#robin smallburrow

[frodo-with-glasses]

A parade!

[arofili]

Robin Smallburrow helps to tear down the New Mill.

A ficlet about the Scouring of the Shire for B2MeM! @spring-into-arda​

[rohirric-hunter]

No see results option because I'm out of options

[ao3feed-tolkien]

Doing the Work

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/u4AOcCH

by starlightwalking

Robin Smallburrow helps to tear down the New Mill.

Words: 144, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: Gen

Characters: Robin Smallburrow, Ted Sandyman

Relationships: Robin Smallburrow & Ted Sandyman

Additional Tags: Ficlet, Scouring of the Shire, Redemption, Back to Middle-Earth Month

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/u4AOcCH

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Today in Tolkien - November 1st

Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin’s first full day of their return to the Shire. They spend most of the daytravelling, but things get interesting towards evening.

The new ‘Chief’ evidently had means of getting news. It was a good forty miles from the Bridge to Bag End, but someone made the journey in a hurry.

Seeing what things were like, [Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin] decided to go straight to Hobbiton. They set out along the road and jogged along steadily. The wind had dropped but the sky was grey. The land looked rather sad and forlorn…there seemed an unusual amount of burning going on, and smoke rose from many points round about. A great cloud of it was going up far away in the direction of the Woody End.

As evening fell they were drawing near to Frogmorton, a village right on the Road, about twenty-two miles from the Brandywine Bridge.[It’s handy to refer to the map of the Shire back at the start of FOTR.] …As they came to the east end of the village they met a barrier with a large board saying NO ROAD; and behind it stood a large band of Shirriffs with staves in their hands and feathers in their caps, looking both important and rather scared.

Frodo and his friends are not in the least intimidated by this show.

“What’s all this?” said Frodo, feeling inclined to laugh.

“This is what it is, Mr. Baggins,” said the leader of the Shirriffs, a two-feather hobbit. [The Prologue to LOTR tells us that the Shirriffs were formerly few in number, and had “no uniforms, only a feather in their caps”, and had been “in practice rather haywards that policemen, more concerned with the strayings of beasts than of people.” Lotho has greatly changed that, but apparently the feather-system has been retained and made into an indicator of rank.] “You’re arrested for Gate-breaking, and Tearing up of Rules, and Assaulting Gate-keepers, and Sleeping in Shire-buildings without Leave, and Bribing Guards with Food.”

“And what else?” said Frodo.

“That’ll do to go on with,” said the Shirriff-leader.

“I can add some more, if you’d like it,” said Sam. “Calling your Chief Names, Wishing to punch his Pimply Face, and Thinking you Shirriffs look a lot of Tom-fools.”

“There now, Mister, that’ll do. It’s the Chief’s orders that you’re to come along quiet. We’re going to take you to Bywater and hand you over to the Chief’s Men; and when he deals with your case you can have your say. But if you don’t want to stay in the Lockholes any longer than you need, I should cut the say short, if I was you.”

To the discomfiture of the Shirriffs Frodo and his conpanions all roared with laughter. “Don’t be absurd!” said Frodo. “I am going where I please, and in my own time. I happen to be going to Bag End on business, but if you insist on going too, well that is your affair.”

“Very well, Mr. Baggins,” said the leader, pushing the barrier aside. “But don’t forget I’ve arrested you.”

“I won’t,” said Frodo. “Never. But I may forgive you.”

As the inn is closed, they go with the Shirriffs to another of the gloomy new Shirriff-houses for the night; on the way, Sam has a talk with one of the Shirriffs he knows, Robin Smallburrow. He explains how news of them moved so fast - Lotho’s been using the old express mail system as an intelligence network, with runners at regular points.

One thing I notice, from this day and the previous one, is how much of a difference personal names make in the main characters’ interactions with the Shirriffs. As long as they can hide behind the anonymity of officialdom, they stick to citations of Rules and procedures, but when Merry and Sam address people they know personally, they start acting like, well, people again - they stop being just part of a system, and are forced to remember that they are individuals with choices. It’s also worth noting that both these conversations start off with 1) I know you; 2) we’re part of the same community (Buckland and Hobbiton, respectively), and 3) you know better than this.

