You Had Me at "Handkerchief" {Bilbo Baggins/LOTR}

Chapter XII: My Failed Attempt at Flirting

Chapter XII:

My Failed Attempt at Flirting

    The day we awaken upon will forever be one of great legend and folklore, in which Sauron will be defeated and Frodo will save us all.  And though the main of the Fellowship has yet to know what is to come upon tonight, a great anxiety radiates through the walls of Minas Tirith, paying no heed to stone and dream.  It is pervasive in all aspects, and forceful enough to awaken me from my sleep.  And thus, without a moment's hesitation at the weight upon my heart, I spring from the bed and into the light of a new and historical day.

    And though I left the bed with my hobbit's form curled under the covers, when I return from the bathroom, Bilbo is absent from sleep.  I take little mind in that notion, seeing as we must prepare ourselves for war and council, which should convene in minute's time.  I adorn a gray tunic, black leather leggings, and boots to match.  My hair is woven into a french braid, worthy of battle, and my engagement ring is tucked within my shirt, strung like the Ring of Frodo.  Oh, how the prior possession of jewelry can change the meaning of all adornment.

    Flying, but not actually, from the Gondorian bedroom, I practically run into my fiancee of last night.  And though mere smiles are exchanged before we begin racing down the halls, our relationship is different with the moon's lost light at the force of today.  We are committed to each other for an eternity, and thus, our relationship is one of steadfast love, not a momentary passion.

    Having seen the visions of Galadriel, I know of where I am to turn and arrive at: the Town Hall of Minas Tirith.  It is there that the Fellowship awaits, with the addition of my parents, Eomer, and Denzel.  And though I worry for the White Wizard's state of mind, seeing his worried expression like that of Bilbo, I turn away in analysis of the room.  Sidel and Boromir, just as yesterday, sit too close to be considered merely friendly, and I truly wonder if they are fooling anyone.  What is evermore surprising is the whispering Denzel and Eomer, seated upon a stone step.  They make a good pair, to be certain, and I expect them to fall deeply in love by week's end.  War has a crazy way of driving lovers together.

    "Frodo has passed beyond my sight.  The darkness is deepening," Gandalf whimpers, if even possible for wizards.  He turns around at his words, looking to our awaiting company as if he never expected us to be within the room.  We may be quiet, but I do believe Gandalf's ignorance is one of a blocking pain and fear.

"If Sauron had the Ring, we would know it," Aragorn remarks, back turned to the rest of us in a dissociative state. The King-to-be seems uneasy within this throne room, a place which he is to call home.  And I feel for him, seeing as he came upon this title with not so much as intention, but dire need to recruit the Army of the Dead.  He never asked for a kingdom.

"It's only a matter of time.  He has suffered a defeat, yes, but behind the walls of Mordor our enemy is regrouping," Gandalf remarks, worry lacing his every syllable and letter.  It is strange to see the wizard in such a hopeless state, as I have grown to know him as a man of effervescent hope for the future.  It's as if another being now possesses Gandalf.

"Let him stay there.  Let him rot.  Why should we care?" Gimli pipes up from his seat upon the throne.  I roll my eyes at his words, seeing as I have told him time-and-time-again of what can occur if we ignore this threat.  Gloin's stubbornness, an attribute none of us truly admire, surely wore off onto his son.

"Because ten thousand orcs now stand between Frodo and Mount Doom," the wizard responds from his suspicious and worried expression. "I've sent him to his death."  I gape at this, seeing as we all played an equal role in sending Frodo on his way.  The wizard is not to take the sole blame for this.  Aragorn seems to think the same, whipping around to face us all.