Eat, Bray, Love, Episode 2

Late one evening I heard the dog barking, followed shortly thereafter by the sound of stamping feet outside the burrow door. (Piper is very good about wiping his feet before entering, something his mother insisted upon.) Then the door to our burrow sung open. "Auri, I'm home!" a familiar voice cried. Piper was tired and a bit disheveled, but otherwise seemed pleased to be back in his own burrow. He had missed me, too, it seems. We had a small meal after Piper washed up. He told me of his trip, of the fish they caught and those they didn't catch, the latter being much larger than the former, naturally. When Piper started yawning I knew it was time that we turned in.

My husband is an early riser. He's usually up and about before the cock crows, and at least a few hours before I finally crawl out of bed. (I'm not such an early riser.) This morning, however, the sun had shown her face for some time before Piper finally awakened with a yawn and a stretch. He was famished, he said, and sat down at the breakfast table for a bowl of porridge, toast with butter and jam, and a cup of hot tea.

He seemed to be enjoying his breakfast very much, perhaps too much, when suddenly he began to cough. The cough was so violent that I became very concerned. I patted him vigorously on the back, and offered him a mug of water, which he refused with a wave of his hand. He had gobbled his food so quickly, I thought perhaps he'd failed to thoroughly chew his food. However, that wasn't the case at all.

The coughing soon became wheezing. Then Piper made the most awful sound I've ever heard a hobbit make. It sounded strangely like, dare I say, *braying*. I was horrified! Piper's appearance began to change, too, right before my very eyes. His face began to grow long and rounded like a beast's muzzle. At the same time his ears grew long and fairly pointed. His entire head was covered with short, thick, curly hair. What was happening to my poor Piper?

Quick as a flash I ran next door to fetch Rusty. He took a good long look at Piper, then puzzled some more. I love my brother dearly, he's as strong as a bull and would gladly give you the shirt off his back, but he's not particularly quick-witted. After careful consideration, however, he finally decided that we ought to visit Hasculf Goodbody, the village healer. I agreed. Unfortunately, Hasculf wasn't of much help to us. He had treatments for common afflictions like scrapes, cuts, bruises, bites, burns, stings, boils, warts, and what-have-you, but nothing for hobbit-donkey transformations. He suggested we take Piper to the healer in Michel Delving.