He looked outside the window looking at the first snowfall. His new son was to be coming home from his studies. Bilbo smiled and hoped that he had come home soon anyhow, after becoming a guardian after his family had passed on at the river, he found himself becoming more and more father-like. Telling the young hobbit boy about his adventures as a young man.
"I do hope he comes home before he catches death of cold" he wondered, looking out the window, moving about the hole to start putting on the fire as it had started to become chilled throughout their home. He ran his hands above the fire at a decent angle so he would not catch fire himself.
Shivering a little as he sat down in his favorite chair waiting for the young one to come home, dozing off until he heard the door open. And with that door opening, he smiled some and tried to wake up from his daze, to greet his son in midhallway. "Frodo? You're home?" he spoke, still sitting in the chair.
No voice was heard, just the patter of tiny little feet coming across the wooden floors under the hill. Along with slight sniffles here and there. Hearing the noises out of the younger male, he picked himself up and walked to where he had heard the last of the sounds. "..Frodo my boy are you still in this hole?" he muttered more, hoping to hear something sooner or later out of the young boy.
He walked into the boy's room to be finding him laying down already, raising an eyebrow at the look of his new son, he decided to walk over and sit on the bed next to the young child. "Frodo? Are you alright?"
The little one nodded and smiled a little. Dazed he looked up at his uncle-father figure. "Just….cold" he stated.
"And by the looks of it tired as well son…" the elder halfling concluded, looking at him again with a parental eye.
"Yes...and tired." the little one groaned slightly, unburrowing his face to look at his uncle. His face completely faded in color and darker circles around his eyes had been seen, as if he had been taken life out of his own body. Something that was not normal to the typical rosy cheeked lad that he was getting used to becoming a caretaker of.
Reaching his hand out he pet the little one's slightly dampened hair. "You should get some rest, I will call for supper alright?" he smiled a little trying to give some sort of comfort, if not some sort of empathy and sympathy for the little one. The little one nodded and burrowed his face into the pillow of his bed, sniffling again as the elder had stood up. Sneezing into his pillow, the elder turned and looked at his younger counterpart with a worried look upon his brow. "Bless you…" he muttered, sighing a little trying to prepare himself for the worse of the worst.