"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."
He imagined the reaction his Uncle might have made in such a situation. A giant horse munching on his carrots in plain sight within his garden. Frodo might have never known such a thing if not for Lady Goldberry, his large and astute golden retriever, barking at the window, urgently returning to him with a gentle paw and a wagging tail.
Both residents exited the home and began their way outside, the smallest of them peering up at the horse who all but had the carrots still clinging to his mouth. The Ringbearer knew little of whether to laugh or berate him, but it seemed his guilt was written in his large brown eyes.
“Goodness. Did you have a fine lunch? I’ll admit I was saving those for a stew…are you quite full now?“
Bare feet found their home in the grass again; taking note of what could be salvaged. It seemed some carrots were left and all other crops were untouched. However, for all purposes the Hobbit wasn’t angry, rather amused, and the gentle, old blue eyes that met his held no traces of malice.
Maximus held his breath and tiptoed out of the garden, he turned towards the curly haired stranger. The White Stallion trotted over to the short man, bending his head to look at what he was doing. The tiny two legged creature was surveying the damage he’s created. At least the stranger wasn’t angry at his foul mistake, how was he to know that midgets planted gardens?
Ok, ok, so maybe this man wasn’t that short, but compared to the soldiers he’s held on his back during combat, he was tiny. Almost boy size, Maximus was tempted to carry him to see how heavy he was, would the tiny man be as light as air? He shook his head, disregarding his preposterous thoughts.
Max looked down, bewildered.
☀ - Hairy feet? Maximus thought, noting how large and incredibly furry they are.. He bent over, touching the stranger’s foot with his muzzle. Max sneezed and jumped back, startled.
The horse seemed highly intelligent. Gandalf had once told him for a Brown Wizard of his Order that could speak to creatures as surely as Frodo might converse with Hobbit, Man, Elf or Dwarf. He had the same smarts of Lady Goldberry, who sat, in his opinion, very politely, observing the horse with her thick eyelashes and her ever-present smile.
His face turned wry. The dog was often a far better hostess than he was, even when the visitors were running a muck.
"Dear….fellow, ” Frodo managed, voice slightly fumbling on the words. How did one address a horse. “Sir Horse, I believe the matter at hand is that you have done me a slight by eating my carrots, not the subject of my feet.” His lips twitched. Crops could be regrown, and he was no Gamgee, but still, there lingered some disappointment. He wasn’t a spring chicken no matter how young (and that was questionable) he looked.
When he nosed his foot he instinctively flinched back as well, breathing a bit harder than a normal person should. He laughed off his inbred tenseness, offering a weak smile.
“I am a Hobbit. Not a Man, or as you place it here, a Human. It’s only natural I look different. Does not my height and ears show as much?" Gently his hand went to pull back a sable curl; revealing a slightly pointed tip of an ear.
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