the sun is going down | open

[somethingprecious]

Who| Bilbo Baggins & YOU
What| A very lost and confused Hobbit finds his way onto the rooftop.
Where| The Rooftop gardens.
When| 10-16 before the curfew, afternoon.
Warnings/Notes| Sad hobbits, talking about death and other unhappy subjects probably.

The trauma of the Crowning pushed to the back of his mind for now Bilbo took to exploring what he could of the training center. It was easy to go unnoticed by most and he did his best to stay away from the Peacekeepers, their appearance chilling him to the bone with their unearthly armor and weapons. He didn't understand this new world, but deep down he hoped the culture shock would wear off... Out of this horrific nightmare he could at least come away with at least one pleasant experience. Something positive to help swallow down the inevitable terrors he would have to face sooner or later here...

He could hope anyways.

Out on the rooftop he takes a spot next to an anemone bush that overlooks the city. He watches as the sun sets over the city, the buildings looking more like towering, black giants than anything else. In his hands is a red anemone blossom, fingers fidgeting with the petals until they're worn and torn with worry.

Comments

[hiccup1puberty0]

Hiccup often came up to the roof for some quiet time to think and to sketch the city and it wasn't unusual that he found people up there. Sometimes they clearly didn't want to be bothered but when he could he tried to strike up conversation.

When he saw Bilbo, he was about to say hello at first but then he suddenly squinted.

It was a perspective thing, right? It had to be some weird angle he was seeing the guy at it. Which was why he moved closer, tilting his head.

No. Nope. Not a perspective thing. Just like that other lil' guy he'd seen on the comms.

Was this guy like him? He seemed to have the same pointy ears and curly hair.

"Wow, you're tiny." And the young man that said it was not, towering over Bilbo at 6'1". Not quite as tall as some of the Big Folk of Bilbo's world but he was up there. "No, wait, sorry. That's rude. I'm being rude. Wow is that rude. Okay, so let's pretend I didn't say that. Hi there, person of perfectly reasonable size - because what do I know? - what's your name?"

The young man wouldn't have looked out of place in Bilbo's world. He was wearing a blue tunic, a thick leather belt, grey woolen leggings, and a furry boot on his flesh and blood foot. The other foot was a prosthetic, a metal and wood contraption that looked springier than a plain peg leg would be.

His expression was cheerful enough, other than a strange sort of tightness around his eyes and in the line of his jaw, but the healing scar of a brand on his forehead, shaped like the Capitol insignia (something Bilbo might have seen around) suggested his time in this place had involved some...unpleasantness. The brand mark wasn't hidden, though - his hair was braided back almost as if he was trying to put it on display, and over it was smudged a black symbol, as if he'd try to make the brand into something else of his own.

[somethingprecious]

He jumps a little more than he means to with a squeak, nerves already lit by barely repressed anxiety. The blossom in his hand tumbles from his fingers and lands in a crumpled heap on the ground, but Bilbo forgets it briefly to look up at Hiccup with wide eyes. He's used to being around Big Folk - even a good portion of the dwarves were taller than him - but his ramblings catch him by surprise.

"Oh... No, it's alright." He stumbles over the first few words, looking away slowly before starting to twist his hands in his lap. A nervous habit. Hiccup's awkward conversation starter does help him a little and he manages a very weak, polite smile back up at him.

"My name is Bilbo and I'm a Hobbit and... Well we're all very small, much smaller than everyone else so it's only reasonable among Hobbits. It does make things a little inconvenient for me here, though." Almost everything is at least a foot taller than him.

[elfstone]

The curfew is coming, Thorongil knows, and though it chafes to be confined to the tower, he has no business out in the city. Therefore he is wandering the tower, finding the kitchens and mapping the common areas, until finally he comes to the rooftop. As he walks out into the late afternoon sunlight, he starts: for that is another hobbit standing there.

Frodo? he thinks. No -- it is another. Thorongil's heart breaks to know that another one of those cheerful folk has been brought here to die and die again. He may not know this one, but he may at least offer aid.

