[We are delighted to publish here a diary found in the autumn of 2025 in the archives at Bryngwyrdd College, that of a young Bree hobbit recording his days after moving to Bywater in the Shire. Its exceptional value lies not only in giving us a record of daily life in Bywater — dated from internal evidence to the late Third Age — but also in the unique illustrations that the diarist included. Nothing is known of Bowman Underhill’s early days in Bree, and little has yet been discovered of his life after the end of the diary; his name does not appear on the list of hobbits killed at the Battle of Bywater (S.R. 1419), although it is presumed that he was still living there at the time, as he seems to have been about the same age as the children of Tolman “Old Tom” Cotton, who were born between S.R. 1380-1389.
The diary’s condition is more than a little fragile, and many pages are damaged or missing — this is noted when it occurs. Our deep thanks to Dr. C.L.G. Whitlock, archivist at Bryngwyrdd, for bringing the diary to our attention and help with deciphering Bowman’s penmanship, and to Dr. T.W. Farthing, professor of Less-Commonly-Taught Languages, for invaluable assistance with the translation. — B.K.
Edited: Six loose pages were discovered after our earlier publication, and so a revised version is now available with the new pages included. The diary is now divided into four parts: part 2 may be found here, part 3 here, and part 4 here. — B.K.]
Sunday.
First day in Bywater. Met the local postman, Orlo Proudfoot, a stout fellow with an amiable, earnest countenance. He pointed out his own home, just down the hill a little ways, across a little footbridge, & therefore he is my nearest neighbour.
He showed me around Old Ruby’s place — well, my new home. Was very kind about Ruby — “Lovely, she was,” he said, “I have a lot of happy memories.” So do I — & though I miss her dreadfully, I feel hopeful about making her home my own new one.
We looked around — Ruby had boarded up many of the rooms, there being only herself, & so there is at present only a kitchen & pantry to one side of a sort of hall, with a sitting/dining-room & a small bedroom each leading off that. The pantry is huge — & not completely empty at all, but with a few things brought, I suspect, by Proudfoot — Beans, Taters, an Onion, some Rhubarb, &c. &c. Was suddenly famished, & made a rhubarb porridge for second breakfast — I remember Old Ruby cooking it for us younglings when she visited us — shared it this time with Proudfoot.
There was a note in my letter-box from a Farmer Cotton, inviting me to meet at the Green Dragon. The note was clearly dictated to Proudfoot, as it read, “Make sure you write Green Dragon, Orlo, & not the Ivy Bush, or he’ll get confused. Then write ‘From Farmer Cotton.’ Stop writing everything I say, Orlo!” We went at once to the Green Dragon, met a very nice lady who turns out to be Mrs Farmer Cotton — I mean Mrs Cotton — who also runs the inn. “You won’t find a more cosy & cheerful place in the whole Westfarthing!” she said proudly. She gave me a chicken to cook for my supper — very kind, indeed.
Oh — & there was a bit of a kerfuffle going on between Farmer Cotton & the miller — something about Bywater being or not being a proper village, & someone else — I forget who, now, so very many new faces — said something about a Rule Book that Old Ruby had had, that should help to settle the question. Miss Burrows — I think it was she — said that she thought she’d given it to Old Noakes, something about fish — dear me, perhaps I should carry my pocket-book to note things down.
Felt like having a nap after luncheon, but spent some time tidying up instead, & looking around. The garden is much larger than mother’s & father’s back home in Bree. But no — this is my home now. My own garden! Wonderful sweet flowers? Fine vegetables? Vegetables first, I should think — the pantry will get empty awfully quickly. To be sure, there’s lots of work to be done!
Met Mr. Noakes in the afternoon. He is an old & rather dishevelled fellow, browned from the sun, with a halo of grey hair around a bald pate. He was a bit, well, grumpy. “Answer me this,” he demanded, “How can you tell where Mister Fishie is swimming in the river?” I thought for a moment & replied, “Erm, swirling shapes in the water?” wh. it seems was the correct answer! He gave me an old fishing rod — “it was cluttering up the place,” he said & I can well believe that — & took me to Old Ruby’s pond, just a hop, skip, & jump down the hill from my front gate. “The fish are all stupid there. You’ll get along well with them,” Mr. Noakes growled, & said that when I’d caught three fish I was to come back & tell him about it — then, with a brief bit of instruction, left me to it. To my utter amazement, I caught — three fish!
