Chapter Text
Bilbo's hands dropped from under the nightstand. It banged with a noisy clatter against the floor, and Bofur's surprised cursing only added to the noise. She ignored his muttering and shrugged off her sweatshirt, her back soaked with sweat despite the cold winter air and lack of heating in her flat. Her friend, meanwhile, glared at her while he shook his red hands.
"Next time you're gonna drop everything, give me a warning," Bofur said, leaning against the wall dramatically. The stand was blocking the entrance, but neither of them seemed to care. If anyone was walking in, they were walking straight into a heavy, misshapen block of wood. There was nothing to be done about it. "Why is everything Thorin own so damn heavy?"
She shrugged, managing to calm her breathing. "Ask her yourself." She then froze, eyes darting to the drawers in the stand. "Hey, Bof?"
"Yeah?"
"You emptied the stand before we started carrying it right?" For a split second, a look of panic crossed his face. It was quickly replaced with a crooked smile and a sheepish, tired laugh. "Bofur, I swear to God-"
"I emptied it, I emptied it," he defended hastily, hat drooping into his eyes as he rested his hands against his knees. "We carried this thing up three flights up stairs thanks to that busted elevator. You really think I wouldn't check to see?"
Bilbo narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him and opened the top drawer, not even having to look inside to know he hadn't done as he said; she could simply tell by the way the blood drained from his face. She pointed wordlessly towards the guest bedroom and Bofur grudgingly started dragging the stand into Thorin's bedroom with only mild complaining.
Shaking her head to herself, she grabbed two bottles of water from her fridge and gulped one down. She heard a yowl and Melkor scrambled into view, jumping on top of the counter to avoid Sauron's attempts at play time. The Doberman let out several protesting barks before his ears straightened, the sound of wheels rolling down the hall entering the flat.
Nori poked her head in, auburn hair tousled and sticking up in the back. She yelped as Sauron jumped on her, paws scratching her arms mercilessly until she pushed him away. Behind her was a large cart stacked high with tall boxes containing Thorin's other things.
"Where'd you get that?" Bilbo asked her, coming close to choking on her water once seeing the cart that was mysteriously vanished from the lobby earlier, according to the man at the desk.
"The lobby bloke gave it to me," answered Nori, raising an eyebrow. "Why?"
She sighed through her nose. "Never mind. Let's go help Bofur with the boxes. He forgot to empty the furniture, so as punishment he got to put it in the room." Nori snorted and Bilbo allowed herself to laugh. "With my luck, he's probably arranged it horribly."
"Are you an interior designer now?" Nori teased, and she shrugged.
"I just want to get it right. Thorin doesn't mind the arrangement since she's working right now, but I want to make everything as comfortable as possible. It's our day off, so we might as well make the most of it." She creaked open the door of Thorin's room.
The white paint was fresh and dry, and the shelves newly built. Thorin's bed was already made and her nightstand and desk were arranged. The closet door was open, waiting to be filled with her clothes and belongings like the rest of the bedroom. Bilbo felt a twinge of disappointment upon looking at the bed, knowing Thorin would be spending her nights there, but she quickly shrugged it off. They needed the space for storage, plus a lot of couples didn't share beds, right?
"What's with all the girly stuff?" Bofur asked, breaking the silence as Nori plopped onto the water bed. He rifled around the large bags from Bilbo's shopping spree, pulling out little frames of pressed flowers, twinkling fairy lights, and a pale blue polka dotted carpet for the foot of the bed.
"I just wanted to make her room feel more like home," she said defensively and Nori awed at the flower calendar. She flipped through the pages, and Bilbo ignored her question asking if she made Thorin a flower crown while she was at it.
"Stop criticizing my designing decisions and help me get her clothes in," she snapped waspishly, making a mental note to put the vase of daffodils and Queen Anne's Lace in Thorin's room later. She opened the boxes, finding an overabundance of gray shirts and leather material.