He approaches silently from behind -- silent even to hobbit-ears, which is a feat few can master -- and when he speaks, it might give Bilbo a fright.

"You were brought here but lately, were you not?"

[somethingprecious]

Jolted, Bilbo jumps up from his spot with the blossom in hand suddenly crumpled by his surprise. It isn't usual that someone sneaks up on him and so of course he doesn't expect his sudden guest to be none other than a Man.

"I- Yes." His wariness is justified in his mind, almost everything here putting him on edge to the point where he would like nothing better than to find a comfortable little hole and disappearing for a very long time. The urge to run and hide was strong even if he knew better now than to submit to cowardly inclinations. No matter how afraid he was.

Bilbo glances away, hands clasped before him with the poor blossom locked between his fingers. "... I was, yes. I thought this would be a nice place... to think. It can be very hectic down... there."

[elfstone]

The Man's brow furrows, and disbelief comes into his face. The face and voice -- he knows them. They are younger, yes, but not by far, not enough to cheat recognition.

He is about to greet the hobbit by name, then hesitates -- Bilbo's manner is not one of recognition. The Dunadan knows that many come here from different points in time: he did not recognize Frodo, yet Frodo knew him. His expression turns more guarded, and he resolves to give nothing more away -- at least not yet.

But two Hobbits he had known, brought here within days of one another: what purpose did the Capitol have?

"It can indeed. You have my apologies: I did not mean to startle you. You have quite enough to be afraid of already without a Man giving you needless frights."

[somethingprecious]

He breathes out, a shaky smile finally coming out. Honestly he was better than this. Had his past adventures taught him nothing? "No, no it's alright. I've grown used to being around very loud company and so I'm not accustomed to being surprised like that." More like he was used to being the one startling everyone else with how quiet he walked everywhere.

Bilbo glances down to the poor flower in his hands before back up to Thorongil. "Do people come up here often?"

[69problems]

The rooftop is one of the Signless's usual haunts; it's the closest he can get to the wilderness of his home on Alternia without having to leave the tribute tower. He's been coming up less and less recently but every now and again, especially with the Disciple gone, a pang of homesickness strikes him and he finds himself walking the short distance up from Twelve to wander among the plants.

He finds in times like this he's better served talking to other people instead of dwelling on his own melancholy and so when he sees Bilbo (and sees the state of the flower he's holding) he decides that maybe this is a good time and place to strike up a conversation.

"Is something troubling you?" His voice is gentle but that doesn't do much to change the red and yellow eyes or the horns or the blunt triangular fangs (fully visible thanks to an unfortunate overbite).

[somethingprecious]

It doesn't do much at all, but his soft tone and initial demeanor help somewhat in ebbing his surprise when he looks over to see just who the kind voice belongs to. Bilbo's first thought is that this is an orc judging by the gray skin and (somewhat) sharpened teeth and in that same thought his heart nearly stops from knee-jerk fear. He doesn't mean to stare wide-eyed at Signless (so, so rude), but he finds himself unable to stop and even more unable to decide on how to react.

What feels like an eternity is less than a minute of stunned silence before Bilbo can finally respond back to the... the very polite orc. Really, he was very well kept for an orc, wasn't he? No blood or guts anywhere and he didn't reek either...

"I... S-Something like that." In the end proper manners take hold of him and he manages a decent response. If this orc wanted to hurt him he wouldn't have asked anything. Still, logic and common sense do little to still his rabbit heart as he stares up at Signless in complete confusion and borderline wariness.

[69problems]

To Signless's credit he doesn't seem that surprised by the reaction. In his year and a half here he's met many, many people who have never seen a troll before and find their appearance off-putting if not downright frightening. In his experience being friendly goes a long way to dispel that wariness.

"Would it help to talk about it with someone?" he asks, making no move to step closer until he's given an a positive response.

[somethingprecious]

By this point Bilbo could easily say he was very, very confused by this... orc's kindly behavior. It went against everything he knew about orcs, but at the same time this wasn't home and everything here was turned on its head already.