Am quite exhausted — time for bed!
Monday, Second day of Summer. Fine.
Woke early, I guess from the unfamiliar sounds of the house & the birds outside.
Went to show Old Noakes yesterday’s catch, with wh. I was unconscionably pleased. Two Stone Loach — “Those live down at the bottom of the water, eating whatever’s going on between the rocks. Got no meat on them, so not much use. You hear me? Throw ’em back!” — & a Bywater Bleak. He was somewhat less disparaging about the latter, saying, “It’s small but there’s usually more around. Try again, get more. One’s rubbish. Pretty blue colouring, though.” I wonder if he is like this with everyone. (Added later — he is!)
In the Square, Farmer Cotton asked me if I’d found that missing Rule Book yet — Old Noakes had said that he had had it but it was all wet (!) & so he’d given it to someone called Daphne — no, Delphinium — because it had pictures of flowers in it. This Delphinium lives across the stream to the east of my house, on the edge of the Forest, & so I dashed up there — she said she’d tried to press some flowers in it, but that didn’t work because the pages were all wet (!!), & she’d given it to Willow Took because the book had a picture of an Oliphaunt in it.
She also told me, by the way, that there is much foraging to be had in Bywater. “The fields & forests are full of riches,” she said, “Look after the land & all the animals in it. That’s how you pay for what the land gives you” — a pleasing thought.
Willow Took’s place is not far away & so I legged it over there in search of that book, but no joy, as it seems that she gave it to Mrs. Cotton because it had some recipes in it. Willow Took lives with her little girl Daisy just across from my garden gate, the tumble-down blocked one that I can see straight out from the kitchen door-yard. It seems there is no Mister Took. And no, I am not looking for romance, thanks to that jilt Lobelia Brockhouse back in Bree. Anyway, I am off to bed at last, tired but happy.
Tuesday. Rainy.
Another busy day! Had the Burrowses here for breakfast. Very complimentary of my efforts at a dish of Cool Taters & Beans & another of Very Good (if I may say so myself) Fish Cakes.
They — the Burrowses — used to come here when they were little, for Ruby to teach them their letters — Proudfoot, too, but Miss Burrows said that he preferred fishing to reading & writing! I had thought that they were husband & wife, but they are in fact brother & sister. I like them both — will certainly ask them here again. Miss Burrows says that new memories of this old place will push away the sad ones of missing Old Ruby. As we talked at my gate, she was fiddling with an old key in her apron pocket — her brother twitted her about still carrying it around. It meant a lot to her when a youngling, that key, she said, because Old Ruby had given it to her to keep her from fidgeting during lessons. I think I gasped aloud — wait, an old key of Ruby’s! — what about that locked drawer in the desk?
And so it proved to be just the thing to open the drawer, & there it was. The Book of Rules. It is an absolutely massive book — I can hardly believe it fit into that drawer. Went out directly & ran straight into Proudfoot just coming up the path from the Mill. I showed him the book, & he thought I ought to take it to Miss Burrows. Felt a bit like a bouncing ball!
Caught some more fish in the afternoon — saw Old Noakes, who demanded to know what I was doing with his fishing rod! His rod — I like that! “What’s your name?” he wanted to know. I remembered what he had said when we met the other day, & replied, perhaps a bit pertly, “Newcomer!” This seemed to amuse him a little, & he gave me some more tips about fishing, especially to keep at it, for practice will tell. “Then you can say you’re a proper Fisher-hobbit.” Pause. “You can say it. I won’t.”
Remembered a note that was in my post-box this morning, Mrs. Cotton asking if I would be so kind as to check on her lad Tom, & so I stopped by the Village Square just as the stalls were closing for the evening. Young Tom is indeed a bit upset, as Farmer Cotton’s prize cow is missing. Tom was hoping to keep his dad from discovering this before Tom had a chance to go & look for her, & so I offered to do the looking while Tom distracts him — I wandered about for quite some time & at last found bossie lying contentedly smack in the middle of the East Road, quite at the opposite end of Bywater from the Cottons’ farm. No wonder Young Tom couldn’t find her! Nothing would shift her, not even my sweetest entreaties, but luckily some Puffball mushrooms I’d just put in my pocket did the trick! Got her home eventually, for wh. Young Tom was exceedingly grateful, & he gave me some eggs as a thank-you.
