Time to Shine

Chapter 4-Sunflowers and Swords

9:37 ish AM Bag End

May 7 2014 Aria Time -(I am soo bored of keeping time and dates, I'll leave it to Gandalf. After all I am praised for my excellent sense of guessing the time. Sean said it was because I never sleep due to Netflix and fanfics.)

The garden was absolutely gorgeous. We sit on a lovely carved wooden bench with cast-iron details of leaves and acorns. Bilbo told me that his mother was very fond of sunflowers and poppies, which decorated the center of the yard in a circular pattern.

"She used to tell me stories of how my great-great-grandfather Ferumbas II once traveled to the outskirts of Harad. As you know Tooks are very curious and sometimes foolishly so. And there he met a Haradrim master of magic, 'Don't confuse a magician with a Wizard, my dear Bilbo' said my mother 'a magician is one of man-made magic, not pure like that of the Istari'.

Ferumbas was a Took through and through, for that he approached the Haradrim with a certainty of awe and introduced himself, for the magician was alone on an isolated path. The Haradrim called himself Loridrid, he was an outcast of his people due to being born under a dark moon, a bad omen in his tribe. Cast out, Loridrid sought out the teachings of healers and magic wielders, mastering them within the next year. Wandering the lands, healing the sick, the poor, and the unwanted. Wondering why of all the beings in Arda, why a hobbit was deemed worthy of his tale Ferumbas questioned him. Loridrid answered 'because I see your destiny, your soul, so pure and so curious,' Ferumbas had the decency to blush, ' I can tell that your future and that of your unborn kin will have the world to explore and courage is to be found in great measures for their destinies are intertwined with the fates of all.'"

I looked on enthralled with Bilbo's tale, urging him to continue. The winds have picked up and the smells of baked goods and honeyed meats scent the air. Warmth from the sun heats my back and sooths my aching soul. Feeling a kinship toward the Haradrim, the feeling of being unwanted, tainted by no making of our own, though finding the strength to keep going, to help others. Bilbo glances at me, reading my emotions, he concedes and continues his tale of magic and adventure.

"Ferumbas was the epitome of hobbitish shock, not in the way of distain and distrust, but of knowing the fates of his kin were to be grand and adventurous. The Tookish delight he took in having a destiny worth the whispers and rumors of the gossiping Hobbits of the Shire was grand. Loridrid then told him of stories he learned from his previous masters, of creatures made of fire, trees that spoke and roamed about, great Eagles flying in the heavens, and mischievous woodland faeries who live in flowers of the wilds.

They spoke well into the night, the light of the stars and silver path of the moon shone down upon them until at last Ferumbas fell asleep dreaming of eagles, faeries, and elves. Loridrid glanced down at the hobbit, knowing the fate of his kin, he whispers a prayer of fortitude and protection for his line. The sleeping hobbit dreamt only of the winding streams and rolling hills of the Shire.

Upon waking, Ferumbas realized he was indeed alone, nar a sight of hide nor hair of ever meeting a magician. Returning home, he found a satchel of sunflower and poppy seeds, recognizing them from Loridrid's description of their healing properties and wonderful scent. Planting them, he hoped a few faeries would claim them as home."

Finished with his tale, Bilbo glances around the garden, so the Tookish side DOES come out to play often. Smiling at him, I ask him, "So do you think you have a such a destiny?"

"Aria, it is just a story. I think I am much more suited to the life of a respectable hobbit, a Baggins of Bag End. Yes, indeed I am, why do you ask?" he questions with a hint of curiosity in his hazel eyes.