My brother is insufferable.
Which brother, you may ask?
Well, I have three brothers. I have a half-sister as well, but she lives with her mother and my parents refuse to talk about her; I believe she's over in Crickhollow, just the other side of the Brandywine Bridge. As to my brothers, two of them have settled in Hobbiton-Bywater - one on one side, nearer the Hill (not the same one that is our namesake, despite the presence of the Appledores thereupon), and one on the other.
The one I speak of is Firthilim, the third-born and my immediate elder. I'll call him brother number three. My first two brothers I hear little enough from, though I understand they both have small gardens and brew their own drinks; some of these they sell or trade to others, and they both keep themselves busy with odd jobs here and there that pay their bills. They're mostly lazy, just like my parents, but at least they try (or pretend to).
Brother number three is a hunter. He is my opposite in almost every single way I can think of. Where I detest the Rushock Bog, with its stinging gnats and its disgusting slugs and other things, he loves it; he even enjoys cooking and eating the slugs! The very thought makes me want to lose my lunch! On him, of course. And whereas I prefer the warmth of hearth and home, or a fine sunny summer's day with a cool breeze - perfect for strolling over to a local inn to sell some pies I've spent the day past baking - he prefers the crickets and the bog-water and a campfire in the middle of nowhere. The only good thing about it is that he does provide me with logs for burning and tanned hides for tailoring.
According to HIM, HE taught ME to sew and make armor. I learned to sew from our mother, thank you, and I've never made armor in my life! Why would I? I much prefer sewing dresses and skirts, the occasional blouse, and sometimes mending shirts and vests and breeches for a wee bit of coin or trade. He can have his armor. I'll make something a wee bit more useful for the average hobbit (or most hobbits, in fact), and I'll thank him not to spread rumors about him teaching me anything!
But this is a mild annoyance. He's worse than our father! Our father, I'm told by my mother, was quite the "lass's lad" in his youth. To our knowledge, he had one infidelity - the half-sister I mentioned earlier, product of a woman none of us have met - and our mother has never forgiven him for it. She won't talk about it, but she's never forgiven him. But my brother...he steals a kiss from every pretty lass he can that turns her head his way! According to him, "a gentle-hobbit never kisses and tells", but my understanding is that he's had a roll in the hay with more lasses than my father every flirted with. And he is flirting with lasses at every turn! He even keeps telling me I should find a good-looking lad to "loosen up" with! As I said, he is insufferable!
One of these days, his frolicking is going to catch up with him in the worst way. I hope it does, at least. I'm sure it will. And when the inevitable comes, I'll be the one telling him that I told him so in the first place! Good riddance, brother!
