Bagginshield Alphabet: Quill
“Very good, Frodo,” Thorin murmured to the small Hobbit sitting on his knee. The child leaned forward over the desk, tongue caught between his teeth as he concentrated. The quill clenched in his hand shivered slightly with the effort to make each stroke perfect.
Frodo suddenly flipped the paper over, seconds before a voice called, “What’s this, then?”
Thorin started, jumping up in his seat and jostling the little faunt with the movement. The boy just laughed, always finding amusement in moments such as these. Of course he would, Thorin thought mulishly; he was a co-conspirator when it came to Hobbity stealth.
“Nothing!” Dwarf and faunt called at once, both turning to Bilbo with wide, blue eyes. Bilbo crossed his arms, chin tilting down and brows lifting up in a look of total disbelief.