This strange orc was more polite than a few dwarves he knew so... well, it would be rude to regard him with hostility, now wouldn't it? The least he could do was give him a chance. He only hoped it wouldn't come back to haunt him later.

So Bilbo sighs, the tension in his shoulders slowly ebbing away as he looks down at the flower in his hand. "I'm sorry... I've been rude. Talking... Talking about it would help. I don't know where I'd start, my thoughts feel so very chaotic right now."

[famousest]

Frodo has been here just long enough to realize that he's in way over his head with all of this, the Ring is here and still calling for him, weighing on his heart and mind, and-- and he's a novelty here. He hasn't left the tower, yet-- in part because he can't seem to rid himself of the unnatural exhaustion the Ring has left on him, in part because his shoulder has ached hellishly, but mostly because even his fellow captives seem to find him peculiar. He supposes he should be accustomed to it-- most people are stunned to find a Hobbit so far from the Shire. But.. it's different back home.

He's been told that there are gardens above, though, and while he knows Aragorn wants him to be cautious, ultimately he's a Hobbit, and he needs the outdoors. He needs air and flowers and trees, and he's been in Mordor for so long, and now here, that he'd begun to forget what any of it was like.

It's for this reason that he finds himself in the gardens, trailing through the unfamiliar foliage, simply trying to let himself forget, even for a moment, that voice in his head. --Fabric catches his eye, though, and he glances up, only to freeze in shock a moment later. He's only seeing the figure from the back, but.. there's no mistaking that curly hair or the points of those ears or the small shape for anyone but another Hobbit. For a very brief moment, his heart's in his throat, thinking that Sam's been brought here (and wondering which would be more merciful), but.. no. Sam's hair is a different shade, and Sam is broader in the shoulders.

Hesitating, he takes a few steps forward, hands wringing together nervously. ".. Hello?" It's been so long, so long since he's seen the Shire or another Hobbit that isn't Sam. Is he even recognizable as one of their people, any longer? He knows he's lost weight, he knows he must look a fright. But he needs this the same way he'd needed the outside.

[somethingprecious]

The small voice catches him off guard and he jolts with a shock that has him looking back to find the source. The blossom is forgotten in his hand and nearly slips from his fingers as he takes in the figure of another... another Hobbit. He almost doesn't believe it, his heart thumping loudly in his chest as he realizes that what he sees is really there and not an illusion of his mind.

Another Hobbit! How long had it been since he'd seen another Hobbit?

Of course he doesn't recognize the poor boy, but he does take note of his appearance. It was a look he'd notice from many of the trapped people here, eyes haunted and far away. He couldn't blame them, knowing what was in store for himself soon.

"H- Hello!" It was hard not to be a little cheered by a familiar presence, even if Bilbo didn't know him personally. It didn't matter, not for Hobbits. He smiles as he stands up from the bench, hands held in front of his chest. "I wasn't aware of another Hobbit... here."

[famousest]

He almost finds a smile at familiar mannerisms, the bright, startled greeting. But.. somehow, it's almost too familiar. The face swims in his sight for a few moments as he stares, struggling to place a name to it. It should be.. older, shouldn't it? There should be gray hair.

His knees go a little weak when he finally realizes who he's staring at, and lacking anything to catch himself on, he staggers, nearly falling to his knees.

"Uncle?" Oh, no. No, no, no. Even if this is the Bilbo Baggins from his adventure with the dragon, he can't bear the thought of his uncle here. He deserves so much better than this, and Frodo is terrified at the thought of not being able to protect him. "I-- I'm sorry, I--" A small, strangled little noise leaves his throat, and he takes the few steps forward to bring them together, scarred hands going to grip the other Hobbit's sleeves. "It-- It is you, isn't it? Bilbo Baggins. I--" He's dizzy, suddenly, and afraid. If this is the Bilbo from his own quest, did he have the Ring? Was it taken from him, too?

Are there two versions of the Ring in this world, now? The thought is horrifying. (No wonder he can feel the pull so strongly.)

