in a hole in the ground there lived two hobbits, not a nasty, dirty, wet whole full of worms and oozy smells. this was a hobbit hole. Which means good food, a warm hearth and all the comforts of home.
these two little hobbits were named Bilbo and B...
A/N - (All credit for art goes to original artist)
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
60 YEARS EARLIER
The sun was gleaming at its high point in the sky as a warm summers breeze whisked through the air. Bobbie Baggins, ever the determined hobbit was within the branches of the Hobbiton apple tree orchard, collecting the year's harvest. A basket in one hand and her gloved fingers reaching for a faraway apple with the other. Sweat gleaming on her forehead from the halfway done day of work. Her curly auburn hair held back by a green ribbon as to not block her vision at such a high altitude for such a small statured being.
"Bobbie!" She hears a distant voice call, seemingly coming from up the hill where the owner of the orchard, Mr. Glenn resides.
With a sigh, Bobbie slowly descends the ladder with care and lumps the heavy basket full of red ripe apples towards the old farmer and his home. Bobbie admires the day as she walks and feels grateful for the job that Mr. Glenn has given her. Collecting apples from the orchard and general jobs around the farm would normally be seen as male work throughout the culture of hobbits, however it seems that Mr. Glenn saw something in the younger Baggins, whether that be determinations, restlessness or even foolishness. He gave Bobbie a chance and for that she was grateful.
"I am here Mr. Glenn." Bobbie stutters out of breath from the journey up the hill, that is not helped by the heavy basket she has placed at her bushy feet. She looks up to her boss as she brushes off the residue of dirt from her cotton apron the covers her green dress and beige undershirt. She sees the old man swaying on his home-made porch swing with his hairy toes rocking him back and forth. He has his trusty pipe in his mouth as wisps of smoke fire out of the end and assent through his grey curly hair into the Blue skies. The smell of ol' Toby wafts through the air making Bobbie jealous of the old man and his relaxed position. Bobbie always admired Mr. Glenns home. It was a quaint hobbit whole, only big enough to fit two, maybe three residences, but him and his wife made it comfortable for them. There were two small windows pointing out into the large orchard, Bobbie would always sit by the left one when she had here tea break, sometimes Mrs. Glenn would make her some of her famous apple crumble which was much appreciated in the colder months. The home also had a beautiful dark blue door that always remined Bobbie of a summer's night sky.
"How has it faired today?" Mr. Glenn questions with a gruffness to his tone. The aged hobbit was very jolly when you got to know him. Always up for a conversation and a laugh at others expense. You would not think it when looking at him, but he was quite the gossip.
"Well, many of the apples are ready and ripe. I've only gone through 4 trees this morning and filled at least 7 baskets." Bobbie explains to the older hobbit as she looks out to her work, what she has done and what she still has left to do, with the help of other farm hands of course.
"Ah, seeming to become a very good harvest this year. A good thing too, I know for a fact that old Gaffer is planning on making a big batch of his special brew this year and I do not wish to disappoint the old goat." The Gaffers family brew was a mighty one, it could singe the hair off the feet of any hobbit just from the shear potency of the stuff. Bobbie remembers trying it once when she turned 30, all she can remembers is waking up with quite the sore head the next morning.
