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Races - Chapter 1 - Halflings

Halfling Culture

A culture of harmony and peace, a warm emotional attachment to family and friends-- including a willingness to look beyond physical differences to the common bond beneath-and an appreciation of the finer things in life... these are the hallmarks of halfling existence. Whereas Chapter 2 looked at the differences between the halfling subraces, this chapter focuses instead on the things all halflings have in common--their gregarious nature, trustworthy character, and delight in whatever physical comforts their surroundings provide.

No culture has displayed such a willingness, even enthusiasm, in mingling with members of other races. And halflings, with their generally cheerful demeanor, more or less honest approach to life, and helpful ingenuity, have been sincerely welcomed into communities of humans, elves, dwarves, gnomes, and even treants, giants, and (rarely) goblinoids.

But despite this willingness to diversify--or, perhaps, because of it--halflings of all cultures feel a strong identity with their extended families; the company of other halflings is important to members of this small race. Families remain close, however large they grow in size, and many adult halflings will consult with their brothers, sisters, grown children, or parents concerning important decisions; if no kinfolk are about, they will turn to friends and even mere acquaintances, so long as they are fellow halflings. Even if advice is not taken, halflings feel a sense of comfort in knowing that other small folk have been privy to the decision.

The Name "Halfling"

It should be noted that, so far as halflings themselves are concerned, the name "halfling" is a misnomer. They don't consider themselves half the size of anything; in their opinion, it's everybody else who's oversized. Their own name for their race translates simply as 'the folk' or 'the small folk' (a term which sometimes includes gnomes as well); humans, elves, and dwarves are collectively referred to as 'the Big Folk.' The halflings also have a slang term they use to refer to humans which translates as 'too-talls.'

The Hearth and the Burrow

"See the fire, there, sprouts . . . how he settles in his bed, snug and warm. He has no flame for us now--but we don't need it. If anything, his coals are even warmer."
"Warm enough for a story, Grandmother?" inquired Pedderee, quickly taking the coveted lap position while her sister Petrilly as well as Kepli, Calkin, and the others settled around the stone hearth, snuggling into thick fur rugs.
"You know me too well, Little Kitten. Tonight, you pick; what story do you want to hear?"
"Well . . . last time you told us about how Littleman came home again after all his wanderings. What was his burrow like?"
"Ah, but that's a question you could answer for yourself if you thought for a minute, Little One. You see, when Littleman returned to Green Fields, Yondalla was determined to see that he would never leave again. Before he'd left, his burrow had just been a place to sleep, or a refuge to hide from enemies in. She decided to make it a place that would draw him like the sun draws the dew from the grass, a home so perfect that no place in all the worlds could lure him away. Now, children... what things would she look for?"
"Water!" squeaked Kepli. "A flowing stream to chuckle in the night and soothe him with its song."
''"Good, lad--very good. And water deep and clean enough for a cool bath, wide enough to shelter plump trout. Also, a small waterfall, beautiful to watch and hear."
"Flowers too?" asked Pedderee, tentatively. "Or a hillside of soft grass or clover to lie on in the sunny afternoons?"
"Both, lass--and bushes and trees as well. Littleman loved growing things, and wild things as well, so outside his windows Yondalla placed a perfect meadow. His burrow was on a hillside, facing the south so that it warmed to the sun in autumn and winter--with an overhanging fringe of grass to shade the doors and windows in summertime when the sun was high. Flowers blazed in the meadow from spring to fall, and tall trees surrounded it--hardwoods, with broad, shady boughs, and tall pines, green for all the year 'round."
"And the burrow, Grandmother--surely it had a fireplace?"
"Aye, Calkin, you've put your finger on it there. You see, sprouts, the hearth is the heart of any burrow--it's the place where you should dream now of where you'll go and what you'll do when you grow up . . . and then, in later years, the place where you'll sit and savor your memories . . ."
The old halfling stared into the fire, a faraway look in her half-closed eyes. For a moment the children wondered if she was drifting off to sleep--but she merely took a brief stroll down the paths of her own memories.

To the halfling the primary symbol of the importance of home, family, and community is the burrow and its ever-present hearth. No halfling dwelling will be without some sort of fireplace, and even halflings who live above-ground tend to refer to their dwelling as a 'burrow,' even if it's only a room in an inn.

While burrows will naturally vary somewhat depending on the climate and terrain--a Furchin's icehouse will, for example, differ significantly from an Athasian halfling's tree house--all halfling dwellings have some features in common. If at all possible, there will be windows, which will be open during all but the chilliest of days--halflings never confuse `snug' with `stuffy.' Tallfellows carry this fondness for fresh air the farthest, positioning their homes to take advantage of whatever gentle breezes waft through the area, while Stouts represent the opposite extreme and might well have only a few small port windows.

