painless wounds ;; the hobbit

epilogue ;;

"Tea's ready." Cyrille said to Bilbo, who was locked up in his study yet again. Cyrille still looked the same as she did sixty years ago, except her hair had grown long, until her lower back. She did make an effort to groom it when in public, but now it was tied in a messy low ponytail.

"I'm here, I'm here." Said Bilbo, his face more wrinkled than it was before, his hair grey. "Did you get young Frodo?"

"Oh!" Cyrille began putting on her boots. "No, not yet. The little rascal is probably causing mischief with the other Tooks."

"He's not a child anymore, Cyrille. His spirit has dampened since then."

Bilbo had adopted Frodo several years ago, when his father, Drogo, had sadly drowned in the Brandywine river. He was a sweet little thing back then when they first got him, with nice manners and big dreams.

He was always hanging around his two closest friends, Meriadoc and Peregrin. They often caused trouble.

Cyrille headed outside, stretching her arms and breathing in the scent of stew, steak and cakes. The Shire was always a lively place, and she had lived in peace with Bilbo for about sixty years now. Next month was Bilbo's one hundred eleventh birthday, and it was going to be spectacular.

Cyrille trotted down the dirt roads of The Shire, making sure to avoid any carts or horses that were coming through. She paused to buy a bit of bread from Gerold Rumble, the baker.

"Frodo, there you are." Cyrille said when she saw him at the flower shop, holding a bouquet of tulips.

"Hi, Cyrille, how are you today?" He said politely, fiddling with the tag on the flowers.

"Bilbo would like you to join us for tea."

"I'll be there." Frodo smiled widely. "I got these for you." He said, holding up the bouquet of flowers.

"Thank you, Frodo. I suppose I'll be off now, as not to pressure you. Come when you must!" And with that she took the flowers and trotted off, humming merrily.

___

When she got to Bag-End, there was quite the commotion going on in Bilbo's dining area.

There were three people in the room. First, Bilbo, who was pacing around the room, muttering darkly about Elves and their intrusions. Then there was a simple ellon, who held a scroll which was sealed with the symbol of Lórien. There was a horse outside the door, it must be his. Then there was an elven guard, dressed in simple leather armour. He held a bow, and an assortment of weapons were strapped to his back.

"Who are you?" demanded Cyrille. Thranduil swore to her he wouldn't meddle with her life anymore when she last left Mirkwood, so these elves must be from Lothlórien, she could tell by the seal.

"I have brought a message from the Lady Asterin." the messenger said feebly, holding up the scroll. The guard stood at his side attentively.

"And who might that be?" Cyrille asked. Bilbo was standing behind her, peeking over her shoulder as to see the letter.

"She is the maiden of Lothlórien, most beautiful in the land, and she rivals Lady Galadriel herself." 

"Lady Galadriel, huh." she mumbled. She tore open the seal, and unfurled the scroll.

Dear Cyrille Cirdanious, 

I would like to arrange a meeting between you and myself. I understand you have been living in The Shire, the land of halflings. Then you moved to Mirkwood, where you served under the Elvenking for quite some time. If you are to accept this invitation, then you must schedule a time when you are most comfortable with. I have nothing in particular to attend to, so you may choose any time. Send me a letter back. Why do I want to meet with you? Because we are related. Your mother, Cirdane Lorious, is mine as well. Although we do not share the same father, you are my sister nonetheless. I expect an answer soon.

Best regards, Asterin Arodiun 

"Well then." Cyrille said, not surprised. "I'd better write a letter back."

THE END