Post by banaili on Jan 17, 2013 3:48:31 GMT -5
ooc: So, I did some research for this post, just to make sure I have my facts straight! 
Balin and Gandalf first visit Bilbo again in TA 2949 (7 years after the Quest for Erebor), and Balin goes off to Moria in 2989. Meanwhile, Frodo's parents die in 2980. So basically, I think this post can take place any time after Balin and Gandalf's visit and before the year Frodo's parents die. For me, it's not a problem! Anyway, I just thought I'd put this here as a note for us to keep in mind, in case of what we have planned for our individual plots! Otherwise, here goes! 
ic:
A little over a month ago, Bilbo had received a letter from the Lonely Mountain, a place far, far away, on the other side of the world. It had been sent by his good friend Balin, a dwarf whom he had ventured with all those years ago. Balin had written that he intended to pay Bilbo a visit, as he had much interesting news to bring to Bilbo's keen ears.
Naturally, Bilbo was eager to see his old friend again. Things hadn't been the same since he'd returned home all those years ago. Thankfully, he had managed to get all of his possessions back, despite the auctions the Sackville-Bagginses had all-too-eagerly hosted after pronouncing him dead. At least, as far as he could tell, everything had been returned--although he did often feel now and again as though he were missing a few books. Maybe a couple of pieces of silverware, or trinkets from his mother's old jewelry box. But otherwise, the other familiar comforts of his old life were all intact, he was sure. The only thing that had really changed, of course, was himself.
Bilbo knew from the day he returned to the Shire that his life as a Hobbit had changed forever. Naturally, in the big ways, of course--having been the first Hobbit to dare go on an adventure and all. Even among his own people, he had become something of an outcast. There were always those quick to spread rumors about him--that he did strange things during the day, and no one knew where he went. That he was planning to disappear again, and this time, never return. That he was conspiring with unseemly folk, such as wizards--or dwarves.
Thinking about that particular rumor now made him chuckle. It would soon be proven true, the moment Balin reached his doorstep.
Not that it mattered, anyway. Bilbo barely paid heed to the things said about him around town. He knew the biggest of the rumor-mongers, after all, were the same family members who had seemed so hopeful he had died after his long-term disappearance. Of course he saw people whispering sometimes when he walked by, the stricter of Hobbit mothers occasionally pulling a young child away from him. But he didn't let it bother him. He remained his usual cheerful self, content enough with his past choices and experiences that he still treated all of his fellow Hobbits in as friendly and respectable a manner as possible.
And considering he had accumulated such a large amount of wealth from his travels, he certainly had no problem in sharing it with his fellow Hobbits. Sometimes he would overpay the local farmers when out purchasing groceries. Or sometimes, if children were brave enough to come up to him, he gave them spare coins, so they could go buy themselves a treat from Holfast Chubb's stall. He didn't do these things all the time, of course, but when he was in a particularly good mood--which was often, these days.
He was almost entirely content with his life, after all. Hobbits are used to simple lives, and it is the very simplicity and routine of such lives that make them truly happy. Much of Bilbo still felt that way. He was a Baggins, after all. But he would be lying if he didn't admit that the other part of him--the Took part--ached a little for the places he had seen on his adventures. That ache wasn't enough to actually get him to leave Bag End again on another adventure, of course, but it was something he thought about quite often. At such times, he usually took to having a long walk through the outer lands of The Shire, simply to clear his mind. He'd pack several pre-made meals for the day, and return home at nighttime, full and refreshed and ready to prepare his evening meals.
It was often on these small ventures outside his home that he brought along the book he had been working on--his account of the Quest for Erebor. He had shown it to Gandalf and Balin when they had visited some years ago, with its working title at the time--There and Back Again; A Hobbit's Holiday. He hadn't considered another title since.
The long walks provided him with fresh air, the earthy scent of the forest, and a sense of adventure looming just beyond the borders of the home he knew so well. That was how he was able to satiate his growing wanderlust--by finding the inspiration for adventure in such a way, sitting down with a bit of lunch beneath one of the large pine trees, and writing down the very special adventure he had already been privileged enough to experience.
