I know opinions on this issue vary more widely than Tiger Woods' ability to play golf on any given day, but there's something about playing a chick that feels wrong to me. Maybe it's the odd looks Mrs. Pad keeps giving me when she thinks I'm not looking (Oh, trust me: I know you're looking. -- Mrs. Pad), but Padhwe is no more.
|Derrik Danderfluff, Eriador Cartographile and Renowned Lush of the Third Age.|
In her place is Padegar, a sturdy (I think that's a dog-whistle for "short") hobbit Warden who now runs with Mrs. Pad's newest vertically challenged minstrel, Kathleniel. Together, the two are serving as a willing diversion under the protection of the Rangers to pose as the Ring-bearer and his faithful servant, and so they are hunted throughout the breadth of Eriador by the minions of Angmar.
Actually, at the moment anyway, their chief concern is retrieving those rancid pies in the Shire. All that derring-do stuff will come later. I hope we run into you sometime!
Master of Toons