In November of the Third Age, 2939, during an ordinary winter, an unforeseen expedition began from Hobbiton.
The Shire, Hobbiton
That morning, Bilbo Baggins sat very happily at his doorstep, a pipe in his mouth, closing his eyes to comfortably enjoy the peace.
He was completely off his guard when he saw an old man leaning on a staff, wearing a pointed blue hat.
Bilbo Baggins greeted him happily, "Good morning, Gandalf."
He meant it with all sincerity.
The sun was shining, and the grass was exceptionally green.
Gandalf's eyes stared intently at Bilbo from under his long eyebrows. He was about to say something, but Bilbo spoke first, "I am both wishing you a good morning and stating that it is a good morning whether you want it or not. I also feel that this morning is very comfortable and a morning worth enjoying."
Gandalf's expression froze, and he closed his mouth.
A triumphant expression appeared on Bilbo's face, and he even raised his eyebrows with a hint of provocation.
Gandalf cleared his throat. "It seems our hobbit is very good at mimicry, but you cannot use the words I spoke to you last time against me."
Bilbo shrugged. "But if I hadn't said it, you were clearly about to repeat what you said last time."
Gandalf feigned innocence. "Perhaps, perhaps not."
Bilbo blinked cutely. "Then perhaps I should change my phrasing? You can also understand 'good morning' to mean that it's a morning very suitable for smoking a pipe outside one's front door."
He then glanced at Gandalf's waist, noticed his pipe, and smiled. "Aha, since you've brought your pipe, why not sit down and fill it with some of my tobacco? There's no hurry; we have all day to waste."
After speaking, Bilbo put the pipe back in his mouth, took a deep puff, and crossed his legs.
He blew a beautiful smoke ring that floated up into the sky, not breaking, and drifted over the Hill.
Gandalf gently tapped the ground with his staff. The smoke ring that had drifted over the Hill suddenly turned into a smoke butterfly, which fluttered its wings and flew right into Bilbo's nostrils.
"Oh!" Bilbo coughed a few times and looked at Gandalf with dissatisfaction.
Gandalf stood his ground. "You blow very fine smoke rings, Bilbo. But I have no time to sit here and waste the morning with you."
Bilbo sighed. "So what have you come to see me for this time, Gandalf? Last time, after you asked me about Tarnes, you left in such a hurry you wouldn't even stay for a meal."
Gandalf narrowed his eyes, adopting a kind demeanor, and said with a smile, "Bilbo Baggins, I am looking for someone to share in an adventure that I am arranging, and it's very difficult to find anyone. But as luck would have it, I met a hobbit last time who told me he wanted to see the world."
"Oh," Bilbo frowned, put down his pipe, and stood up, fiddling with the hem of his clothes.
He cleared his throat and inconspicuously shifted his bare feet. "Well, isn't that something?. An adventure, eh? What restless fellow would want an adventure? It's a nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable thing! I can't imagine why anyone would want one."
Bilbo stuck his thumbs into his suspenders while pulling out the overflowing letters from his mailbox, his eyes quickly scanning one letter after another, pretending to ignore Gandalf.
An expression of "just as I thought" appeared on Gandalf's face. He stood motionless, leaning on his staff, staring at Bilbo until the hobbit was very close to his own front door.
Only then did Gandalf slowly speak, "It is not a virtue to pretend to forget what one has said, Bilbo Baggins."
Bilbo tucked the pile of letters under his arm and pointed at Gandalf with the hand holding his pipe. "Yes, but forcing me to join an adventure I don't want to join is not a virtue either, Gandalf. Now, I am going back into my Bag End to have two cakes to calm my nerves. Yes, to calm the nerves from you inviting me on an adventure."
Gandalf said, "You won't even join if I say there are people you and I both know participating in this adventure?"
Bilbo's foot, just about to step into Bag End, instinctively paused. "Who?" he asked.
Gandalf smiled. "Tarnes, of course. Oh, and perhaps a few of his friends."
Bilbo immediately shook his head. "You mentioning him reminds me that I still have several adventure stories about Tarnes to finish writing. Yes, I've decided to spend the day at home writing!"
