I was born to a half-elvish, half-mannish mother and a half-istar, half-hobbit father. All the canonists are screaming now. Anyway. My mother died in childbirth, leaving my father to raise me. He moved back to The Shire from Rivendell, where my mother lived, and there he took a hobbit nanny for me. Her name was Puddin'. Soon after that, my father went off to war and I never saw him again. Puddin' raised me up right in the ways of the hobbit folk, and something in the water must've stunted my growth because I've been a perfect five-feet tall ever since. Puddin' soon became too old to take care of me properly, so she took me to Rivendell to try and find a respectable house to adopt me. A lady by the name of Melethenen took me in, and she became my adopted mother. Just as good as the one who died. But soon she passed to the halls of Mandos because she became very sick with a bad disease that no medicine could cure. It was called can-cer, or something like that. I was really lonely, and I needed another mother figure that I could stay with for company. Then an elf by the name of Sere let me stay with her. And again, because I have no luck at all with mothers, she went on an indefinately visit to The Grey Havens and left me once more without a mother figure. But my best friend Tarin told me that her mother was looking to offer shelter to those who needed it, and so I took her up on her offer. And there I'm living, happily ever after, until the end of my days. Which will probably be tragic and quite unfortunate.