Disclaimer: The world and its inhabitants (midges and all) belong to JRR Tolkien. This is fanfic.
When Sam discovered a little rill before supper the hobbits raced to paddle in its freezing water. Sighing in pleasure, Pippin used a corner of blanket to dry between the last two toes on his left foot, thankful to finally be rid of the foetid stink of the Midgewater Marshes. He could almost cope with midges but having foul smelling gloop oozing between his toes was far beyond disgusting.
For a while he had coveted Strider’s long boots. Now he wrinkled his nose at that still gloop encrusted footwear, feeling no envy at all. Just how did one clean boots?