Although well-ventilated, the burrow will be shielded against drafts by shutters of wood or leather that can be tightly closed and sealed against gusts and storms. Unlike dwarves, halflings keep their homes brightly lit, with lamps in every room, yet shutters and doors will be so well-set in their frames that not a glimmer of illumination will show on the outside when the burrow is locked up tight.

The fireplace will be built with as much stone as possible, given materials at hand, and capped with a large wooden mantle. It will have a wide mouth and a well-designed chimney to draw smoke up and out of the room. In colder climates, elaborate fireplaces are sometimes constructed with their own air-inlet ducts connecting to the outside of the burrow, allowing the house can be snugly sealed without suffocating the fire, while other ducts channel the heated air away. Conversely, in very warm locales halflings enjoy gathering around communal outdoor fires for an evening's conversation and fellowship-- yet even so, each individual burrow will always have its own homefire as well.

It is not uncommon in a halfling burrow for a single fire to last for years, even decades or generations, without a second kindling. Even in very warm climes where it is allowed to die down to coals during the daylight hours, the embers are coaxed back to life at nightfall. Well-seasoned hardwoods are a favorite fuel, but wherever they live, halflings will quickly learn the best fuels for producing a warm, steady heat. Halflings are adept at using different local firewoods (hickory, mesquite, applewood, etc.) to "sweeten the air" or season the food they cook.

A halfling fireplace usually has several racks beside it, so that a variety of cauldrons and kettles can be swung over the coals. In this way dinners are cooked, milk curdled into cheese, and clay pottery fired by the steady heat. Often a large oven nestles in one corner of the coal bed, for use in baking the bread that forms the centerpiece of the halfling diet.

A lazy man sits in his old chair all day enjoying the sunshine, while an industrious man labors to earn the money to buy a fine new chair he may sit in someday. I ask you, who is the fool?
-- Hairfoot Philosophy

Halflings have been called connoisseurs of comfort, and the interior of a burrow will be furnished as cozily as the inhabitant(s) can afford. The floor will boast several rugs, mats, or carpets. Every halfling, however poor, has a table and a few stools, and at least one well-padded comfy chair. The bed will be small but snug, its mattress filled with clean straw or sometimes down, with several soft pillows. The mantlepiece will feature a variety of decorations--most practical, like dishes and candlesticks, a few ornamental or exotic. The latter will often be among their owner's prized possessions, even if he or she hasn't a clue as to what the things are, provided they look interesting enough. Paintings and statuary are rare, as halflings generally prefer their treasures to be useful as well as pretty to look at.

The Family

"Pedderee, when your mother was a little girl she had those same curls dangling by her cheeks--she was my first granddaughter, you know, and I couldn't have been prouder! And you, Calkin--your dad was my second nephew on my brother Theadric's side. He had Theadric's stubborn jaw, and--if you don't mind me saying so--I see that same firm set of the chin in you!"

A single burrow will be occupied by members of one family. Depending on the size of both burrow and family, the dwelling could have as many as twenty-five residents or as few as one. A populous burrow will have a patriarch or matriarch (occasionally both) who presides over the brood with genial authority. Four generations of a family living in a burrow is not at all uncommon, although sometimes a just-married couple will decide they want a burrow of their own. Occasionally an older halfling will decide that he or she would like a private burrow, but such individuals are viewed as eccentrics by their families and neighbors--it is hard for most of these gregarious folk to imagine anyone wanting to be alone.

Halflings respect experience and wisdom and defer to their elders out of affection and trust. Aside from the venerable head of a family, adult halflings of different generations (even parents and children) view each other as equals. Only the youngest halflings, not yet adults, are subject to rules and restraints imposed by authority; all grown halflings living in the burrow will be there because they want to be.

Parenting duties are shared by all the adult members of the family; fathers, mothers, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and older siblings all share in the upbringing of youngsters. It is a rare halfling who grows up as the only child in a household; it is more common to be one of a number of brothers and sisters and cousins who play and explore together.

Though family bonds are felt warmly, they are not a cause of exclusivity. Feuds between clans are rare, since most disputes are blamed on the disputers themselves, not their families. For example, a halfling who gets into a fight (a rare, but not unheard of, occurrence) is likely to be criticized soundly by his or her own family for his or her lack of self-control--there's no "Let's go and whup them guys what beat on my brudder!" mentality.

Although disagreements are naturally inevitable in these crowded living conditions, halflings rarely engage in outright bickering or argument. For one thing, the presence of two people arguing in a burrow several dozen people call home is considered a major intrusion into the privacy of the others and hence a severe breach of etiquette by those engaged in the fracas.

