Bravery

Blunt the knives, bend the forks!

Smash the bottles and burn the corks!

Chip the glasses and crack the plates!

Sleep was not something all that familiar really. Whilst it was mandatory for humans to rest and dream during their slumber, Gerwyn laid awake unable to drift off into anything past a light snooze. He was a guardian after all and what good were his eyes if they were closed? But the night was unkind to plant life and he grew exhausted too quickly, usually settling into the bowed branches of trees to remain safe as opposed to lying out in the open as his daytime self would have preferred. However, Hive City had changed him.

He still did not need to sleep, but instead he found that closing his eyes and resting was a good way to keep a grip on his dwindling magic, that by resting he could focus and calm down all at once. And so he sought after a good place to go about his mock-sleeping, almost desperate to find somewhere warm and comfortable, preferably with some grass nearby, if only to remind him of home. He travelled across the sectors and his feet grew tired and bruised, golden bursts of honey-like blood trailing behind him for he had yet to buy any shoes ( or clothes, for he walked about in merely a gown ) causing him to hiss as he went.

   Now, what many don’t consider when they look at a hobbit is that a hobbit has a very sensitive pair of ears. Even through several feet of dirt Bilbo could make out the faint sound of someone walking above him. This makes him jolt awake, his attention fixated on the ceiling as he tried to make out more of what was happening. It wasn’t too uncommon for animals to walk across his garden, but more often then not rodents and other wild beasts would try to make away with his vegetables. There is a rather loud sound, and then nothing.

   Quietly Bilbo removes himself from his bed. Putting on his robe and grabbing Sting he slips outside. Greeted by the crisp morning air, he climbs up to his garden to find a completely naked man laying atop of his radishes. It takes the hobbit a few moments to speak up, holding his sword forward to the stranger.

   “W-What..... What are you doing on my garden?”

“I CARE not for what you think your home is called,” he responded coldly as he waved a hand, dismissive of the topic. “…BUT you have given me insight as to how one should behave within the city.”

REN took another step forward, his knees just begging to open the gate that divided him and the hobbit. “NOR will they ever be friends. I don’t need friends,” he reiterated adamantly. He continued on, vagueness present in his delivery.“SUCH notions will only tie me down. BESIDES, I have what I need to move forward. YOU seem to regard the scientists with a respectable amount of fear, short one. A CIVIL tongue, you say? HMPH. THEY seem to have proven themselves terribly capable of managing the city if one such as yourself would be willing to sacrifice pride for a hole in the ground." 

   “Well, do enjoy being friendless.” Though it would not get him very far. It was becoming very apparent how important pride was to this man. Bilbo had his pride, and did not like it tossed aside for others to trample on. But Bilbo also craved the comforts of home, and having to conform to a way of life that was not suited toward someone of his height simply wouldn’t do.

   “I know that fighting against the scientists just leaves one with a headache. It is best to prepare and wait rather then fight at nothing. But I won’t tell you what to do, stranger.” He could tell he wouldn’t get far, and Bilbo was tired.

      Even with the time that had passed since he was first taken into the City, it still came as a surprise to Thorin whenever chaos seemed to arise from nothing. He was older than Bilbo, had seen more years pass as Middle-earth settled in on itself, less easily malleable. (After all, stone tended to break, not bend.) While his world had darkness and dragons, the newly seen flashing sky, only seen as Bag End’s roof split apart, was nothing Thorin knew.

       His first instinct was to check on his hobbit— only to have that task upended when the ground too began to pull away from itself. Even with his dwarven eyes, it was hard to see how deep down the cracks went for there was only a deep, unending blackness at his feet. It was faint under the sounds of settling earth and debris, but Bilbo’s voice was easily recognised. He quickly tracked the hobbit’s voice, seeing his love covered in a sheen of dust, debris caught in honey curls— but other than that, unscathed. 

   It is a relief that Thorin is unharmed, but finding him would be a whole new challenge. And, almost as though Bilbo expected it, Thorin was going to be of very little help.

   “I knew this house when there wasn’t a giant crack in it!” His irritation and worry is evident by how quickly he snaps. However, that doesn’t change that they are apart, and needed to find a way out when his only door was currently split in half and the other door to the outside world was on Thorin’s half of the house. Taking a deep breathe, Bilbo calms himself just enough to speak once more.

   “There... isn’t a way for me to leave. I have to find a way to cross over to you if I am going to leave.”

   Bilbo almost huffs at the “short one” comment, but something within him will not let slide the jab the man makes at his home.

   “It is not a burrow. I am not a rabbit, however small and weak you think me to be. It is a hobbit hole, and I keep my home very clean and warm.” He speaks as though he is reprimanding the masked man like he is a child. A bad habit to scold others was not something Bilbo had yet shaken off.

   Most might assume that she lived here considering the amount of time she spent wondering around sector six, going about her business. But she simply feels more at ease here, where things were green and growing, where the city actually felt alive even if it truly wasn’t. It’s also where she’s been working on a little project, something to keep her mind occupied. Within the park she’s got a large board with paper taped onto it on the grass and several buckets of paint, painting a sign of some kind. Although perhaps today wasn’t the best day to be doing such things as it was rather windy, despite how sunny it was. Her concerns on the matter prove to be on point as a particularly large gust partially tears the paper from the board, sending half of it blowing up and smacking someone in the face.

    The paint was still wet as well, so not only did they just get a face full of paper but paint too…bright pink paint.

   It had begun to do him some good. His mood had lighted somewhat, and his mind had left from the comfort of his real home. That was, until, something light and wet had whopped Bilbo right in the face.

   Making a equally irritated and surprised series of noises, he pulls the paper from his face. Clearing his eyes of pink, he stares at the painting, and then to a girl who had rushed forward to help him.

   “I-It... well, it is alright.” He wasn’t permanently damaged, after all.

   The woman hands her a small cloth, and he eyes the nicely detailed flowers before taking the handkerchief. He didn’t think most carried such items on their person anymore. 

     He’d felt its call ever since he’d returned to the city.

     The Ring – as though the one he currently was in possession of was merely a fraud, though he felt traces of his power within it, as well.

     It was as though the scientists had extracted the rest of his strength and separated it, keeping it within the city’s limits; a second Ring, though he had not permitted its creation. It’s presence was so clearly there, reaching for him, pulling at him, as though a part of himself were being held hostage. If taunting him was their intention, they’d most certainly succeeded. 

     And now.. Sauron intended to regain what was rightfully his.

     Fire burned in his veins as he neared the Ring. He felt it, it was there – so close. Tantalisingly so. And when he looked.. he found himself faced with a most peculiar creature. Not a dwarf, though he did not appear to be the size of a Man. His soul sang of something else entirely. Having come to a halt, Sauron slowly took in a single, slow breath, taming the anger the hissed within him. 

     His amber gaze remained imperious, though his words were uttered with a dangerous sense of false calm.

     “Now, that truly is odd..”

   Still, Bilbo is only a hobbit. A being without any abilities or magic. A small, simple thing that most would not take seriously without giving him a second thought. So when a man- no, this is a different being entirely, approaches him Bilbo can either think of fighting or fleeing.

   The weight in his vest pocket feels so heavy. He can not explain it, but the Ring does it for him. This man wanted what was rightfully his, and Bilbo would not hand it over. Not while he was still alive. Such strange devotion to this object goes unnoticed by the hobbit, but right now is not the time to care. His heart beat far too fast, and he could feel sweat in his palms. He was only a small, gentle hobbit.