A/N: Surprise, it's me. A long time, I know. A lot happened, but I won't bore you all with the details, because you came for the story. Onward!

One: Second Prelude

Frodo was sitting beneath a brilliantly green tree in the Eastfarthing of the Shire, reading a book, when he heard someone singing. He looked up, and then jumped to his feet, smiling when he recognized the voice and racing toward the road.

Gandalf only loosely held the reins of his wagon as it trundled through the fields while he sang. "Down from the door where it began… And I must follow if I can… The road goes ever on and on, Down from the door where it began, Now far ahead the road has gone, And I must follow if I can…" He stopped as the hobbit ran up to the roadside.

Frodo crossed his arms and said, "You're late."

"A wizard is never late, Frodo Baggins," he said resolutely, "Nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to." He gave Frodo with a stern look, then softened with laughter.

Frodo jumped into the Maia's arms with a cry of "It's wonderful to see you, Gandalf!"

"You didn't think I'd miss your Uncle Bilbo's birthday?"

The hobbit swung down to sit next to him on the seat, sighing happily. The wizard pulled his pipe from his robes and began smoking, snapping the reins to spur the horse into motion. "So, how is the old rascal? I hear it's going to be a party of special magnificence."

"You know Bilbo," Frodo chuckled, "He's got the whole place in an uproar."

"Well, that should please him."

"Half the Shire's been invited. And the rest of them are turning up anyway."

Both of them laughed at that, the wagon rolling past Hobbits hard at work in the fields, then over a small stone bridge over a stream and into the Hobbiton town square, making their way towards Bag End. At last, Frodo continued, "To tell you the truth, Bilbo's been a bit odd lately. I mean, more than usual." When he noticed that the wizard was listening intently, he went on, "He's taken to locking himself in his study. He spends hours and hours poring over old maps when he thinks I'm not looking. He's up to something."

Gandalf hummed and gave Frodo a sideways glance. The hobbit glanced back at him, waiting for him to answer, but the wizard just looked away, acting uncomprehending.

"All right, then. Keep your secrets."

"What?"

"I know you have something to do with it."

"Good gracious me," said the wizard.

"Before you came along, we Bagginses were very well thought of," the hobbit said with mock sternness, "Never had any adventures or did anything unexpected."

"If you're referring to the incident with the dragon, I was barely involved," said the wizard, "All I did was give your uncle a little nudge out of the door."

"We all know that's a load of shit, Gandalf."

Frodo whipped around at the unexpected voice from the back of the wagon. A tall elfin figure was lying in the back atop the covered contents, dark hair spread over the tarp. "You threw a dwarf dance party at his house without his permission," he continued without opening his eyes.

"Uncle Gostir!" the hobbit said delightedly, grinning widely at the sight of him, "You're back!"

"So I am," he hummed.

They rattled past a hobbit hole with a grumpy hobbit working in the garden. The hobbit's grumpiness did nothing to dissuade the hobbit children that ran after the wagon, cheering. They whined in disappointment as he drove along, pretending not to notice them. But then a blast of fireworks went off from the rear of the wagon, barely stirring the elf. The hobbit children clapped their hands and cheered, making the wizard chuckle.

"Gandalf?" Frodo began, "I'm glad you're back."

"So am I, dear boy! So am I."

Frodo jumped from the carriage and bade farewell to the wizard and elf, who continued on to Bag End. Gandalf stopped in front of the gate, where a sign declared, 'No Admittance Except on Party Business.' He swung down and walked up to the door, knocking on it with his staff while the elf hopped down from the back.

From inside, a wavering voice shouted, "No thank you! We don't want any more visitors, well-wishers, or distant relations!"

"And what about very old friends?" the wizard called.

There was shuffling from within, and then Bilbo – stooped and withered and using a cane but still strong enough – pulled open the door. "Gandalf?"

"Bilbo Baggins!" the wizard said cheerfully, and knelt to embrace him.

"My dear Gandalf!" he replied, and stepped into his arms.

"Good to see you. One hundred and eleven years old! Who would believe it?" He pulled back and examined the lines of age heavy on the hobbit's face, smiling sadly.

Bilbo returned the smile with equal sadness. When he spotted Gostir, his smile both brightened and faded all at once: happy to see him, but knowing why he left – and what he'd brought back with him. The elderly hobbit ushered them all inside and closed the door behind them. It was only then that the dark-haired elf knelt before him, amber eyes nearly glowing in the dim light of the entryway.

They stared into one another's eyes for several long minutes. Then at last they embraced tightly, Bilbo shivering in the dragon's arms. He could feel the touch of the Ring, concealed somewhere on his person, but Gostir – Smaug – was stronger than it, for the moment at least. He would hold it, until it was time. Even so, the dragon said, "It is only for a month."