Many of the traditional causes of such fights among humans are removed by the halfling's communal outlook on life. Supper is prepared by everyone who has a free hand, and those who didn't cook will pitch in the cleaning up or help entertain the youngsters after the meal. Only when all the chores are done is an individual member free to go about his or her own business. Because of their ready-to-help nature, tasks like cooking and cleaning up don't take very long, so this still leaves family members with plenty of time to get their feet up and their eyelids down.

In cases of deeper disputes, such as a couple's disagreement on whether to move out and find a place of their own, the discussion will generally be waged quietly, over a period of months or even years. One member might make a friendly remark, after a crowded dinner around a small table, how pleasant it would be to have enough room to stretch out his elbows at the table. A week later his spouse might reply, in an equally pleasant tone, how nice it is that there was such an interesting conversation—"so many points of view"--around that same table on a different evening. Naturally, it takes a long time to resolve an issue like this--but when it's resolved, the decision is far more likely to have been mutually arrived at than it would have been among a human couple.

Growing Up

Offspring are a source of great pride and joy to their parents. Halflings enter the world as helpless as human infants, requiring similar care for the early part of their lives.

For the first ten years, a halfling's relative growth pretty well parallels a human's--i.e., a ten year old human and halfling will look much the same age, although not in size, and will have about the same level of maturity. Children of both sexes and many different ages commonly play together, following rules created by the older youths that still allow the youngest a measure of freedom and decision-making in the game.

It is during these formative years that young halflings practice those traits that will form some of their basic skills when they grow up. Hide and Seek is a favorite game among halflings and is almost always played out of doors. Thus the youngsters become adept at concealing themselves in all sorts of natural cover--in patches of brush, behind tree-trunks, and even amid beds of flowers. Young halfling quickly develop the calm patience that allows them to remain still for long periods of time, since they learn over and over that it is the one who moves that is seen first.

Another favorite game is called Knock the Block, in which a small object such as a block of wood, or perhaps a tin pot or iron kettle, is placed some distance away, and the young halflings take turns throwing things at it, recording points for hits. The game is sometimes played with slings and stones (among older youths). For special tournaments and important matches, clay targets are used, with the winner determined by whoever's shot strikes hard enough to shatter the object. This common game is presumably one reason why so many halflings grow up to be so adept with missile weapons.

From the age of eleven or so on to adulthood, halfling development slows in comparison with the Big Folk. A halfling's adolescence lasts for about a decade and a half (more in the case of the longer-lived subraces). However, the period is characterized by a lot less angst than is typically felt by a human--perhaps because of the warm, supportive, noncompeting environment provided by family, burrow, and community.

Halfling artisans and craftsmen do not follow a formal apprenticeship program-- indeed, adolescents are encouraged to experiment with a wide variety of pursuits. The cheesemaker, for example, will be helped by virtually every village youth over the course of several years. Those who find that they enjoy the work will spend more and more time with the `master,' until by adulthood the youth has learned everything the cheesemaker can teach about the trade.

Another reason, perhaps, for the relaxed adolescence of the typical halfling is that male-female friendships are as common as friendships between members of the same sex, often lasting from childhood through adulthood. Many of these lifelong friendships culminate in marriage.

Sustenance, and More

In another moment the old matriarch's eyes flashed open, and she grinned at the eager faces around the hearth.
"What else, Grandmother?" inquired Kepli. "How did Yondalla keep Littleman home in his burrow?"
"She kept him there with the other things he loved . . . with bread hot from the oven, and fresh butter and cheese. With the tangy scent of meat cooked just right, and good drink to nourish the meal along--wines sweet and dry, and cold milk, and even colder beer. She made stout and mead for him, to help the fires of his hearth keep him warm."

Halflings enjoy eating and drinking in plentiful quantities--indeed, despite the difference in size, the typical halfling will eat as much if not more than a human twice his or her size; this is because halflings have a very high metabolism. Most halflings eat three large meals a day, interspersed with three sizable snacks: breakfast, brunch, lunch, teatime, supper, and bedtime snack. Although they enjoy an occasional meal of meat, especially poultry or wildfowl (roast pheasant is considered a great delicacy), the short folk rely extensively on bread, fruit, and cheese.

Halfling bakers are famed for their abilities with dough, making all types of sweet or salty, light or heavy breads. Cheesemaking is another skill in which many halflings are proficient, and here, too, variety is a prime hallmark--each individual cheesemaker will typically specialize in one kind of cheese, no two of which will be alike, allowing a halfling community to offer a variety of sharp and mild, hard and soft cheeses.

Halflings are born gardeners, far exceeding any other race in their knack for growing foodstuffs. Any halfling with access to a plot of ground will usually maintain a garden, wherein he or she will carefully nurture fruits and vegetables of all types appropriate to the climate. Even in a small garden, a halfling will generally plant at many different times during the spring, assuring a continuing harvest from early summer through late autumn.

