I was born in Early Spring of S.R. 674(or T.A.2275) to Wilibald and Viola Burrowes on the family farm near Bindbole Wood. I was the second-born, the younger brother to Toria Burrowes. If anything, i had a pretty easy early life, with the exceptions of Toria pulling my hair or taking my toys. My mother, Viola, was a quiet mother, very compassionate, yet not against sending us into the cornermof whichever room we happened to have caused the trouble in. My father Wilibald, however was quite a diferent hobbit alltogether. He was quite loud, and very much frienly. He was a carpenter, so as well as his feet being as tough as leather, as most hobbit feet are, as were his hands.
I remember the fist time my father took me to his workshop. I had expected it to be a small little shop, with small little chairs and tables which he sold. It was not anything like that. Rather, it was a very big two-floor building, with saws, whittling knives and things of such manner. They all seemed to tell each other what to do, with the lowest hobbit giving orders to the highest hobbit and the orders going down from there. There were tables, chairs, and everything like it being carried everywhere. I, all by myself, sat on a oak bench waiting for my father to return to take me home, I waited for hours and eventually fell asleep on the bench. (I would rather I had not, for when I woke, my backwas aching!) After my brief nap, I got up and eventually came to the piece of furniture which my father was working on. It was an oak table. My father said it was going to be sold to Otho Fairbairn, a short hobbit who was quite wealthy.my father said the money he got from selling it would be split between the workers, and that he himself would get one of Mr. Fairbairn's ponies. I now know why he would want one- the things are beautiful and magnifient! I believe he said the one he really wanted was the pure white one named Boulder.