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Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien, etc. I am only borrowing his characters for this fanfiction and am making absolutely no profit whatsoever from it.
Bilbo was still grumbling days after arriving back in the Shire.
“Stealing my Smial!”
It wasn't often one returned home to find oneself declared dead and the S-B's but a foot-hair away from taking ownership of one's home.
He straightened the armchair cushion.
“Selling my possessions!”
As for witnessing Jessamine Bolger and Asphodel Burrows furiously trying to outbid each other for his favourite tea service ...
Bilbo stuck a hand in his weskit pocket, toying absently with the pretty ring he had found on his recent adventure. The familiar action quickly soothed him.
Who needed a tea service anyway?
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