The afternoon sun was high overhead when Dogward finally approached the Woolyfoot family hobbit hole. Far from being the largest of similar holes nearby, this home had long been a bit cramped for the family of eight (Of course, that never bothered Dogward much, since he preferred to spend most of his time outside anyway). Set partially into the rocky hillside separating the Greenfields from the Binbole Woods, the Woolyfeet (or Woolyfoots according to some relatives) lived on the outskirts of Brockenborings. That location served them well, as it put them in close proximity to the wide open pasturage offered by the Greenfields to the north of town.
A flutter of motion to the side of the house caught Dogward's eye, and he made his way over. Though partially obscured by several clothes and sheets hanging from the lines, he could make out the familiar form of his mum clipping up the laundry to dry. He took a deep breath, made sure he was smiling, and casually said, “Hullo Mum.”
“I'll start on dinner when I finish hanging these sheets,” came the distracted reply. “If you're hungry, you can help!”
Before the returning son even had time to object, a small form burst through the row of hanging clothes. The youngest of his brothers, Dannel, stopped dead in his tracks upon seeing Dogward's surprised face, staring up in disbelief. But their mum was not amused.
“Alden!” she shouted. “Oh, Joffer, Dogward, Alden, Mather, Migdo, Dannel,...Tam! Whoever you are! If you knock down my clean sheets, you're gonna have to wash them yourself!” Though clearly exasperated, the harried mother didn't even bother to peer around the hanging laundry to see which in the litany of names was the correct one. Instead she got right to refastening the clothes that came loose from the young hobbit's dash. Phrases such as “...only boys...” and “...all the work around here...” could be heard as she muttered fussily to herself.
“Dogward?” inquired a small voice. Dannel stood peering up at his brother, his head tilted to the side. Their mother suddenly stopped what she was doing behind the rows of laundry.
“Hey there, bud. I'm back!” Dogward replied with a wide smile.
Immediately the lad ran back through the clotheslines, this time fully knocking down one of the sheets onto the grass. “He's not dead! Alden! I told you you were wrong! Dogward's not dead!” His yelling could be heard as he bolted off to tell his brothers of the news.
“Oh, Dogward! It is you!” Lynn Woolyfoot finally approached her long-lost son, her face displaying a mixture of joy, shock, disbelief, and anger. Walking up to him slowly, she grasped him tightly in a long hug, rocking back and forth. Dogward's face reddened both in relief and some guilt.
“Now, let me look at you.” She released the embrace, though keeping her hands on his upper arms. “You're so thin!” she exclaimed, patting his sides and belly. “Aren't you eating enough? And not just meat; you need to eat your vegetables! Let me look at your eyes.” Without warning she put her fingers above and below his eyes, stretching them open and gasping at their appearance. “They look terrible! And don't you make faces at me! A mother can fuss over her son if she wants!”
Through all of this poking and prodding, Dogward stood silently, allowing his mother to be all motherly. “Yes, Mum, it's good to see you too!” he finally said with an amused grin. In just a short while, he would be coming of age and finally be considered an adult, though he figured that wouldn't change how his mum treated him in the slightest.
“Oh, of course it's good to see you!” She smiled, then switched to angry as quickly as only a mother can. “Now where have you been? I didn't know if you were alive or... well, of course I knew you were alive. But you could've come back sooner, or sent a letter, or...something! A mother worries about her sons, you know? And your brothers, they look up to you. You set the example for them. And your dad worries too, even if he wouldn't say so. He says so to me.” Grabbing his face with both hands, she patted him on the cheek. Or was it a slap? “At least you came home in time for your birthday. Yes, your birthday! Don't think we forgot about that! Though now we know you'll be here for it we'll have to make sure we invite everyone. You can help with that; it's only right. Now come inside and help me get dinner ready.” She grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him along towards the door, continuing to prattle on as they walked.
Dogward had only been home for a few minutes, and already he was missing his solitary campfire.