This was often how he spent his life these days, a bachelor constantly on his own. But despite the vast majority who found him incredibly odd for his past deeds, he did still have friends in the Shire. The Gamgees were always kind, giving him advice on how to better manage his garden and vegetable crops. Now and then, he was even given the privilege of tutoring The Gaffer's boy, Samwise Gamgee. It felt good to enlighten a fellow Hobbit about the rest of the world, and to recount his own tales. And Samwise was a very bright, well-mannered student, if not a little shy.
Of course, it was true that, aside from the Gamgees, Bilbo rarely had a guest these days. They'd become fewer and fewer over the years, ever since he'd returned back from his quest to Erebor. In many respects, he thought perhaps a lot of his kin had truly wished he were dead, if only to have his home and possessions. Times were lonely. But it wasn't so bad. The experience he'd had, the friends he'd made, all of the world and its fantastic races which he'd been able to see and experience firsthand--he wouldn't trade that for all the comforts or friends in the Shire. He had his books again, his comfy bed, warm hearth, and--most importantly of all--his memories.
For this special occasion, he'd gone out to buy groceries of all kinds, for even despite the feeling of winter approaching, farmers were still out selling their wares, as usual. And though many people might not have wanted to associate with Bilbo, they all knew he had a small fortune. Thus, no one begrudged him of his groceries--and oftentimes he was lucky enough to get the very best, the juiciest or most crisp of all the crops!
He'd bought enough this particular time to prepare a small feast for his dwarf guest, for he knew dwarves ate a lot, and Balin was by no means an exception to that rule. According to Balin's letter, he intended to arrive in the afternoon on this very day. It was going on three o'clock shortly, and Bilbo had already prepared some small cucumber and salmon sandwiches, as well as a plate of sauteed mushrooms, a thin beef stew, and jam tarts for Afternoon Tea. It was more than he'd usually eat at tea time, but as Balin was not a Hobbit and unaware of Hobbit eating schedules, Bilbo had included a bit more of the regular Luncheon food in the meal as well, to satisfy some of the dwarf's hunger after his long journey. The tea, he had decided, he would make once his guest had arrived. Meanwhile, he'd also taken the time to properly dress up the guest room, as he expected--and rather hoped--that Balin would stay overnight. With the slight chill of the season, he'd added several extra quilts in the guest room, for comfort's sake.
The whole of Bag End had been cleaned from top to bottom over the past week, in preparation for his meeting with his old friend again. His bedroom had been the first place to start. He'd stored the Ring he'd picked up in the Misty Mountains away in a small cherrywood box by his bedside. (He'd noticed, after many evenings of examining the Ring, that it strangely enough had no need to be cleaned--it never even so much as tarnished.)
After that, he had swept the cobwebs away from untouched books in his study, scrubbed the floors thoroughly in the kitchen and bathroom, dusted off family heirlooms on the mantelpiece in the parlour. He hadn't the need to dust off his maps, however, for he cited them often, thinking of his experiences with the dwarves, his eyes tracing their rather broken-up path along the East Road. Memories flooding back as he tried to honestly recount his tales, for the sake of his book.
Having just finished a personal luncheon a little more than an hour earlier, he was merely sitting in the parlour now, waiting enthusiastically, almost impatiently. He'd spent the better part of the last few moments staring down at where he'd left off in his book--attempting to capture the beauty of Rivendell upon first sight. All his childhood dreams of Elves come true before his eyes. He wasn't actually writing at the moment, just staring at the page, thinking about many things, and perhaps hoping that he would suddenly feel the right inspiration to pick up his quill and continue working until his guest arrived.
And that was when he heard it. The long-awaited, entirely expected knock at his front door. He all but leaped out of his seat, taking only a moment to close his book before rushing into the entrance hall to get the door. Another moment, as he adjusted his golden waistcoat, made himself look presentable. And then, he unfastened the lock on the door and tugged the door open.
The sight that greeted him was one which brought that same wave of nostalgia and happiness back to him in welcomed abundance.
"Balin," he spoke finally, a warm grin creeping across his lips. "How truly wonderful to see you again, my old friend."
Without so much as a moment for the poor dwarf to gather his bearings after his long journey, Bilbo stepped down from his doorstep and pulled the other into a large embrace.
ooc: I've written you a novel! O.O I just...got so into it! ^_^;; Writing this really made me love these characters and this world even more.
