Pipe-weed

It was a sunny spring morning in Longbottom. The wind had carried away the black clouds that the night before had poured a quantity of rain over the whole Southfarthing, and now the air was clean and fresh, and so the trees and the vegetation.

"A good day to tend my garden" thought Tobold Hornblower while he was emptying the sixth dish of his hobbit-breakfast. After a quick washing up, he went out carrying his complete set of gardening tools - something he was very proud of... "Sweeties, your daddy is coming for you" he said, contently approaching his orchard.

"Oh, here you are, growing faster then ever: deep-burrowing carrots, wide-leaved cabbages, sweet-tasting pota... hey! What's happening to my taters??? What are those crops sprouting amidst them???" He bent to take a closer look and noticed that many new-born gems of an unknown kind of plant were scattered all around the turf in which he had seeded his potatoes.

He was still wondering what could have happened when a well-known voice came from his left.

"Hey, Hornblower! Look at yer precious potatoes: now they surely turn sour...hehehe. I told ye many a times not to mess with Bree-hobbits. A queer folk they are..."

It was Barty Burrows, his neighbour, who was looking at the scene leaning over the hedge that divided the two properties, apparently enjoying the situation very much.

"You old nosy Burrows! Whaddyou know about Bree and Bree-folks, you who never ever went more than a furlong away from Longbottom???" replied Tobold, quite annoyed.

"I just know what I see: carts laden with seed sacks with BREE written on them stopping by at yer house every now and then... that's what!" he added with a malicious grin.

"You're envious for my taters are the best of all Longbottom and the entire Southfarthing as well, that's it!"

"It seems it won't be so any longer, I daresay... hehehe" and with a laughter Barty turned around and entered his hobbit-hole.

"That old bald-footed Burrows. We shall see if my taters are the best or not... even if I've got to extirpate those accursed weeds one by one!"

And so Tobold began rooting out the alien crops, sometimes using only his bare hands, sometimes, when he felt he could do no harm to his precious potatoes, helping himself with one of his tools.

It took him almost two hours of hard efforts, but he succeeded in gathering all the weeds beneath the elm tree that grew on his property; then he took out his tinderbox and set them on fire.

"That's what you deserve, you taters' spoilers!!!"

He was about to turn around and return to his garden when his nose stopped him: it was smelling a scent it had never felt before, something strong and delicate at the same time but, most of all, tasty.

Tobold halted and sniffed the smoke that was uprising from the burning leaves. He tried to inhale it, and his lungs were filled by a delicious aroma - in fact the most delicious he had ever experienced in all of his life.

He simply stood there still, breathing the smoke and expiring the least he could, and only because it was essential to his very life...

In the meanwhile at the edge of his property a curious small crowd had gathered: some of them were looking in amazement at Tobold, wondering what could provoke such a weird behaviour and sometimes yelling at him words he didn't heed to; the others, though, were enthralled like Tobold by the uncanny scent.

Suddenly a tall figure in a grey cloak advanced with great strides thru the crowd and said in a loud and deep voice: "Hullo, Tobold! What's going on? Are you setting your garden on fire and enjoying it?"

The voice seemed to shake Tobold, who quickly recognized who was speaking: "Gandalf, hullo! Good to see you! What brings you here? Have you got new fireworks to show us?" he said, approaching the hedge to open the little gate to the wizard, though his nose was insisting in getting back.

"Indeed I have. But what about you? You seemed quite "busy" until just a moment ago..."

"Oh, well Gandalf... it's just that I was burning some weeds, then there came that smell... oh, you couldn't even imagine... if only... there must be a way to..."

"My dear Tobold, please, complete a sentence. Will you?"

"Yes!!! How fool of me!!! Why didn't I think of that before???" and with these words he hurried to the round door of his "smial".

"And now what's happening?" wondered Gandalf, more puzzled than before.

In but a few moments Tobold's shape appeared again on the threshold. Then he shouted: "Oh my! Today I can't think! I need two!"

The wizard was beginning to get angry at this strange behaviour. "Hornblower, will you come out and explain me what's going on or shall I come in and turn you into a toad???"

Like summoned by Gandalf's words, Tobold rushed out of his house carrying two long stick-like things in his hands and stopped by the fire that was still crackling jolly to take a couple of leaves from its edge. Then, with a merry smile on his chubby face, he trotted towards Gandalf and handed him one of the sticks and a leaf.

"This we hobbits call a "pipe", and we use it to inhale the smoke of various herbs... but something like this I never smelled it before. I think it's worth trying."

"Bless my beard! Indeed it is!" said Gandalf after putting the pipe between his lips and inspiring "I already tried some of this "smoking" before, but I must admit I never tasted something like that: nor too sour, nor too sweet... Where did you find it?"

"Oh, it was by pure ch...er, I mean, I had the seeds specifically delivered to me..." at this words Gandalf looked at him and gently smiled "...and now that I tried it, I'm planning to make me send more and start a full-scale cultivation!" Hearing these words, all the hobbits who till that moment had watched silence, listening to the conversation between the wizard and their fellow, suddenly burst up in jolly cheers, longing to taste the new kind of herb themselves. "And thus it will be" said solemnly Gandalf, and from his mouth he produced three puffs of smoke in a row that took the form of rings and went to peacefully place themselves onto Tobold's head like a crown of laurel.

"May you live long and happily, Tobold Hornblower, discoverer of "pipe-weed"!"


* Writer's note: although this story regards smoking and speaks about it in quite a positive view, it's completely fictional: I am indeed a convinced non-smoker and I just want to remind you that SMOKING CAN SERIOUSLY DAMAGE YOUR HEALTH, so be careful about it! *