mysticalendings

[mysticalendings]

I'll just leave this here.

[mysticalendings]

Welcome to Reclaiming a Home. I have a strong love for the Hobbit and LOTR and wished to give life to a new character. I hope you enjoy the prologue and props to my lovely sister for the page break. You know me so well. 🩷

This chapter is dedicated to @legitalicat. HAPPY BIRTHDAY!! 🥳🥳 I hope that your birthday is as wonderful as you are. Thank you for all the support you've given me, I appreciate and love you dearly.

Terms: ‘Anyára’ means Senior in Elvish

Prologue

“Amaryllis,” a feeble man's voice trailed behind the fiery curls that tousled with each step she took. The old man hobbled behind her, clutching his top hat that sat upon his dusty grey curls. He couldn't help the chuckle that passed his weathered lips, pausing to breathe. Her curls flickered like flames in an open fire as she stormed ahead of him, small feet peeking from under her dress kicking up plumes of dirt in her wake. The skirt of her dress was a pale green embroidered with mushrooms along the bottom and flowers trickling down from her thin waist. The light orange corset covered the top of her dress, its sleeves slipping from her shoulders. She reminded him of his sweet Belladonna, his beloved daughter who was stubborn as a mule and fought her battles with a silver tongue. Amaryllis was much like her mother but had changed since her parents' passing. She had lost that spark from when she looked past Tuckenburrow imagining the adventure past the Shire. She wished to meet dwarves and see the elven cities. She hid behind her paintings and books now, tucking herself into her hobbit hole or on its roof to gaze at the stars. He saw the longing in her eyes as she looked past Tuckenburrow during the setting sun, she had once longed for adventure much like her older brother. He missed the days she clung to his leg and peered up at him with wide curious eyes. “Amabell.” There was a soft fondness in his weathered voice. Amaryllis slowed to a stop upon hearing the nickname, her head turned and the stripe of white hair above her ear hung on her shoulder. He smiled and leaned heavily on his cane, holding his other hand. “Ye have yer mother’s stubbornness. Tis refreshin’ to see again.” His eye fell to the white stripe of curls, reminiscing over a love lost long ago.

Amaryllis' thin brow relaxed and a small smile crested her lips. “Anyára.” She whined softly before returning to him and resting her hand on his inner arm. She pressed her head softly against him as he guided her into the Tuckenburrow market. Stalls lined the paths leading into the shopping district. The mounds of earth the hobbits called home turned into cottage styled shops as they walked. The inhabitants of Tuckenburrow gave him words of respect as they passed. He was honorable and defended the Shire as the Thrain for many years. A comfortable silence set between the two. He bought them food from a stall while Amaryllis found them a spot by the water fountain. When he sat, Amaryllis let out a soft breath. “Anyára, I was frustrated. I am sorry I stormed away like that.” She whispered, finding the intricate embroidery on her skirt interesting.

A chuckle left him and he softly shook his head grabbing the leather hat from on top and laying it on the table. His hazel eyes gleamed at her as he reached over and gently raised her chin. She looked up at him and he grinned. “You are a Took. Being foolish and temperamental is what we do best, Amabell.” His wrinkled finger poked her nose softly, he could remember the last time he had this conversation when Belladonna was coming of age. She told him exactly how she felt about marrying a ‘boring’ man of Tuckenburrow. Only this time with his granddaughter, she hadn’t chewed his head off like her mother did. “Bell also hated this talk. Got me a rightful chewing from ‘er over it.” His voice was melancholy as he thought of the time before Belladonna met Bungo Baggins. He knew that Amaryllis loved hearing stories of her mother’s younger years, solely because Belladonna forbade him to tell the stories. He always quietly shared secret stories with Amaryllis when she was young and even now he could see the sorrowful glee in her eyes at the mention of her mother. His hand raised to cup her cheek, “I’m not trying to force yer hand into a marriage ye don’t want. I just want ye to keep the thought in mind. I am old, and yer my last granddaughter. I want ye to live a happy and fulfilling life. A peaceful one, where I don't worry about my favorite grandchild.”

Amaryllis smiled softly and rested her hand on the back of his hand. Her olive eyes fluttered closed for a moment. His hand was soft and wrinkled with time. He wore a ring on his finger. The metal was cool against her skin though his hand was warm and smelled of Tooken Brandy, a local liquor he made regularly to keep Lobelia Sackville-Baggins away from Tuckenburrow. He chuckled and watched as her light green eyes, the color of duckweed on the surface of a pond, fluttered open to look up at him. “I know Anyára. I appreciate you looking out for me, but I am only 19. I still have time before thinking about marriage. Can’t I just bask in the warmth of your company a little longer,” she whispered, leaning into his side once more. The old man chuckled softly and nodded. He pressed a kiss to her red curls accidentally hooking his handlebar moustache into a ringlet.