Yesterday, when the travellers arrived at the Brandywine Bridge Gate:

“Come along!” said Merry, recognizing one of the hoobits. “If you don’t know me, Hob Hayward, you ought to. I am Merry Brandybuck, and I should like to know what all this is about, and what a Bucklander like you is doing here. You used to be on the Hay Gate.”

“Bless us! It’s Master Merry, to be sure, and all dressed up for fighting!” said old Hob. “Why, they said you was dead! Lost in the Old Forest by all accounts. I’m pleased to see you alive after all!”

Likewise, with the Shirriff-troop at Frogmorton:

Sam had been looking the Shirriffs up and down and had spotted one that he knew. “Hey, come here Robin Smallburrow!” he called. “I want a word with you.”

With a sheepish glance at his leader, who looked wrathful but did not dare to interfere, Shirriff Smallburrow fell back and walked beside Sam, who got down off his pony.

“Look here, Cock-robin!” said Sam. “You’re Hobbiton-bred and ought to have more sense, coming a-waylaying Mr. Frodo and all.”

Once engaged in personal conversation, individual Shirriffs start admitting that even they, the enforcers of the current system, don’t like it. Hob describes the shortages of food and pipe-weed caused by Lotho’s exports and ‘gatherers and sharers’. Robin, after some conversation, admits that he’s not happy with the way things are and would like to see the system ended:

“If I hear not allowed much oftener,” said Sam, “I’m going to get angry.”

“Can’t say as I’d be sorry to see it,” said Robin, lowering his voice. “If we all got angry together something might be done.”

This is what Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin break through in the Scouring of the Shire: a combination of complacency, habit, and giving up of personal responsibility. When they start asking: I know you, this isn’t like you, why are you doing this?, it becomes harder for people to ignore how wrong things have gone.

[tehri]

Robin Smallburrow: You've got my sympathy about dealing with Lobelia, but I'm happy to say this matter is completely out of my hands.

Zinniae: wait

Robin Smallburrow: Fortunately for me, there is nothing I can do about fireworks stolen in Tuckborough. I only deal with matters arising near Hobbiton!

Zinniae: you fu-

Robin Smallburrow: You should go talk to the Thain, Paladin Took, at the Great Smials in Tuckborough. I'm sure he'll be able to direct you.

Zinniae: you want me to go and bother the Thain with a matter that I'd normally take to the Shirriff?

Robin Smallburrow: Yes

Zinniae: i think you've had enough to drink, put down that mug of ale, you lazy prick

[alicebeckstrom]

“The Shirriffs was the name that the Hobbits gave to their police, or the nearest equivalent that they possessed. They had, of course, no uniforms (such things being quite unknown), only a feather in their caps; and they were in practice rather haywards than policemen, more concerned with the strayings of beaststhan of people.” ~ Prologue, Of the Ordering of the Shire, The Fellowship of the Ring [Robin Smallburrow, Hobbit, Shirriff] 

[mithrilbeard]

listen, i know when sam is berating robin smallburrow cock probably means rooster but if not, cock-robin is singlehandedly one of the best insults out there

[frodo-with-glasses]

Was up late last night drawing the comic for today, and kinda had a brainwave…in a way, Robin Smallburrow and Beregond of the Guard are foils to each other.

(“Oh no, she’s talking about Beregond again,” you might be thinking, and to that I say “yes I love him shut up”)

Both Robin and Beregond are civil servants in their own countries. Robin is a Sheriff in the Shire, and Beregond is a Guard of the Citadel, which is the seat of government for all of Gondor. Both of them are minor characters, just normal dudes trying to do their jobs in the middle of a war. And both of them run up against a pickle where they’re forced to choose between what they’ve been ordered to do and what they believe is right.

Now, of course, their circumstances aren’t exactly the same. Beregond’s crisis has a very narrow time limit; Robin’s crisis is extended over several months. Beregond has to make one huge choice; Robin has to make dozens of little ones. Robin wasn’t handed a time bomb that says “commit treason now or someone you care about will be heckin’ barbecued alive”, and Beregond didn’t have to watch the job that he loved slowly degrade into stifling, nonsensical rules.