Halflings do not favor a lot of spice in their foods, however, so few raise peppers or other strongly-flavored crops unless a nearby ready market for them exists. Onions are a notable exception--many halflings love them and have even been known to munch them raw, much as a human might eat an apple.

Halfling brewers are well-known and their products popular with humans as well as other halflings. As with cheesemaking, a brewer will specialize in a single beverage. These can vary from heavy stout (halflings often jokingly hand a first-time human drinker a knife and fork with the glass) to light and creamy ales. Fruit wines are also popular, with halfling vintners specializing in using whatever fruit is near to hand.

It should be noted that, though halflings favor many sorts of wines and ales, they rarely get drunk, due no doubt to their high metabolism. Rather, the alcohol tends to make them pleasantly drowsy, and a group of halflings that share a bottle of potent stuff will typically become quite relaxed, quiet, and contented as the evening wears on.

The Village

The key to the village is the halfling's desire for the maximum of comfort with the minimum of effort. These pragmatic folk long ago learned that, though one halfling might learn to grow and cook and sew and build and so forth, specialization in these tasks creates a much higher level of quality all around. Thus, we see the cooperative roots of the halfling's picture of community.

Indeed, this cooperation extends to all aspects of life. The breadmaker will give his or her loaves to the other villagers, as will the cheesemaker with his or her cheese and the brewer with his or her beverage. Perhaps the baker's family gets the best loaf from a particular batch, but everyone gets a fair share. Burrow excavation and house-building operates under the same pattern--the most experienced builder in the town will supervise a legion of workers, so that the initial portions of the task can be accomplished in a few days. As to the furnishing of the burrow, the occupants see to that themselves.

Though halflings mingle well with human society, this does not mean they have departed from the concept of the village--rather, it is an indication of their broad vision, for nowhere is it written that the villagers must be fellow halflings. A halfling who dwells in a city will treat his or her neighbors as fellow villagers--this is what makes halflings such good neighbors. They are quick to recognize when their generosity is not reciprocated, however, and thus will soon narrow their circle of `villagers' to those who feel a similar sense of cooperation and friendship.

Crafts, Labor, and Products

Halflings are adept at utilizing local resources in their labors. Although only the Stouts are very effective at mining, all subraces will be intimately familiar with the surface features of their surroundings. If they live in an area with a lot of trees, carvers will know everything about each variety of wood available. If the environment is rocky, experienced stone-masons will predominate. The most dramatic evidence, perhaps, of this adaptability is the fact that the Furchin have developed a high level of skill at working the raw materials in their nearly woodless and stoneless environment: they make everything from their homes to their tools, weapons and clothing out of leather, bone, and ice. The specific skills likely to be found in a halfling community vary by subrace (see Chapter 2).

The quality of halfling work is very consistent. While rarely the equal of the greatest artisans in the world--dwarves make better axe blades, elves better wine--on the average it is better than the average available elsewhere.

Areas where halfling craftsmen truly excel include many tasks involving dexterity and great detail. The small folk make splendid jewelers, engravers, locksmiths, woodcarvers--indeed, artists of all types. They love colors, and once again the propensity for detail allows a halfling painter to bring a scene to bright and vivid life. If clocks are known to a world (e.g., if its technology is sufficiently advanced), then it is likely that the finest clockmakers will be halflings.

Also, because of their proclivity for entertaining gossip and news of all kinds, halflings make great storytellers. Some of them have a gift for music, and halfling musicians and storytellers are in great demand at any village feast or festival.

Halflings are ill-suited for jobs requiring size and strength, such as blacksmithing, ocean sailing, or cargo hauling. Though a halfling village will usually have a smith who makes nails and horseshoes, his or her work will not be up to the level of most human smiths and will probably be for local consumption only; the same is true of halfling teamsters.

Trade

"They cleaned me out! What's even more amazing, they made me feel like I was having a good time while they did it!
"Now, I've taken my wagon of goods into many a village before, and always I came away with a little more than I took in. This trip I had it all: bright copper kettles, some jeweled necklaces and bracelets--trinkets, really--and an assortment of good hammers and knives.
"I'd no sooner rolled into town than I smelled bread baking. I think that was the start of it--I didn't realize how hungry I was. The baker came out and gave me a piece--free! Best crust I ever tasted, too.
"Then there was the innkeeper, who brought me over a mug of sweet ale. Why, before I knew it they were givin' me a bit of this and a taste of that, and I just sort of started doing the same thing back.
"Fact is, though, you can't make it in this business if you trade a steel knife for a glass of beer, or a copper kettle for a loaf of bread. Why, the liveryman took such good care of my horses--they positively gleamed in the morning!--that I paid his bill with a smile.
"Gave him one gold for each horse, I did. You know, I can't even remember when I've forked over that much to put myself up for the night!"
-- Grantancrous Jute, Human Tinker and Tradesman

Barter is a way of life to the halfling--though in more cases than not it is the unspoken, unrecorded barter of village life. However, halflings also trade among themselves on a more formal basis and are skilled at interacting with human suppliers and customers. They have a keen eye for detail and are generally quick to spot counterfeit or low-quality goods, all the while proclaiming the good points of whatever they are offering in return.