"You don't know me, yet, I suppose." His hands fall away, suddenly nervous, eyes very wide in his pale, drawn face. ".. I-- I'm Frodo. Frodo Baggins."

After meeting Frodo

[arrogantalloy]

Really, Tony comes up to the roof now as habit more than anything else. It used to be part o his escape, but now there's a curfew he has no where to escape to when he's feeling trapped by his floors suite simply because he is literally trapped there at night now.

So coming up here now is simply to remember what the air against his face feels like.

It takes him a while to notice the hobbit, mostly because he just doesn't care enough to look around to see who else is up here until he's good and ready to. So when he notices him, he notices two things:

He hasn't seen him before, and from the look of those feet he's another hobbit.

"What? Are Hobbits just human-like tribbles?" He mutters to himself before raising his voice. "Let me guess. Samwise Gamgee?"

Tony might not have loved the books or their messages so much, but he had read all of the stories from Middle Earth, and if that clum look was anything to go by, if Frodo was here there was a chance this one was Sam... Even if he wasn't presently stalking Frodo, but then he might not know he's here.

[somethingprecious]

He doesn't expect to be called out so suddenly like that and he reacts by jumping up, heart in his throat and flower crushed in his hand as he spins around to see another Big Folk standing there. Bilbo gives him a puzzled stare, eyes wide and a little thrown by his next question.

"I... No, my name is not Samwise Gamgee." Why would he be mistaken for his neighbor? The last name matched, but never has he heard of a Samwise before... and why would this strange Bigfolk know any of that anyways. Bilbo frowns suddenly, the surprise turning slowly to wariness. "And a Hobbit is a Hobbit, nothing more nothing less. Can I help you?"

[arrogantalloy]

"Nothing more or less, huh? Well we went from none to at least two in days. I guess it's, curious."

He dusts at his sleeves, giving the impression he's not all that interested, when at least it's easy to say he's actually kind of curious about this whole Hobbit situation.

"Believe me, no one can really help me. But really I wasn't looking for help so probably means something there. Guess you I could say I was curious about who you are."

[pimpcanes]

The Rooftop Gardens are, besides perhaps Molotov's bed, Tom's favorite place in the Capitol. The weather lately is getting just chilly enough that the only decent time to do any work up there is in the afternoon, and Tom leeches the sunlight hours for all that they're worth, tending to a little patch of flowers, ivy and vegetables he's claimed as his.

Even if he didn't draw some sense of peace from the plants, he would prefer it up here anyway. Any man could feel himself a king looking over the buildings and mountains spreading out and leaking into the horizon like so many watercolors, and only a few Tributes make regular visits up here. As Tom's made himself something of a persona non grata, he's grateful for any place he can avoid the irritants he's been told are his competitors.

One such competitor is hiding behind one of the anemone bushes, it seems, and Tom glances over and assumes from the size that it's one of the child Tributes. The idea of children fighting in the Arenas sets a stone in his stomach, although not enough for him to take any ideological stances.

"Hey, boy, would you happen to know where the gardening tools are? There's only so much I can manage with my hands alone."

[somethingprecious]

His reaction to being called out is belated, mostly because he hasn't been called a boy or anything close to it in almost two decades and so he lets the question slide. It's only until he realizes, in that belated moment, that he is the only one up here to begin with that it hits him that he is the one being called out.

Boy!

Bilbo turns out of surprise, his pointed ears twitching as he clutches the blossom to his chest. "Ex-Excuse me? Ah, hm..." It's a moment later that he takes in the true question past being mistaken for a child and he looks away from his new company in thought. "No... I'm not sure where they would be. This is my first time up here, you see."

[pimpcanes]

Oh, not even a boy or an errant child, but a rather small grown man, Tom realizes. He doesn't feel any remorse but he imagines he should explain and apologize anyway, as is only polite.

"Ah, sorry about that, I couldn't see your face behind that bush." Tom's brow knits a little bit, the slightest crinkle pinning the edge of his lip as he looks Bilbo up and down. "You must be one of the new Tributes, then. You may need to improve your camouflage technique."

