ᴍᴀʀᴀʟᴍɪᴢɪ | KILI DURIN¹ ❦

➺ Explanations of a Worn Heart ➵

The wizard stood in the circular doorway with a fresh, hot cup of steaming tea in his hands, "Oh good, I see that Bilbo is quite comfortable. He should come to soon enough, in the mean time I will stay here with him."

I coughed and readjusted myself, "Yes, that seems—uhem—wise, will that be all?" I asked, quickly placing a nearby wooden side-table beside Bilbo's chair. Gandalf promptly placed the hot mug on top of it.

"Yes, yes," Gandalf replied dismissively, leaning back on his heals, "Oh, and Kili," he turned to the dwarf, "Thorin asked for you, he wishes to discuss something important. I wouldn't keep him waiting."

Kili swivelled a look to Gandalf, and then back to me. His mouth opened to say something, but inevitably closed itself again. He just nodded and left with haste. As soon as he was out the door into the kitchen with the others, I let go of the deep breath I didn't even realise I was holding.

"Are you planning on telling me what that was all about?" questioned Gandalf with crossed arms. He raised his forestial eyebrows at me, as if he even needed to ask. He knew me better than I knew myself, he was obviously quick to catch on. Not as if Kili made it very difficult, either.

Before I was able to answer him, Bilbo stirred awake, thoroughly confused.

"What happened?" he sighed, rubbing his temples with his fingers.

"You fainted I'm afraid.." I told truthfully.

His squeezed eyes gaped open instantly, it seemed that he suddenly remembered the reason why he fainted in the first place, "Ohh great heavens.."

"Are you feeling alright now, Bilbo?" Gandalf asked, surveying the hobbit as his crisis continued.

Shaky hands gripped the mug of tea, he brought it to his chest and stared into nothing, "Y-Yes, yes, just let me sit quietly for a moment.."

"You've been sitting quietly for far too long!" Gandalf huffed with his hands on his hips. He eyed the hobbit observingly; the front of eyebrows were dipped to the tip of his large nose, the ends were lost in his messy grey hair, "Tell me, since when did doilies and your mother's dishes become so important to you?"

Bilbo made quite the effort to avoid eye contact with the wizard; utterly fixated on his tea.

Gandalf strayed to the window behind him, it poured a glow of blue from the full moon amidst the shining stars. They glinted like distant fireworks in the sheen of his grey eyes, back to his old memories he ventured. He spoke assertively, "I remember a hobbit who was always running off in search of elves in the woods; one who would stay out late, come home after dark—trailing sticks and mud and fireflies."

Looking at the hobbit sat stiffly on the sofa with a ceramic mug burning his hands, it was hard to imagine his younger self trodding through treacherous corn mazes and cabbage fields, chased by angry farmers and their grizzly hounds. It was hard to imagine him doing anything so daring, even accidentally stealing a carrot seemed like it would be too much for the waft of fluff, sipping on his tea. Though I couldn't help but remember the glinting in his eyes when the dwarves were at the table, discussing their grave mission. Gandalf thought about it too, I could tell.

"He was a young hobbit who would've liked nothing better than to see what was beyond the borders of the Shire!" the wizard toyed with the scraps of parchment and quills strewn across the desk in front of him. The pages were illuminated in the moonlight. Gandalf sighed, "The world is not in your books and maps, Bilbo Baggins. It is out there.."