My Gaffer always says you can't tell much about a hobbit by his looks. Well, that may or may not be true, but I do know that appearances can be deceivin'. Take Mr. Frodo for example. Folks round Hobbiton talk about him bein' ev'ry bit as odd as old Mr. Bilbo, livin' by himself up at Bag End with nary a lass in sight, spendin' Bilbo's money, readin' Elvish poetry and starin' at the moon. That's all they see, what they call eccentric, unnatural even. They don't know him near as well as I do, though, and I reckon if they did they'd have a mite more to think about.
There's unnatural and then there's unnatural, if you follow, and Mr. Frodo ain't neither. He's kind and generous and easy-goin', a real gentlehobbit as the Gaffer says. If he don't care for gossip and tavern wenches, well, that's no fault of his. He was raised in Brandy Hall with all those wild Brandybuck cousins of his; he's got a diff'rent upbringin' than most hobbits and I 'spect that makes him look at things a bit diff'rent too. Specially like what's considered strange and what's not. I don't think there's nothin' that would surprise Mr. Frodo, nothin', and there's no tellin' what all he's seen and done. Though to hear Hobbiton folks tell it, there ain't much he hasn't done, if you understand me.
See, the thing about Mr. Frodo is that he don't worry 'bout pleasin' none but himself. He don't meddle in other folks' business and expects the same in return. He says he's always been talked about, ever since he was a wee lad and his parents drownded and left him an orphan, so that he don't care a whit what people say. That's how he lives his life, like appearances don't matter and idle talk can't harm him, and he don't hide from nobody, neither. I reckon that just riles the gossips and busybodies no end, gives 'em fuel for the fire, so to speak.
As if gossipin' about his ways weren't bad enough, folks go on about Mr. Frodo's looks, too. They call him pretty, like a lass. Well, that really gets my dander up, them comparing him to a lass. Imagine! True, his eyes are big and blue and clear, eyes you can drown in. Set in thick dark lashes and givin' me looks that make my heart pound so hard I think it might jump clean through my skin. But girlish? That ain't it. There's a kind of light that shines from those eyes, somethin' from deep down inside him that I can't rightly put a name to. Somethin' strong, far stronger than any lass that I ever knew of. Stronger than me, too, most times.
I do agree that he's nice-lookin', don't get me wrong. He's gifted with thick dark curls that frame his face just so, callin' that much more attention to his fine features. Perfect soft lips, not too thick and not too thin, given to easy smiles and whisperin' the most wicked things that can make me blush like a maid. I could go on about his skin too, the feel of it and how it looks in the moonlight. Softer than goosedown, paler than fresh cream. Flushed and so hot it could burn you. There's a mighty passion that lies banked inside Frodo, just waiting to be fanned into flame. And once it's stirred, well.... People can't tell those things just by lookin' and I reckon it's better that way.
They say that Mr. Frodo looks as wispy and insubstantial as starlight compared to most hobbit lads, but I'm here to say they couldn't be more wrong. He's too thin, of course, always was, but that's just Frodo. Slight and slender he may be, but under that perfect creamy skin of his, he's all tight muscle and sinew, tough as peapods in August, as the Gaffer says. He can wrap his arms around my chest and it feels like iron bands holdin' me, though he's always gentle at the same time. Ain't nobody as carin' and tender as him. Why, some people even think that Frodo's a mite timid, or shy, or even antisocial, preferring to keep to himself most of the time, but he's more in need of closeness and holdin' and touchin' than anyone would suppose.
And something else about him--that fair face of his hides a stubborn streak as wide as the Brandywine. I can always see it comin', the set of his jaw right before he tells me his mind on something, and then he won't budge. No sir. He'll cross his arms over his chest--and even then he looks cute as a spring lamb--but a team of plow mules can't change Mr. Frodo's mind when it's good and set, and by now I know better than to try. Folks don't know that about him, neither.
Elvish blood they say runs in the Took line, and I admit Mr. Frodo does have that bit of diff'rence about him. I expect that's what the Hobbiton folks are seein' and they just don't realize it. Most folks round here never seen an elf, and don't care to. Don't care to understand anyone who's not just like them. Me, I see so much that's strange and wonderful and excitin' in Frodo that I can't think straight when I'm near him.
So I was talkin' about appearances bein' deceivin', and I don't know if I made my point or just proved what a fool I am. Aye, Frodo's a handsome lad, and he goes his own way, no doubt about it. But there's so much more to him than that, if you follow. He has an inner beauty that nobody much sees, but I know it's there. My Gaffer always says that it's what's inside that counts, but folks don't know the half of it where Frodo's concerned.
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