[worldsaway]

Like a good many in the tower, the roof is a place of escape for Thor. It feels far removed from everything, somehow. It's closer to the sky and the space that holds his home, further away from the squabbles of Midgardians who bring shame to their ancestors. He'd always been fond of Earth, but the detestable sights he's witnessed in this place drive his homesickness to Asgard rather than London where Jane resides. It is a complicated web of feelings, but one that feels inconsequential when he can gaze out over the stretch of huge buildings.

Of course, to someone as tiny as Bilbo someone as huge as Thor might as well BE a huge building. By now, he's rather used to people being smaller than him, but he's sure Bilbo is particularly small in comparison when he falls into his line of vision. He can't help giving him an appraising look, as if trying to figure out if he's regular Midgardian size or something different. The ears and feet seem to indicate the latter, which is a little thrilling to Thor. Perhaps he will finally converse with someone and not be saddled by teevee and moovee references.

"Hello." He says finally, after some amount of staring. His tone is light and conversational as he steps a little closer. "I've not seen you before, I'm sure."

[somethingprecious]

He feels the prickle of someone's gaze on him graze the back of his neck before he turns to actually see who it is. He's used to being stared at, considered as something new and strange, but it doesn't make him feel any better even if it is unfortunately familiar to experience. Maybe another day when he didn't already feel so worn out and on edge.

Seeing Thor he has to look up to properly address him. Surely he's come across some tall Big Folk, but this one certainly took the cake and Bilbo momentarily wondered if he was actually a Man or something else. His greetings fly over his head and he reacts belatedly, shaking his head as if to dispel his daze.

"... H-Hello." He coughs, glancing away briefly. "I just arrived actually, ah... I suppose there are many people here who have not seen me yet."

[worldsaway]

Thor doesn't mean to stare, really. He gets it just as much from all around for both very similar and very opposite reasons. You don't often find men who resemble blond, muscular walls don't get watched. Still, his manners are a little odd, so he doesn't feel particularly strange staring at a small, strange man. Even less so when he finally replies, which earns him a sympathetic smile.

"And with good reason, my friend. You are quite small." He says that like Bilbo isn't intimately aware of his own size. "I am Thor Odinson, I have resided here for some time. I wish I could say it was a pleasure to meet you, but the circumstances are not in our favour."

[aboveangrybees]

The roof is one of the few places Steve feels he find a momentary escape, away from all the hustle and bustle, where he can take a moment and breathe. While usually occupied, there's just not a lot of traffic or blaring TVs, which is sorely lacking in the Capitol. It's calm, a place he can draw.

So, he's not surprised to find he's not alone up here, to see the chi- no, man? He's small enough to be a child, but he seems more aged and worn. No, this person must be an adult. A small one. He doesn't mean to stare, but the more he looks, the more he's picking out details that remind him so clearly of- Oh. Well, Aragorn is here, so, he supposes it's possible.

Still, a hobbit. That's pretty surreal.

As he moves closer - still sure to keep a comfortable distance - he notices the blossom and the torture it's being put through. "You're going to stain your fingers red if you're not careful."

[somethingprecious]

"Oh!" He starts in surprise, looking over at his new company with widened eyes. It takes him a moment to process what he said and looks down at the poor flower in his hand. Already a few of his fingers are stained red and he thinks with sickness how it looks a little like blood.

He drops the crumpled blossom, rubbing his hands together now that he had nothing left to fidget with. "Yes... Thank you, but it looks like the damage is already done." Barely he manages a small smile for Steve.

[aboveangrybees]

"Looks like, here," Steve takes the handkerchief from his pocket and moves to the nearby fountain, wetting a small part of it. As he turned away, his right cheek and the disfiguring brand on it is visible when it hadn't been before, but as he offers the handkerchief to the Hobbit, Steve again tries to keep it from view.

"Might keep your fingers from being bright pink later," the longer the natural dye of the petals sets, the more pink those fingers will be when the man tries to wash them later.