Yup....it's official....
It's my BRAND NEW FIC!!!!
Those of you that wish to, may flee in terror now. Disclaimer: I do not own this stuff. Do I look like the guy that wrote LOTR? ...Do I even look like a GUY!?! (deathglares for the first person to say yes)
Bilbo Baggins sat down, leaning against the sturdy tree next to which he'd made his little campfire, and sighed in relief.
Peace and quiet at last!
The Shire was a wonderful place to live in, no doubts there, but all those confoundable relations snapping at his heels, unable to let a poor old Hobbit spend his life quietly; no, it was all the better that he leave the Shire altogether. Not that Bilbo had had much of a taste for peace and quiet since his adventure with the dwarfs.
Even at the grand old age of eleventy-one, Bilbo Baggins was still more comfortable roaming about with his sword Sting at his side and his pipe in his pocket then he was sitting at home reading the daily letters and sipping his eleven o'clock tea. Frodo was going to get all that life, though; and Bilbo wondered how long it would take them all to realize he had left Bag-End as a Birthday present to his beloved nephew.
'None of them will, I shouldn't doubt,' Bilbo thought to himself as he sipped some cold tea he had brought with him, 'Indeed, Bag End is a marvelous gift - and I'll never see any Sackville-Bagginses in it while I'm still able to do something about the matter!'
The night was young and warm, and the moon was full, so Bilbo pulled out the ink and quill he had thought to bring, and his book, and set to writing it. He sat and thought and wrote for quite some while, and had just gotten to the song of the dwarves - the mocking one, not the one about treasure, which still ruffled his feathers whenever Bilbo thought about it - when he heard a strange noise.
It was a sort of thumming sound, and a rattling sound, and there was a deep sort of voice in there also. Warily, Bilbo set aside his papers and brought forward Sting. The sword was dull, though, so it wasn't Orcs.
'No, it will probably be spiders and goblins, and here am I without my old ring,' Bilbo thought to himself as he crept towards the sound nevertheless.
The thought of his ring made Bilbo all at once immediately very curious if Frodo was going to take good care of it. It even crossed Bilbo's mind that leaving it in the Shire was a big mistake and he should rush home and retrieve it at once - as it could, quite conceivably to Bilbo's mind, end up as some fool Took's present the next time Frodo's Birthday came by - and Bilbo was about to do just that, ignoring the warnings of Gandalf and common sense in a single swoop - for Bilbo was very far to the South of Bag End, and nearly out of the Shire altogether, far from the main roads, and it was never sensible to ignore the warnings of wizards when you have made them upset, for Bilbo had indeed greatly upset Gandalf when he tried to take the ring with him on his holiday - but what he saw beyond the next tree and bush drove all these dark lingering thoughts from his mind completely.
There was a deer-track running through the stand, and it was covered in soft grass that shown under the moonlight. It ran straight and clear from east to west, and was in fact once an old path that elves once took to reach the sea, although there were no elves left on the eastern end of the trail to go into the West when Bilbo found it.
And coming down the track Bilbo saw a huge furry beast, one that looked much like a wolf. It was a wolf, as a matter of fact, and it was traveling along the path; the rattling sounds had been the branches of the shrubs as it pushed onto the track.
The thrumming and the voice were the same thing, for the wolf was singing a strange song to itself.
"Baroom Barram Baroom Barro/
Sun and sea and mountains flow/
Baroom Barram Baroom Barre/
The feet of deer are hard to sway/
Baroom Barram Baroom Barri/
A bird that flies falls out of the sky/
Baroom Barram Baroom Barra/
A little rabbit …"
Bilbo started when the wolf's head turned towards him.
"I say, my good little man," the wolf said, "I can't think of an ending for this line. Perhaps you could think of something? It must be about rabbits."
Bilbo stepped forwards into the light, fear and uncertainty giving way to indignation now.
.
"I am not a Man, Sir Wolf," Bilbo Baggins said crossly, "Bilbo Baggins is my name, and I am a Hobbit of good family, who hails from the Shire, upon which we are currently standing."
"My pardon then," the wolf said with a dip of its huge, shaggy head, "Now then. My Good Little Hobbit, what of the line?"
"I am not quite sure of the line," Bilbo said, wondering what someone stumbling over this little scene would think of it, "I am not sure what sort of song you are making, to begin with. Secondly, I do not even know your name."
"I sing songs for their fun, not for their reasoning," the wolf said, "And I am not one to be called 'Sir', though I cannot say that it is not often that I am called 'Wolf'. But I have been called Ranhaudh, and I am the Hunter's son."
"Very well, Ranhaudh," Bilbo said, and furrowed his brow in concentration.
"Perhaps… 'A little rabbit dances far', though I do not know if the line is any good."
"Baroom Barram Baroom Barra/
A little rabbit dances far," Sang Ranhaudh.
"Unfortunately, it is late and I am going to go to bed," Bilbo said, "And tomorrow I am going to be off, though I know not where. I am on holiday, you see."
"Well then, if you know not where you are going, then neither do I," Ranhaudh said as he followed Bilbo back to where his little fire was smoldering, "So what would you say if we two singers went where we know not together?"
"I have a general idea of where I will end up," Bilbo hastily corrected, "And I am certain you must have some business."
.
"None! I go and do what and where I please," Ranhaudh said as he sat next to the ashes of the fire, "And if Bilbo Baggins of esteemed family wishes to go through to the Lonely Mountain again, company could only help."
"You know of the Lonely Mountain?"
"Not personally," Ranhaudh admitted, "But you carry several things that smell like dwarves, and like a dragon, and like elves as well for that matter. Three different kinds of elves, as a matter of fact."
"Quite extraordinary," Bilbo said, "Well then, you are welcome to come along, although I do not carry much in the way of provisions."
.
"I can find my own meals, if I should become hungry, but I doubt I shall be," Ranhaudh said.
Most, upon hearing this statement, would have been taken with great apprehension by it. Bilbo was not an exception, but when he took a look at his new companion he found the giant wolf asleep, snoring and rolled onto his back like an old family dog. In truth, Ranhaudh was not particularly fearsome to behold, but appeared instead like a shaggy dog who only happened to be slightly wolfish in appearance and was also the size of a pony.
Bilbo put no more thought to the matter as he went to sleep under his blankets.