My blue rose: Bilbo and Frodo were born on my birthday, September the 22nd (tomorrow) which also happens to be the first day of fall (here in the U.S.). Though I suppose it would be more accurate to say I was born on Bilbo and Frodo’s birthday since they were created long before I was XD!

Anyway, this is a short sweet fic celebrating our birthday, enjoy!

Happy Birthday

Cool autumn winds swept through the elven realm of Imladris. Trees rustled, bushes swayed, and the green sward around The Last Homely House rippled as a stone thrown in a pond. The ground was strewn with leaves, bright yellow, sunset orange, rust red and the dry brown ones that crackled when stepped upon.

On a small porch overlooking the green lawn two people stood. At a glance you might mistake them for children as their heads only just reached the top of decoratively carved banister that outlined the deck. Upon a closer inspection you would discover that they are in fact male hobbits.

One is elderly with white hair, the other younger (although how much younger is impossibly to tell) with dark brown curly locks. Both are dressed warmly against the weather except for their bare (and rather hairy) feet. Their hair dances about their face and shoulders in the blustery weather.

The structure of their faces in the cheek bones and chin are similar and you would be tempted to assume (and be correct in doing so) that they are related. The two peered between the slats in the balustrade, staring out at the windswept grounds.

“I must say, even under the circumstances that I am glad you are here, Frodo.” The elderly hobbit said. His companion smiled but did not reply.

“It has been my wish ever since I left the Shire... Nay, even before that, that you would one day accompany me in Rivendell.” He continued.

“It is beautiful.” The younger hobbit said with great emotion in his voice.

“That it is, that it is, peaceful too, hard to imaging that any evil exists when dwelling here.”

The younger hobbit frowned slightly, his right hand drifted to his chest. Unconsciously, it seemed, he fiddled with his shirt fabric as if feeling something underneath.

“I feel like I should thank you, for celebrating my birthday all these years.”

The elderly hobbit looked at his nephew who continued to watch the wind toy with the fallen leaves. The younger hobbit started a bit when his uncle placed an arm around his shoulders. Looking at his smiling face the younger hobbit spoke, his words little more than a whisper.

“There is something I have been wanting to say to you for a long time, Bilbo.”

“Oh?” the elderly hobbit asked, eyebrows raised.

The younger hobbit turned to look through the railing once more. He smiled and said affectionately,

“Happy birthday, uncle.”