman seemed favored 3 to 2.
The Chief Judge raised his mug and, together with the entire gathering, shouted the now-familiar phrase.
"Draw… your… bows!"
The crowd went absolutely silent as the two archer brought their arrows to the ready, peering down an invisible line that led to the white circle of the one remaining target 75 paces away.
"Fire!"
Their two slender wooden shafts converged simultaneously on the small central circle of the target. Each thumped into the hay with a noise barely audible from such a distance. The arrows quivered where they had struck and the scoring judge ran forward before the gathered hobbits could see who had won.
"Borman is the victor!" shouted an old hobbit over his foaming tankard. "I could see it plain as the whiskers on my dog."
"Then your dog must be bald," yelled another gaffer near him, "Olinard's arrow was clearly in the center. And there's not a way you could of seen the arrows with your nose so deep in your mug, Dorinand Grubb!"
"Aye, my nose might have been in my ale, but my eye was on the target."
Carmic of Bywater raised his voice and said, "Grubb is right! Borman's arrow was the one in the center!"
"A likely story from his own cousin," came a voice from the crowd.
"Who's that calling me a liar?" asked Carmic looking into the crowd for his accuser.
Hobbits began to push and shove as the insults got uglier and the crowd began to square off for a contest of its own. But Grolly Whittelwell put an end to it from his podium when he finally shouted for attention. Suddenly, the crowd fell silent again and all attention turned to the Chief Scorer who was approaching from the distant targets. Everyone could now see tat the two arrow were so close to one another that it was impossible to tell who had won from so far away. They waited as he climbed the podium and whispered the result to the Chief Judge.
"Dear hobbits," began Grolly, "every seven years we come together to hold this grand tournament of archery to determine who among us is the greatest with the bow and arrow. And every seven years we…"
"Just tell us who won!" shouted someone from the crowd who was soon joined by the rest of the anxious hobbits who demanded that the speech-making end and the results-telling begin.
"… as I was saying," continued Grolly, "By a margin of less than the width of an arrow shaft, the winner of the Archery Contest of the Shire Fair of 374 is Olinard Tucca!"
FOOTNOTES:
(1) Bucca of the Marish was the leading political figure in the Shire and would become the first Thain in 379 S.R.
(2) Arthedain was the Kingdom of Men northeast of the Shire to whom the hobbits still loosely held allegiance.
(3) The three-quarter mark was the hobbit term for 75 years old.