Wednesday. Fine.
Letter box full this morning — thank-yous from each of the Burrowses for yesterday’s meal, a second from Fosco offering some furniture for my place. Had Proudfoot & Mrs. Cotton here for elevenses — cooked Fish Cakes again, as it was pretty much all I had available. Note to self: Stock pantry! Mrs. Cotton gave me the recipe for her Amazing Autumn Tart (sic!), wh. does sound delicious — must try it soon.
Bought some vegetable seeds off Farmer Cotton — got turned around on my way back & went up the wrong path, but found a package on the steps to my blocked gate, & thus clearly not for me. Couldn’t read the direction, but it was from the Mathom-house in Michel Delving, wh. made me think of the Burrowses, & so I took it down & found Fosco in the Green Dragon. It was indeed his package — something he’d meant to give his sister, & so he thanked me profusely.
He says, by the by, that I should smarten my place up a bit. This had not occurred to me. “My dear Hobbit” — I suspect that he talks this way all the time! — “of course you do. Old Ruby was lovely, but she was also very old & didn’t need a lot of furniture”! & so he sent round a tall candlestick & a rather handsome sofa (!) with blue cushions. Quite generous!
Got home as the sun was going down — knocked my head against the roof bracket beside the kitchen door as I dashed by — stuck the seeds into the old garden beds, but am a bit at a loss as to what to do next.
Thursday. Fine.
Went at Farmer Cotton’s urging to a shockingly early meeting at the Ivy Bush inn for a BIG VILLAGE MEETING (“make sure you use capital letters for that Orlo BIG VILLAGE MEETING”) to hear the Shire Assessor’s judgement read out. More wrangling between Farmer Cotton & Sandyman, all attempts from Miss Brandybuck & Mrs. Cotton & Fosco Burrows to keep the peace only partly successful. Feelings certainly running high. The letter from the Shire Assessor disheartening — Bywater is not a village. I was surprisingly distressed by this announcement. What can be done to help make Bywater a proper village?
After the meeting broke up, Orlo suggested that I walk along with him. He must have wanted someone to talk to, for after some idle conversation he admitted that he used to daydream about being someone important — “not with loads of power or anything, just to be useful.” It turns out that he isn’t the official postman at all, he simply does it because it needs doing. I think he has a very kind heart.
Foraged in the evening — Hedge Mustard, various mushrooms, some delicious Raspberries far out at the western edge of the village. Hah, I do think of Bywater as a proper village!
Thursday. Fine.
Talked with Nora about setting up a Foraging Club. She thinks that Miss Brandybuck would be the ideal hobbit to lead it, but that she (Miss Brandybuck) is too modest to think that anyone would want to learn about foraging from her — but I do! I’ve been picking up things here & there, as one does of course — mostly mushrooms & berries — but there must be much more to learn. Nora also suggested that little Daisy Took would be interested, & so first I legged it up to ask her & Willow (the cunning plan being that the more of us are interested, the better, but that a youngster like Daisy might be less alarming to Miss B!).
Saturday. Fine.
When I asked little Daisy if she would be interested in joining a Foraging Club, she jumped up & down & said, “Yes!” “Well, that settles it!” I laughed. “Erm, what’s a Foraging Club?” she wondered. Walked with her to Delphinium’s — she thought it was funny that my steps were much longer than hers, & so I made her laugh by taking three big steps, waiting for her to catch up, taking three big steps, waiting, all along the way. She is puzzled by a “ridder” that Nora had given her: “In the eye of the lake, there stands a tree. And in its roots, you’ll find what you seek.” Will have to think about that one.
Delphinium agreed shyly to our request, & we three students — Nora, Daisy, & I — were promptly set the first task, of foraging three items around the huge tree under which is Delphinium’s home. I suspect that it was only three items because of Daisy! I went the furthest, to give Daisy some extra time, & found a Wild Beef & two Chanterelles. And so we have a Foraging Club!
