There And Back Again, Again.

I don't own the Hobbit, though I am in possession of a rather nice Gandalf fridge magnet.

In a hole there lived a hobbit, and he'd lived there before.

This hobbit, anyone would tell you, was quite mad. He had been ever since he was a young hobbitling, and gave no inkling now as a fully grown adult of changing his ways. You could blame it on the Took blood inside him.

It was best you tried your hardest to keep your children away, for he could not possibly be anything other than a bad influence, and the young ones tended to gravitate towards that sort of person. He had a nice big house, and was always dressed in the finest of clothes, but he was everything but respectable. This was the hobbit that was the talk of all the Shire, for he was well known for his odd ways. Often he would disappear for long periods of time and come back richer and stranger than ever before.

This hobbit was none other than Bilbo Baggins of Bag-End. There was very little Baggins in him though, and he brought new meaning to the name Took, which was the name from his mother.

Bilbo had always been different from other youngsters when he was little, a bit more adventurous, you might say. Things changed though, quite suddenly one lovely spring morning, when nothing else peculiar was to be noted, when Bilbo Baggins shed himself of any normality he had ever possessed and proceeded to stamp its remains into the ground. The day the boy had been seen running up and down and around the hills, shouting some nonsense about how everyone should run while they could, for arthritis took the joy out of such things when you grew old.

From then on you would often see him trailing mud and twigs, swinging that wooden sword of his, and climbing trees. If you were to ask him what he was doing you would get no straight answer: he spoke in riddles which would leave many a hobbit utterly confused or else give a question as a reply. God forbid you ever wished him a good morning. Most hobbits quickly learnt their lesson on that topic, but for a few poor souls that kind of greeting simply slips out, even before they get a chance to fully realise to whom they are speaking.

After Bilbo reached of age you could find you saw very little of him some years. It was rumoured he went to stay with elves, walked the Blue Mountains to meet dwarves, went as far as the lands of men, even. He would tell you about his journeys if you wanted to know, but most of those who did were children and with children comes a tendency to exaggerate and modify stories to their own liking and expectations, so what really did happen and what most definitely did not was considered greatly uncertain.

The people of Hobbiton were only glad that he didn't bring any more strange people like himself back with him from his travels as such. Or at least, they had been glad, up until the night strange people really did come around asking the way to Mr Baggins and Bag-End...

The day before that night Bilbo himself was sitting in his garden outside his house and smoking his pipe, thinking of dragons of all things.

It was a fine day, and Bilbo planned to stay where he was for many hours if it proved necessary. He was waiting for someone you see, and when one has had as much practice waiting for something as he, you tend to get rather good at it.

Bilbo had waited whole days out in the sunshine over the last few weeks so as not to miss this someone, but as luck would have it he would not need wait for many hours this day. This day would be the last time he sat outside his house for quite a long while in fact.

The someone was a very strange someone, very strange indeed, and got many odd looks from those who did not remember him, and even from those who did, on his way through the quiet town of Hobbiton. He had not been visiting in these parts for many years, he had not had purpose to since his friend the Old Took had died, and was completely unsurprised to find that nothing much had changed. Change came slowly in the Shire, if it came at all.

Hobbits were simple folk, easily pleased with good food and cheer, and they had a love of things that grow. They lived in comfort, happy in the security of their own homes where every day was much like the next, content to ignore and be ignored by others.

Gandalf the grey could admire the hobbits way of life, no matter how sheltered that life could be. He liked the quaint ways by which they went, though he would admit to himself the more adventurous of their lot were always favourites of his. Hobbits had a peace about them that most other races in the world would never manage to hold for more than a few years, with the most grievous of their disagreements being squabbles between family. He sometimes worried over what would become of them if ever war was brought to the Shire, for they were gentle folk and most all would neither be able to fight nor fend for themselves. But no, now was not time to think of that. Now, all was well.

Except he had the matter of a quest to attend to, a quest that would take him through places where all was most definitely not well. And by not well he meant had problems of dragon proportions.

When Thorin Oakenshield had first asked him to find a fourteenth member for the company he had immediately decided in his mind that he would not be bringing another dwarf. There would be times on their journey when he would undoubtedly have to leave them, and when he did he believed it would be better for there to be someone who was not dwarf to keep things in some kind of order: he knew how dwarves could be. Stubborn folk, not to be counted among the very wise, especially when gold and precious things were involved. No, not a dwarf, for the company's good and for the sake of his sanity. He could not choose an elf either, that would go down b-...on second thoughts it would be terribly amusing, wouldn't it?...No. No. No elves. A man then, but who?

He had pondered for some time. Men too had their faults and weaknesses when it came to money and power, he wished to choose someone who had no care for such things, someone who would be able to keep a clear mind through the attempts to reach the mountain. They should be able to see what was madness and pointless recklessness, what was worth the risk and what was not, someone who would sit back and think. ...Someone like a hobbit.

Now there was an idea. A hobbit. Hobbits cared not for fame and glory, they didn't seek power, nor were they likely to lose their senses when it came to gold. And while some, like dwarves, were not considered the sharpest out there, he had known a good few quick minds among them. Yes...why not?

Of course there were many reasons why not. They didn't fight, barely ever left home and never went very far away even if they did. And while the fact of not wanting piles of gold was an up it also meant there was no reason to agree to coming along on the quest apart from what goodness lay in the heart. Hobbits were kind folk, but to journey far away and put their lives at risk for strangers on kindness alone seemed much to ask. Few would go willingly.

A Took, he would need, and a particularly adventurous one at that. Belladonna immediately came to mind.

But she was gone.

...She had a son though. A son that had been very much an adventurous hobbitling last he had seen him. A nice child, curious, had a good head on his shoulders. Bilbo Baggins. Still living at Bag-End most probably.

...Maybe? He could try. Nothing wrong with trying afterall. ...Yes, why not?

He would pass by Bag-End and see if the hobbit was up for it. Yes, he would.

When Gandalf had began to near Hobbiton he had started to have his worries. He had not set eyes on Belladonna's son in years, for all he knew the boy had changed when he grew, my-! He must be fifty now! How time slipped away!

...He just hoped that the boy he remembered was still there, the one that had gone off searching for elves in the wood and had come back covered in mud, for now that he had thought of Bilbo Baggins he could not let the idea lie: his mind had become quite set.

"Gandalf."

The golden haired hobbit that had to be Bilbo Baggins nodded in greeting before taking a long draw of his pipe.

"Whatever can I do for you this fine day?"

There was a sparkle in those eyes, a liveliness that could not be mistaken. Very Tookish indeed.

Gandalf smiled.

He did believe he had found the very person he had been looking for.

This is timetravel, but with not much worrying about sticking to timelines and messing things up, as in: Bilbo is going to do what he wants, when he wants, how he wants, in all likelihood scaring a lot of people along the way. This might gain some sort of plot, it might turn very silly, I'm not sure yet, we'll just have to see.

Update: I have not disappeared off on an adventure, life just happened and this is not abandoned (never!). I don't know when I will be able to get the next chapter done, but I hope it will be soon. Sorry!