Now, for the present moment, let me see if I cannot do a little more with my Pocket.
*concentrates as a line of light forms the outline of a doorway before him, which he opens and steps through, and smiles to survey his work, adds some hibiscus and bananas, orchids, mimosas, and gardenias, yawns*
That's quite enough, for I am wearying already. *pops back into the Pantry Smial* If this tires me so, I wonder what making a hobbitling would do. Or the changes I will have to make in my own body. *worries as he drinks some tea*
*lies down on the bed and falls fast asleep with exhaustion, and dreams*
And sees striding toward him his very own a'maelamin, and there--what is he holding? Why, it's a hobbitling! Why, yes, yes she is ours--there's no doubt about that! Oh, isn't she beautiful! Just beautiful . . . and oh, ah, screaming quite loudly, really! She . . . she won't STOP! And there's TWO of them! Aaaagh! Is there no ship that will bear me hence? They're coming CLOSER! Where might I hide? They're . . . oh no . . . they're ROLLO!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!! Quick, a tree! Bingo grabs the hobbitling and climbs the tree. And then his mind opens to the woeful happening in the mun's world. So many. And they are hungry. Oh, so hungry! Oh my! And the fiend has a rifle! Oh help! We are hunted! It is too awful! We cannot escape . . . .
*overidentifies, wakes with a start, hides under the covers*