Nora asked me to talk with Old Noakes about a fishing club, & Delphinium suggested that I invite him for a meal, & to ask Marigold Potts at the Ivy Bush for some advice about getting round him. Dashed down to the Ivy Bush, & discovered that Marigold Potts worked ten years at the Prancing Pony in Bree. That Marigold Potts! Well, of course although we have never met each other, we are already friends now — she was at the old Pony, who knew? She laughed about Old Noakes’s crossness — “Is he threatening to use you as bait? That means he likes you. You’ll be alright!”
When I got home, I realized that I’d completely neglected to water my garden at all! Thank goodness for that rain the other day!
Later. — Went out after my supper to forage something to feed Old Noakes & Marigold tomorrow. There is a ruined old tower atop Orlo’s place, & I climbed up the stairs inside. What a view! How many turns of the moon has that old tower stood here, I wonder. It’s seen better days, certainly. But I could see the curves of the hills, the birds flying in to nestle in the trees, the ripples from the wind raking across the grass — beautiful.
I quite forgot about foraging anything, & had to run home in the dark.
Sunday. Fine.
Luncheon here with Old Noakes & Marigold — made Cool Taters & Beans & a Rich Rhubarb Pie. The latter was I suspected a bit sour as Marigold pursed her lips after taking her first bite, but it was edible at least, & she bravely said it was quite good.
Talked with Old Noakes afterwards about leading the fishing club. He wanted convincing to do it. Began to quiz me & of course I knew next to nothing, but that proved my point & I said how would we ever learn if he didn’t lead the club?
Farmer Cotton was quite the opposite, when I spoke with him at his Award-Winning Pumpkin Patch. (He said it like that — but with justification, to be sure.) Mrs. Cotton thinks that he has too much to do already, & that Young Tom can’t do it either as he’s busy enough himself. “But it has to be run by a Cotton!” Rosie Cotton, standing nearby with a determined expression on her face, said, “I’ll do it, Dad. I know a lot about gardening.” Well, Farmer Cotton doesn’t think so, & it was therefore agreed to have a competition for the leadership & that I would give Rosie a hand. More likely the other way around, but there it is. She seems awfully confident, does Rosie Cotton. Well, when I’ve harvested something special, I’m to bring it to her.
Monday. Rain.
Farmer Cotton kindly sent me a small round garden bed, which I set up near Ruby’s old square ones, opposite the kitchen door, near the edge of the stream so that I can easily fill the watering can (when it isn’t raining). Planted the seeds I’d bought in the morning.
Explored after luncheon, into the Forest on the other side of Willow Took’s place. Nearly lost my way any number of times, & found myself going around in circles more than once. There is a fabulous old fallen-down tree beside a small pool that looks like it might be just the thing for some fishing. Couldn’t make a sketch as it was too wet, & anyway the raindrops kept getting on my spectacles.
Tuesday. Fine.
Fished in the morning. 3 Dawn Dace — “Nora said it’s a carp,” says Old Noakes. “Good enough for your book, yes? Then write about the orange fins.” They do have lovely orange fins. I don’t know how he knows that I’m writing all of this down in my pocket book, but he does.
Went foraging in the afternoon, this time to the western end of Bywater. There is a big open meadow there — it was lovely to feel the summer grass between my toes. Ended up somehow — had come out without my map — at the mill, & so I bought some flour from Sandyman. “No doubt I’ll see you nosing around soon enough, Underhill.” Nosing around! I ask you!
Am not a little curious about the rooms that Old Ruby closed off — surely there is enough space for my elderly uncle to come & live with me — but I would have to ask Willow Took about opening them up, & I confess that I’m rather afraid of Willow Took. She speaks quite sharply at times — though apparently she does so with everyone.
From memory, needless to say. I don’t think she would suffer very patiently the time it takes to do even a quick sketch! And the supercilious expression is not very flattering. Not exaggerated, by the way.
Wednesday. Fine.
Harvested not one but two rather good vegetables — a Shallot & a handful of Brown Taters. Planted the rest of my seeds in a frenzy of delight & dashed up to Cotton Farm to show Rosie the Taters. She said she’d never seen better! Even Farmer Cotton had to agree. Rosie is now the leader of Bywater’s Gardening Club!
