Well, it's good to be home. I escaped that terrible Smaug and ran into Mr Bilbo, of all people! Funny old world, as I always say. Anyhow, I'm back.

Eeeep!

Um. Hide me? Someone? Hullllloooo?

Vaguely aware of wind on his skin, Hamilcar does not wake fully. He can't quite remember why he was so afraid of sleep.

Hobbit feet rarely bleed, thanks to the toughness of the soles, but when they do it's quite messy. Hamilcar's ankles are scratched and torn, and the few tufts of hair still left on his feet are matted with clotted gore. He has been walking for so long it feels like he has never been doing anything but walking. And he's tired, so tired, but afraid ( Read more... )

Blown underfoot on an often-used pathway, this piece of paper has ripped into small shreds. Only a few words can be made out on each, the rest obscured by mud or lost entirely.

can't keep my eyes open is scribbled across one section, another reads like being halfway to a dream. The largest piece simply says if you ever get this, know and the ( Read more... )

A small message, hurredly written on torn paper and unfinished, was dropped by the wind into a doorway. It had been tossed about from gust to gust for some time, and though the words were smudged and had run slightly, they were still legable. As the night passed, and the moon set, dew collected upon it ( Read more... )

I'm... back, it seems.

((Done in story format because I feel like it ^_^ This is supposed to be in a foresty type place. With mountains. And lots of trees. And stuff. I'll elaborate later ^_ ( Read more... )

( Written in story format because *does this* *does that* gets a little tiring after a while, and not in italics because I love John. )

( discussion )