Frodo Baggins (theseabell) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2012-03-27 12:21:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | !complete, frodo baggins, rapunzel |
Who: Frodo, Rapunzel
What: Frodo takes a trip to the beach...
When: Afternoon, today
Where: Presently En Route to Frodo's Private Beach
Rating: Starting at PG-13 (Trigger: Mention of violence and scars)
Status: Complete
The reasons for owning a private beach are many--not the least of which being the luxury of, well, luxury.
Frodo considered this as he stood before his bathroom mirror. His fingers drifted across his bare abdomen, tracing the white scars that leapt across his skin: the small nicks, the longer slashes, the web-like burst of scar tissue on his shoulder--the missing finger on the hand itself. All of it still unexplained, like something supernatural, but of the demonic sort.
He was a gruesome sight. In the days before the private beach, he had sent many children running and crying. Mothers and fathers packed up and moved to distant spots. In the end, it he decided it was more charitable just to move himself.
Frodo began to dress, stepping into longish trunks and pulling a loose shirt over his head. Soon, he would begin the trek across the walking path that cut through the public beaches. He would smile at everyone he passed, he would chat with neighbors. Some days it was the only human contact he got.
His gear had been packed for him by his valet: a beach chair, an umbrella, a few beers, and his laptop. A little dance was necessary to get it secure on his back, and he had to bend forward as he walked. As part of the routine, the valet asked if Frodo would like him to call the chauffeur, and Frodo would always decline.
He crossed the threshold of the door that lead to the beach and down a few steps. The path was dead ahead, made of high-end treated wood in some sections and concrete in others. It was a mile to his not-so-little piece of land. It was definitely too much space for one person.
Frodo began to whistle and the whistling became a song that he murmured to himself...