Daisy & Willow Took here for luncheon. Made Very Good Fish Cakes, this time with a Honeyed Chub I’d almost just that minute caught, & Raised Cheese Bread, both of wh. went over pretty well. Daisy is an excitable child at times, but I admit that I am warming to her.
Thursday.
Daisy sent me an effusive note & some plum jam as a thank-you for the luncheon yesterday. Willow wrote that my table is a bit wobbly (!) but it was nice to come down from her workshop. Typical of each, I think!
Saw a fellow in the Village Square with a splendid waistcoat. It seems that Nora Burrows makes them, & so I stopped by to have a look. Will have to start saving my pennies.
Friday. Very fine.
Spent some time this morning chatting with Young Tom at his stall in the village square. He has been making cheeses, & I bought one that he calls a Shirefield — “it’s crumbly, & got a good sourish taste to it,” he said, adding that he wanted to name it something that would represent all of us — a generous thought. At present it is sitting on my pantry shelf waiting for some good company to share it with!
Am out exploring down to the northeastern edge of Bywater as I write. Saw the Three-Farthing Stone, so now I have been in the Westfarthing, the Eastfarthing, & the Northfarthing. A great many things to sketch —
Later. — Was so involved in drawing that I nearly forgot that Orlo & Young Tom Cotton were coming for dinner! Made it just in time, though perhaps it was really a supper by the time I got everything to the table. Used the mutton I’d bought in the morning from Young Tom to make a Saddle of Mutton Stuffed with Cheese — one of Tom’s tangy Shirefields, in fact — & a Rich Rhubarb Pie with my home-grown Rhubarb & some Blackberries & Raspberries I foraged yesterday. Quite good, if I may say so myself!
Saturday. Last day of Summer.
Ran into Mrs. Cotton on the path, coming down from the farm. She has a great many recipes that she got from her old family cookbooks, for the Cooking Club — but her old mixing bowl is bent out of shape, & would I take it to someone called Nefi, at the forge.
Nefi is a rather alarming individual — a Dwarf — though much taller than I expected. I may have stared a bit — I have never met a Dwarf before. He was stern & brusque. “Making friends is like ice fields carving the mountains. Powerful. Mighty. Very slow.” I was not a little taken aback when he said it was impossible to mend the bowl, but then he said that this was because his tongs had fallen into a tunnel, down which he could not fit. (I can well believe that.) But I was happy to go down there, once I found the way in, although it was dark & not a little dank, & fetch them. “I am grateful,” Nefi said, “Now I will call you Tong Friend.” That is something to tell the folks back in Bree!
Found another lost parcel, a bit wet from the dew so that the address was illegible, but I could still make out “From your favourite cousin, at Bucklebury.” Wandered about for a while, foraging, then it struck me — Brandybuck, of course, you mutton-head! It did indeed turn out to be for Miss Delphinium, & she was so happy to get it at last that she gave me some Delphinium seeds for my garden. The seeds are from ones growing up on the hill above her home —
Sunday.
First day of autumn — the leaves seem to have turned golden overnight.
New season, new vegetables for the kitchen garden! Bought a bag-full of seeds from Farmer Cotton — Brown Tater & Brown Onion, Eggplant, two kinds of Pumpkin, Squash, & Turnip. Don’t have quite enough room yet for everything, with the last summer things not ready to harvest yet.
Had Hobson Hornblower & Nora Burrows here for tea.
Went out for a spot of night-fishing — 2 Blue-finned Gudgeon, 2 Ruffe, & 1 Stone Loach.
[page missing]
suspect that Delphinium Brandybuck does not eat meat, for she adds in her note of thanks, “Some hobbits aren’t used to cooking the food I like,” wh. is interesting.
Monday. Second day of Autumn. Rain.
Orlo & Old Noakes here, & we talked about fishing the whole time. Made two dishes of Very Good Fish Cakes, experimenting with flavour combinations.
Went down to the Village Square afterwards with Orlo. He is certainly welcome to come for any meal, any time — my door is always open.
[page missing]
Leave a Reply