Chapter three: Looking for Yola.

“Can I keep this note?” I had read it over a dozen times and still was puzzled by what it implied: Pa and Ma were not my “real” parents, My real mother’s name was Yola, Yola Plumblossom. And my real father? No name. It was deliberately erased from the note. By Yola? By that old gammer who had delivered me to Pa and Ma? By someone else? Who knows how many people had handled my improvised cradle from Yola to the hands of my Ma. I had to take breaks from thinking about all these questions or I’d have gone crazy for sure. My trusted flute and it’s music took my mind wandering and helped me forget just long enough what blizzard storm had raged and scourged my young life.
I wanted to find out more, but all I had was this little note. Pa persuaded me to not do anything hasty or wild. To let it all sink in first. “This news has upset your life, as was expected, so it is important that you get your bearings again first.”  And he promised me to help look for Yola, if I wanted. I had to ask him: “Have you and Ma never looked for her?” Pa looked a bit embarrased when he told me they hadn’t at first, in fear of losing their precious little daughter again. But as I grew older and they had decided the time would come soon, that they had to tell me about my true heritage, Pa did try to find out more.
Taking into account that the, at that time, already very old gammer, could not possibly have lived for another twenty years, he asked permission to search the records kept in Brandy Hall. Looking for who died between my arrival and the present day, the list he got was quite sizable, even after eliminating all the male hobbits and those who died young. And what if she had not been a Buckland inhabitant at all? He also asked around for a lass called Yola, but then was told: “Do you know how many people pass Newbury and Buckland every single day? Take for example that concert some Shire minstrels held at the old ruins some time ago, the... erm.. Rolling Strollers or something like that. So many people there! All the way from Bree they came as well.” I smile as I write it down, because I know it was the Songburrow Strollers, ofcourse! And I was at that concert with Pa, the first time I ever saw the Strollers play. And it was indeed a big crowd!
Back to my story now. No one in Buckland had heard of Yola. I would have to look further then that. But I had never left Buckland before, and I heard all the stories about wild animals that attack travellers. As always, Pa came up with a solution. He sent me to the bounder’s captain, who trains his platoon nearby. This captain, he would give me some basic, mostly defensive training with the weapon of my choice. Weapon of my choice? How can I say what’s that? So I tried out a few and ended up training with javelins and spear and shield. Pa often came to watch the proceedings and smiled softly when I again bested one of the regular bounders in a sparring duel. I went on patrol with them a few times and we hunted some wild boar.
It was more than half a year, after my birthday now and I thought I was well prepared for any dangers. But I had no idea where to start my search. But I would never find my mother Yola if I stayed in Buckland.

Next: Leaving Buckland