Most trade between halfling villages, and between halflings and other folk, is carried on by professional halfling merchants called Traders (see Chapter 4: Character Kits).

These halfling merchants transport surplus goods from one village to trade for the products of another. While halfling merchants will certainly take gold and other coinage as payment, they are also willing (more so than human or dwarven traders, certainly) to accept goods in return for goods. Pragmatic here as elsewhere, however, Traders generally don't take goods unless they feel that they will be able to sell or barter those same goods at one of their next few stops.

Since they enjoy the give-and-take of a good bartering session, a typical halfling merchant will offer far less for the goods he or she desires than they are actually worth, while at the same time asking an exorbitant price for his or her own. The small folk view bartering as something of a game and sometimes forget how much better they are at it than most of the Big Folk. However, a halfling who belatedly discovers that he or she has unwittingly talked a human into buying goods at considerably more than their value will often salve his or her conscience by throwing in a `bonus' once the deal is closed to compensate the poor bargainer.

Society Norms and Taboos

"As pleasant as his burrow was, Littleman often felt there was something missing as he sat alone by his hearth. It wasn't long before he realized that he was lonely, and it wasn't long after that till he knew he'd found the perfect person to cure his loneliness-- Melindy, the fairest maiden among all his neighbors, she of the plump, red cheeks, bouncing curls, and smoothest downy fur on the tops of her feet. But, as luck would have it, she was already being courted by another--stolid Genrill, a farmer and herdsman of good wealth and solid standing in the community.
"Naturally, Genrill objected to his newfound rival but--alas for him--Melindy's heart was swept away by the dashing Littleman, with his tales of travel and adventure, his ready laugh, and his warm smile."
"But Grandmother--did Genrill not fight for his love? Didn't he bash Littleman over the head . . . or something?" wondered Kepli.
"Posh, child--you talk like a human! Of course he didn't. Melindy made known her choice, and she became Littleman's bride. Genrill himself provided the roast beast for the wedding feast!"

Though they have no lack of courage, halflings shun violent or aggressive behavior in social settings. They are slow to anger and always ready to seek a negotiated solution to any dispute.

A halfling feels no sense of shame if he or she chooses to leave the presence of some obnoxious bully rather than getting involved in a fight--even a fight the halfling thinks he or she can win. Fortunately, because of their communal village upbringing, few halflings are this rude, and such situations mainly arise when the halfling mixes company with humans, dwarves, or goblinoids.

Personal insults delivered to a fellow villager are considered low class, reflecting more poorly on the one who makes the insult than the target. Politeness is much admired, and one who shows tolerance to a neighbor who has wronged him is considered to be the epitome of a class act.

Parties among halflings are common and will be given for a variety of reasons. Birthdays are always cause for celebration, and with so many family members living together it's rare for a month to go by without several birthdays in it. Each community will also have many annual holidays. These vary by culture--there are no such holidays observed by halflings everywhere. Often the Small Folk will celebrate whatever festivals are popular among their human and demihuman neighbors, soon giving these observances a character all their own.

The hosts of a party are expected to provide food and drink--but much of this will be contributed by neighbors prior to the event. Thus, none of the guests show up with anything to contribute, but they've all provided a bottle, a wedge of cheese, loaf of bread, or the like beforehand. Indeed, this is one way halflings get invited to parties--if you find out that your neighbor is celebrating his birthday, for example, take over a small jug of ale in the morning and he can hardly turn you away when the festivities commence in the afternoon!

There is little sense of social status among the halflings in a village, aside from the amused tolerance shown by adults to children and the general respect for the elderly. Wealthy halflings are expected to throw bigger parties and to generally show generosity to those less fortunate--yet they are not accorded any 'upper class' standing because of this. The villagers may well elect a sheriff, mayor, or constable and give this individual nominal authority to arrest troublemakers. Rambunctious behavior is rare among halflings themselves, however, so the sheriff's main concern will be to control the behavior of humans, dwarves, and other possible troublemakers who come through the community.

Joy and Humor

Halflings are a folk who can derive pleasure from many simple things and are not afraid to show it--a halfling who is happy laughs; one who feels affection or love will express himself or herself with words or deeds.

The small folk love to tell and hear stories and will generally be attentive and silent when anyone spins a tale. Not surprisingly, they especially love stories in which the small and clever triumph over those who are physically larger and stronger but clumsier and less quick-witted.

