Carica Gets (NOT) Spam Mail

So, there I was, taking part in the Fellowship Walk for the baby bobbits, when the mail pigeon told me that I had a new mail waiting to be read. Because it happened just as we were leaving Bree however, I couldn’t check the mailbox for hours since then.
I was gradually getting curious what the mail could be as the mail notification icon kept taunting me, and I said to my kinmates that it would be funny if the mail I have wondered about for so long happened to be merely a spam mail.

And that’s when it happened.

Soon after, my mail notification started dinging (shaking to let you know you have new notification) and dinging and dinging even more constantly for literally dozens of times.
At first I thought “Oh great, I got more mail I can’t check,” but the much-too-frequent interval and the absurd quantity started making me nervous.
“Oh god, am I being bombarded with Unwanted Mail? Wormy Apples? Muffins? Or could it even be metal ingots?!”
And I was helpless, because we were out in the field of Lone-lands, walking across the Last Bridge and heading towards Bilbo’s Trolls, and nobody thought to place any mailbox on the route! I really ought to speak to Postman Redsmith about this.

Much later with the Fellowship Walk over at last, I made my way back to Michel Delving to finally solve the mystery of unread mails and found 30 parcels – yes, every mail had an item in it – so lovingly (Bah) crafted by tricksy man and hobbit!
The original mail that I wondered about was from Godwineson, sending me 13 Black Dust. Apparently when I made a claim that I do not eat metals but food that’s rich in mineral, he thought I would want to make mud-pies! The nerve! But after that, it was all Floradine – bless her soul – having fun with the mathoms (cough*junk*cough) she has acquired during the early part of the Fellowship Walk.

Sit back and light a pipeweed, because this is going to be a long read.

Thanks, Flora. You have indeed made this hobbit’s day a little brighter.
*vigorously shakes fist*

Author: Carica

An ever so hungry and nosy hobbit who likes chickening around with a pie in one hand and a pretzelhorn in the other.

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