Then Bilbo looked at Gandalf, opened his mouth as if to say something, but in the end just said, "Well, good morning."
Gandalf showed a strange expression. "You have a lot of uses for 'good morning.' Now you mean for me to get lost. If I don't leave, will your morning no longer be good?"
"Oh... heavens. Sorry, I don't want any adventures, thank you. At least not today, I'm not free today." Bilbo closed his eyes, his head aching from Gandalf's verbal persistence.
He entered his hobbit-hole, then his cute head peeked out from the door. "But, you are welcome to tea! Any time you like! Why not come tomorrow? Come tomorrow! Goodbye, Gandalf!"
After saying this, Bilbo's head disappeared back into Bag End, and the green, round door was shut with a slam.
Bilbo leaned against the round door from the inside, locked it, and muttered to himself, "Confound it all, why did I invite him for tea?"
However, the aroma wafting from the pantry immediately captured the hobbit's attention. A smile spread across his face, and he walked toward the fragrant room.
Just as Bilbo had told Gandalf, he was going to eat two cakes to calm his nerves, and then have something to drink.
Meanwhile, Gandalf remained outside, laughing silently for a long time.
He then walked up and used the tip of his staff to scratch a strange rune on Bilbo's beautiful green door as a sign, then went to the round window next to the door and peered inside.
Bilbo had just finished his second cake and came to the door to see if Gandalf had left, planning to fetch some fine tea from the kitchen to brew a pot of black tea.
He happened to see Gandalf's large face peering in, which startled the hobbit so much he stumbled back against the wall, his breathing becoming much lighter.
Noticing the movement inside, Gandalf smiled and left Bilbo's home with great strides.
Bilbo breathed a sigh of relief. He then went to the kitchen as he had planned and brewed a pot of tea. The sweet liquid quickly relaxed him, and he began to think he had successfully avoided Gandalf's invitation to adventure.
Bilbo had to admit that when Gandalf mentioned the name "Tarnes," his heart had indeed stirred.
Because after Rogier had come to his home and provided more detailed supplements to the adventure stories of Tarnes, Bilbo had become completely fascinated by Tarnes's experiences.
If it's an adventure he's willing to join, it must be another soul-stirring epic journey, right? Bilbo thought, holding the warm teacup in both hands, before shaking his head in self-deprecation.
But what does that have to do with you, Bilbo Baggins? You're just an ordinary hobbit, with no skill in swordsmanship and no strength. If you went along, you'd only be a nuisance to Tarnes, wouldn't you?
But our hobbit quickly cast aside this dejected mood and began to joyfully enjoy his new day.
By the next day, Bilbo had nearly forgotten about Gandalf, along with the invitation for tea.
After all, Bilbo's memory wasn't the best, unless he recorded all his appointments in his engagement book.
For example: Friday, Gandalf, tea.
But his mind had been in a jumble yesterday, so how could he remember?
Just like the morning before, Bilbo sat at his door after breakfast, smoking his pipe for a while, letting his thoughts wander aimlessly.
It was not until almost noon that he stood up from the bench, dusted off his clothes, and decided to go to the Hobbiton market to buy a fresh fish.
His pantry was full of cured fish, but today Bilbo had a sudden whim to pan-fry a fresh fish with butter and bacon.
The Hobbiton market was on the other side of the lake, surrounded by narrow, stone-paved roads.
The midday sun shone through sparse clouds, dappling the vendors' canvas awnings. And so, the bustle and vitality of the market entered Bilbo's eyes along with the daylight.
Freshly picked vegetables from the fields were displayed on wooden stalls—vibrant carrots, green spinach, and plump potatoes, all telling of the season's bounty.
Hobbit vendors hawked the quality of their farm produce, their voices rising and falling, trying to attract the attention of passersby.
Occasionally, an elegantly dressed farmwife would grab a tomato from a basket and place it in her own.
The meat stalls were separated by fences to maintain some order.