Halflings also have a frank appreciation for bawdy humor and practical jokes. They have the ability to laugh at themselves, though one prank often leads to another in retaliation, and so on. Such good-natured exchanges have been known to continue, reciprocated back and forth, for decade after decade.

Sorrow and Anger

"There came a time of troubles to the Green Fields. In the first year, bitter winds blasted from the highlands, drying out the fields and leaving no grain and no fruit to harvest in the fall.
"But Littleman turned to his bride, Melindy, and he said—'we've still got our sheep, and our pony, and our plow. We'll have a good crop next year!' And she smiled at him, and they waited.
"Then, when spring came, it brought the rains in a flood, and with them came a sickness of flies across the land. They bit the animals, and the sheep and the ponies all got the evil sickness. They wasted away and died, even before the crop got in the ground. So Littleman turned to Melindy and he said—'be happy, my wife. We still have our stream, and our flowers.' And again she smiled at him, and they waited for the flies to go.
"Which they did, but only when the frosts came to freeze everything across the land. The stream dried away, caught in the highlands in a grip of ice, and all the flowers and even the grass withered away and died.
"This time Littleman turned to his wife and he soothed her fears: 'Don't worry, my dear--we have our hearth, and our burrow to shelter us.' "But next came the storms, with such wind, such power, that the very roof was torn from the burrow, and the stones of the hearth fell down into a great pile, nearly crushing the two of them before they could flee from the broken wreckage of their home. At last they stood outside, shivering and desolate, with no food, no animals, and not even a shelter over their heads."
"Then what, Grandmother?" asked Kepli, wide-eyed and sorrowful. "Then did Littleman know sorrow and grief?"
"You might think so, Sprout--but you'd be wrong. For even then, with all of his life in ruins around him, he turned to Melindy, and he said: 'Be happy, my love--all we have lost we shall regain, in years to come. And for now, we still have each other."

The small folk know the same griefs as humankind--death and illness, partings, natural disasters, and other tragedies. Though they, as a people, are deeply affected by such misfortune, halflings tend not to display their grief as openly as do humans. Halfling villagers who have just lost several neighbors and friends to marauding bandits will shuffle around as if they are in shock--there will be few tears, little wailing or crying.

Even more surprising, there will be few expressions of outright anger or hostility. Revenge is not a great drive to most halflings, though occasionally a wrong will be judged so heinous, so unforgivable, that retribution is required (deliberate murder is a prime example). Loss of possessions, however--whether due to accident or the malicious acts of others--tends to be greeted with a more relaxed attitude of 'easy come, easy go.'

In their day-to-day lives, halflings are remarkably impervious to frustration and depression. Members of the small folk show a remarkable ability to adapt to the circumstances of their surroundings. If the crops fail and food is short, they derive that much more pleasure from the meager fare that they eat. If the roof caves in and the family has no place to sleep, they will remark how fortunate they were that no one was seriously hurt--and they'll mean it!

Riddles

"Did you ever try to get a straight answer out o' one of the little maggots? I know I have, and I ain't succeeded yet! Why, they'll answer a question with another question sure as the sun goes down at night! Most irritatin' thing I ever done was ask a halfling for directions!
"'Where can I find the mayor?' I said, straightforward-like. "'Which mayor is that?' says the little runt.
"'The mayor o' this town, o' course,' I told the dummy, nice as you please. "'Why, do you want to see her?' says the dang fool.
"'Course I do!' I said, trying to resist the urge to wring his scrawny neck. 'Why else would I be askin'?'
"'Don't you know?' he has the gall to ask me!
"I tell you friend, if the mayor hadn't come walkin' down the street that very moment, I think that scene might have ended in bloodshed!"
-- Dwarven wayfarer, describing his unwitting participation in the Question Game.

A favorite form of contest among halflings of all subraces is the exchange of riddles. These can vary from simple questions and answers to complex puzzles involving clues vague and obtuse. It's not uncommon for a halfling to spend an hour or more pondering such a problem in silence punctuated only by his or her frequent admonitions: "don't tell me the answer!"

Even more baffling to nonhalflings is the Question Game, a contest in which each participant must answer a question with another question. Each response must be a complete sentence, relevant to the one that preceded it, and delivered within ten seconds, or the player loses a point. Experienced players can continue the game for hours; one legendary brother-and-sister team are rumored to have carried a game on every time they met for the last twenty years of their lives. Some halfling enthusiasts of the game will treat every question addressed to them as an invitation to play, with sometimes regrettable results

Villages and Shires

Halfling settlements for the most part tend to remain small--they will live in towns and shires scattered throughout a human empire, for example, or they might occupy several small villages in a forest ruled by an elven king. In a few cases, halfling holdings have expanded to the size of a kingdom--both the Forgotten Realms and Krynn boast nations populated and ruled entirely by halflings. But even here, they have labored to maintain peaceable relations with the realms that share their borders.

