<< Previous Page || Fan Fiction || Next Page >>

50 Passages Prompt: 041 ("It's not always a misfortune being overlooked.")

Title: Hobbit Hiding
Author: Etharei
Fandom: Lord of the Rings
Characters: Elrohir, Bilbo Baggins
Word Count: 1, 406
Rating: G
Summary: Elrohir wonders how Bilbo manages to appear so suddenly.
Author's Notes: I'm not very used to writing Hobbit, but this scene has been in my mind for a while now, and I decided to risk the wrath of all the Hobbiteers in this fandom.

Rivendell, T.A. 2942

Elrohir son of Elrond, one of the honourable Elf-lords residing in the hallowed hidden vale of Imladris, the scion of a heritage dating back to the near myth-like legend of Beren Erchamion and Luthien Tinuviel, in whose veins surged the blood of the noblest houses of both Eldar and Edain, near jumped out of his skin when he luxuriantly stretched his arms as he laid back against a tree, felt his elbow hit something, and turned his head to see a Hobbit materialise right next to him.

Since this one returned to his father's halls after his unexpected venture into the wider world, Elrond's second son had become quite familiar with the rather stealthy nature of the Periannath. But the apple tree beneath which he had lain himself stood in a small clearing, some distance away from the Last Homely House, and he had seen no one nearby, nor heard the gentle tread of furry feet on fresh grass. The Hobbit had simply appeared, as if summoned out of thin air.

"Oh!" cried Bilbo, swiftly clambering to his feet and giving a low bow. The action dislodged a piece of grass from his dark brown curls. "I beg your pardon; I did not hear you approach!"

Sitting back up, Elrohir inclined his head in acknowledgement. "I fear it is your pardon I must beg, for I did not see you either."

Curiously, a faint flush tinted the Hobbit's round merry face. "I must have fallen asleep, my lord; an hour past, from the look of the Sun. Perhaps you did not see me behind the tree?"

Elrohir frowned; years of forays into the Wilds had ingrained in him the instinct to scan his immediate area before settling down to rest, which he continued even in the safety of the valley. His eyes had seen no one; he had even inspected the tree above him. He was even more intrigued when Bilbo was overcome by a sudden shiftiness of manner. The Hobbit radiated a sudden unease, avoiding his eyes and tucking his right hand into his pocket. He was clearly hiding something, and considering they had not even exchanged the usual courtesies yet, the possibilities for this were quite limited.

Perhaps, like some insects that could blend seamlessly into their surroundings at need, it was a skill afforded by nature to Periannath alone? More implausible abilities had been accorded to creatures of the First Age; as these were reportedly lost either in the Battles of Beleriand or pushed to other lands by the awakening of the Chldren of Iluvatar, there was no way to ascertain the truth of some of the millennia-old reports. In any case, he did not wish to upset the Hobbit, and if it involved anything dangerous or unnatural, surely Gandalf would have known of it?

Fortunately for Elrohir's peace of mind, fate spared him the knowledge that, nearly four-score years later, he would wish that he had inquired more closely.

Presently, he pulled the edges of his sinuous lips up to form a slight smile and replied, "Perhaps. The Rangers have often spoken of your people's cunning ability to avoid Big Folk when you wish to, but I had not expected it to surpass even Elven-sight!" If anything, the Hobbit now looked even more distressed. Elrohir gave up the subtle probing and lightened his tone. "Just take care to not be overlooked at dinner, or in the Hall of Fire, lest you are sat upon by an unwitting Elf!"

Bilbo chuckled at the image, but there was a sense of relief, too. "It's not always a misfortune being overlooked."

Sadness settled on the Hobbit's features. Elrohir wondered if he was losing his 'natural charm'- as Elladan termed it, his one and only admission to having no sense of diplomacy at all- for he seemed incapable of saying anything right this day.

"It was only because the spiders missed me that I was able to rescue the Dwarves in Mirkwood, after all," Bilbo continued. His right hand clenched into a fist in his pocket. "And I'm sure I would not have made it through the Battle of the Five Armies, if- I hadn't been so small."

"You speak truly, Master Baggins," Elrohir said gently, though he noted the brief hesitation. "I, myself, can imagine a number of occasions where I would have preferred to be of a smaller stature." Feeling responsible for summoning dark memories to ruin a fine day for a guest, he patted where the Hobbit's earlier position had flattened the soft grass beneath the tree, inviting Bilbo to reseat himself. "You mentioned last night that you are composing a walking-song for your journey home. I would be honoured to hear it, if you are done."

The blush reappeared, but in the place of unease was honest abashment. "I think I almost have it. But, begging your pardon again, which one are you, Master? I mean-" Bilbo stuttered "- I know you are one of the sons of Lord Elrond, but I am afraid I have forgotten which braid means whom, if you take my meaning-"

Elrohir let out a gentle laugh; Gandalf was right, there was something infinitely endearing about Hobbits. "Do not fear, Master Baggins; we do not bite, no matter what the Dwarves may have told you. You need not be so formal with me, or anyone in my father's household, especially now that you have been named Elf-friend. And do not be embarrassed; not even our father can tell between my brother and I, but for these braids. I am Elrohir, the younger son, whose braid is on the left."

Bilbo smiled widely at his companion's kindly tone. "Thank you for the reminder, Master Elrohir; I shan't forget it now. The walking-song is almost done, in my mind, though I daresay I shall be adding to it as time goes."

"Well, Master Baggins, it is no use pretending you are shy. I know you are not, when it comes to your own work. Let us have it, then."

"Very well, but it is simple Hobbit-work, for singing in a clear summer day as one strides over the Hill past round Hobbit-doors and puffing chimneys…"

Roads go ever on and on
Over rock and under tree…