“Yes, let us relish in these peaceful moments, before your future husband takes you from me in the coming years.” He spoke softly to her, his cheek resting against the top of her head. His heart became heavy at the thought and he soon realized that he wished she would stop growing up, though he couldn't help but wonder what this beautiful flower would bloom into. She had come a long way from the small girl she once was, he knew she dealt with a lot of whispers about her lack of hobbit features. Her feet were small and delicate, unlike her parents and brother. She was graceful when walking and nature seemed to reach for her as she passed. It made his heart heavy with both solace and apprehension of the secret he had long kept close to his soul. He couldn't help but watch her as she ate the apple tart and admire the way her eyes gleamed at the sweet treat. Bilbo, much like their late mother, wouldn't let her indulge in countless sweets; but he’d never had the heart to tell her no. The way she lit up at the taste always filled him with a warmth, partly because of a promise he made long ago to his love.

The pair wandered Tuckenburrow and ended back at his hobbit hole. A large tree with leaves the color of an evening campfire sat on the roof of his home. It was different from the hobbit homes in Hobbiton, with the front curved and the peak arching ever so slightly to the sky while staying tucked into the small hillside. The chimney poked up from the ground by the tree spouting a steady stream of smoke to the clouds. The flower gardens outside his home were freshly weeded and watered thanks to Amaryllis, who took care of the flower garden after his wife Adamanta passed in the spring 3 years ago. Amaryllis visited him most days apart from two days out of the week that were reserved for spending time with her brother and the anniversaries of her parent's deaths. On those days he spent the day at her aunt Chica’s bakery where Amaryllis worked, helping out and bothering his young granddaughter for more sweets that he would share with her. She had kept his memory of his sweet Belladonna alive.

“Have a good night's rest, Anyára.” she says softly to him, standing on her tiptoes to kiss his wrinkled cheek. Gerontius’ hand cupped the back of her head and pressed a tender, loving kiss to her forehead. Her curls tickled his nose as his fingers gently rubbed the white stripe of hair with an unreadable look in his eyes. He pressed a soft kiss to the unique patch of white hair. Her green eyes softened and she smiled at him. She slipped from him after a long hug and began walking the trail back to Hobbiton, leaving Tuckenburrow behind for the night. His heart was heavy as he watched her depart.

He couldn't help but reminisce of the small girl running to his house in a pink frilly dress with her mother trailing not far behind wearing a soft smile on her lips. The small girl would call out to him once his house was in view, and he would meet her at the door with welcoming arms. The way she held on to each word of his stories as her mother and grandmother would work in the kitchen. She stayed glued to his side, her doe eyes always watching him as he worked in the fields to help the farmer collect his harvest. She would ignore her grandmother's light scolding when she returned to his house covered in dirt, but the scolding soon died on her lips as she saw the excitement in Amaryllis’s eyes and how proud she was to give her the basket of freshly harvested food. Adamanta was fond of the small girl and often welcomed her help with baking.

As Amaryllis grew, the list of trouble she caused grew with her and Geriontius often found himself scolded by his daughter for teaching the small girl how to defend herself. Bungo, however, would hold the pouting girl in his arms with an amused look, barely able to keep his chuckles buried in his chest. He knew that if he breathed the wrong way he would be in the same boat as Amaryllis and Gerontius. Bungo loved his family and watched fondly as his wife spoke with her hands waving about wildly. Though sometimes Bungo couldn’t contain the chuckles when he found that his daughter had put worms in the drink of a boy who made fun of the stripe of white hair by her ear. Belladonna acted upset, she also soon was laughing. She was proud that her daughter could take up for herself and they could worry less about her being treated differently due to her unique aspects. Bungo ignored all notions that were implicated by his extended family claiming his wife was unfaithful due to Amaryllis’s small feet and the stripe of white by her ear. The girl even cut it down to the scalp when she was younger due to the rumors, but Bungo told her that he loved the patch of hair and that a silly rumor didn't change the fact that she was his little flower.

At the age of 7, he watched as his granddaughter hid her face in her mother's skirt with Bilbo at her back, his hands on her shoulders. Belladonna had tried to hold back her tears as she watched her husband's body lowered to the ground on the outskirts of Bag End. His daughter looked at her children, then the tears fell as she pulled them close. She was unable to watch as they covered the casket and placed the headstone marking the grave of Bungo Baggins, the father who loved his family dearly and was kind to those around. Belladonna struggled for months after the death of Bungo and Bilbo stepped up to raise his sister while their mother mourned in her own way. Amaryllis became quiet and often was found sitting in the hall looking at her father’s portrait with forlorn eyes. Amaryllis no longer ran to Gerontius with glee or joy. Instead she clung to her brother as if he would disappear too. Bilbo had filled the aching in her heart, but she developed separation anxiety when he left her with her grandfather. It took an hour of convincing and promises that he would return. Her eyes still showed a hint of light when he told stories of adventures, but when it came close to time for Bilbo to return she would sit in the window and wait. The joy she once had dulled and he almost didn’t recognize her if it wasn't for the tufted white hair.

