‘Jealous, aren’t we?’, Bilbo half laughs and half grumbles, as he shuts the door on their faces. Poor Bag End may have had a number of noise complaints bright and early the next morning: a number of hobbits knocking on the door and grumbling about shadows dancing and growing at the window as bright light flickered out onto the rickety old gate in the middle of the night. His neighbours, unluckily, were prying folk, and they could smell the aftermath of Gandalf’s magic in the air. Soon, even he was joining in, creating shadows on the walls to narrate the story as Gandalf sparked some magic to set the room ablaze with the wrath of Smaug’s desolation. Yet even he couldn’t help but end up mesmerised. Bilbo would scoff from time to time from her he sat, snuggled down in his favourite armchair, crocheting. Elbows touching, and head held in your hands, the two of you would be wide eyed, hooked upon every word.
Clearing his throat, he would pull out his pipe and take his seat next to the roaring fire, the two of you lying up on the floor by his feet. The air crackled with the sound of scrunched grass and crinkled leaves, and with some easy fellowship, some resolute companionship, as the two of you spent your days knowing you would never rather be in anyone else’s presence.Įven Gandalf on his rare visits to Bilbo (despite the heated looks from your neighbours) managed to find his way through the winding paths of the Shire, and was more than happy to oblige in your antics.
#Frodo keep your secrets parrot how to
Linked arms, wild singing, trampling footsteps, quiet whisperings and giggles of two hobbits in cahoots, two hobbits that were bound together in a way they didn’t quite understand, didn’t quite know how to articulate quite yet. Frodo would try his best to clamber up his tree whilst still holding his book, and you would laugh in plain delight as you catch the blur of his suspenders fall down into the wild bush underneath.ĭays upon days would be spent together, the falling sun of the gold soon mixing with the rising hope of the violet hued mornings as the two of you enacted your tales of adventure and heroics. The two of you had spent so much of your juvenility trampling along the fields of the Shire - mud from the tilled earth flecking your bare feet as the two of you would tumble down the rolling viridescent hills. You had expected Frodo would be just as happy, even when deep within your heart the truth had pained you during your travels. After all, one can only grow up with a sense of wanderlust, of awe for the winding trails and gold flecked forests that lay outside your door, under the tales of Bilbo Baggins, and his journey to the Misty Mountain. You knew Rivendell would be ethereal - you had expected at least this much.
This is so cute took me a while, so please please please comment and reblog if you enjoy!Įven such starlight couldn’t burn away these shadows. She doesn’t expect him to return her feelings at all? Kind of like this: “I don’t want to burden him with feelings he might not return.” “And how do you know he will not return them?” But Frodo overhears the whole thing and tells her that her love isn’t a burden to him, but a comfort, and he reciprocates it after all ❤ She doesn’t want to burden him any more than he already is, and 2. Request: Hello! Would you mind doing a Frodo x female reader in which she rants to one of the Fellowship about her feelings for him that she hasn’t acted on because 1.
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