You had spent all day prettying yourself up to the best of your abilities - bathing, scrubbing, painting and such. Your mother had even twisted your hair into the most beautiful patterns and turns you've ever seen. Being only confined to 'clean' food, such as simple vegetables, nuts and bread, your stomach growls at the lack of chocolate and other sticky substances. Your father didn't want you to ruin the (f/c) dress your mother had specially embroided for you. Tugging the low neckline of the paler under blouse up a bit, you assess yourself one last time in the large mirror hanging beside your bed.
Sure, you look gorgeous, you suppose. But for what occasion exactly? It isn't anyone's birthday, and your snooty, secluded family don't strike up business deals too often, and even then, you don't get involved. Sighing, you smooth your petite, manicured hands over the silky skirt before slipping your favourite woven bag around you and treading out of your room.
Whatever this is all for, it better be important for messing up your goddamn eating and reading patterns. You had planned to go out painting by the stream today, but that wasn't allowed because 'you could get hurt or dirty' not like that actually mattered to you: you'd rather be covered in mud and paint than sat in all this stuffy clothing and makeup.
"(Y/n)! It's time to go dear!" Your mother calls to you, just as you arrive to the front door where she's smiling. She's wearing a dress similar to yours, although hers is slightly longer, reaching mid calf in dark brown colour. Your father enters through the nearest door frame, pulling a green velvet jacket over his dress shirt.
"We'll be going then!" Your father opens the front door, holding it for both you and your mother, before turning around to lock it. The early evening air is a friendly caress to your flustered, powdered cheeks, making you smile as you slog down the winding path to the main road. Your mother catches up with you whist your father briskly stumps up front. Determination and a slight excitement shows in his every step, his smile broadening as his arms swing more freely.
"Mother, what exactly is this all about?" You ask, furrowing your brow slightly.
"Like I said, a surprise." She smiles back a little wearily. "You'll find out when we get there."
Light breezes and orange skies do nothing to calm your anxiousness. Not even the adorable lambs bouncing in the passing fields that seem to be complete copies of the fluffy clouds above. The callously pointed stones that bruise your feet as you walk just increase your uncertainty, making the cogs in your head turn ever more. This beautfiul summer evening is just a contrast to your emotions, almost mocking you in a way, toying with your head. Anything could happen.
You continue on in this dream-like state for the rest of the journey, your mind trying to focus on the sunset, yet being led astray from the true matter at hand. You hate how far in the dark you are about what is happening; you mother refusing to answer your questions properly and your father just lolling in a happy mindset.
Some form of relief fills you as you reach the front door to the Green Dragon, the rich smells of ale and cakes already flooding your lungs. All you want right now is to sit down and eat, no matter what the occasion is. Before going through, your father tells you to link your arm in his, which after a little puzzling, you comply by. His (e/c) eyes crinkle in the warm glow coming from the latticed windows whilst his mouth curves into a broad beam. Your mother opens the door for you both and you take a deep breath before stepping over the doorframe
Everyone turns to look at you. Everyone. Blood rushes to your cheeks at all of the sudden attention, your palms turning sweaty. And that's just when a large cry of 'CONGRATULATIONS' calls through the entire room. You look to your father questioningly, now waving to the cheering crowd before you. Seeming completely oblivious to you, you turn to your mother who just returns with an almost sympathetic look.
The room shines brighter than normal, all of the candles being lit to illuminate the room fully, giving off a party-type atmosphere. Along with the loud folk band playing near the fire and the whoops and hollers of everyone, that's sure what it seems like; one big party. A congratulations party? But you haven't done anything! Nothing that deserves this sort of celebration, anyway.
You scan the room to try and find a familiar face, coming to no avail. Heck, it must be half of Hobbiton's crammed into this place. There was Ms. Springleaf from the market with her son, and over there; Mr Tolkien (see what I did?) with his wife. Some people you don't even recognise, mainly the young children who run around at your feet. This only adds to your stress, that beating in your chest growing ever faster and harder. All of these people are here for you, but...
There, in the middle of it all, sit four very-flustered young hobbits, two more embarrassed than the others, staring right at you with empathetic expressions.