Eight years later, and five months before Amaryllis’ 15th birthday her mother Belladonna took her last breath. The news of Belladonna joining Bungo in Valinor spread throughout the Shire. Belladonna's father, Gerontius, fell into his chair when his third daughter told him of her death. Belladonna was supposed to surpass his old age, watch little Amabell grow into a beautiful young lady and Bilbo as he filled his fathers shoes as head of house. As Gerontius' thoughts went to his grandchildren, he hobbled to the door with haste. Mirabella followed her 122 year old father as he rushed to Bag End. When he arrived to the hobbit hole, there were many teary eyes waiting outside to give food and condolences to the now motherless siblings. Gerontius moved through the crowd, most bowed their heads respectfully and gave their condolences. However, Lobelia Sacksville-Baggins wailed and clutched her husband theatrically. Gerontius glared at the woman as he passed. Lobelia didn't care for either child, nor Belladonna, and cared only about who would inherit the riches and Bag End. Mirabella closed the gate behind him and watched as he hobbled up the stone stairs. He knocked on the door and was greeted by his red eyed grandson, Bilbo. Amaryllis’ face was tucked into Bilbo’s navy blue vest, her tears dampening the velvet. Gerontius entered the hobbit hole, shutting the door to hide their tear stained faces from the large group outside. Tears now staining his own face as he pulled his grandchildren to his chest. His back face Belladonna's room, but his eyes traveled to her still form. She looked to be sleeping peacefully, but he knew she had already taken her last breath. Belladonna had come down with an infection in her lungs some weeks before. A human doctor from Bree attended to her, but the infection had reached it peak and weakness took over her body. Amaryllis had been the one to stay at her mother's side as she passed. Gerontius couldn't remove his eyes from his lifeless daughters form, his eyes pricked with fresh tears. He remembered bringing her home as a newborn many decades ago. She was supposed to outlive him, not leave before her time. He tried not to blame the gods, but he couldn't help the thought crossing his mind. She was with her Bungo now, no longer suffering from a broken heart nor illness. He had seen the pain his daughter suffered and he couldn’t help that small feeling of relief that spread through his chest.

Gerontius broke from his trail of thoughts as he stood in front of the door to his empty home. Amaryllis had long since left his view, but he couldn't bring himself to move as he recalled the past; The suffering she sustained by the deaths of Bungo, Adamanta, Belladonna, and others in the family that she was close to. As her grandfather, he wanted nothing more than to shield her from death and heartbreak as those around them moved on. He knew that one day he too would leave this world, but he hoped that the gods could wait until he knew she was taken care of. He wanted to give her away at her wedding in the place of her late father. He wanted to see the joy with his own eyes so he could tell them of the wedding when he greeted the children who passed before him in the land of Valar. His heart ached to think about the day he would die, but not because he feared death. Death had kissed his lips many times, but by the grace of a gentle soul, he was given the blessing of life.

[mysticalendings]

I couldn't resist. I had to post the boys.

[mysticalendings]

Hello, thank you all who reblogged and liked Thorin's post. I appreciate the support. Now, it's time for part two of character sheets for Reclaiming a Home. Welcome, Amaryllis Baggins.

[mysticalendings]

I've been hesitating to post this, but here it goes.

This is one of many character sheets for a story i am working on, Reclaiming a Home. It's a ThorinxOC story based on the hobbit movies because I can not live on knowing that the boys are gone. Heck no, but this is why we write fanfiction. Give him lots of love. More to come soon.

[mysticalendings]

the remnants of hurricane helene have wrought unprecedented devastation on appalachia. while there are many areas of the southeastern US that are currently hurting because of what this storm has brought, the infrastructure in this particular region, hundreds of miles inland, is not built to withstand this kind of damage. western north carolina has been largely cut off from the outside world since the storm hit, with large scale disruptions to power and cellular service, many facing up to weeks without power and water, and washed out roads mean that many, still, especially in the more rural areas of the region, are trapped.

people need help, and they need it urgently.

as a native of western north carolina, my heart hurts for the beautiful place that i still call home even if life took me east, and for the wonderful people i still consider my community.

some of the most immediate, dire needs are securing access to basic necessities such as food, which is why i am highlighting two specific nonprofits: manna food bank, located in asheville and serving the surrounding communities, and second harvest food bank, serving northwestern nc, including several hard-hit counties in the northern mountains of western north carolina. manna food bank lost their entire headquarters in the asheville flooding, and are desperately seeking donations to restock their supplies for distribution to those in need, while second harvest is organizing a large scale hurricane relief effort.

in exchange for a donation to either of these food banks, i am offering a custom short work of writing, for whatever characters and prompts that are requested. for a $10 donation, i will write a drabble of at least 500 words, and for a $15 donation, i will write a short story of at least 1,000 words.

donate to manna food bank; donate to second harvest.

i encourage you to spread this, and i encourage you to participate in this fundraising effort as well! let's do our part to come together and show the people of western north carolina that we have not forgotten about them, and we will help them get through this.