"I should like to save the Shire, if I could - though there have been times when I thought the inhabitants too stupid and dull for words, and have felt that an earthquake or an invasion of dragons might be good for them. But I don't feel like that now. I feel that as long as the Shire lies behind, safe and comfortable, I shall find wandering more bearable: I shall know that somewhere there is a firm foothold, even if my feet cannot stand there again."
So Frodo isn’t participating but I did make an open for him!I’d really appreciate if someone would be willing to help the little guy out as he’s arrived in pretty bad shape? You know how awful looking he is at the end of the third film? He’s nearing that point so he’s much weaker physically than before !!! I’d appreciate it! He’ll be looking for his dog, Goldberry, as well!
He has grown thin.Thinner than he had ever been when he was here last, and the lines in his cheeks speak of a hobbit who has lost all weight he had gained during his last stay in the City. Shoulders hunched through the now tattered green cloak he wore constantly, the rest of what can be seen of his skin is caked in dust, bruises and scrapes.
Perhaps what is worst is his eyes, purple, bruise-like lines beneath a gaze haunted, heavier than last before, almost disoriented — confused. Last he was past Minas Morgul, where the Shadow had nearly tempted him to walk towards the bridge, the force so painful it yanked his entire neck. His empty stomach had growled yet his body did not recognize the hunger. His throat was dry, lips caked in dust.
“……Here — again. ” It seems almost forced out of the Hobbit’s lips, before he takes a few stumbling steps —
— and falls down. As sure as the weight of the Ring would make him crumple, so too does the sudden absence of it yet again make him lose his footing. The ugly, red, welt-like indentions from the chain are afresh, as if he had never been here at all.
For a moment he lies there, blinking back dust and darkness, not used to seeing the light of the sun once again.
“….a dream…” It’s mumbled into the stone, the Ringbearer struggling to even grapple the street with cut little fingers. “Or rather it feels as if I am sleeping again….”
He has grown thin.Thinner than he had ever been when he was here last, and the lines in his cheeks speak of a hobbit who has lost all weight he had gained during his last stay in the City. Shoulders hunched through the now tattered green cloak he wore constantly, the rest of what can be seen of his skin is caked in dust, bruises and scrapes.
Perhaps what is worst is his eyes, purple, bruise-like lines beneath a gaze haunted, heavier than last before, almost disoriented – confused. Last he was past Minas Morgul, where the Shadow had nearly tempted him to walk towards the bridge, the force so painful it yanked his entire neck. His empty stomach had growled yet his body did not recognize the hunger. His throat was dry, lips caked in dust.
“……Here – again. ” It seems almost forced out of the Hobbit’s lips, before he takes a few stumbling steps –
– and falls down. As sure as the weight of the Ring would make him crumple, so too does the sudden absence of it yet again make him lose his footing. The ugly, red, welt-like indentions from the chain are afresh, as if he had never been here at all.
For a moment he lies there, blinking back dust and darkness, not used to seeing the light of the sun once again.
“….a dream…” It’s mumbled into the stone, the Ringbearer struggling to even grapple the street with cut little fingers. “Or rather it feels as if I am sleeping again….”
Hello, Lizzie here, formerly reserved now unreserved with an app for Frodo Baggins of the Lord of the Rings Trilogy. You can find his app in the sidebar as he's been updated a bit and I'm wondering if he can keep what he had last he was here? Sting, etc. My personal is mamoeru and the date is November 17, 2014.
A strained series of breaths, a sagging of the shoulders as he feels the weight of it pressing down –
..and he quickly goes to whatever bush he can find at the coming intruder. All the while his fingers tremble towards the golden band, on his finger by now if not for an iron will.
‘Yess, wretched we are, precious,’ he whined. 'Misery misery! Hobbits won’t kill us, nice hobbits.’
’No, we won’t,’ said Frodo. ‘But we won’t let you go, either. You’re full of wickedness and mischief, Gollum. You will have to come with us, that’s all, while we keep an eye on you. But you must help us, if you can. One good turn deserves another.’
