"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."
"I see no hope of it now. But I've got to do the best I can."
a place of cheer | tenderizingtwo
It’s one of the last things he’s come to expect in such a grim place. Frodo Baggins had loved to wander when he had still lived in the Shire, the distant borders of it, among the starlight and the elves. Never had he felt so bereft of his element once green grass had turned to dark earth and the sun had faded beneath black mountains. Never had he missed nor been able to recall it so much.
The nature of life.
Somehow as he wandered, he’d come to such a place. Through each area, at least three of them in a day, he found more energy than he’d had in ages. He knew why, and mixed feelings rose, trying to threatening the budding wonder that came once he saw the sixth area.
Blue sky…green fields, as if it were home, somehow. A hobbit was fond of good earth, green and sunlight, and Frodo was no different, no matter how ‘mad’ his countrymen viewed him when he remained in Bag End.
For a moment all he could do was stare, his hand slackening on his walking stick, azure eyes rapt with wonder.
“This…”
Was a little bit of home.
Despite all the Ring had taken from him in senses, his hearing was still keen enough to note that someone was approaching, and the Ringbearer, (ringless, but bearer still), stopped in the road, feet just about to touch and savor the green that met his line of sight.
Someone was coming.
And was it friend, or foe?
Slowly, hesitantly, he turned his head to meet it. Whoever 'it’ was.
