Volunteers for a Magical Quest?

[Chrysophylax Dives]

Hi Hobbits,

The Undertowers Library is organizing a magical quest to Mordor and (hopefully) back again. Hobbits who sign up will tour Middle-earth to end up in the Mordor post office, where they will hand over one small sealed envelope (and whatever else may be extracted from them).

This is a dangerous mission and requires Hobbits who are bold and brave and willing to take a risk. As inducements we are throwing in two rewards for those who volunteer: on departure you will be presented with a gold ring, which bestows invisibility because it is magical and is altogether precious. How could you refuse? But on top of that, any Hobbit who returns alive to the Shire will be gifted a seat on an ocean voyage.*

If you wish to volunteer please sign up below. Those who have no intention of volunteering but are merely listening in to this conversation whilst trimming the eaves - you are liable to be pulled up by your ears and signed up by a wizard. So it would be wise, my friends, to volunteer.

Thank you!

Chrys. Dives of the Undertowers Library


* Unfortunately those who return as wraiths are not eligible for this sea-voyage.

[The Good Hunter]

Piers Sackville-Baggins had never used the post office. It was filled with plebian folks sending “thank you” notes, “well-wishes” letters, and “happy birthday” cards. Blech! Piers found the whole thing gauche and vulgar. When he needed to send a letter, usually in the form of a court summons, he simply told his manservant (Hornblower or Gamwich, whatever his name was) to do it. Piers could not be concerned with the whithertos and whyfors, he was a hobbit of upbringing. He was not a hobbit who… mingled.

He heard the about the note asking for volunteers and nearly lost his lunch and neglected to listen to the rest of the note (which he had not been sent as he would have had to go to the post office to get it). The very idea of volunteerism was distasteful to Piers. Perhaps he would send his valet, Hornblower, to do this. If they were desperate enough to send out notes and ask for “volunteers” it would look good on Piers part to volun-tell his people. He was a pillar of the community, after all. Clearly, they’d all fall apart if not for him.

Now where had that valet gotten off to?

[Periantar]

@Chrysophylax Dives

Hobold Chubbs wonders into the Post Office, wondering whether he should be here, or in the Post Office, or perhaps the Library (though he never did really give that much creedance to reading any how - being born on the Bayou, as it were). He drops a pack by the door, a satisfying, but modestly sized cloud of dust issuing from it; the same issuing also from the culrs atop his feet as he takes a seat in the nearest comfy looking armchair and pulls out his pipe.

"Saw a notice for a 'Magical Quest,' posted. This here be where I sign up would it? No need for details, been here in town a little too long and just now starting to get itchy feet as it were - figure it be about time for another adventure... Nope, no need for details, though perhaps someone hereabouts could offer a trail-worn hobbit a pint of ale and a quill to sign on the dotted line?"

Hobold sits back, puffs deeply on on his pipe and gazes out the window.

*In point of fact, Hobold had been "in town" for quite some time now, staying in rather comfortable lodgings and enjoying the finest dining he could find (his belt was currently on its largest hole, and his braces were working hard to keep his trousers up where they were supposed to be). Moments berfore entering, he could be seen kicking his feet in the dust outside, and tipping a little over his pack - Hobold had always liked to give the impression that he'd just blown in from the wilds of the backwood bay.*

[VelvetineZone]

I'll volunteer.
Do I reply in character as a Hobbit then?
It'll delay the hoovering for ten minutes.
OK, I'll be a Took, of faerie descent, hmm, the Welsh word for faeries is Tylwyth Teg, so I'm Tylwyth Took.

Tylwyth Took was glad the Summer was nearly over, as she had always preferred Autumn. (Stops writing to Google seasons in Middle-earth, ok, that's a whole big research area, I'll come back to it).

The leaves were beginning to turn gold and fall across the Shire as Tylwyth Took emerged from her hobbit hole, feeling ready for a new adventure. There were whispers in the misty breeze about quests and envelopes and gold rings. She hadn't been beyond the Shire for many years, the thought of a quest was terrifying, and exciting. Her Took faerie blood was stirring as the season changed, she loved her cosy Hobbit hole, but was tempted by the thought of seeing elves and magical forests. Perhaps she would put herself forward.