This is a story, as told by BH to her fellow hobbits at Midsummer Story Night, on the hill above Michel Delving, 25/07/20. She got it from her aunt Azaleahaymarket, who heard it from her grandfather, Humfrith Haymarket when she was a girl. It would be impolite to ask how long ago that was, but probably most of a hundred years.
This is the story my aunt always told me as a child, of how her grandfather discovered all her family's secret recipes.
There was once a Man, a Dwarf, an Elf, and a Hobbit. They got bored of being warm and dry and eating hot food, and decided to go on an adventure. They walked and walked and walked until their feet were sore, and then they walked some more, and they came to Bree.
They stayed at Bree for a night, and drank so much of Barliman's Best that it took them three days to recover. And after that they decided to stay there, drinking beer and eating fried taters and mushroom pie, until they ran out of money: because it was more fun than going on adventures.
But when they ran out of money they decided that adventures were more fun than being hungry and thirsty, and watching other people drinking beer and eating fried taters and mushroom pie. So they started walking again, and they walked all the way out of Bree and into the Lone Lands, and then all the way out of the Lone Lands into the Even Loner Lands.
And then all the way out of those and into the hills beyond. Until one day it rained so hard that if there had been cats and dogs falling from the sky no one would have noticed. And they walked into a bog, and got so wet and muddy that they wished they were all the way back at Bree, watching other people eating mushroom pie while going hungry themselves.
So when they saw a house built into the side of a hill they didn't hesitate, but went right up and knocked on the door. Imagine their surprise when a hobbit auntie opens it and tells them to go away. But they just push right on in and make a terrible mess of the doormat, the front hall, the hearth rug, and all the towels they could find. Her name was Thursa, by the way.
She told them: 'Oh dear! You've done it now! My master is a fearsome Troll, who will eat you soon as look at you. He would have eaten me years ago if I hadn't persuaded him that I cooks better than I tastes, if you take my meaning. So I've been cooking and cleaning for him ever since, with no chance of escape.'
'And now I'd better clean up the mess you've made or he'll know we have company. And you'd all better go and hide in the pantry so he doesn't find you.' And so they did. And they were pretty unhappy about it all, I can tell you! What a fine pickle they were in! Well, at least, what a lot of fine pickles they were in the pantry with. At least they wouldn't go hungry!
But they soon forgot all about the pickles when the Troll came back. He was striding up and down the kitchen saying: 'Where's my dinner!' and 'Why does everything smell so deliciously of manflesh?' This was too much for the Man, who fancied himself a hero. So he jumped out of the pantry, took the Troll by surprise, and ran him through with his sword.
At least, he would have done if it hadn't snapped off at the hilt as soon as it touched the Troll's hide. The Troll said: 'Oh yum, yum! How clever you are dear, you caught a Man for my supper.' And ripped off his head. Thursa cooked him up a treat and the Troll gobbled him down: with lots of gravy, roast potatoes, fried mushrooms, and a small green salad.
The Dwarf, the Elf, and the Hobbit, enjoyed the meal a lot less than the Troll did. But at least Thursa smuggled them some roast potatoes, fried mushrooms, and the small green salad (which the Troll had left untouched at the side of his plate): so they didn't go hungry.
Soon enough the Troll was fast asleep and snoring louder than a dragon with the hiccoughs, so they snuck out. And they would have escaped, but when the Dwarf saw into the Troll's bedroom, with its gold bed and diamond studded curtains, he couldn't resist.
So he whipped out his axe, rushed in, and chopped the Troll's head off. Or at least he would have done, if the axe blade hadn't shattered as soon as it touched the Troll's hide. The Troll woke up and howled with delight: 'Oh Thursa, my darling, you've got me Dwarf for breakfast!' and ripped his head off.
So the Hobbit and the Elf ran back to the pantry, where they could hear the Troll eating the Dwarf for breakfast. And they felt none too happy about it, I assure you!
After that the Troll went out to work. Thursa came and let them out of the pantry. 'I'm so sorry about your friends,' she said, 'but there was nothing I could do. Now come along and follow me, and I'll take you to the secret back door so you can escape.' They came along, and followed her. She unlocked the back door, let them through, and then locked it after them.
Only it wasn't a back door, it was a dungeon. And then she laughed evilly and reverted to her true form, of a Hag so hideous that even the pickles went sour in their jars. 'And there you can stay till suppertime, my dearies! Elf for supper, and then tomorrow a Complete Hobbit Breakfast!'
She boasted to them for a while, and told them there had truly been a Hobbit Master Chef who they'd kept alive for years, until the day came when Thursa had learnt all his recipes and put him in the soup. Then she skipped off laughing, and went to do her housework.
It was when she went out to take her husband his lunch that their chance came. The hobbit produced a key, and let them out of the dungeon, and then they locked the front door to keep the Trolls out. Then the Elf put a spell on it so that it wouldn't burst, no matter how they hammered at it: and hammer they did! They were making a fearful row.
'I stole the key from the Troll earlier,' explained the Hobbit, 'while the Dwarf was distracting him. Of course, I thought she might be a Hag all along, because everyone knows that Hags can change their shape. I first suspected it when I tasted those sour pickles, and I knew for certain when I had the roast potatoes and fried mushrooms.'
The Hobbit went on, shaking his head sorrowfully: 'Roast taters are supposed to be crisp, not soggy. And as for those mushrooms! How anyone can muck up fried mushrooms that badly is beyond me.'
'I didn't like to say,' replied the Elf, 'I thought all Hobbit food must be that bad. And the Dwarf seemed to like it, pretty well. But then, I suppose Dwarfs have never been famous for their taste buds.'
Outside the Trolls had started to argue, and soon they were having a right ding-dong about whose fault it was. They were going at it hammer and tongs! It was a row so bad, that the worst argument Otho and Lobelia ever had looked like a kiss and a cuddle in comparison. The Elf and the Hobbit had to stop their ears, and the hills were shaking in sympathy.
And it was about then that the sun came up and turned them both to stone.
After that the Elf and the Hobbit turned for home. And they walked and they walked until they came all the way back to the Shire. 'Well, I'm sorry that was such a disastrous adventure,' said the Elf to the Hobbit at their parting.
'But it wasn't,' said the Hobbit. 'And you can take all the diamond studded curtains with you, I won't be needing those. I've got all the treasure I need right here.'
And he had. For he had brought with him Thursa's recipe book, and it really was written by a Hobbit Master Chef. And what treasure can be greater than that?
Although my aunt always told me that he never ate a pickle again as long as he lived.
The End.