"Jesus, does she own any colors?" muttered Nori and laughed as she spotted a plaid shirt in the folded pile. "Ah, never mind. That's light gray."
"She has lots of blues. They're in this box," Bofur said and began folding her jeans in her armoire. There was a box dedicated to hair care and makeup, which he put in the largest section of the armoire after receiving advice from Bilbo.
"Whoops, that's a bra," exclaimed Nori and Bilbo found a box of underclothes being smacked in her face. She groaned, punching Nori's shoulder and fighting off a blush as she folded the articles carefully into her drawers. Bofur looked away until it was done, but a mischievous smile was on his face.
"Billie, you've seen your girlfriend undressed before. What's the difference with a pair of smallclothes?" he said, elbowing her. She could only feel her face grow hotter, but kept silent.
"Yeah, we all have panties," said Nori sagely as she hung up the last (and sixth) leather jacket. "Even Bofur!"
Bofur, bless him, just winked at her and pointed a finger gun. Bilbo chuckled, sitting on the bed with a silent sigh. She still had the decorating to do, but she'd let Thorin take care of her desk since Bilbo knew she could be a very precise person. The lights would brighten up the place, and they'd get some of those pictures they took on the walls. It'd be nice. Yet Bilbo couldn't get the slight prickling of disappointment out of her heart.
There wasn't a sense of warmth or even comfort. Like in her living room, her tiny kitchen, or her own bedroom. It felt like they hadn't made much of a step, being in two separate bedrooms. She wasn't sure if she would still have that sense of loneliness in an empty flat.
But she was sure that Thorin would feel happy and comfortable with her own space. That was all that mattered.
* * *
Thorin thumbed the page of the newspaper, squinting her eyes at the bold black print and occasionally adjusting her new pair of glasses. Bilbo had gotten them for her back in November, neglecting to mention that they cost her far too much money and instead choosing to say that they would help with her dyslexia. They did work, even if Thorin was still getting used to them.
"Anything good?" she heard Dwalin ask as he took the seat across from her. She looked up at him, the noise of the garage beginning to crowd her ears.
"Not really. Sports, taxes, accidents. Nothing interesting," she replied but bookmarked the cooking column that Bilbo so loved. She flipped the page, leaning closer to read an article. "Hey, did you get my-"
"Grilled cheese with coffee, no sugar, no milk?" Dwalin interrupted and slid her the cup and parcel. "Of course. You know, coffee tastes a lot better when you actually put something in it."
"To me it tastes better with nothing in it," murmured Thorin, ignoring the face her friend made as she took a sip.
She frowned down at the paper, still squinting to read the names. A boating accident, it said, right by Old Man Willow's Park. Who would go boating in December? She kept reading and felt her stomach turn as she read it was a couple who died, a woman named Primula Brandybuck and a man-
"Baggins," she whispered so quietly that Dwalin almost didn't hear her. Yet he did, with those big bat ears, and he stopped eating his sandwich to stare at her.
"Wha'?"
"Baggins. There was a man in a boating accident with the last name Baggins. Drogo Baggins and Primula Brandybuck, his fiancee." She stopped, feeling uneasiness grip her stomach. Her fingers inched towards her cellphone as she thought of calling Bilbo.
"Do you think he could be related to Billie- Bilbo?" she corrected herself, and ignored how her face heated up in embarrassment. Calling Bilbo by her nickname in public almost seemed too intimate. However, she did talk about her a lot. Bragging, as Dwalin would say.
It wasn't like she told everything about their relationship. Like that time they watched Titanic and Bilbo kept springing onto Thorin's back out of nowhere, proclaiming that she'd never let her go (Thorin shortly fell over and both were in a laughing pile of limbs). Or the time they fell asleep on the same couch during Halloween and Thorin awoke to a terrifying mask on Bilbo's face, screamed, and fell off. Bilbo fell off too, after laughing for a solid minute.
Or the other nicknames. Especially those.
No one needed to know about those, or anything else. Their relationship was their own, even if Thorin may or may not constantly mention that Bilbo writes poetry and recently had a novella of poems published.
