drabbles: One or Two (or Ten) - The Hobbit - various
Collection of drabbles for pandasquish! :)
Gardening | G, 110 | Bombur
As any good cook surely knew, the freshest ingredients were necessary for the best meals. Bombur, being rather a good cook himself, paid special attention to freshness and kept a small garden instead of buying everything at the market. He was proud of his garden, even if his friends and family gave him odd, sidelong looks about it. Seeing such beautiful produce on his table was a joy, but his prize was the delicate golden raspberries of late summer. And nearly all of them were suddenly missing. Bombur could see Dís’s brats disappearing down the road, but he knew he could never catch up. Someday he would have their beards (if they ever grew any).
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Birthdays | G, 204 | Bilbo, Bofur, Ori, ensemble
“Bilbo!” Bofur was calling him and waving, halfway between the camp and the stream where Bilbo had been washing up. There was something tucked under Bofur’s other arm, a shapeless brownish lump.
“Yes, yes, I’m coming,” Bilbo grumbled, though he was well out of earshot. “Can’t have a single moment’s peace….”
Bofur thrust the bundle at Bilbo’s chest and patted him on the shoulder as soon as he was close enough. “Happy Birthday!”
“What…really? For me?” Shocked the dwarves had bothered with a gift, Bilbo stood dumbly holding the thing in both hands. Behind Bofur, a subset of the company looked up from packing to smile and nod. “But…how?”
“Gandalf told us a week ago, and, well. There you go.” Bofur smiled encouragingly. “It’s not much, but we thought this might remind you of home, seeing as you’re missing it.”
“It was my idea!” Ori piped up proudly. “But we all helped.”
Bilbo pulled off the wrinkled paper and unfolded the quilt he found inside. Oh, but it was an ugly thing, Bilbo thought instantly, blinking at the mismatched colors. But the stitching was neat and the construction sturdy; they had done the best they could with what they had, and Bilbo was touched.
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Baking | G, 110 | Ori
All Ori had wanted was a muffin or two (or ten). It shouldn’t have been difficult, baking with instructions. Dori was meticulous and had excellent handwriting, so it wasn’t like he could have misread the list. And yet, Ori’s muffins had somehow puffed out so large they eventually popped, splattering half-baked batter all over the inside of the oven. Ori hadn’t noticed immediately while he was outside doodling in his sketchbook, but then a tendril of black smoke trailed out the window and luckily he had had a bucket of water already set out for washing up. Certainly, it saved him the embarrassment of burning down the house making muffins.
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Hats | G, 122 | Bofur, Bombur
“Bombur, have you seen my hat?” Bofur wasn’t panicking yet, but he was definitely on the verge. He had woken up that morning and his hat was simply gone.
Bombur shrugged, his mouth full of biscuit.
Bofur studied his brother’s seating arrangement near the breakfast pot, mere feet from where they had been sleeping. “You’re not sitting on it again, are you?”
With a roll of his eyes, Bombur got to his feet. No hat. Exasperated, Bofur decided to pack up his things and hope it would appear. If it didn’t, he could reasonably assume that rifling through Kili’s or Fili’s packs would turn up his beloved hat, since surely it looked like prime prank material to anyone bored on night watch.
Gardening | G, 110 | Bombur
As any good cook surely knew, the freshest ingredients were necessary for the best meals. Bombur, being rather a good cook himself, paid special attention to freshness and kept a small garden instead of buying everything at the market. He was proud of his garden, even if his friends and family gave him odd, sidelong looks about it. Seeing such beautiful produce on his table was a joy, but his prize was the delicate golden raspberries of late summer. And nearly all of them were suddenly missing. Bombur could see Dís’s brats disappearing down the road, but he knew he could never catch up. Someday he would have their beards (if they ever grew any).
__
Birthdays | G, 204 | Bilbo, Bofur, Ori, ensemble
“Bilbo!” Bofur was calling him and waving, halfway between the camp and the stream where Bilbo had been washing up. There was something tucked under Bofur’s other arm, a shapeless brownish lump.
“Yes, yes, I’m coming,” Bilbo grumbled, though he was well out of earshot. “Can’t have a single moment’s peace….”
Bofur thrust the bundle at Bilbo’s chest and patted him on the shoulder as soon as he was close enough. “Happy Birthday!”
“What…really? For me?” Shocked the dwarves had bothered with a gift, Bilbo stood dumbly holding the thing in both hands. Behind Bofur, a subset of the company looked up from packing to smile and nod. “But…how?”
“Gandalf told us a week ago, and, well. There you go.” Bofur smiled encouragingly. “It’s not much, but we thought this might remind you of home, seeing as you’re missing it.”
“It was my idea!” Ori piped up proudly. “But we all helped.”
Bilbo pulled off the wrinkled paper and unfolded the quilt he found inside. Oh, but it was an ugly thing, Bilbo thought instantly, blinking at the mismatched colors. But the stitching was neat and the construction sturdy; they had done the best they could with what they had, and Bilbo was touched.
__
Baking | G, 110 | Ori
All Ori had wanted was a muffin or two (or ten). It shouldn’t have been difficult, baking with instructions. Dori was meticulous and had excellent handwriting, so it wasn’t like he could have misread the list. And yet, Ori’s muffins had somehow puffed out so large they eventually popped, splattering half-baked batter all over the inside of the oven. Ori hadn’t noticed immediately while he was outside doodling in his sketchbook, but then a tendril of black smoke trailed out the window and luckily he had had a bucket of water already set out for washing up. Certainly, it saved him the embarrassment of burning down the house making muffins.
__
Hats | G, 122 | Bofur, Bombur
“Bombur, have you seen my hat?” Bofur wasn’t panicking yet, but he was definitely on the verge. He had woken up that morning and his hat was simply gone.
Bombur shrugged, his mouth full of biscuit.
Bofur studied his brother’s seating arrangement near the breakfast pot, mere feet from where they had been sleeping. “You’re not sitting on it again, are you?”
With a roll of his eyes, Bombur got to his feet. No hat. Exasperated, Bofur decided to pack up his things and hope it would appear. If it didn’t, he could reasonably assume that rifling through Kili’s or Fili’s packs would turn up his beloved hat, since surely it looked like prime prank material to anyone bored on night watch.