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Thorin's Long Lost Daughter
Thinking back
Bilbo was in his study, writing in his book.
“That, my dear Frodo, is where I come in. For quite by chance, and the will of a Wizard, fate decided I would become part of this tale. It began, well, it began as you might expect. In a hole in the ground, there lived a Hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, full of worms and oozy smells; this was a Hobbit-hole, and that means good food, a warm hearth, and all the comforts of home.”
Frodo, eating an apple, walked out of Bag End and picked up the mail from the mailbox. He returned inside and gave the mail to Bilbo. Bilbo, who was laughing while writing in his book, quickly quieted down as Frodo approached him.
“Thank you.” Bilbo said, absentmindedly.
Frodo picked up the picture of a young Bilbo.
“What’s this?” Frodo asked, curiously, as he examined the picture.
Bilbo grabs back the picture. “That is private. Keep your sticky paws off. It’s not ready yet.”
“Not ready for what?” Frodo asked, curious at why his uncle was being secretive.
“Reading.”
Frodo picked up and examined some old object of Bilbo’s. Bilbo examined the pile of letters.
“What on earth are these?” Bilbo exclaimed.
“Replies to the party invitations.” Frodo replied.
“Oh! Good gracious! Is it today?” Bilbo said, a bit bashful, that he forgot that today was his 111th birthday party.
“They all said they’re coming. Except for the Sackville-Bagginses; they’re demanding you ask them in person.” Frodo added.
“Are they, indeed? Over my dead body.” Bilbo exclaimed.
“They’d probably find that quite agreeable! They seem to think you have tunnels overflowing with gold.” Frodo smiled.
“It was one small chest, hardly overflowing. And it still smells of troll.” Bilbo said, a bit defensively.
Bilbo started hiding his valuables in chests, jars, vases, and other inconspicuous places.
“What on earth are you doing?” Frodo asked, bewildered at what his uncle was doing
“Taking precautions. You know, I caught her making off with the silverware once.” Bilbo said, as he stuffed a few coins into a vase.
“Who?” Frodo asked.
“Lobelia Sackville-Baggins. She had all my spoons stuffed in her pockets. Hah! Dreadful woman; make sure you keep an eye on her after I’m ... when I’m ... when I’m...” Bilbo said, before he trailed off in thought.
“When you’re...what?” Frodo asked, a bit concerned for his old uncle.
“It’s nothing. Nothing.” Bilbo lied.
Bilbo looked at some papers on a table.
“You know, some people are beginning to wonder about you, Uncle. They think you’re becoming odd.” Frodo began awkwardly, hoping to stray from that topic with his uncle.
“Odd? Hmm.” Bilbo said, thought
“Unsociable.” Frodo corrected.
“Unsociable? Me? Nonsense. Be a good lad and put that on the gate.” Bilbo handed Frodo a sign he’s made; Frodo looked at it dubiously.
Going outside, Frodo nailed the sign to the gate of Bag End. It said, “NO ADMITTANCE EXCEPT ON PARTY BUSINESS.” Bilbo came outside and stretched.
“You think he’ll come?” Frodo asked
“Who?” Bilbo asked, unaware.
“Gandalf.” Frodo responded.
“Ahhh. He wouldn’t miss a chance to light up his whiz-poppers! He’ll give us quite a show, you’ll see.” Bilbo smiled.
“Alright then, I’m off.” Frodo grinned.
“Off to where?” Bilbo asked his nephew.
“East Farthing woods. I’m going to surprise him.” Frodo smiled.
“Well, go on then! You don’t want to be late.” Bilbo sighed.
As Frodo ran off. Bilbo sat on a bench outside his door, smoking his pipe; he blew out a large smoke ring which floated into the sky.
“He doesn’t approve of being late. Not that I ever was. In those days, I was always on time. I was entirely respectable. And nothing unexpected ever happened.”
“That, my dear Frodo, is where I come in. For quite by chance, and the will of a Wizard, fate decided I would become part of this tale. It began, well, it began as you might expect. In a hole in the ground, there lived a Hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, full of worms and oozy smells; this was a Hobbit-hole, and that means good food, a warm hearth, and all the comforts of home.”
Frodo, eating an apple, walked out of Bag End and picked up the mail from the mailbox. He returned inside and gave the mail to Bilbo. Bilbo, who was laughing while writing in his book, quickly quieted down as Frodo approached him.
“Thank you.” Bilbo said, absentmindedly.
Frodo picked up the picture of a young Bilbo.
“What’s this?” Frodo asked, curiously, as he examined the picture.
Bilbo grabs back the picture. “That is private. Keep your sticky paws off. It’s not ready yet.”
“Not ready for what?” Frodo asked, curious at why his uncle was being secretive.
“Reading.”
Frodo picked up and examined some old object of Bilbo’s. Bilbo examined the pile of letters.
“What on earth are these?” Bilbo exclaimed.
“Replies to the party invitations.” Frodo replied.
“Oh! Good gracious! Is it today?” Bilbo said, a bit bashful, that he forgot that today was his 111th birthday party.
“They all said they’re coming. Except for the Sackville-Bagginses; they’re demanding you ask them in person.” Frodo added.
“Are they, indeed? Over my dead body.” Bilbo exclaimed.
“They’d probably find that quite agreeable! They seem to think you have tunnels overflowing with gold.” Frodo smiled.
“It was one small chest, hardly overflowing. And it still smells of troll.” Bilbo said, a bit defensively.
Bilbo started hiding his valuables in chests, jars, vases, and other inconspicuous places.
“What on earth are you doing?” Frodo asked, bewildered at what his uncle was doing
“Taking precautions. You know, I caught her making off with the silverware once.” Bilbo said, as he stuffed a few coins into a vase.
“Who?” Frodo asked.
“Lobelia Sackville-Baggins. She had all my spoons stuffed in her pockets. Hah! Dreadful woman; make sure you keep an eye on her after I’m ... when I’m ... when I’m...” Bilbo said, before he trailed off in thought.
“When you’re...what?” Frodo asked, a bit concerned for his old uncle.
“It’s nothing. Nothing.” Bilbo lied.
Bilbo looked at some papers on a table.
“You know, some people are beginning to wonder about you, Uncle. They think you’re becoming odd.” Frodo began awkwardly, hoping to stray from that topic with his uncle.
“Odd? Hmm.” Bilbo said, thought
“Unsociable.” Frodo corrected.
“Unsociable? Me? Nonsense. Be a good lad and put that on the gate.” Bilbo handed Frodo a sign he’s made; Frodo looked at it dubiously.
Going outside, Frodo nailed the sign to the gate of Bag End. It said, “NO ADMITTANCE EXCEPT ON PARTY BUSINESS.” Bilbo came outside and stretched.
“You think he’ll come?” Frodo asked
“Who?” Bilbo asked, unaware.
“Gandalf.” Frodo responded.
“Ahhh. He wouldn’t miss a chance to light up his whiz-poppers! He’ll give us quite a show, you’ll see.” Bilbo smiled.
“Alright then, I’m off.” Frodo grinned.
“Off to where?” Bilbo asked his nephew.
“East Farthing woods. I’m going to surprise him.” Frodo smiled.
“Well, go on then! You don’t want to be late.” Bilbo sighed.
As Frodo ran off. Bilbo sat on a bench outside his door, smoking his pipe; he blew out a large smoke ring which floated into the sky.
“He doesn’t approve of being late. Not that I ever was. In those days, I was always on time. I was entirely respectable. And nothing unexpected ever happened.”