"Ask her when you get home," said Dwalin with a shrug of his shoulders, deciding to change the subject to something slightly less scary than death. "Nori told me you two are moving in together. That's a big step."
Thorin rubbed the back of her neck, her cheeks burning yet an excited smile attempted to work its way onto her face. "Yeah. It was Bilbo's idea. It hasn't been that long but, you know, Dis is starting to need some extra space around the house. Me taking up the guest bedroom and forcing Fili and Kili to share wasn't working all that well."
"Well, I think it's a great plan. When are you starting to get your things ready?"
"Already did."
Dwalin coughed as he finished off the rest of his sandwich, staring at her in surprise. "And you didn't even tell me. Thorin-"
"I know, I know!" she sighed, glancing half-heartedly at the newspaper and leaving her grilled cheese by her tools (not the best of decisions). "Listen, I was trying to wrap my head around it all so I kind of forgot to tell you about it. Only Dis knows, along with Mrs. Baggins. Plus Nori. And probably Bofur..."
"Oh, so she's Mrs. Baggins now, eh?"
"Belladonna, you dumbass."
"Oh. Continue," Dwalin grumbled sheepishly, his ears reddening slightly.
"Anyway, I was busy. Bilbo thought I was going to be sleeping in the same room as her, but we decided a few days ago that I'll start off in the spare bedroom. It has more space and I need to adjust first, so don't say anything," she warned.
Dwalin rolled his eyes. "Wasn't going to. It's good that you're in your comfort zone. Bilbo doesn't mind, right? I mean, you've already been in the same bed before, so sooner or later you might be in it again. No big deal once you're ready for it." He trailed off, eyes darting to her after a long silence. "Thorin."
"Dwalin," she said back.
"You- okay, this is a bit of an awkward question, so I'm just gonna say it," he announced. "Have you slept in the same bed together?"
Thorin's eyes narrowed. "Which way are you implying?"
"The kind where neither of you actually get any sleep," he clarified and cleared his throat as a customer walked by. "Shit, I hope he didn't hear that. Anyway, have you two?"
She squirmed, eventually standing up and beginning to pace. She could hear Dwalin mutter "oh no" as she worked herself into a walk so fast she could've sworn her boots began to smoke. "Well, we- Bilbo wanted to-" she stopped, scowling as she tried to find the words. "No. We didn't. Bilbo wanted to a little while ago and asked me first."
"And?"
"And I said not yet," she answered simply and was quiet for a while before Dwalin became impatient again.
"And what did she say?"
"She said 'okay'." She couldn't fight the small, faint smile on her face. In truth, she had been both relieved and proud of her- she might as well say girlfriend now, shouldn't she? Yes, she was very proud of her girlfriend for understanding her need to wait.
Plus the cuddles during a movie afterwards had been far better than how Thorin had envisioned the night to originally go.
"Good, that's good. Remember that if she ever tries making you, I'll-" Dwalin made vague fighting gestures. "Wanna know what? I'll get someone smaller to fight her. She looks like a bunny and I'm not entirely sure if I could hit her."
Thorin smiled. "Thanks, Dwal-"
"How long are you two goin' to gossip instead of workin'?" barked Dain's voice suddenly and they both jumped. Their cousin shambled over, his walk a limp due to his prosthetic leg. Thorin bit her bottom lip to keep from laughing at the oil stains in his beard and on his broken nose.
"Not very long, Dain," answered Dwalin. "You know how Thorin doesn't shut up about Bilbo. I've been trying to get out for hours." He winked at her from behind Dain's back and she made a mental note to sabotage the car he was working on. When no one was looking, of course. Then maybe she could try her hand at that Porsche O'Phor drove in...
"How is Bilbo, Thorin?" asked Dain suddenly and Thorin was jolted from her plans of revenge.
"Good. She's doing very good, especially with her new book out," she replied and for once noticed her bragging. She cleared her throat. "How's little Thorin?"
