Mr. Hopperhill

"Hmm, little lads are always straying away from their wee homes. I'll just have to do something about that." Mr. Hopperhill crested the rise, pushing the tall grass away from his wrinkled face so he can get a better view of the four hobbits sneaking across the field towards Festerwood Forest and whatever dangers those old oaks might bestow on them. Well, good old Mr. Hopperhill wasn't going to have any of that nonsense. Pulling his robes tight around bones, the old sage trudged down the slender ravine. Breaking through the grass into the open field brought him a good fifty yards from the lads who had reached the edge of the forest. "Hey you kids! Come back here!" But they already clipping through the weeds and crunching the dread sticks and leaves under their feet as they disappeared into the forest. "Why will these damn kids never learn."