Fictional Ppl x reader

A Different Kind Of Hobbit (Frodoxhobbit!reader)

It is a peaceful day in the Shire, but that is only on the outside. Inside homes, everyone is bustling to prepare for the big Baggins party of Frodo and Bilbo. Frodo's 33rd and Bilbo's 111st.

You make your way from your Hobbit hole and take an uneventful walk down the dirt road in your little Hobbit town. Uneventful and peaceful is a life preferred by most Hobbits, but you were always a little different, causing trouble here and there with your two good friends, Merry and Pippin. Although you also enjoy reading and sketching quietly in the meadow, you've always dreamed of a life of adventure like in your books, but that's only a dream for you have been taught to believe Hobbits never and shouldn't lead lives such as those. So you settle for a Hobbit's life.

You hum a little tune as you step off the road and onto the grassy hills, letting the soft grass blades tickle your bare feet. A breeze gently presses your knee high (f/c) dress against your legs. You are glad you decided on long sleeves for, even though it is sunny, it is a bit chilly in this September. After a bit, you stop at your tree. Well, technically speaking, it isn't yours, but you've known it for so long, you've become protective of it and its magnificence.

I know what you're thinking. How can a single tree be so great? If you'd seen it, you'd agree. Imagine a tree wider than two carriages back to back and taller than three giants, and you're about half way to what it looks like. You smile up at your tree, telling it hello though you know it can't and won't respond, and sit beneath its branches. You pull out your sketch notebook, given to you by Bilbo last birthday being as he claimed he had too many, and let your pencil rest just above the blank page, thinking of what to draw. Then you have an idea.

You make a single curved line on the page, and then another, and another, forming an image as the minutes pass by. You add the curly hair, doe eyes, the playful expression, and soon you have your best friend, Frodo Baggins, staring back at you from the page. You smile proudly at your drawing, happy with the result.

"I know I have curly hair, but ,upon seeing that, I believe myself to now be a poodle"

You grin, recognizing the voice, and turn around to see he one and only Frodo smiling down at you from under his curly bangs.

"Frodo! Happy Birthday!"

"Thank you, (Y/N), I do hope you are coming"

Showing an expression of mock hurt, you gasp "Frodo Baggins, I don't believe you! I wouldn't miss it for the world and I never have missed a great Baggins party, why would I stop now?"

He chuckles, his dark brown curls moving against his forehead, making his blue eyes seem brighter, "My apologizes, I had to make sure, it wouldn't be the same without you"

You smile at him noticing a slight pink tiny his cheeks, but let it go. "Thank you, Frodo, who is coming anyway?"

"It's Uncle Bilbo, he's invited half the Shire and the other half are turning up anyway"

You laugh. "That sounds like him, exciting the whole Shire"

He laughs also, a sound much like the wind chimes the Rumbles put up most of the year. "That's Uncle Bilbo for you"

From the road, we hear a deep voice humming, a man's joined with the tap of horse hooves. You both take one look at each with a smile and speak the one name on our minds.

"Gandalf"

You stand up suddenly and together we sprint toward the road as fast as our feet could carry us, ending up on the edge of a hill, looking down at the newly arrived Gandalf.