Balin and Gandalf first visit Bilbo again in TA 2949 (7 years after the Quest for Erebor), and Balin goes off to Moria in 2989. Meanwhile, Frodo's parents die in 2980. So basically, I think this post can take place any time after Balin and Gandalf's visit and before the year Frodo's parents die. For me, it's not a problem! Anyway, I just thought I'd put this here as a note for us to keep in mind, in case of what we have planned for our individual plots! Otherwise, here goes! 
ic:
A little over a month ago, Bilbo had received a letter from the Lonely Mountain, a place far, far away, on the other side of the world. It had been sent by his good friend Balin, a dwarf whom he had ventured with all those years ago. Balin had written that he intended to pay Bilbo a visit, as he had much interesting news to bring to Bilbo's keen ears.
Naturally, Bilbo was eager to see his old friend again. Things hadn't been the same since he'd returned home all those years ago. Thankfully, he had managed to get all of his possessions back, despite the auctions the Sackville-Bagginses had all-too-eagerly hosted after pronouncing him dead. At least, as far as he could tell, everything had been returned--although he did often feel now and again as though he were missing a few books. Maybe a couple of pieces of silverware, or trinkets from his mother's old jewelry box. But otherwise, the other familiar comforts of his old life were all intact, he was sure. The only thing that had really changed, of course, was himself.
Bilbo knew from the day he returned to the Shire that his life as a Hobbit had changed forever. Naturally, in the big ways, of course--having been the first Hobbit to dare go on an adventure and all. Even among his own people, he had become something of an outcast. There were always those quick to spread rumors about him--that he did strange things during the day, and no one knew where he went. That he was planning to disappear again, and this time, never return. That he was conspiring with unseemly folk, such as wizards--or dwarves.
Thinking about that particular rumor now made him chuckle. It would soon be proven true, the moment Balin reached his doorstep.
Not that it mattered, anyway. Bilbo barely paid heed to the things said about him around town. He knew the biggest of the rumor-mongers, after all, were the same family members who had seemed so hopeful he had died after his long-term disappearance. Of course he saw people whispering sometimes when he walked by, the stricter of Hobbit mothers occasionally pulling a young child away from him. But he didn't let it bother him. He remained his usual cheerful self, content enough with his past choices and experiences that he still treated all of his fellow Hobbits in as friendly and respectable a manner as possible.
And considering he had accumulated such a large amount of wealth from his travels, he certainly had no problem in sharing it with his fellow Hobbits. Sometimes he would overpay the local farmers when out purchasing groceries. Or sometimes, if children were brave enough to come up to him, he gave them spare coins, so they could go buy themselves a treat from Holfast Chubb's stall. He didn't do these things all the time, of course, but when he was in a particularly good mood--which was often, these days.
He was almost entirely content with his life, after all. Hobbits are used to simple lives, and it is the very simplicity and routine of such lives that make them truly happy. Much of Bilbo still felt that way. He was a Baggins, after all. But he would be lying if he didn't admit that the other part of him--the Took part--ached a little for the places he had seen on his adventures. That ache wasn't enough to actually get him to leave Bag End again on another adventure, of course, but it was something he thought about quite often. At such times, he usually took to having a long walk through the outer lands of The Shire, simply to clear his mind. He'd pack several pre-made meals for the day, and return home at nighttime, full and refreshed and ready to prepare his evening meals.
It was often on these small ventures outside his home that he brought along the book he had been working on--his account of the Quest for Erebor. He had shown it to Gandalf and Balin when they had visited some years ago, with its working title at the time--There and Back Again; A Hobbit's Holiday. He hadn't considered another title since.
The long walks provided him with fresh air, the earthy scent of the forest, and a sense of adventure looming just beyond the borders of the home he knew so well. That was how he was able to satiate his growing wanderlust--by finding the inspiration for adventure in such a way, sitting down with a bit of lunch beneath one of the large pine trees, and writing down the very special adventure he had already been privileged enough to experience.
