You Had Me at "Handkerchief" {Bilbo Baggins/LOTR}

Chapter V: Whack-an-orc

Chapter V:

Whack-an-orc

Finding yourself wrapped within the arms of your parents' greatest friend upon waking-up is awkward in every definition of the word. The Bilbo Baggins of Thorin Oakenshield's company returns in full force upon our consciousness, stuttering and clenching his hands in repetitive motions. I take the whole encounter to heart, but do little to comfort the hobbit, as he seems steadfast in his position, ten feet from me. Rather, I pretend the whole encounter never happened, and we are on our way with those little hints.

The storm of the previous night passed into legend by the early hours of the morning, leaving a dewy breeze in the air and muddy puddles upon the ground. It is a beautiful autumn day, with the trees not yet releasing their foliage and the sun less radiant with the changing of the seasons. Indeed, it a perfect day for travel, and travel we do, overhill and underhill.

By the calculations of my mind, I reason that we will arrive in Bree by sun down this night, given our accelerated pace in the nice weather of day. Little conversation is exchanged between the two of us, but on more than one occasion, we catch each other staring. Of course, this prompts a blush on both our faces, mine pinker than Bilbo's red, and a turning away of attentions to the road ahead and messy mind. Finally, and with the infinite continuation of these encounters, Bilbo breaks the silence on part of conversation.

"After all these years, I find it extraordinarily strange that we've never met before," the hobbit remarks with his head tilting up to look at me. I continue my stint of earth-bound watching, but grasp his words in full heart. Truly, it is very unusual that I have just met the hobbit of Bag End, minus the few occasions as a child. If I know anything of this world, the Valar has done so purposefully.

"Indeed. But with my years spent in Lothlorien and yours in Hobbiton, it is explainable in small part," I respond as my eyes finally rise to look at Bilbo's. He nods at these words, his eyes turning away as if we are avoiding all eye contact. Since last night, a new feeling has sprung forth in my own heart, and though I desire to hold Bilbo to me, it also fosters a feeling of awkwardness upon eye contact.

"How is it that your life with the elves came to be?" he questions further, stepping over a rather large root of an oak tree. It is a very strange occurrence to find a dwarf within the halls of elvish royalty, nonetheless one who lives in that homeland. Bilbo's questioning is only to be expected.

"As you know, Palo, my aunt, spent her own childhood within the halls of Lothlorien's royalty. In a sense, this has fostered a deep connection between the royals of Erebor and those of Lothlorien. Therefore, when Galadriel first met me at my young age of two, she found it within propriety to request my presence at her side. From that infantile age, I have had a deeper connection to the heavens and nature than those who roam the lands. And so, with my parents' permission, she took me under her wing and I have become her prodigy," I answer his question in the way my mother once recalled. Just as I am like my mother in all forms, I am wise and loyal to a fault. Galadriel greatly admires these qualities, as she once said, and could not give up the opportunity to raise me herself.

"You surely are the daughter of my greatest friend," Bilbo remarks through the stint of silence that overcomes us. I look up from the slippery ground, eyebrows furrowed so as to communicate my questioning of his words.

"How so?" I clarify my question, seeing as Bilbo has yet to further his words. At this, Bilbo stops in his footfalls so as to fully address me. I stop in conjunction with him, paying no mind to our delay, but finding my mind swamped in the ideas of Bilbo Baggins.