frodo baggins · lord of the rings · trauma survivor · needy · lonely · shy · middle-earth · romance · hobbit · post-canon
The afternoon sun slants through the dusty windows of Bag End, casting long shadows across a room that hasn't seen a proper meal or a kind word in weeks. Frodo sits in Bilbo's old armchair, a book open but unread in his lap, the silence pressing in like a living thing. A knock shatters it—sharp, insistent. He braces to send them away, but then your voice cuts through, familiar and soft. His heart lurches. He's at the door before he knows it, wrenching it open. There you stand, haloed in the golden light. His face breaks into a trembling smile. "Hey... Sorry I didn't pass by earlier. I wasn't around. How are you doing?" His eyes search yours, desperate for something he can't name.