LotR/The Hobbit Drabbles

Close The Distance (Bilbo)

A tumblr request for "Imagine dancing at a party in the Shire and Bilbo dreamingly looking at you but not having the courage of coming to talk to you."

"He's staring again," Peggy leaned over and said in your ear over the lively music.

"No, he isn't," you protested, looking at Bilbo Baggins across the crowd of dancing hobbits. You were determined to have a good time at this party, and no speculation over male attention would get in your way. "And even if he is," you reprimanded her, "it's none of my business."

"None of your business?" She shrieked, sloshing her lemonade on the fair spring grass beneath her feet as she gestured. Her dark curls swung over her shoulder as she looked at you askance. "It's no wonder you're an old spinster if you treat male attention like that!"

You snorted, rolling your eyes. "I'm not old, and I'm not a spinster. I'm at this party, aren't I?" You gestured vaguely to the twinkling lights strung from tree to tree, to the happy couples dancing on the lawn surrounded by tents of food. In all honesty, seeing those couples laughing and looking into each other's eyes with pure joy made your heart ache. The tiny hobbit children weaving their way through the dancers, playing tag and hide-and-seek, made the longing in your chest wail a little louder. But you had no prospects, and you were a little too odd to warrant the affections of any respectable hobbit gentleman.

"Anyway," you swallowed your longing and turned back to Peggy, sternly looking at your lifelong friend, hoping she would take you seriously this time, "Bilbo doesn't have eyes for me. He's in mourning after his time away, remember? He lost such dear friends..." You trailed off, trying to fathom going through so much with friends only to lose them in the end. You were familiar with Bilbo's story. It was told in every tavern in the Shire, with varying degrees of embellishment, to various audience reactions. You had admired Bilbo's strength and courage to go on such a dangerous journey, but most hobbits found him odd. Too eager to leave his home and hearth for unknowns.

"Well, you can say what you will," Peggy said, smirking, "but he's still looking at you."

You glanced across the crowd once more, and found Bilbo's bright eyes still on you. The meeting of your gazes sent a nostalgic shock down your spine, as if you'd brushed against something long-forgotten but familiar in the depths of your old dresser. But you and Bilbo had never really been friends, there was no reason for nostalgia. Still, something about looking into his eyes across the crowd of dancing hobbits, beneath the lights like stars in the trees, made your heart go still.

Waiting.

Bilbo looked away, breaking the moment that could have lasted forever, and you blushed, turning your eyes to the plush grass beneath your bare hobbit feet. You felt oddly exposed, as if someone had opened your diary in front of you, read a page, and tossed it aside without a word.

Peggy made a muffled sound of disapproval. "He's leaving the party! And good riddance, if he won't come talk to you after all that ogling."

You started in a reprimanding tone, "Peggy"—

She held up her hand daintily to stop you. "I know, I know. But for a hobbit known for adventurous nonsense, he's sure not willing to take a risk and just talk to you."

You hummed, not willing to commit outwardly to agreement, but still uncomfortable with the idea that perhaps Bilbo did admire you, but he would not approach you.

What good was affection if it kept its distance?

You looked up again, searching the crowd for Bilbo's tawny curls, finding him almost at the edge of the celebration. Your feet began following him before your mind could catch up, and you called out to him almost before you had made your decision. The distance closed between you.

"Bilbo? Wait a moment, Bilbo!"

He turned, surprised, with a twitch of his nose and a quirk of his brow. You smiled, hoping the expression was friendly instead of desperate, and caught up with him. You felt a little more breathless than you had a right to be. This was your chance. Perhaps your only chance. You had to take it.

"I, um... well," you laughed nervously, hoping he would not judge you for your lack of coherency. "Would you leave before dancing even once? The music is fine tonight."

"Er," he fiddled with the cuff of one sleeve, his eyes fixed on the flower tucked behind your ear. "I'm not much for dancing."

"Oh," you said, your voice falling with your hopes. So much for your one chance.

Bilbo's eyes caught yours again, and his breath left him in an uncomfortable whine. Was he in pain? Was he all right? But his expression was confused, not wrought with hurt, and when he spoke his voice was even. "I suppose I might enjoy it if I danced with you," he said, a half-smile stretching his lips.

You wanted to clap your hands in glee, but restrained yourself to a gleaming smile. "Will you, then?"

He laughed, and it sounded three times more beautiful than the music. "I should have asked you, but I never was very conventional. And who am I to refuse such a beautiful young lady?"

He held out his arm most gallantly, and you took it eagerly. As you took your place on the dancing green, Peggy caught your eye across the crowd and winked before setting of in pursuit of one of the Meriadoc boys that she'd been admiring for weeks.

There wasn't much time for talking during the dance, which suited both you and Bilbo just fine. It was lively, a Shire jig that never grew old. The steps were familiar, and the weaving of partners added an extra thrill whenever your hand caught Bilbo's again, and an extra pang when you parted, only to be reunited in the next turn. You laughed, Bilbo smiled, and the party went on.

You couldn't help but wonder if all Hobbits might be happier if they embraced their courage.