If you love the hobbits as I do, you may wish that J.R.R. Tolkien had been granted the time to write a dozen more books about them and their lands. Don't you want to know whether there is a special verdant quality unique to the Green Hill Country? Don't you want to pass through Waymoot on the way to Shiremoot? Do you wonder what Pincup is like, and why it is called Pincup?
We never get to spend time in most of the places in and around the Shire, but their labels possess a magic quality that invites us to daydream. We can try to envision, and even paint, the scenes evoked by the words and cartography.
One of the place names I've always enjoyed most is Frogmorton. As Professor Tom Shippey explains in The Road to Middle-earth, the meaning is quite straightforward: a town in a marshy land where frogs are.
This clue, combined with our knowledge that Frogmorton is home to The Floating Log, enriches our picture of hobbit skills. It is not easy to build on sodden ground. The Little Folk must have developed a special architectural solution for this.
And what about the name of the establishment? After much thought, I supposed it could be that a wooden tavern built partly on pilings over a marsh might jokingly be said to resemble a floating log. But, in case that's an errant guess on my part, I've hedged my bets by having the deck overlook a large floating log in the water.
Given that most hobbits aren't fond of boating, it seems unlikely they would have paddled up to the place for an evening's enjoyment. Instead, they might have constructed sturdy, railed boardwalks leading to The Floating Log so that no neighbor would get lost in the marshes of a night. By lantern light, they'd have a safe path home.
Who would have visited The Floating Log? Pubs and inns in Eriador seem democratic places. There would have been nothing strange about well-to-do Mr. Baggins dropping in at The Golden Perch with his gardener, Sam. Thus, the crowd at The Floating Log could well be made up of farmers, bakers, postmen, button sellers, shiriffs, and gentlehobbits. Would there also have been a nice snuggery at the back for wives and daughters? We don't know.
How would it have sounded there? Can you imagine hobbit laughter and song? Gentle water would lap at the pilings, punctuated by the splashing and croaking of frogs. There would be a buzz of marshy insects, but hopefully no Neekerbreekers.
How would it have smelt? It's a freshwater marsh, presumably, given its distance from the sea, so there would be an earthy tang of slowly-decomposing vegetation. There would be the smell of food and drink. The innkeeper's son is bringing out a big copper kettle of steaming soup, which would be lovely to eat as the stars came out. The wafting smoke of pipeweed would tickle the nose.
Bilbo and Frodo have come over from Bag End on a hobbit walking party, and sit smoking on a little bench as they admire the view. Perhaps they will put up at The Floating Log for the night, or maybe they will go calling on cousins in the surrounding village, and sit up late, sorting out family trees.
If all of this sounds credible to you, I hope it gives you a sense of the relaxing pace of life which makes hobbit country seem such a haven. There is no serious strife, no severe pollution, and no hunger that won't be remedied by the next meal of the day.
Therein lies some of the magic of Professor Tolkien's beautiful maps, where the place names are simple, the folk chiefly humble, and the question rises from the inked, hilly terrain as to why we haven't yet learnt to live like hobbits in peace and plenty. What if we traded in our stress for walking staves, and a meal on the water with friends and lots of good hobbit laughter?
Dream on, the "realists" might say, but maps should help us dream, and I hope this video short of a charming evening at The Floating Log takes you a little closer to being there.