Lindir watched the diminutive little figure scribbling away at a piece of parchment, and sipping at his tea while glaring at the words on the page. Bilbo was a dear old hobbit. He enjoyed the many pleasantries that Imladris offered, and yet remained perfectly content with simple things. He reveled in a pot of good tea and a pipe full of good pipe weed, while at the same time truly appreciating the work of the Elves. Why couldn't the world have more people like Bilbo Baggins?

The hobbit glanced up and saw Lindir watching him, "Ah, there you are. I've been wondering when you'd show up to badger me about my latest work."

Lindir smiled warmly, "But dear Bilbo, you do so enjoy being badgered."

"Bah." The hobbit grumbled.

"So, what work have you today?"

Bilbo noticeably brightened, "I'm writing a poem about the Shire, and the homey joys therein."

Lindir nodded, "From what I hear, an excellent subject, good master Hobbit."

"Of course it is."

"Do continue."

"I'm having a spot of trouble."

"How so?"

"I can't decide which is better: my garden at twilight, or a table set for dinner."

The elf shook his head, "Ah, mellon nin, what would an elf know of such things?"

"Well, which do you prefer?"

"A garden."

The hobbit huffed, "Such an elf, Lindir."

"An elf? Me?" Lindir asked in mock astonishment. He reached up with his long, delicate hands and felt at his pointed ears, then gasped theatrically, "By the Valar! Bilbo! You might be on to something!"

"Oh, you are such a botherment, Lindir!"

"But I am convinced that it is why I am loved."

"And not for your songs?"

"Well," he looked smug, "That as well."

"Bother." Bilbo returned to glaring at his parchment.

"My good hobbit, which do you prefer?"

"Would I have asked you if I could have decided?"

The elf shrugged, "Perhaps. You enjoy being badgered."

"I don't know which I prefer."

"Then they are equals."

"But that doesn't fit with the rhyme."

"Then think of something else." Lindir said with a shrug.

"It's hopeless asking you for anything, isn't it?"

Elven eyes twinkled, "Go not to an elf for counsel, dear Bilbo. I thought you knew that."

"Yes, of course, for they will answer both yes and no." Bilbo smiled at his friend. "But I wouldn't have you any other way."

Lindir smiled, his heart warmed by the friendship of the hobbit. Such a simple pleasure, and yet one of his most valued. He continued not helping poor Bilbo, but prompting him on, and eventually the poem was finished, and they simply sat and talked in the peace of Imladris.