"Oh, he's doing good," Dain said, puffing up and no doubt readying himself to talk about his son for an hour. Thorin was still a little sore that her favorite cousin had named his son after her, though little Thorin had become quite taken with dressing up in tiaras and dresses. "Excited for the holidays. Wants a pot bellied pig, but he'll just have to settle for a stuffed one this year."
Thorin laughed. "Nice. Anyway, I have some tires to change." She walked off to her station, focusing back onto the car and only glancing at her phone once or twice, not quite able to shake off the names of the couple in the paper.
* * *
The teashop Dori worked at was noisy and bustling, the sound of coffee makers whirring and the customer's chatting. It was a pleasant sound for Bilbo, even if the customers waiting in line were starting to grumble about the hold-up. All in all, she had had a productive day off thanks to Balin's last minute plans and unwillingness to leave the shop without his management. He trusted his employees, but he was one who was in control or no one was.
She jumped up to get a look at the cafe, frowning at the large size and crowd. Either the incredibly short Belladonna Baggins couldn't be seen amongst the customers, or she was just late. Both seemed a likely reason to Bilbo. She gave up on trying to find her once she stumbled right into the man behind her, and instead texted her to hurry up.
She felt her phone vibrate not a moment later in her skirt pocket, digging it out to see a picture of Thorin wrestling with Fili and Kili on her screen. The picture made her smile, her heart skipping a beat as she thought of her girlfriend coming home from work to their flat. Together. Even if they were in separate rooms, they were still together, and it delighted her. That was the reason Belladonna was visiting, after all. Something about wishing her daughter luck... Or just trying to pry.
"Hey! How was your day, Thorin?" Bilbo asked upon answering her mobile. The customer in front of her moved forward and she could vaguely hear the employees scrambling to keep up with the influx of orders. Poor Dori.
"Ah, good, good," answered Thorin's voice. She sounded distracted, almost, and there was a brief silence in which she called for another worker to take over on the tire change. "How was your day? I hope you haven't been working too hard with the apartment. I still feel like a prick making you do all the moving, you know."
Bilbo forced a laugh, not wanting to let her know how easily winded she could get. Even though there was that time Thorin tried to get her to jog and had witnessed her hatred of exercise first-hand. "It's fine. I had Bofur and Nori to help me out. They went home after lunch. Right now I'm meeting with my mother at the tea shop." She trailed off, scanning the crowd once more for her mother's curly head. "I think she's late. Oh! Is there anything I can get you while I'm here?"
"I'm alright." Bilbo waited for her to say more, and was about to ask if she was still there when Thorin spoke again. "Have you read the paper today?"
"No. Why? Anything good in it?" she joked feebly, but there was something about Thorin's tone that made her uncertain. Scared, even.
"There was an article about a Primula Brandybuck and Drogo Baggins. You share the same last name, so I was wondering if you might be related."
Bilbo moved up in line, eyebrows scrunched together in concentration. Could he have been a cousin? She had so many family members that she often lost track. Sometimes it even seemed there was another add-on at every family gathering. More names to remember, presents to gift, hugs and kisses to give out. She just lost track of it all.
"If we are, I've never met him. I may have even met him and don't even remember. You know how big my family is, Thorin." She heard a slightly tired chuckle on the other end and the same warmth she always felt with Thorin surged. There were times that she wondered if her partner felt that. The spark. Almost as if she were a dying fire that surged to life every time she heard Thorin's voice, or held her hand.
Probably not.
"Anyway, I've got to get going," she said. "I'll ask my mother, though, alright?"
"Alright," Thorin replied. "See you in a little while."
"Send kisses to Thranduil O'Phor for me," she teased and heard a groan before Thorin hung up.
Smiling to herself, the wait on the line seemed shorter now, though she couldn't help wracking her brain for a Drogo Baggins. He would be on her father's side. Her mother had the larger side, but they hadn't visited Bungo's family often. The Bagginses hadn't exactly approved of Belladonna, though Bungo's mother had gotten a kick out of her. The only Bagginses living in the London area, that she was aware of, were the Sackvilles.