Butchers selling mutton were busy cutting up fresh pieces of meat. The dull thud of their cleavers against chopping blocks mingled with the sounds from the ovens behind them, the aroma of smoked mutton wafting enticingly.
Pork merchants were busy deboning meat, preparing for the midday sales.
In another corner of the market, the baker's stall emanated the fragrance of butter and fresh bread.
Golden loaves had just been taken from the stone oven, their heat and aroma making one's mouth water.
Nearby, spice merchants displayed their rare goods purchased from outside Hobbiton—red, yellow, and green powders and fruits, exuding tempting scents under the sun.
The occasional neighing of horses could be heard as carts unloaded their goods. Hobbit children weaved through the crowd, their laughter adding to the market's clamor.
Upon entering the market, Bilbo looked left and right. After confirming that the stall where he usually bought fresh fish was open, he walked over with a smile.
Wooden stalls were covered with straw mats, on which lay fresh fish—shimmering silver cod, plump and fatty salmon, and even sprawling octopuses.
They were sorted into wooden barrels, thrashing about and splashing water droplets.
The stall owner was a sturdy hobbit fisherman.
His hands were rough and strong, expertly killing, scaling, and gutting fish one after another, the bloody water forming a thin stream at his feet.
"Hey, Fredegar, a fresh cod for me!" Bilbo said enthusiastically.
The fisherman's face broke into a smile. He put down his cleaver and, while selecting the fattest cod from a barrel, greeted him, "Alright, Bilbo. How have you been lately?"
Bilbo's eyebrows twitched nimbly. "Me? Of course, I'm very well, except that yesterday a grey-robed wizard with a pointed hat came to my house and said some strange things. But he's not here today, so I'm still very well."
The fisherman placed the selected fish on the chopping block, gave its head a firm smack with the flat of his cleaver, and the poor fish stopped struggling. It was then wrapped in greaseproof paper and handed to Bilbo.
Bilbo gave the fisherman the prepared money, exchanged a few more pleasantries, and left the market with a satisfied smile, returning to his home.
The afternoon passed quickly. Bilbo was not disturbed by anyone and enjoyed the cod he had bought with a smile.
As evening fell, Bilbo found himself staring blankly at the moon in the sky.
He was thinking about what to have for dinner, but after much thought, he still hadn't decided.
What's wrong with you, Bilbo Baggins? You're not still thinking about Gandalf's invitation from yesterday, are you?
Please, you should recognize your place. This Bag End is where you belong. Epic adventures like that should never have anything to do with you in this lifetime.
You should stand up now, go back inside, pick out your favorite sausage or a cured leg of lamb, pair it with a pot of sweet fruit wine, and then it's off to bed!
But for some reason, Bilbo just kept staring at the moon in the night sky.
Just as Bilbo was lost in thought watching the moon, the sound of clanking armor and heavy footsteps on the ground drew his attention.
Before Bilbo could register what it was, a familiar voice, tinged with a smile, flew into his ears.
"Good evening, Bilbo. It's been a while. You're as leisurely as ever. Could you treat me and my friends to a hearty dinner?" Tarnes said with a grin.
He was standing outside Bilbo's fence, with Millicent, Bernahl, and Egon standing in a line behind him.
A look of delighted surprise spread across Bilbo's face. "Oh, Tarnes! What are you doing here!" he exclaimed.
The hobbit, who had been daydreaming just moments before, burst forth with astonishing enthusiasm. He ran down the steps, opened the gate, and threw his arms open to embrace Tarnes warmly.
Tarnes cooperated with Bilbo's gesture, bending down to hug him back, then released him and said, "Someone told me there was a lively feast here, but I found the host lost in thought at his gate. Did you run into some trouble?"
Bilbo was taken aback. Though he didn't know what feast Tarnes was talking about, he simply took it as a request to have dinner with him.
And for a hospitable hobbit, Bilbo would certainly not refuse this invitation.
So he said with a chuckle, while nodding to the three people behind Tarnes in greeting, "Trouble? Of course not! Welcome! And your friends too! There will be plenty of food and fine wine for everyone today!"
[Chapter Complete]
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