#jashgd

[immortalspxrrow]

If you receive this, you make someone happy. Go on anonymous and send it to ten of your followers who make you happy. If you get some back, even better! Have a lovely day!

[shitecassidy-blog]

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[kuryakinredperil-blog]

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[foryourhxme]

seriouslydontfreakout replied to your post:dalishfreckles replied to your post:400 fOLLOWERS...

it’s true, you are v. delightful

you’re just saying that because i let you steal pastries

[workofgypsies-blog]

seriouslydontfreakout replied to your post:What's Kurt like in the sack?

[chokes]

what

[workofgypsies-blog]

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[immortalspxrrow]

backoffbub replied to your post: “As your self-appointed emotional guardian, it is...

*holds your face* it was bad from the first sentence of the first thread we ever did there is nothing good here

shhhh let me live in denial

[foryourhxme]

Sing

drabble meme

                  Upon the hearth the fire is red,                  Beneath the roof there is a bed;                  But not yet weary are our feet,                  Still round the corner we may meet                  A sudden tree or standing stone                  That none have seen but we alone.

“Is that a song from the Shire, Master Baggins?”

There is a quiet sort of amusement in Thorin’s voice, and Bilbo blushes to the tips of his ears. He didn’t realize he’d been singing out loud. But now the King rides beside his pony, and the hobbit stares stubbornly at the goat’s curved horns as he clears his throat. Where riding is concerned—and Bilbo still avoids it whenever possible—, he will choose ponies over goats any day.

“Nope. It’s just an old tune. I have…—taken the liberty of adding my own lyrics to it.” 

He looks up to find a smile just in the corner of Thorin’s lips, playful and curious.

“Let’s hear it, then.”

Bilbo gawks at him in disbelief, because honestly, Thorin can’t expect him to sing now, as they ride to Dale to meet with Bard. For one thing, he’s half certain Fili and Kili are just pretending not to be eavesdropping, as they’ve gone suspiciously silent behind them, where they were teasing each other not two minutes ago. And Dwalin’s shoulders are definitely shaking with mirth, up ahead. 

But Thorin only raises an eyebrow at him, now very obviously amused, and Bilbo Baggins is not about to back down from a challenge, thank you very much. Clearing his throat, he turns to look ahead and away from the King, and his cheeks still feel suspiciously warm as he begins to sing once more.

                  Still round the corner there may wait                  A new road or a secret gate,                  And though we pass them by today,                  Tomorrow we may come this way                  And take the hidden paths that run                  Towards the Moon or to the Sun.

Silence falls over the group as he continues to sing, and he wonders if Thorin recognizes the references to the quest in his words. He doesn’t turn his eyes away from the path, knowing he will lose his nerve if he looks at the King.

                  Home is behind, the world ahead,                  And there are many paths to tread                  Through shadows to the edge of night,                  Until the stars are all alight.                  The world behind and home ahead,                  We’ll wander back to home and bed.

                  Mist and shadow. Cloud and shade.                  All shall fade, all shall…fade.

No one speaks as the song comes to an end, and Bilbo clears his throat, blushing like a tomato. He doesn’t have the dwarves’ voice, the deep rumbling to fit the echoes within the mountain. Bilbo’s voice is softer, as hobbits’ voices tend to be, and nothing to boast of.

“I’ve not finished writing it, of course. It could still do with some tuning. And it will likely sound better when someone else sings it.”

“It is a fine song.”

Bilbo blinks up at Thorin, but the King is the one looking towards the path now. Bemused, he can only stutter a quiet thank you as Fili and Kili take up the singing and begin yelling out the lyrics to The Man in the Moon.