"Grip! Fang! Wolf! That's it, good boys!" called Farmer Maggot as he came down the dirt path."Grip! Fang! Wolf! That's it, good boys!" called Farmer Maggot as he came down the dirt path. "That's it, don't let 'im move!" The ruddy-faced halfling walked up, carefuly, to the three hounds. They all stood in a circle, growling and snarling at the prone figure on the ground. Maggot scowled. This was the third trespasser in as many days. First that black- cloaked Big Folk from foreign parts, then the visitors from Hobbiton, and now this. The figure tried to move, but stopped immediately when Grip gave out a loud "BARRK!!!Snarrrrrrllllllll!!!!!", barring his shiny white teeth. Maggot looked down at the intruder, and noted the dress. She tried look up at him and Grip barked again. "Grip! Heel!" shouted the farmer. "Well, well, well, if it isn't Miss Dora Goodbody." The young halfling, in her tweens, definitely deserved her last name. Pretty enough in the face, with long brown hair, and a well-padded, "pleasingly plump" figure, the kind most halfling males lusted after. Her facial expression was one of obvious fear, for Grip had only backed off a little and still had his teeth barred. The other dogs also faced her down, just slightly less close. "Please don't let him bite me, Farmer Maggot!" Dora begged. Maggot smiled; he had already noted the stolen mushrooms scattered on the ground. |