"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."
CA INTRO.
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….”
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.”
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.“
“It seems lively. I can’t rightly tell if that is a good thing or not, granted the material going around. Something about ‘children’ and 'torturing’. Clearly things I’d like to drink my tea over.”Not really.
Ragged breathing, the cowed posture. The signs of pain, a sagging position against a wall, eyes cloudy from something that could and should not be written or spoken. Words spilled, dream-like, weak in a way they had not been since he arrived. Each word took a hitched gasp from aching lungs.
”..Tell me — please, what….” His eyes flutter. “What.. happens to those who leave this place? I must know. Where..where do they go?”
Ragged breathing, the cowed posture. The signs of pain, a sagging position against a wall, eyes cloudy from something that could and should not be written or spoken. Words spilled, dream-like, weak in a way they had not been since he arrived. Each word took a hitched gasp from aching lungs.
“..Tell me – please, what….” His eyes flutter. “What.. happens to those who leave this place? I must know. Where..where do they go?”
