The dwarfs were gathered in the living room of Bilbo Baggins' hobbit hole, around the slowly burning fire. I don't know where Bilbo was – I was there to help him after he passed out when the dwarfs invited him to be their burglar. I made him a spiced apple tea, stayed with him while he sat in his armchair, getting his bearings. Gandalf was talking with him, encouraging Bilbo to join them on theor adventure. Bilbo declined, leaving the room. That was the last I saw of Bilbo tonight.
The dwarfs smoked their pipes after supper. The smoke was sweet smelling. Kili sat beside me, his arm around me. Since discovering I was a human living with a hobbit – something never heard of, considering I was worlds away from my own world – Kili kept me close to him. It didn't feel possessive. It felt welcome. Like he'd never seen a human before and wanted to get to know one as much as he could.
He offered me his pipe, since I was the only one in the room without one. Remembering my teen years and the nasty phase of cigarettes, I took a slow inhale. Kili watched me carefully. When I exhaled, my lungs felt clearer, my head lighter. The smoke tasted of black cherries and birch bonfires. It was smooth – nothing like a pack of Pall Malls. I didn't even cough, like I remember doing after each toxic cigarette puff.
Kili smiles at the surprise in my eyes. "Why that face?" he asks.
"There's nothing like that in my world. Everything they smoke just kills them faster."
Kili smiles and offers his pipe to me again. "This will let you live longer."
YOU ARE READING
365
Non-FictionI had this idea last night after a few drinks, a pounding headache, and an excessive amount of throat lozenges. In order to inspire me to write more often than I currently do, I am planning to write a new post every day and publish it, allowing me t...