This was often how he spent his life these days, a bachelor constantly on his own. But despite the vast majority who found him incredibly odd for his past deeds, he did still have friends in the Shire. The Gamgees were always kind, giving him advice on how to better manage his garden and vegetable crops. Now and then, he was even given the privilege of tutoring The Gaffer's boy, Samwise Gamgee. It felt good to enlighten a fellow Hobbit about the rest of the world, and to recount his own tales. And Samwise was a very bright, well-mannered student, if not a little shy.
Of course, it was true that, aside from the Gamgees, Bilbo rarely had a guest these days. They'd become fewer and fewer over the years, ever since he'd returned back from his quest to Erebor. In many respects, he thought perhaps a lot of his kin had truly wished he were dead, if only to have his home and possessions. Times were lonely. But it wasn't so bad. The experience he'd had, the friends he'd made, all of the world and its fantastic races which he'd been able to see and experience firsthand--he wouldn't trade that for all the comforts or friends in the Shire. He had his books again, his comfy bed, warm hearth, and--most importantly of all--his memories.
For this special occasion, he'd gone out to buy groceries of all kinds, for even despite the feeling of winter approaching, farmers were still out selling their wares, as usual. And though many people might not have wanted to associate with Bilbo, they all knew he had a small fortune. Thus, no one begrudged him of his groceries--and oftentimes he was lucky enough to get the very best, the juiciest or most crisp of all the crops!
He'd bought enough this particular time to prepare a small feast for his dwarf guest, for he knew dwarves ate a lot, and Balin was by no means an exception to that rule. According to Balin's letter, he intended to arrive in the afternoon on this very day. It was going on three o'clock shortly, and Bilbo had already prepared some small cucumber and salmon sandwiches, as well as a plate of sauteed mushrooms, a thin beef stew, and jam tarts for Afternoon Tea. It was more than he'd usually eat at tea time, but as Balin was not a Hobbit and unaware of Hobbit eating schedules, Bilbo had included a bit more of the regular Luncheon food in the meal as well, to satisfy some of the dwarf's hunger after his long journey. The tea, he had decided, he would make once his guest had arrived. Meanwhile, he'd also taken the time to properly dress up the guest room, as he expected--and rather hoped--that Balin would stay overnight. With the slight chill of the season, he'd added several extra quilts in the guest room, for comfort's sake.
The whole of Bag End had been cleaned from top to bottom over the past week, in preparation for his meeting with his old friend again. His bedroom had been the first place to start. He'd stored the Ring he'd picked up in the Misty Mountains away in a small cherrywood box by his bedside. (He'd noticed, after many evenings of examining the Ring, that it strangely enough had no need to be cleaned--it never even so much as tarnished.)
After that, he had swept the cobwebs away from untouched books in his study, scrubbed the floors thoroughly in the kitchen and bathroom, dusted off family heirlooms on the mantelpiece in the parlour. He hadn't the need to dust off his maps, however, for he cited them often, thinking of his experiences with the dwarves, his eyes tracing their rather broken-up path along the East Road. Memories flooding back as he tried to honestly recount his tales, for the sake of his book.
Having just finished a personal luncheon a little more than an hour earlier, he was merely sitting in the parlour now, waiting enthusiastically, almost impatiently. He'd spent the better part of the last few moments staring down at where he'd left off in his book--attempting to capture the beauty of Rivendell upon first sight. All his childhood dreams of Elves come true before his eyes. He wasn't actually writing at the moment, just staring at the page, thinking about many things, and perhaps hoping that he would suddenly feel the right inspiration to pick up his quill and continue working until his guest arrived.
And that was when he heard it. The long-awaited, entirely expected knock at his front door. He all but leaped out of his seat, taking only a moment to close his book before rushing into the entrance hall to get the door. Another moment, as he adjusted his golden waistcoat, made himself look presentable. And then, he unfastened the lock on the door and tugged the door open.
The sight that greeted him was one which brought that same wave of nostalgia and happiness back to him in welcomed abundance.
"Balin," he spoke finally, a warm grin creeping across his lips. "How truly wonderful to see you again, my old friend."
Without so much as a moment for the poor dwarf to gather his bearings after his long journey, Bilbo stepped down from his doorstep and pulled the other into a large embrace.
ooc: I've written you a novel! O.O I just...got so into it! ^_^;; Writing this really made me love these characters and this world even more.