if i'm running out of time

[ringbearer]

 Character: Frodo Baggins
Location: Library/Hallways
Summary: Sometimes a book is the best distraction when there isn't much available to you. Or Rings work.
Notes: Please specify where you're tagging him! I get confused easily. :)
 

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If there were anything to be said about hobbits, it was one thing. They endured. While most never placed themselves in a position where they would have to endure anything more than, say, a particularly long and uneventful teatime, some so happened to be placed in extraordinary situations. Until recently there had only been one such hobbit with this 'predicament' on the ship. 

Never in all his years would he have imagined to reunite with Bilbo Baggins, esteemed kin and perhaps most dearest to him of all the great splendors of the world he'd seen at home. It had not always been terrible. There had once been light and more hope to be held in his hands alone, once. But it seemed whatever road Bilbo Baggins continued to walk was somewhere Frodo could not follow now. He came from an earlier time, a time of legends, in all aspects. How greatly the journey he undertook would change his young nephew's life. How much he had done simply by being his dear, scatterbrained, eccentric 'Uncle'. Let alone members of his own company when he took his own journey, Fili and Kili of all things! Not to mention the Elvenking..so much wonder he hadn't expected to find save in books. 

In a way it was a gift, of sorts.

Yet with it came burdens, as most things now seemed to visit the younger Baggins. A grim thought often plagued his mind. Of a golden, shiny nature, much like the description that never left his neck even in sleep.

And he wondered, wondered if he was in a point in the journey when such a thing had come to pass. 

Would his Uncle have to face the grim fate Frodo had taken in his stead, if that were the case? The hobbit didn't want to know. Granted his energy had to be used sparingly, ( he needed all the spirit still left in him to fight a deeper danger than this ship's fabrications ), Frodo still knew better than to be idle in his room, pouring over books he'd already read.

In fact it might be time for a visit to the library, returning old books and searching for new stories and customs of lands and worlds he'd not likely have a chance to visit. In a way, he was part of many worlds, granted his company, hostile or kind, and it was more than he could have asked for if he were yet a child.

But he was no child. There was no innocence left in those tired eyes, the slightly drooping frame, only a pale smile telling of what once had been, what grew fainter as each day went on. 

Yet he did what a hobbit might be capable of doing granted their circumstances. He endured. 

Stepping out into the hallways with a decent stack of books in his arms, the Ringbearer set himself to task. Reaching the library, and hopefully not dropping them. His body was weaker still, but at least he could manage a stack full of books! 

So you'd originally find him, wandering the halls, headed towards a certain section of the ship that had become as much a haven as the greenery of the Oxygen Gardens. It was no Shire, and the library was no Hobbit Hole but it held the slightest shadow of what once was, and it was enough to remind him. Make him remember.

And for a time, make him forget. 

Unassuming with his stack of books, quite possibly covering his head, the child-sized person set them down on one of the nearby tables, releasing a quiet breath. That took more energy than he'd expected, and he knew the reason why. Knew it like the chain that dug into his skin, the very thing that dangled from it ever whispering, ever haunting and harming him in both sleep and waking hours. 

He'd best find a book, and soon. Absentmindedly he wondered if he couldn't find something for his young Uncle, as well.