The so-called expedition naturally referred to the quest to reclaim the Lonely Mountain.
Soon, Gandalf explained what had transpired when he met Thorin in Bree, as well as his strategic concerns about Erebor in the North, speaking freely without worrying whether Garrett could fully understand it.
Clearly, he regarded Garrett as one of his closest allies, otherwise he wouldn't have revealed everything so candidly.
"Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thráin, heir to the title of King under the Mountain, has already assembled a company of dwarves in the Blue Mountains and is making his way here. We agreed to meet at the burglar's home and journey to the Lonely Mountain together to reclaim the Arkenstone. With the Arkenstone in hand, he can summon the armies of the Seven Dwarf Houses and launch a full assault on the dragon, retaking Erebor."
"That plan doesn't sound bad," Garrett replied simply.
Yes, that was the original plan for the Lonely Mountain expedition, but judging from what he knew of how things would unfold... there were more than a few complications ahead.
Gandalf nodded and continued, "I don't know if you've heard tales of it, but within the halls of Erebor, the treasure hoarded by Smaug is piled as high as mountains. If you're willing to join our company and help the dwarves reclaim their homeland, one-fifteenth of that treasure shall be your reward."
According to his observations, although Garrett sometimes acted like himself, fighting against evil for the sake of the Free Peoples without expecting anything in return, he wasn't entirely without practical needs. He had his own stronghold, and perhaps in the future, many folk to protect and govern.
Therefore, offering him proper compensation was still appropriate.
As for Gandalf himself, he never counted himself among those seeking reward. Being able to thwart a great evil was payment enough for him.
"I agree to join."
Only upon hearing those words did he finally let out a breath of relief, as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders.
With Garrett's formidable strength added to their fellowship, this expedition had far better chances of success.
"Then it's settled," Gandalf said at once, eager to secure the arrangement before Garrett might reconsider.
"On the evening of April 25th, we'll meet at Bag End in Hobbiton. Don't worry about finding it, I'll leave a mark upon the door. There will be a feast that evening."
"All right, I'll remember that."
Seeing Gandalf behave as though everything had already been arranged made Garrett feel somewhat sorry for Bilbo. But alongside that sympathy, he also found it rather amusing, his honest and peaceful hobbit friend was in for quite an evening in a few days' time.
Although the slightly amused expression on Garrett's face puzzled Gandalf somewhat, he quickly dismissed the minor oddity and prepared to depart immediately for the Shire.
There were many hobbits in the Shire, but one in particular from the Took family line, known for their adventurous spirit, had left a deep impression on him. Though, judging by the years that had passed, he could hardly be called a "young hobbit" anymore.
He was the one.
While Gandalf was away, Garrett prepared his inventory, storing away loose building materials to free up space, and organizing supplies and provisions.
Golden apples, healing potions, lembas, several bundles of food and fodder blocks to last many weeks, armor, weapons, tools, arrows... and various essential supplies for the road ahead.
Before long, his inventory slots were nearly full.
After preparing his traveling gear, he tended to his stronghold, waited another two days, and then set off on horseback. Mainly because he didn't want his horse running too swiftly and arriving awkwardly before Gandalf had properly set things in motion.
A few days passed quickly.
---
One bright morning in the Shire, at Hobbiton, Bilbo, holding his pipe, greeted the strange old man standing before his round green door.
"Good morning!"
"What do you mean?" the old man looked Bilbo over carefully and asked, "Do you mean to wish me a good morning, or that it is a good morning whether I want it or not, or that you feel good this morning? Or perhaps you simply mean this is a morning to be good on?"
"All of them at once, I suppose."
Bilbo thought this old fellow was growing stranger by the moment. Suddenly appearing at his doorstep, disturbing his peaceful morning routine, and then playing word games.
Hopefully he didn't want anything bothersome.
"I'm looking for someone join an adventure..."
Adventure?
Bilbo blinked in surprise.
Something like what Garrett had spoken of? Oh, that did sound interesting. So this old man was fond of adventures. But that certainly had nothing whatsoever to do with him.
"From Bree to the borders of the Shire, I don't think you'll find anyone interested in adventures. Nasty disturbing uncomfortable things! Make you late for dinner! You've come to the wrong place. Though I do have a friend who's an excellent cook and does enjoy adventures, but that's certainly not me. If I encounter him, I'll mention it to you."
"Good day!" he said, planning to retreat swiftly into his home to escape the peculiar old man.
