"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 can’t be the only one who finds their mind a bit..clouded, can I? Is there anyone who feels..particularly fine? Other than that I feel no reasons to be concerned with much anything at the moment. I have scars that I don’t recall receiving but they hardly hurt and my home I suppose is a bit fuzzy but I imagine I must have hit my head.
A call towards a passerby. It’s oddly worrisome, but his chest feels so light of worries at the same time, so it’s all very confusing.
"You, Over there. Do you relate perhaps?”
“Oh, tell me about it. All I know is I’m not supposed to be here, but no idea where I should be. It’s like all my life has just — flown away.”
Speaking of flying, he was practically flapping his arms in an over punctuation of his words.
“Flown away! Good heavens!” Now that was more alarming than a mere headache! Frodo, who excelled in compassion where many hobbits did not, took an immediate concern to this strange-looking fellow.
“Now, I speak of a mere headache but you say you can scarcely remember much of anything? Nothing at all? That is much more alarming. I feel foolish for even speaking so openly of my ‘affliction’!”
The hobbit was now fretting slightly, stepping a bit closer. “Have you perhaps hit your head as I have?”
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