painless wounds ;; the hobbit

the shire ;;

25 years ago.

Cyrille went over to Bilbo's house for afternoon tea. The neighbors looked at her like she was a disturbance. She was the only one in the village who wore shoes, for example, and she was at least three feet taller than all of them.

The Tooks were the only ones who accepted her, because of their long line of odd hobbits. They had taken her in when she arrived at the shire from Rivendell.

Cyrille rapped her foot against the circular door. After a few seconds it opened, revealing a scruffed up Bilbo.  

"Afternoon, Bilbo." She said, entering Bag-end. "What've you got for tea today?"

Bilbo led her to the dining area, where she sat. "Well, l've got cakes, and tea, of course."

They sat down together, eating.

 "So, Cyrille." The Hobbit started fingering his cake. "I want to know. Why'd you come to the Shire in the first place?"

Cyrille smiled. "You're asking about my history?"

Un, yes I suppose. If that's okay with you." Bilbo said, self-consciously.

"Well, I was born in Rivendell, and my mother died in childbirth. I never got to meet my father, because he was a dwarf, and a hobbit. He died a long time before I was born. I was placed under The care of Lord Elrond, and I became good friends with his youngest daughter, Arwen. It was time for me to go to the Undying Lands, but I refused. There was so much of the world I hadn't seen yet. So I journeyed to the most hospitable place knew. The Shire. I met your mother, and I met you." Cyrille took a deep breath. "Someday I'd like to go on an adventure. To explore the world. Wouldn't that be nice?"

Bilbo nodded. "... Sure." and continued eating his cake.

Cyrille found that being with Bilbo was peaceful. She had time with her thoughts, and could just drift away with them.

She was in the middle of thinking about the difference of elf ears and hobbit ears when there was a rap on the door. It was aggressive, and the noise continued without any sign of stopping. Bilbo looked quite frightened.

"I'll get it." said Cyrille standing up. "I wonder who it is."

She opened the door and there were five elven guards standing outside. Cyrille was confused.

"Wh-" She began.

"The King believes you should be Serving under him, instead of living with the Hobbits in their holes. You are an elf, and your mother was from Mirkwood. You are to come with us immediately." the first one said.

Cyrille did not fail to notice that they were all equipped with swords.

"Why should I join you? You turned your back on my mother for breeding with a dwarf. You left her to the mercy of the Orcs." She spat.

"She did not die from the Orcs. She died because of you. It is the law, and we are under the orders of the King."

She felt emotion bubbling up inside of her. "She only lived to give birth to me because of the mercy of Lord Elrond! The Elves of Mirkwood are merciless and cold! I will NEVER go with you!" The scream was out of her throat before she knew it. Cyrille stood there, breathing heavily.

"If you don't come with us now, we might do something to your little hobbit friend." One of them smirked.

Cyrille turned around, but Bilbo wasn't there. He had probably stayed in the dining room.

"You. Wouldn't. Dare."

"Yes, we would. Come with us. You are to be trained as a palace guard."

She huffed. Leave behind her whole life? Her peaceful, quiet, life? Yes. She would. She would do it for Bilbo, her dearest friend.

"Fine." Cyrille said. "I'll go. Just leave my friend alone."

And as she walked down the stairs going down the hill, going through the gate, she silently swore to hate King Thranduil for eternity.

On the horse she rode, Cyrille let silent tears fall. She would probably never see Bilbo, or anyone else she'd  met in the Shire again.

---

Meanwhile, Bilbo was in the dining room, finishing the last of his cakes. "Cyrille, who was it?"

No answer. He walked to the front door. It was opened. He went outside, looking around "Cyrille?"

Still nothing.

Bilbo's eyes flicked to the farthest hill, and saw the hide of a horse disappear into the horizon.

For some reason, Cyrille had left.

He didn't know why.