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Bonkadoc
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Joined: 11 Jul 2007 - 11:28
Last seen: 2 weeks 3 days ago
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This one time, after some drinks, I thought to make this thread. It is too late to be erased now.

https://www.lotro.com/forums/showthread.php?665192-Daydreams-thoughts-da...

If you feel overflowing with creativity and want to write a couple of sentences, post it there! Not hobbit specific. Make things up.

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Bonkadoc
Bonkadoc's picture
Joined: 11 Jul 2007 - 11:28
Last seen: 2 weeks 3 days ago
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Something interesting happened to me in real-life (you losers have fun with your computers) and I thought to share it with you, my imaginary friends. Smile

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Shoo"

"Get off!", a small hand tries to grab a squirrel.

It runs away. It had been like that all day. 

Annoyed, Bonkadoc tries to focus on a sheet of paper, grabbing all his writing instruments and keeping them close to his chest. 

He should come up with something to say for his traditional Yuletide speech for The Green Dragon Friday, but his mind was elsewhere.  

Because you see, there was this lass he had met in Hobbiton, part of the same group of hobbitlings, when they were young. They had studied their letters and numbers under the tree. Bonkadoc and she, even had lead roles in a play, arranged by their mistress. But then she had moved at an early age to Bree, because of her parents.

Wholly heartbroken, he had looked up to his grand-uncle and his farm. For twenty years he took care of the turnips, and grew to love them, and they grew to love him. 

He then sent her a letter. There was a reply, she did remember him, it said. But while thanking him of the letter, she could not see much in common with a turnip farmer. 
 
### 

After much of soul searching and wrestling with himself, he sent her a potted plant.
 
This time there was no reply in the Quick Post. 

He found himself wandering the streets of Bree forlorn, the word was that the letter was received with indifference. It might have ended up in the trash.

"Which is what I deserved." He thought. 

Looking at him, it was like he had done something horrific. In his mind he had done. He felt like he had missed his lifeboat, and while frantically trying to reach it back, he had thrown a live grenade into it.

So it was that he had to give up on a dream. 

Sometimes fate twists the knife without concern for a hobbit. 

He was made to face his beloved on the steps of a Bree library of books for learning. Shocked to see her there, he could only manage a look at her eyes and then at her book and then back. She smiled nervously, nodded, and walked off.

###

(another 20 years pass)

Bonkadoc had studied turnip farming in as far places as Greenfields, Stock and Buckland. He returned back to his old farm, which he had left lying fallow.

He put his skills to good use. In no small time, he was a respected member of the Shire, and his turnip juice was an important part of everyone's life there.

Sometimes he attended the Green Dragon, and there were many friendly faces. Sometimes he felt he could even feel some connection with the lasses, and while he was quite handsome and perhaps the tallest hobbit there, with a successful business, something was missing. It was time for another letter.

"... and while I think this may never reach you, it is important that this letter was written." Bonkadoc reads his own letter back to himself, for the hundreth time, and puts it back to his drawer.

"I can never send it. Or can I? No I can't." 

"Still, I might." 

He just was not sure.

Then the letter got sent. The subsequent months were the most agonising time in his world. He put everything into the turnip juicing to distract himself. He even gave a lecture about turnips and their varieties. It was all a blur. 

One day, The Quick Post is at his door. The officer is holding up a letter. It is from the Shire. 

It was from her. 

Member
Bonkadoc
Bonkadoc's picture
Joined: 11 Jul 2007 - 11:28
Last seen: 2 weeks 3 days ago
Offline

Something interesting happened to me in real-life (you losers have fun with your computers) and I thought to share it with you, my imaginary friends. Smile

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Shoo"

"Get off!", a small hand tries to grab a squirrel.It runs away. It had been like that all day. 

 

Annoyed, Bonkadoc tries to focus on a sheet of paper, grabbing all his writing instruments and keeping them close to his chest. 

 

He should come up with something to say for his traditional Yuletide speech for The Green Dragon Friday, but his mind was elsewhere. 

 

Because you see, there was this lass he had met in Hobbiton, part of the same group of hobbitlings, when they were young. They had studied their letters and numbers under the tree. Bonkadoc and she, even had lead roles in a play, arranged by their mistress. But then she had moved at an early age to Bree, because of her parents.

 

Wholly heartbroken, he had looked up to his grand-uncle and his farm. For twenty years he took care of the turnips, and grew to love them, and they grew to love him. 

 

He then sent her a letter. There was a reply, she did remember him, it said. But while thanking him of the letter, she could not see much in common with a turnip farmer. 
 

### 

 

After much of soul searching and wrestling with himself, he sent her a potted plant.

 
This time there was no reply in the Quick Post. 

 

He found himself wandering the streets of Bree forlorn, the word was that the letter was received with indifference. It might have ended up in the trash.

 

"Which is what I deserved." He thought. 

 

Looking at him, it was like he had done something horrific. In his mind he had done. He felt like he had missed his lifeboat, and while frantically trying to reach it back, he had thrown a live grenade into it.

 

So it was that he had to give up on a dream. 

 

Sometimes fate twists the knife without concern for a hobbit. 

 

He was made to face his beloved on the steps of a Bree library of books for learning. Shocked to see her there, he could only manage a look at her eyes and then at her book and then back. She smiled nervously, nodded, and walked off.

 

###

 

(another 20 years pass)

 

Bonkadoc had studied turnip farming in as far places as Greenfields, Stock and Buckland. He returned back to his old farm, which he had left lying fallow.

 

He put his skills to good use. In no small time, he was a respected member of the Shire, and his turnip juice was an important part of everyone's life there.

 

Sometimes he attended the Green Dragon, and there were many friendly faces. Sometimes he felt he could even feel some connection with the lasses, and while he was quite handsome and perhaps the tallest hobbit there, with a successful business, something was missing. It was time for another letter.

 

"... and while I think this may never reach you, it is important that this letter was written." Bonkadoc reads his own letter back to himself, for the hundreth time, and puts it back to his drawer.

 

"I can never send it. Or can I? No I can't." 

 

"Still, I might." 

 

He just was not sure.

 

Then the letter got sent. The subsequent months were the most agonising time in his world. He put everything into the turnip juicing to distract himself. He even gave a lecture about turnips and their varieties. It was all a blur. 

 

One day, The Quick Post is at his door. The officer is holding up a letter. It is from the Shire. 

 

It was from her. 

 

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