Warfare

Though they abhor war, halflings nevertheless have proven to be tenacious fighters in defense of their homes or in the service of an alliance. The following letter, written by General Krastarian of Keltar upon the event of his defeat at the hands of an outnumbered halfling militia, perhaps best describes their tactics:

The little devils stayed out of the open country--undoubtably they knew that our horsemen would have trampled them like rabbits! They gave us their towns and farms in the plain, while they fell back to the accursed wood. And there I, the conqueror, would follow with my footmen--though in truth I knew there to be ten of them to every one of my own men.
My companies vanished in the tangle, breaking ranks and thrashing blindly ahead. And then, across the length of the front, came a murderous shower--a thousand deadly arrows piercing the flesh of my men, while the vermin archers remained invisible.
I swear, Your Majesty, they swarmed through the brush like mosquitoes! Thousands of them, on all sides! Everywhere we turned, little figures skulked--arrows flew with uncanny accuracy, piercing eyes and necks, dropping even armored men in their tracks! We charged and they scattered, vanishing into the thicket as if they had never been--only the bodies of my men told otherwise.
At last I determined to fire the wood--the wind favored our advance--and gave orders to do so. The blazes took hold with great effect, but again that hellish place betrayed the logic of war. The brush exploded like tinder, and the blaze swept not only with the wind-- but back into our faces!
Many fine men perished in that inferno--a blaze I believe to have been sorcerously altered by the enemy. Minutes after my own very narrow escape, my scouts reported the bulk of the enemy force slipping from the brush while we fled the blaze.
I request, Excellency, that we return to Lurien with sufficient forces to deal with this pestilent threat--perhaps two legions, and a full column of horse. I realize that this will stretch the defense of your borders in a tenuous manner, but I believe there to be no other way for the forces of Keltar to prevail against this pervasive foe.

It makes an interesting historical footnote to add that the general commanded some eighteen hundred men, including companies of elite guards, longbowmen, and light lancers. Never did the halfling force opposing him number even a thousand! He was subsequently removed from command through the simple expedient of removing his head from his shoulders; the halflings of Lurien were left alone for many decades to follow.

Though this is an heroic incident in the annals of halfling military history (and admittedly, a more patient and imaginative commander may well have found the human force sufficient for the conquest), it is illustrative of the tactical finesse and courage displayed by the small folk when they are motivated for battle.

Another feature has also contributed to the halflings' fine reputation as allies: the small folk traditionally have demonstrated a willingness to honor the terms of a longstanding alliance. They will provide the troops they promised, when and where they are required--and those troops display almost as much determination in supporting an alliance as they would in defense of their own burrows. However, they must have some strong motivation before resorting to violence to solve a dispute. Almost always this motivation is defensive in nature--either the halflings or their friends are attacked by some aggressor. Occasionally the small folk might participate in an offensive campaign, but only when it is a preemptory strike against a foe who has already committed enough bloody acts to warrant retribution and is currently gathering forces for an attack on the halflings or their allies.

However, when the need is clear, halflings are speedy and resolute to answer the call to arms. Indeed, this trait is one that makes halfling/human treaties attractive to the rulers of the latter. Also, the deadly accuracy of halfling bowmen and slingers is known to all who have faced them--and few of those desire to do so again!

Tactics

As already noted, halflings prefer to avoid war if at all possible. A community of the small folk will be willing to negotiate extensively, and even yield to a certain amount of extortion, in order to avoid bloodshed.

However, when pressed to the point of no return, halfling troops make determined fighters with a number of effective tactics at their command. In most cases, only about half the adults will fight, the remainder remaining behind to protect the elderly and children. In cases of dire need--where the very survival of the community is at stake-- every able-bodied adult may well be drafted into the cause.

Halflings have a reputation for being easy-going and somewhat lazy, but this does not mean they cannot fight effectively if they need to--the legends of the Bad Old Days remind every halfling of what life was like before they had villages and lands of their own, and they will fight with surprising tenacity, even ferocity, to keep from slipping back into that fugitive existence. Thus each halfling has something that can be used as a weapon in his or her burrow, no matter how peaceful the area. If the village has had to fight in the recent past, then each resident might have a short sword and shield as well as a bow and arrows or a sling and bullets. Even if battle is rare or virtually nonexistant, villagers will be able to arm themselves with a missile weapon apiece (bow, sling, or perhaps darts) and at least a long knife or spear for melee combat--a fact invaders expecting to find them easy prey have discovered time and again, to their surprise and regret.

Halfling companies are almost always irregular--i.e., they don't fight in neat ranks and lines. They will be quite capable of firing volleys of missile fire upon command, and they will advance and withdraw on the orders of their captains--but they would have a hard time facing, for example, a tight rank of armored human infantry or orcish swords.