Until Gandalf started pulling the family card.
"You do know me, you simply don't recognize the name. I'm Gandalf! And Gandalf means... me. Bilbo Baggins! You've changed, and not entirely for the better. You weren't like this when you were a young hobbit... Well... I suppose that settles it then."
Gandalf nodded, not waiting for Bilbo's agreement, he had already decided on Bilbo's behalf.
Slam.
After a bit of verbal sparring, Gandalf found himself successfully shut outside. Bilbo had locked the door from within to prevent the wizard from bothering him further.
Scraaaape.
He heard an odd scratching noise from outside.
At that moment, Gandalf's staff turned into something like a laser pointer, carving a symbol resembling the letter F on the door.
---
Bilbo's peace lasted only for that single day.
That evening, just as he had finished frying a fine fish and was about to enjoy his supper, a heavy knock came at the door.
"Dwalin, at your service."
"Ah... um, Bilbo Baggins, at your service," Bilbo quickly straightened his waistcoat and returned the greeting.
Before long, Dwalin was helping himself to the dinner Bilbo had prepared for himself.
"It's just that... I wasn't expecting company this evening..."
Ding-dong!
"That would be the door," Dwalin said cheerfully, as if this were perfectly normal.
"Balin, at your service."
A short while later...
"Fíli!"
"And Kíli!"
"At your service!"
"You must be Master Baggins!"
"No! You can't come in, you've come to the wrong house!" Bilbo was beginning to realize something was terribly amiss.
"Please! That's my mother's glory box, could you not do that?!"
But the chest still couldn't escape being used as a boot scraper by the young dwarves.
"Master Baggins, you have quite fine taste. This blade is of dwarvish make, excellent craftsmanship, worth a pretty penny."
Swish.
The sword was drawn and given a few swings, causing Bilbo to stumble backward in alarm.
"Please don't touch that! That was a gift from Garrett! Put it back where it belongs!"
"Garrett? That name does sound familiar somehow."
Ding-dong!
The bell interrupted their conversation. Bilbo, now slightly irritated, opened the door, and was utterly thunderstruck when an entire crowd of dwarves came tumbling in.
Looking up, he saw the tall form of the grey wizard ducking through his doorway.
"Gandalf."
And so, a raucous feast unfolded within the cozy confines of Bag End. As Bilbo watched his well-stocked pantry slowly being emptied of provisions, he grew so vexed he felt lightheaded.
To make matters considerably worse, the dwarves even improvised a song specifically to tease him about breaking his dishes, leaving him entirely speechless.
"There's still one more member of our company who hasn't arrived, our leader," one of the dwarves suddenly remembered.
"No, two more, actually. The other fellow hasn't shown up either," Gandalf added, glancing repeatedly toward the window.
He will come, won't he?
The merry feast continued until the bell rang yet again.
"Thorin."
"Gandalf... I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way twice."
Dwarves, hobbit, and wizard, soon they were all gathered around the table, discussing the details of their proposed expedition. Even though they still hoped Garrett might arrive, the conversation had begun in earnest, and Gandalf felt compelled to proceed.
Fortunately, not much later...
Ding-dong!
Everyone turned toward the door, then glanced expectantly at Bilbo, signaling him to answer it.
Gandalf quietly exhaled in relief.
"Oh, very well. Hopefully it's not another unexpected visitor this time."
Creak.
A figure stepped slowly inside, clad in black armor, draped in a tattered linen cloak soaked in the blood of some unknown creature, the scent of blood still lingering faintly on him.
As he crossed the threshold, the very light inside the room seemed to dim, as if the armor had absorbed it.
This person... is dangerous!
Clatter.
The dwarves immediately reached for whatever weapons came to hand, some grabbed eating knives, others found walking sticks, one even brandished a carving fork from the table. Several took defensive positions and one dwarf stepped forward as if to pull Bilbo to safety.
In an instant, the entire company was prepared for battle.
But unlike the dwarves, Bilbo's face lit up with joy.
"Garrett!"
He spread his arms and, for the first time that evening, a smile bloomed across his face.
"Oh, this is the most wonderful thing to happen all day! Welcome, my dear friend! Ha! I truly didn't expect to see you tonight. As you can see..."
He turned around, intending to introduce the dwarves and Gandalf to his friend, but was startled by the scene of armed dwarves behind him.
"What in Middle-earth are you all doing?"