"I know."

"I will be with you the entire time." Then, with possessiveness characteristic of dragons when speaking of their hoards, "I will not let it take you from me."

"I know," Bilbo said again, but still he shuddered and shied away as soon as he could.

Gostir straightened, and hung up his cloak and Gandalf's hat, moving with surprising ease despite having to stoop to fit his tall frame in the smial.

"Tea?" Bilbo called back to them, already shuffling towards the kitchen, "Or maybe something a little stronger? I've got a few bottles of the Old Winyard left; 1296, very good year. Almost as old as I am! Hahaha! It was laid down by my father. What say we open one, eh?"

"Just tea, thank you," Gandalf called after him.

"I do not think it wise for me to become intoxicated so soon after my return," the dragon hummed from somewhere else inside the smial, doubtless his little hoard-room in the far back of the hill, where he hid the treasures he couldn't bear to part with. "I will have tea, also. I miss Earl Grey, though."

"So do I, Gostir," Bilbo responded, bustling around the kitchen as much as he could at his age, "And I was expecting you two sometime last week. Not that it matters. You both come and go as you please, always have and always will. You caught me a bit unprepared, I'm afraid. We've got cold chicken and a bit of pickle… there's some cheese here. - Oh, no it won't do. We've got raspberry jam, an apple tart… But not much for afters – Oh, no, we're all right. I've just found some sponge cake. I could make you some eggs if you'd like- Oh. Gandalf? Gostir?" He limped back into the study to look for the wizard and dragon.

Gandalf peered into the study from the kitchen behind Bilbo. "Just tea, thank you," he repeated.

"Oh, right," the hobbit said, nodding, "You don't mind if I eat, do you? I only have the appetite for small snacks now, so I try to eat as often as I can."

"No, not at all," the wizard answered.

"Even if you're not hungry, you should force yourself to eat." Gostir intentionally made noise when he rejoined them in the kitchen after ascertaining that none of his treasure had been tampered with. Bilbo's heart wasn't what it used to be. "You have a long journey ahead of you," he continued.

"I know that!" the hobbit protested, tapping the dragon on the chest with his cane, "But I'm old, Gostir. My body isn't what it used to be."

"Is that Lobelia?"

There was sharp rapping on the door of the smial, and a woman's shrill voice reached their ears. "Bilbo! Bilbo Baggins!" she demanded, even as the hobbit in question scrambled to hide himself behind the dragon, "I know you're in there!"

"I'm not at home!" he gasped, "It's the Sackville-Bagginses. They're after the house. They've never forgiven me for living this long, even in the state I'm in now. I've got to get away from these confounded relatives hanging on the bell all day. They never give me a moment's peace! I want to see mountains again. Mountains, Gandalf! And then go back to Rivendell so I can finish my book. Oh, tea!" Bilbo hobbled over to the hearth with a potholder and lifted the water off the fire, turning to carry it to the table before Gostir took it from his hands.

"You mean to go through with your plan, then," said Gandalf, lifting the lid of the teapot so Gostir could pour the water inside.

"Yes, yes. It's all in hand. All the arrangements are made. The others should be right behind you."

"Frodo suspects something."

"Of course he does; he's a Baggins!" the elderly hobbit hmphed, "Not some block-headed Bracegirdle from Hardbottle. "

"You will tell him, won't you?" the wizard asked, "He's very fond of you."

"I know. He'd probably come with me if I asked him. Maybe even if I didn't, the way he mothers me. But I think in his heart, Frodo's still in love with the Shire. The woods, the fields. Little rivers. I am old, Gandalf. This time I look it, and I can feel it in my heart." His eyes strayed to the dragon before he realized what he was doing. When he noticed, he quickly looked away, accepting the cup of tea from Gostir. "I need a holiday. A very long holiday. And I don't expect I shall return. In fact, I mean not to."

Eventually, the three of them retired to sit outside Bag End in the light of the setting sun, wizard and hobbit with pipes in their mouths. The smial looked out over the field where the party was to be held, tents being raised and lanterns lit as the daylight faded.

"Old Toby. The finest weed in the Southfarthing," Bilbo hummed, "I never understood why people smoked in the Old World until I started doing it here."

"Nicotine addiction."

"I know that, too, Gostir," the hobbit chuckled, "but it's one thing to know it with your mind. It's another thing entirely to experience it for yourself. Have you tried…?"

"A few times. It doesn't affect me."

"That's a shame. I'm sure this is better than anything we had then." He blew a ring of smoke.

Gandalf smiled and exhaled a ship of smoke, sending it sailing through the smoke ring that Bilbo made.

"Gandalf, Gostir, my old friends, this will be a night to remember."