She shuddered upon thinking about them as she took her tea, coffee, and two muffins. The last time she saw Lobelia Sackville-Baggins was the day of her wedding, and that dreadful woman had stepped on the back of Bilbo's long dress. The purple fabric had torn instantly and she had been mortified. Then there had been the spoon incident. No one was allowed to talk about that.
Bilbo's tea grew lukewarm and her blueberry muffin was devoured as she waited for her mother. She texted her several times, including a bunch of keysmashing, when she felt a hand grip her shoulder. She jumped, letting out an annoyed sigh upon seeing her giggling mother.
"Ma, don't do that! You startled me," she said, sliding her chocolate muffin across the table. Belladonna caught it before it landed onto her lap. She was bundled up in a large, puffy floral coat that made her resemble a marshmallow. She thankfully took it off once realizing how hot the shop was.
"You have lots of stuff to be startled about today, pequeña," said Belladonna, munching on her cold muffin. "Like the fact that your girlfriend is moving in."
"Her stuff is all in the flat. Now I just need to get her in it," she remarked, playing idly with the muffin wrapper.
Belladonna stared at her, gulping down her muffin and sugar loaded coffee. "And?"
She returned her blank look. "And what?"
"Jesucristo," moaned Belladonna. "And how do you feel about it all? Excited? Nervous?" She took her daughter's hands, patting them comfortingly. "If you're uncomfortable, just say the word. I'll have Thorin sleep at her sister's if you're not ready for this."
"I'm fine, Mama. In fact, I'm very happy," she replied. The word anxious crossed her mind, but she didn't speak it aloud.
"Good, good. How is Thorin? Similar?"
"I guess so," she answered and wished instantly that she could take it back. Belladonna's gentle smile vanished, her usually warm gaze hardening as her eyebrow rose.
"You guess so?" Belladonna echoed, and Bilbo wondered if she would attract too much attention by running from the table. "You guess so? Bibiana Baggins, I would hope that Thorin would be thrilled. Anything less than that simply won't do. Want to know why?"
She had a feeling that even if she didn't ask she would still find out.
"You two are a couple. Best friends. Hell, more than best friends. You've been together for five months, right? You know each other's family, hobbies, likes, dislikes. Pretty much everything. I'm pretty sure you can list off those rock bands she listens to. The point is, you've given each other plenty of time to get to know each other, physically and mentally-" God, she was ranting now. Belladonna's rants were never good.
"Get it! I get it," Bilbo interrupted, feeling grossed out. "I don't want to hear anymore. We're both happy and we're both excited, Mama. That's the end of it."
Belladonna harrumphed. "I'm just saying that you two are ready for this. At least you are. You both can do this. Besides, you both work. You'll only be with each other on weekends, evenings, and when you're both asleep." Bilbo stiffened without thinking. "You two will be sharing the same bed, are you not?"
"Not the first few weeks," she replied quietly and felt tempted to close her eyes, wondering if her mother's reaction would be similar to others'. There was nothing wrong with not sleeping with your partner, even if you'd been together for almost half a year.
"Good call," Belladonna said at last, stirring the sugary contents of her cup. "Practice chastity. It'll help you score some points with Father Devery. I think he's still a little surprised about the dualsexuality thing."
"Bisexuality, Ma," corrected Bilbo and couldn't help but laugh. She tossed her trash into the nearby can, her eyes resting on the newspaper briefly. She suddenly thought of Thorin, and the question she had asked her. "Ma?"
"Hm?"
"Do we have a relative named Drogo Baggins? Thorin said she read an article mentioning the name Drogo Baggins and Primula Brandybuck in the newspaper. They were engaged," she said absently.
Belladonna threw out her cup, dusting off her hands as her nose was scrunched up in thought. "The name's familiar. Drogo Baggins?" She looked down at the table and then laughed.
