||Chapter 1||
<|Thirty Years after the Battle of the Five Armies: Third Age 2971|>
Your parents are gone, Endor.
You will be living with me now.
Come Frodo, and I'll take you home.
That's what Uncle Bilbo said when that day of such heinous happening arose on a bright spring morning. That "we'll be okay" living without our parents, that we will now be going "home." I can easily say that I lost my one natural home on that day, all because of a raging river near Shire's border.
Looking back now, I question the intelligence of my own parents for taking that rowboat out. We are hobbits, after all, not the mythical mermaids of Midgewater, and surely not meant to swim. But at the same time, living as I do now, I would not hesitate to row out onto the Brandywine River in my own escape from this stronghold. However, Frodo needs me more than ever, and I will never leave my younger brother, his three years dwarfed by my seventeen.
I think that the tragedy of the situation came not from the flipping of a simple boat, but at the repercussions on my own persona. That is, at least, in the perspective of my kin:
I was always the perfect hobbit, with clothes that fit the season and dance moves legendary for my people. My family always was the center of the party, hosting grand paloozas and spring solstices. We were loved by all, even the pesky relatives on my mother's side.
But that all changed with a single flip. Yes, a flip. Now that is not the most descriptive of terms, but it is the least sensitive to my raw nerves. With the flip of their boat went the flip of my personality. I was no longer the perfect child and hobbit, but what all mothers warned their children against. I became the bad example.
Weeks at a time, I adventure into the lands that surround the Shire, never past Bree or the Mountains to the West. With Bilbo, I leave Frodo, missing the growth of my brother and the growing of my relationship with my idol, Bilbo. He is my inspiration to journey these lands, after all, with the memories of his adventure shared every Sunday during my childhood. But it is time for my own adventure to begin, and thus, I spend my every moment searching Middle Earth for the opportunity to live.
But my greatest adventure came from the one rambunctious hobbit of my family, a typical journey for his young self yet a new opportunity for my changed persona. And let me tell you, this opportunity opened my eyes to the world and eternity abroad. It was no longer about Bilbo, Frodo, and myself, but the Company at large and dwarves of Erebor.
<|Three Years Later: Third Age 2974|>
"Where was it this time, Dora? The Mermaids of Mirkwood?" Farmer Proudfoot questions from his field, shouting out towards the path into the Shire. Endor rolls her eyes, wishing that the hobbits would simply accept her changed demeanor towards life and adventure. It'd surely make her, Bilbo, and Frodo's lives easier, as she is the second Baggins to "bring shame to Hobbiton." But to be blunt, she could give a rat's tush to their prestige.
"For the last time, Florence, it's Endor. Not Dora! And it's the Midgewater mermaids: there are no merpeople in Mirkwood," she shouts back, stumbling as a hobbit shoves past her with his mule. She whips around with a deep growl rising from her throat, regretting her decision to journey back home. Truly, who would want to return to the place where one is hated and everyone is idiotic?
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Endotherm {Thorin/Hobbit}
Fanfiction"The world was young, the mountains green, No stain yet on the Moon was seen, No words were laid on stream or stone When Durin woke and walked alone. He named the nameless hills and dells; He drank from yet untasted wells; He stooped and looked in M...
