This day was just like most any other. I went swimming in a swamp, had to prove myself worthy of wearing a silly hat, and met with a peep of chickens.
It started out with me chasing down goblin sappers in the Midgewater Marsh (see image above). These brilliant creatures run around with a pot full of flaming hot oil (or it might be discarded goblin life insurance forms) held up over their head. In a swamp. Filled with water. Assuming they would charge at me and toss their fire pot upon my fine person, I tried to find a way to keep my distance. Upon the first arrow I fired, they freaked out and dropped the burning bowl on their own feet. Idiots. Not only did the first guy do this, but every one after as well. I suspect the lifespan of a goblin sapper is not very long. Further sapper training might be in order.
Later that day I found myself in the Old Forest trying to prove to some amazing “I don’t think you have it in you” hunter that I could track down a nasty wolf with really sharp fangs and dispatch it without getting the beat down. OK, perhaps there was one beat down forthcoming, but dispatch the wolf I did and thus earned one incredible hat.
I decided to head back to Bree with my new hat safely stored behind a tree stump when I noticed some strange noises. Sounds like scratching and pecking. I suddenly realized that I was being followed. They followed me all the way back to Bree so I stopped near the fountain outside of the Prancing Pony to ask them what was going on. They beckoned me to get closer, perhaps I should even lie on the ground – chicken level and all that. What did they have to say? Nothing, but it took me weeks to get all the chicken poop out of my cloak.
Such is the life of a hero in Middle-earth.