"Oh, I think I remember. Though you know how the names in your father's family tend to rhyme. I may have got the wrong one, but I do remember a young lad. Younger than you. He was sweet and very quiet for someone his age. Were there any other details Thorin told you about?"
Bilbo shook her head, shrugging on her yellow raincoat and squeeze her beanie onto her loose hair. "No, she just said what I told you. Probably nothing."
Belladonna looped her arm around her daughter's, patting her shoulder. Able to see through the false confidence, she told her, "I'll check the newspaper when I get home and text you the result. Sound good?"
"Perfect."
"Excellent. Now, come on, querida. I hear that Beorn's somehow got his sunflowers to grow in bloody December, so we need to find out how."
* * *
Bilbo plopped onto the couch, feeling sleep begin to close her eyes. The television was on, the feeble light peeking through her closed eyelids. She was out of her day clothes and into a baggy shirt and the cat pajama bottoms Thorin liked to tease her about. She could hear the trickling of the shower down the hall, then the knob creak as the water flow stopped.
Thorin had liked her bedroom and the flowers, though she was a little questionable about the lights until Bilbo told her it was just for decorative reasons. There was a smile on her face, but sometimes when Bilbo had the pleasure of catching it, it seemed so unsure. She knew Thorin would be nervous about the move, but surely she was happy. Or at least she certainly hoped so. The idea of Thorin not feeling comfortable in a place that was now her own unsettled Bilbo, made guilt creep up from her stomach and squeeze her throat.
Caught up in a sleepy stupor and her racing thoughts, she hardly noticed the couch dipping until she felt a hand around her waist. Thorin's arm pulled her upwards. Her dark, silver streaked hair was wet and she was dressed far too bare in the chilly apartment with her tank top and shorts. It often annoyed Bilbo how little she seemed to feel the cold, but right now she was focused on keeping her eyes on the television as she rested her head against her girlfriend's shoulder.
"Your shower is confusing," Thorin said after a long quiet. Bilbo felt herself smile, a warm feeling spreading in her chest.
"My landlord insisted it was the best model in all of Great Britain," she replied, eyes glued to the wedding dress on the telly. She could feel Thorin beginning to play with her hair. It was down, the flyaway curls in full force. The first time Thorin felt her hair, she had been disappointed that it was so hard to braid. That was until she realized it was similar to a sheep's, her exact words, and therefore very soft. "The first time I went in I accidentally turned the water too cold, slipped, and pulled the curtain down."
"Well then. I did very good compared to you," Thorin said, teasing. Her hand was warm around Bilbo's side, even though her shoulder was a bit hard and pointy. And her hair was starting to go in Bilbo's mouth, but, hey, you couldn't have everything.
There was a peaceful silence and Bilbo turned up the volume of the wedding show, ignoring Thorin's mumbling about how boring and predictable those dress shows could be. "Every episode is the same. You've got the loving, small family who just wants the bride to be happy. Sometimes with the groom there, which is a bit odd. Then there's the bitter, backstabbing friends who can't keep their mouth shut," she argued.
"They're the best part," Bilbo said defensively, purposely elbowing her in her ribcage. "They always get told off by the stylist in the end. Then the bride gets what she wants, is happy, and has a wonderful wedding. I used to watch shows like this with my mom all the time. She used to tape the gay ones for me."
Thorin snorted, her slightly glazed eyes focusing as the corners of her mouth drooped. Eyebrows pinched together, mouth stern, and posture tense. Bilbo knew that look. That was her determined, Bilbo-we-need-to-talk look. "Speaking of weddings," she began.
Bilbo was embarrassed to later admit how high she jumped, her arm knocking the wind out of Thorin momentarily as she asked in a high voice, "What?"
Her girlfriend just eyed her warily. "I was going to mention Drogo Baggins and his fiance. You know, Primula."
"Oh."
Thorin ignored her blush, thank the heavens, and continued. "Did you ask your mother about it?"
"Yeah, she said that Drogo's a distant cousin," Bilbo answered, waving vaguely. "Er, why exactly did you want to know, anyway? What was that article about?"
