It all started in Evendim, sometime in late autumn. Those days, there was still pigs and pork in Evendim, unlike today. The tall folks farmed their pigs here and there, where the creatures could roll happily in mud, and enjoy their lives. Autumn was a season loved by the pigs: for some reason, the farmers started to give them more food at that time. It was like an all-you-can-eat buffet for the pigs, all day long.
One day on a farm, the pigs were scoffing their oinkteenth meal and conversing in their own language, Oinkish.
“I just love autumn!” a striped pig oinked, digging into some mashed veggies. “So much to eat!”
“This has been a good harvest season, it seems,” a black pig oinked back. “We are getting more than just the leftovers from our Master’s meals.”
“And the best thing is”, a very large pig added, “that the ones who grow largest during this time of the year are allowed to join the Master at his Yule feast! He said that himself!”
“You will do well in that competition”, the striped pig oinked and sighed. “I bet the food’s oinklicious, as no pig never returns to our pigsty after that feast!”
Suddenly, the conversation was disrupted by gloomy laughter that came from a nearby bush. The pigs startled a bit. “Who’s there?” they squealed. But they only saw two eyes glowing in the bush.
“You simple oinkers are just eating your way to your own doom. Didn’t yer sows tell you that there are no free meals in this world?”
And then it came out from the bush: it was a boar, wild and grim, armed with two sharp tusks. It was the Old Bloodtusk, a beast that everyone knew and feared.
“What do you know about any of that, you savage Warty Wartface?” the large pig snorted. “You’ve never been to a pigsty or lived with the two-footed masters. You are just full of jealousy!”
The other pigs oinked in agreement, but Old Bloodtusk just smirked.
“I would never submit to a two-footed wretch! Don’t you understand that this lovely Master of yours growing you fat so you could join his table… not as a guest, but as the main dish!”
The pigs squealed in disbelief. “You don’t know our Master, he is a good person! He is treating us so well!”
“Well, have you ever seen a pig that has oinked back from his Yule table?” Old Bloodtusk asked. “What do you reckon, does your sweet Master entertain them as his guests all year round, year after year?”
That made the pigs look a bit uncertain. The striped one stepped forward. “If that’s true, what should be do about it, you Old and Wise Bloodtusk?”
“You should all escape and run away!” Old Bloodtusk declared. “Save your precious hides and chops.”
“Dear oh dear”, the pigs squealed. “That’s not an option for us! We will be eaten by wolves and bears if we run away!”
“Not if I lead you”, Old Bloodtusk said. “These lands are not safe for oinkers. Join me, and I will show you a place where we can all roll in the mud peacefully and be plump and happy.”
“If all the pigs of Evendim join and travel together, no beast nor man will dare to attack them.”
The pigs looked slightly more confident.
“I will return in a few weeks and then, I will lead you to your freedom.”
And sure, Old Bloodtusk did as promised. He managed to convince all the pigs of Evendim to join him in his quest. When time came, he started to gather all the pigs to his oinker ranks, one farm at a time, after nightfall.
It was certainly a sight. In the moonlight, they went forward like a stream of pork, lead by their fearsome leader who was armed with the deadliest tusks of oinkkind. The wild creatures of Evendim didn’t even dare to disrupt their journey. They headed towards south, and everything went quite peacefully until they reached the sandy beaches of Brandywine, the Brown Flat-lands.
There on the shore, a pierate ship was getting ready for departure. In the bright moonlight, they spotted the wandering pigs. The pigs shivered at the evil-looking pierates, but Old Bloodtusk didn’t. He turned to the pigs and hissed: “Let me have an oink with those scruffy ruffians. That boat will take us to the lands where we are all safe.”
“Where will it take us to, Old Bloodtusk?” the pigs asked.
“White shores, and beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise”, Old Bloodtusk oinked, with a happy glimmer in its eyes. “With lots of mud and turnip mash.”
“Well, that isn’t so bad”, the pigs muttered.
“It isn’t,” Old Bloodtusk nodded. “You just wait here and let me handle this for you. Follow me when I have finished with the two-legged idiots.”
“Ahoy, cap’n!” one pierate gasped. “Months of pork roast be comin’ right at us!”
“We could do wit' some extra supplies,” the captain nodded. “Prepare some cabin for that grub!”
“One o' them be approachin' us,” the pierate gasped. “Be ready t' grab it! We shall 'ave pork pie fer months, lads!”
The pierates never knew what hit them. One by one, they fell overboard, some into the waters, some onto the sandy beach, all oinkstruck by Old Bloodtusk. In the heat of the battle, the anchor rope tore off and the ship drifted offshore, driven by the Brandywine stream. Only Old Bloodtusk was left onboard. The pigs could hear his oinks in the night: “Just follow the river, to the south! Meet me in the hobbit lands…”
The pigs didn’t want to stand there and wait for the pierates to recover, so they started to go southward as instructed. But as they started to wobble away, they met an old hobbit on the beach. He seemed to be on a night walk with his pipe and walking stick.
“Hullo there, and no need to be afraid,” he said to the frightened oinkers. “I won’t hurt you. I was just on my night walk. My son has lost his toy dog, and I was looking for it… Then I saw the ship and the boar… What was that?”
The pigs oinked and the old hobbit lad seemed to understand. “So, the Old Bloodtusk, a match for a shipful of pierates! I am sure a creature like that would be worth of a story… a play even… ‘An Ode to Old Bloodtusk’!”
The old lad seemed to get lost in his thoughts, and the pigs didn’t want to waste more time in those dreadful lands, so they continued with haste. If all hobbits were as harmless as the old lad they had met, their lands shouldn’t be too scary either.
When they reached the northern border of the Shire, something stopped them in their tracks: it was the loveliest music they had ever heard! Well, at least it sounded lovely in pig’s ears: the music consisted mainly of squeaks, oinky melodies and squeals. Then they saw her: a young red-haired hobbit lass, playing a pibgorn. When the lass saw them, she smiled happily and said. “Oh, pigs! Say, are you lost?” The pigs oinked and looked at the pibgorn as if they were under a spell. “Well, I better go back home to Budgeford, it’ll be breakfast time soon,” she said and smiled. She continued her playing and started to walk southwards. And all the pigs followed her squeaking. All the way to Budgeford where they found turnip mash, lovely mud and all that.
“This must be the land Old Bloodtusk was talking about,” the pigs thought. “Strange that he didn’t arrive here first! Oh well, he will turnip eventually…”
What happened to Old Bloodtusk? Well, they say the ship foundered in a storm somewhere down the Brandywine River, but there was not a trace of Old Bloodtusk. Still, we know that he eventually ended up in Archet where he settled down in a rotting tree stump and started his career as a constant menace. Somewhere on the shores of Brandywine, Master Ronald Dwale wrote a play about the wild boar for the Frostbluff theatre, but it never got performed there, sadly. Only a Shire-based acting troupe has managed to perform the tale for other hobbits. Oh, and Budgeford has been the pork capital of Middle-earth ever since, thanks to Old Bloodtusk and the pibgorn lass. These days, she squeaks happily among the musical Brandy Badgers, spreading the message of pork. And Evendim has never seen a single pig after this incident.
As for the pigs… yes, they oinked happily ever after.
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