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“In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit…” Actually, there was a family of them living comfortably in the hillside. The interior was dark and dimly lit, but warmly, with a crackling flame leaping in the fireplace as a guard against the lovely blackness of night pressing against its round, curtained windows. The walls and floors were darkly paneled in an elegant fashion, and depictions of faraway places featured in artwork hung on the curved, tunnel-like walls. Although fanciful, the place had an air of homeliness. In front of the round, yellow painted door with its brass, centered doorknob was a welcoming mat scuffed by many small, hairy feet. The rack made to hold cloaks was missing most of them; they were tossed with the carelessness of children in a heap on the floor. A wooden toy in the shape of a troll lay haphazardly on the rug leading into a hallway. The furniture too, was worn down with use, reflecting the creatures who lived there.

There were seven of them who called the hobbit-hole home, and it had been home for quite a long time. There, sitting on the couch, was a pretty, if plump, middle-aged hobbit maid with dark hair cut short so their tight curls formed a fluffy bob. She was smiling in the way of a happy mother, for her second daughter sat on the floor before her and her deft hands were braiding the child’s wavy, golden locks while the girl chattered and played with a sewn doll. The woman was humming a tune under her breath, but it was nearly drowned out as her two younger sons came barreling into the room, their mousy hair flying and their trousers nearly down as their father came flying after them imitating a fierce dragon and bellowing playfully. Giggling the pair fell to the floor, and the older hobbit scooped the boys up, one under each arm. He grinned at his wife, looking quite sheepish. “I’ll be getting the lads to bed, Laurel dear, honest. We were just having a bit of fun.”

Raising an eyebrow, Laurel turned back to her daughter’s hair, catching another strand. “It’s past their hour, don’t rile them up too much, Théoden.” She replied with a smothering, exasperated laugh. Echoing squeals of delight followed the trio as they disappeared down the hallway once more. With a final pat on the head, Laurel Brandybuck finished her daughter’s braid, and hoisted them both to their feet, which being with out shoes, were covered in thick curly hair like the stuff on their heads. “Off to your warm bed now too, love.” The golden haired lass smiled, gave her mother a hug, and dashed away with a skip in her step and a swish in her rosy nightgown. Laurel followed. The room was quiet now, but as the last sounds died away the slow rocking of a chair could be distinguished, though the soft patter of small feet could not be. There was a second hobbit maid in the room, a small child that was nevertheless older than her golden sister, though much more rather plain looking. Hands brought a quilted blanket closer around her shoulders, and her brown curls fell over her white sleep dress and she crept to the rocking chair.

“Papa Merry?” she whispered ever so softly. “May I have a story?”

The old hobbit in the rocking chair, previously unnoticed. started. Turning, he regarded the serious and reserved little hobbit girl with interest, an endearing sparkle in his wise eyes and a smile creasing his wrinkled features. “Why, of course, my little Arradeth. What would you like to hear?” The lass smiled, beaming at the use of the name given to her by the Elven folk when they had visited her grandfather and her great-uncles years ago. She climbed into his opened arms, snuggling against his green, buttoned-up vest, and happily pulling the quilt around them both. Meriadoc Brandybuck began to rock again, the creak of the chair forming a harmony with the crackling fire.

Arradeth thought for a minute, before slyly asking, “Tell me the story of Frodo and the Ring.” Merry laughed, and in his eyes flickered old memories of times long ago.

“You’ve heard that story many a time.”

The hobbit lass shrugged her bony shoulders. “Tell me of your adventures with Treebeard then! And the Ents. And Isenguard and Rohan…and…” her voice trailed off to Meriadoc’s hearty chuckles.

“We cannot go through all my adventures in one night, my little one, though you’ve heard it all before…Let us end the summer’s night with a tale of the Lady of the Golden Wood, the fairest of all the Elven folk, and her beauty.”

And so the girl quieted as Merry started the tale, her eyes growing tired with the music of his words. But just when the old hobbit believed her asleep she spoke.

“Papa Merry?”

“Yes, my young Arradeth?”

“Will Gandalf ever come and take me on an adventure? Like you and Uncle Sam and Uncle Pippin? Like Uncle Frodo and Great-Uncle Bilbo? Will I ever get to be in the Red Book or sail across the sea?”

Merry was silent. Slowly he pressed his lips against her curly head of hair, blinking tears from his eyes.

“Perhaps, my littlest hobbit girl. Perhaps.”

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Hullo, I'm The Littlest Hobbit Girl. Since there's not really a nickname for me you can call me Juli or Juliet, as my former username was Juliet Capulet. However, you can try to come up with something new.

I'm a teenage girl, age sixteen, and I'm an inventive and creative person, a reader of anything I can get my hands on, and an avid writer of short stories and poetry. I don't think a day goes by without me coming up with something new. Everything inspires me, from books to songs to the things I've seen in my short time on the earth. I like to roleplay because it keeps me writing, thinking, and learning. I haunt the Advanced Other Roleplays board, and I'm very picky about which ones I join as I'm a very advanced writer (or as I like to think of myself). Take for instance a one on one roleplay I set up. My first post was twelve pages long on Microsoft Word, and my next posts were nearly equal. For me, there is no such thing as "low muse". Unfortunately that person couldn't keep up, and so I'm developing the plot for a story longer than what I'm used to. One day I wish to be a novelist and publish a series as well as a book I hope can one day be a classic, and at least as good as Harry Potter. Big dreams, no? I also would love to be a popular blogger, or a traveling writer. We'll see.

I'm not the friendliest person, and I'm rather formal with my words. Yet I don't mind PMs or chats or new friends. Just please, don't be annoying. Or stupid. Two little requirements, and I'm sure you can meet them.

So welcome to my camp, and I guess, me. I'm a quiet girl with many faults, unconventional thoughts, and a fierce passion to create something great that I can say was made by me. My future's uncertain, I'm a mess of myself, and much of my work is strange, abstract, and personal. I'm The Littlest Hobbit Girl.

Much of my writing besides roleplays are not posted here. I'm very scared to reveal much of my writing because its very close to me and I'm afraid of criticism and people stealing it. I have to take the initiative someday, however. Lately I've been entering contests and such offsite, and I really want to turn my Tumblr blog into a blog where I post something I've written or drawn weekly, though I'm not sure if anyone would ever take interest and follow. Anyways, I've got a writing shop, which took a long time to put up. Sadly it's not taken off, but check it out. I've got muse and creativity to spare. Links below.

Thank you for visiting, and enjoy the other randomness I might have on this old thing.

~thelittlesthobbitgirl

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