Thorin sighed, clasping her hands together and locking and unlocking her fingers. "It said that Drogo and Primula got into a boating accident. They both drowned." Bilbo could feel her chest deflate. Even with the vaguest of vague memories about the Baggins clan, she could feel her heart begin to twist with pity. "I'm sorry, Bilbo."
"It's fine. I hardly knew them," she said quietly. "Did it say anything else?"
"I didn't finish it. I started talking with Dwalin, then Dain got on our case about stalling during our lunch break. I'll get my laptop." She found herself being dumped from Thorin's lap as she stood up abruptly, her walk more like a worried pacing as she went into the kitchen to where her computer was last. There was an annoyed meow, no doubt from Melkor as he was forced to get off the warm keyboard, and Thorin slid back onto the couch with her laptop. "There should be an article somewhere. Maybe an obituary."
"There's an article," Bilbo pointed out and Thorin stopped scrolling, clicking the link. "Next time don't leave the paper at work." She pulled the laptop onto her thighs, forcing Thorin to look down at the screen. She put on her red glasses from the table. "'Drogo Baggins, aged 26, and Primula Brandybuck, aged 24, died this Saturday... Boating accident at Old Man Willow's Park... Coroners say cause of death was drowning... The whole community mourns the grief of such young lost lives."
"We already knew that," said Thorin quietly and Bilbo shushed her. Her face paled and Thorin jostled her shoulder. "Bilbo? Billie? What's wrong?"
"They had a kid, Thorin," she said quietly and closed the laptop. She felt sick. "I think I'm going to bed. It's late. Night." She kissed her forehead, finally able to do so since her girlfriend was sitting down, and stumbled off to bed.
That night she didn't get much sleep.
* * *
Frodo Brandybuck, almost Frodo Baggins, sat on the chair in the dim office. It was a very high chair, and his sneakered feet swung idly as he stared at the tiled ground. This office was very boring. It's walls were beige, the tiles a slightly dirtied white (he couldn't even play hop-scotch since it wasn't checkered), and the secretary a quiet young girl who didn't talk to him much. She was too busy making phone calls about him. There was a stack of paper and crayons on the yellow table next to him, but he didn't much like coloring. His mum had always let him play with her paints.
The lights overhead flickered, the sound of the subway passing nearby reaching his ears. He looked around the waiting room for what seemed like the hundredth time and felt cold. His babysitter had dressed him in a mad rush, packing his suitcase with all of his clothes and putting on his patched blue sweater and jeans. Then there was his backpack with his favorite toys and his mum's sketchbook. He wished he had brought all of his things, like that cool bean bag chair his da had just gotten for him.
The door to the hallway, a hallway he wasn't allowed in, opened and revealed a man. He was tall, dark haired, and had a scruffy beard. His suit was nice, though the elbows were patched with mismatching fabric. He walked over to Frodo, sending a tight smile to the secretary. He shared the same brown eyes as the girl.
"I'm Mr. Yew. You can call me Bard. I'm guessing you're Frodo Brandybuck," he said and Frodo just noticed. This man spoke warmly, but there was a hardened look to his eyes that made the boy shiver. "You can step into my office. I want you to meet someone. Then we can talk."
He held out his hand. Frodo hesitated before taking it, his own seeming very small compared to the man's roughened ones. Bard led him down the hall. There were other doors, but Frodo was too short to see through the small openings. There was one large room with a long table and chairs, but Bard said he could go in here another time.
Bard's office was at the very end, and it was small and cluttered. A old, white haired man with dark eyebrows and a dissatisfied frown on his face waited by the desk. His suit was a pale color, his tie white and shining. His suit appeared white, then light gray, then pink as Frodo changed the direction he looked upon him. His cane was black and made of twisting serpents, a snake's head the handle with its fanged mouth containing a creamy opal.
Frodo ran into the hall before the door clicked shut and before Mr. Yew could stop him.