"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."
“..This might come as a strange question, but does anyone in particular have books they no longer care if they’re in their possession? Personally I don’t think I’m allowed to borrow any more books presently from the library, lest I’m seen as a thief.”
Fairly urgent is his tone, concerned brows drawing close together.
“Is everyone quite themselves now? And alright? No, I imagine you aren’t – not yet at least, the City is cruel indeed." The Hobbit, at present didn’t necessarily have to, but he offered a spare cup of what appeared to be hot tea, no false platitudes within those old eyes.
”Please, take it. I’ve been most helpless this entire time, and cannot relate to any of you on what has happened but please, I am able and willing at least, to listen, or try to lighten your suffering.“
“Fireworks…but they hardly do his any justice.” There’s no denying the sad, tired tone of the hobbit, who sees them flicker across the sky. Something meant to cause marvel to many..brought him only pain. He swallowed, watching with his heart in his throat.
“It’s to my knowledge that heroes, are those that strive to do noble things for others. The people responsible, however, I fail to see how they live up to such a name, when they are doing the exact opposite of what a hero should do.”
“….I’ve never tried a donut before. I think I should like to try one! Would any of you be willing to share, perhaps? For the first time in months I feel rather hungry.”
“I’m aware this event is..taxing to say the least, but I know one thing – we’ve no need to discuss the topic of beards – and no offense to the dwarves, if they indeed are among us! Perhaps you should focus on surviving, instead?”
There is a hobbit and there is a toaster. Said hobbit (standing on a stool ) places a piece of bread into the device, testing his curiosity. He tentatively places his hand on the button to activate it.
He waits.
Bread, piping hot, rises with a loud ringing noise.
The stool wobbles, the hobbit falls onto his back, hands blindly reaching for the toast. The air is knocked out of him. He stares, dazedly, from his place on his back, winded.