Instead, the halflings favor battles in wooded or otherwise obstructed terrain. Their scattered formation is ideal for each fighter finding his or her own source of cover, though they are far more adept than humans at holding their company's unity even in thickets where visibility and mobility are severely limited. The fabled ability of halflings to virtually disappear in underbrush is never more useful than at moments like this.

A favored tactic of a halfling force, when fighting in this type of concealing terrain, is to create a loud diversion. A few veteran warriors will thrash through the brush, firing many arrows, giving the impression that they number scores of times more than they actually do. Then, if the opponent's force turns to face this imaginary onslaught, the real halfling company screened by the woods attacks the enemy's flank.

If a halfling force is attacked in unfavorable (i.e., open) terrain by a force of large creatures, the small folk might try to stand off the attack if they feel they have a chance of success. If they are attacked by horsemen or are out-numbered by well-armored infantry, however, the entire formation will usually scatter, joining up again at a place offering more concealment and protection.

Halflings rarely fight mounted, though Tallfellows are a notable exception, occasionally riding into battle on small ponies or, very rarely, beasts such as dire wolves. When halflings fight as members of an alliance, they are often used as missile troops.

Well-screened behind formations of human or dwarven foot-soldiers, halfling archers and slingers can shower the enemy with a deadly rain of arrows and bullets. Another common specialty of halfling troops is tunneling and underground operations. They are not particularly adept at digging such passages--that task is better left to dwarves--but halfling troops can negotiate much smaller passages than can most of their allies. Thus, if combat is expected in close quarters or beneath a low ceiling, halfling troops are often selected to lead the way.

Magic

"I could tell that they feared me when I came into their village and demanded a place to sleep for the night. Gave me a nice room, they did, too.
"But when I woke up, everything I had in my pockets, my pouches--even my wand and the rings from my fingers--all were gone! Only my spellbook was left--though how they knew about the runes I'd put on it to fry anyone who touched it besides me I'll never know.
"I spent the whole morning negotiating for most of my equipment back. Then, when I would have turned to whole nest of them into an anthill, something made me think the better of it. A couple of them might have stuck me with arrows before I could finish the spell--not a pleasant prospect.
"So I left, and brother, let me tell you it'll be a long time before I subject myself to halfling hospitality again!"
--Parzemon the Mighty, Wizard of Thay

Sorcery is one area of power where halfling skills are lacking. Their inherent resistance to magic protects them against many of the power-crazed spellcasters in the world, but it also prevents them from mastering those forces for themselves: no halfling has learned much about the wielding of arcane power (although comic tales about bumbling but well-intentioned halfling apprentices are popular in many places). Unlike many humans and dwarves, they do not regard magic as particularly threatening; trust in their innate resistance enables halflings to extend to spellcasters the typically friendly greeting they give to all strangers--a fact which no doubt explains the fondness some wizards have for the race.

Why Most Halflings Are Homebodies

Almost all halflings suffer to some degree from feelings which resembles the condition humans call agoraphobia--a fear of unknown or open places. It's not that halflings are literally afraid, merely that they become very uncomfortable whenever they're too far away from their villages and burrows or in unfamiliar places. Whether this is one of Yondalla's 'gifts,' designed to keep them close to home and hearth, or a holdover from the Bad Old Days when enemies lurked behind every tree and bush, none can say. But it has been observed that the symptoms increase with age--halfling children freely range far and wide, while the very old rarely step outside their burrows. Not that the halflings see this as a bad thing: to them, it's simply the way things are and ought to be-- youth is the time to gadabout, age the time for rest and reflection.

Why Some Halflings Pursue Adventure

If his or her burrow and its attendant company and comforts are the most important features of a halfling's life, why then would any halfling leave this perfection for a life of short rations, crude lodging, exposure to bad weather, danger, and possible violence?

That's the question asked by most of the rest of a village when a young halfling packs his or her tote bag and waves goodbye to his or her parents. His or her neighbors will often gather to see the would-be adventurer off, watching the already small form grow smaller in the distance, knowing there's a good chance that they'll never see their friend again.

There are nearly as many answers to this question as there are halflings who have walked down that road. Some do so reluctantly, out of a sense of duty. Others find the temptations of excitement, adventure, and treasure too great to ignore. One thing almost all of them share in common, however, is that they lack the characteristic halfling dread of faraway places.

For reasons which once again are unknown halflings call it 'the legacy of Littleman'-- a few rare halflings are born entirely free of the condition which keeps their fellows tied to their homes. Instead, they are filled with an endless curiosity to see new places, new people, and new things. Usually this wanderlust fades later in life and the homing instinct reasserts itself, but a few halflings remain wanderers for the rest of their days (see the Traveler kit in the next chapter). These restless individuals are considered 'eccentric' by their fellow halflings, but their exploits are often admired just the same.