#oraftel

              There would have been talk if Baze Malbus had come back married to another hobbit the same gender as him, but the talk would have quickly died down when they saw how happy they were. Hobbits loved to gossip, after all, but none really cared about that sort of thing beyond using it as fuel for gossip. No one had suspected that the hobbit had a desire for that sort of marriage, many thought he didn't have a penchant for marriage at all, and the talk went wild. No, it was not that the hobbit had married another man that caused people to talk. Baze Malbus had left, alone, planning on going outside the shire to find an ingredient he read about in a book, and had returned with a bag full of herbs, and a tall, blind, elf for a husband.

              The elf's name was Chirrut Imwe, a name that tangled many a hobbit's tongue, tasting the unusual name like a sour lemon, sometimes spitting it out more than saying it. The elf never seemed to mind, calmly correcting mispronounciations of his name, and smiling at them even when they spoke harshly of him. Where Baze retreated into his house, buried himself in baking, only interacting with children who were more open minded than their elders, Chirrut made himself accessible to all. He placed himself outside in the garden, picking herbs that Baze needed or just sitting and humming, sometimes singing in languages that twisted and flowed, allowing them to float into the air on the wind. All of the hobbits of the Shire, including Baze, were in agreement that Chirrut Imwe was a very terrible singer.

              The fact that he was an elf was enough to convince the other hobits that he was strange, but they did not understand just how strange he was. Chirrut Imwe was short for an elf, though he was still tall enough to hit his head on the cross beams of the hobbit-hole, and he was too tall to sleep in a hobbit bed. When Baze had returned from his travels, the first thing he had done was purchase a new bed, one they could both fit in comfortably. Chirrut was blind, leading to a rash of rumors that all elves were blind, but sometimes people were convinced that he could see, that he was just faking it for the sake of pity, even though he never asked for pity.

              The other thing that made Chirrut odd, in a way that none of the hobbits could understand, was that Chirrut's hair was very short. Chirrut's hair was a matter of discussion amongst the hobbits, because it was so short, but none of the hobbits knew about elf traditions when it came to hair, or about the braided crown Baze kept in a box. Chirrut was a very odd elf indeed.

              Most would not expect the two to have come together, they were such an odd pair after all. They seemed like opposites, but few knew their story, and Baze was happy to keep it that way. It was none of their business, Baze would explain to Chirrut. None of the hobbits in the Shire knew, save for Baze, that their story was written in a book under Baze’s writing desk, waiting to be found long after their deaths, because Baze for all his gruff and bluster truly loved Chirrut, wanted the world to know about the amazing elf who brightened each of his days. Just not while he was still alive.

              “We could leave, you know,” Chirrut said one day as he dipped the fresh baked bread into the rabbit stew that sat on the table in front of him. The rumors that day had been particularly numerous, starting as a simple rumor that Chirrut could do a back flip from standing (which was the truth) that had multiplied and spread into a rumor that Chirrut had wooed the good baker Baze with his acrobatic talents in bed (this was less true. It was not the reason Baze had been wooed, but Baze was certainly not going to complain about Chirrut’s flexibility anytime soon). “There are so many places we have never seen, we could go and visit them. Get away from the rumors.”

              Baze had paused then, his knife sliding through the thick hearty bread, that crunched and cracked with a solid snap that only true fresh bread could make. He lifted the slice from the table and he put it into his own bowl of soup. “We could,” Baze said finally, after he swallowed the bite of soup soaked bread. “That is an option, I have left before, I could leave again.”

              “What is stopping us then?” Chirrut asked, hands clenching on the table, over a spot where Baze had carved his name in as a boy, a thing he had gotten into a lot of trouble about with his mothers. Chirrut always sat there, he enjoyed sliding his fingers over the now old carving, feeling the lines that made up Baze’s name. “Are you afraid that if you go out again you will find a dwarf who will set your heart afire and you would choose them over me?” Chirrut’s grin was wide and bright, taking over most of his face, holding back nothing. It was a beautiful smile, one that made Baze want to lean over the table right then and steal it away with a kiss, but he managed to hold back. Food was more important.

              “No, that is not my worry,” Baze said, turning his eyes away from Chirrut’s smile to focus on his bowl of soup. He spent time thinking. Baze did that a lot, took time to think. It was very important to take the time to think, Baze thought, especially when one did not want to upset someone else. Not that Chirrut would be upset, of course. Chirrut was rarely upset with Baze, but it was known to happen, and Chirrut’s wrath could be fierce. “This is our home,” Baze said simply, finishing the bread in his hand before slicing off two more slices, pushing one across the table to Chirrut. “If we were to go out and travel again, we would not have a home, not for a long time. We would be travelling, unable to settle down. I like having a home, with you, for us. This is where I want to be, always and forever.” Baze picked up his new slice of bread and he dipped it in, taking another bite. “Plus, we would never be able to find beds that would fit both of us again. You’re too tall.”