But if they did—if their situations had been reversed—how would they have reacted?

It’s not an easy thing to break the rules, even for a good reason, when your job is centered entirely around following them. It’s not an easy thing to risk your reputation, your livelihood, your life, even if it’s a matter of conscience.

I’m sure most of us—those of us who dream of theatrics and heroics, anyway—would want to be Beregond, breaking the rules in one brilliant display of righteous rebellion and saving the day. Maybe some of us will have that chance.

(When the time comes, I hope we choose well.)

But in reality, most of us are Robin. Maybe we do have a choice to make between what’s safe and what’s right, but it doesn’t happen all at once. It happens slowly, in little decisions scattered over the course of our lives. Maybe we know we’re on a bad road, but we think we’re too small, too weak, too far gone to do anything about it. Maybe we’re letting it happen, grumbling about the state of the world but too scared to take action; passively accepting one little infraction of conscience after another, sitting like a frog in a slowly heating pot that doesn’t realize it’s been boiled until it’s too late.

I have a lot of sympathy for Robin, because he is all of us. He loves his home. He has friends and family and hobbies. He wants to do what’s right, but he’s weak and scared, and he deduces—rightly—that he’s too small to change the tide on his own.

(What he fails to consider is that he’s not alone.

“If we all get angry together, something might be done.”)

What would Robin have done, if he were in Beregond’s position? What if he had to make one huge choice to save the life of another; even if he had to break the rules; even if he had to kill coworkers and friends over it; even if it cost him his own life? Would he have had the courage to make the right choice?

(Would we?)

Honestly, we should probably be grateful that Robin’s crisis wasn’t just like Beregond’s. It would be absolutely tragic if a hobbit had to kill other hobbits. But it does make me wonder—at what point does it become too much? At what point do the tiny decisions stack up enough to equal one Big Decision? When you’ve gotten so used to making compromises on your conscience, where are you supposed to stop? When you’ve played along, toed the line, and kept your mouth shut; is there a point at which you reach a line you refuse to cross, or will that line always be pushed back, and back, and further back, until you one day look up and realize you’ve abandoned everything you used to stand for?

Is it better to do what’s right at the very beginning—to stand your ground, surrendering nothing—and just endure whatever punishment comes out of that?

If you didn’t have the courage to do it the first time…is it too late?

Beregond’s choice was clear. “Do what’s right, or someone dies.” Robin’s choices were less clear, probably muddled by time and social pressure and the inertia of an otherwise cozy, sedentary life. But maybe the hope of this story is that even though Robin didn’t have courage like Beregond—even though he didn’t dig in his furry little heels and do what’s right the first time—he still gets a second chance.

“Some of the village-folk had lit a large fire, just to enliven things, and also because it was one of the things forbidden by the Chief. It burned bright as night came on. Others at Merry’s orders were setting up barriers across the road at each end of the village. When the Sherriffs came up to the lower one they were dumbfounded; but as soon as they saw how things were, most of them took off their feathers and joined in the revolt.”

I like to imagine that Robin was at the front of the line.

[hacash]

Robin Smallburrow, having the most fun he’s had in over a year: clearly the only way to settle this is to get the proper documentation in order. sir, do you happen to have any certification proving that you are Frodo Baggins?

Frodo: sadly I don’t.

Robin Smallburrow: well I did the best I could

consider this: given how much the hobbits are said to love legalese and documentation, I think when the shirriffs tried to arrest Frodo and company on their return Frodo should have just refused on the basis that they have no official proof that he is, in fact, Frodo Baggins

[frodo-with-glasses]

Goshdarnit Robin.

[frodo-with-glasses]

Scouring of the Shire/Right-Hand Man Part Four

Robin joins the party!

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[frodo-with-glasses]

See ya, wouldn’t wanna be ya!

[frodo-with-glasses]

Raise the Shire! Now! Wake all our people!