I apologise for exaggerating. Behind the scenes massaging of strict historical accounts -- for dramatic or comedic effect -- is the dirty little secret of all adequate storytellers.
The truth is that none of us realised that we'd had a close encounter with a halfling holdover from Middle-Earth until we looked through our pictures after arriving back in Taupo. We noticed something odd in one of our group photos:
(Photo has not been altered save for cropping and a little lighting boost in Photoshop. All contents are otherwise as captured.)
Short humanoid creature? Check. Favouring bright-coloured dress (usually yellow or green) as per Tolkien's prologue to The Lord of the Rings? Check.
It's annoying, because if I'd actually seen the bloody thing, I would have tackled it.
This would have led to a whole set of amazing windfalls. First, I could have been co-author to the first crypto-zoological paper ever accepted into Nature. Then I could have made a mint on the world-wide lecture circuit. Tolkien geeks would have lined up by the boat-load to meet any of the people responsible for first capture of a hobbit, giving me more than enough resources to continue travelling where ever I wanted for the rest of my life. Sure, the hapless creature would have been subjected to a lifetime of poking and prodding in captivity, but no windfall comes without some manner of sacrifice. (Hey, I didn't say it had to be my sacrifice.)
I suppose it sensed that, and thus scarpered before any of us could turn around.
Tricksy things, hobbits are.
Related Entries:
1. The Tongariro Alpine Crossing


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