Coming Home

Memories and Lost Hope

   Sitting in her corner, Authora eavesdropped on the conversation going on between Gandalf and Bilbo. The dear hobbit had fainted at the mention of a "furnace with wings" and "incineration". It had been quite a shock for him, the fact that he could die, which had made her smile. Funny how a person could go through life, and never even think about dying.

"I'll be alright, let me just sit a moment," Bilbo pants.

"You've been sitting long enough, far to long if you ask me. Tell me; when did doilies and your mother's dishes become so important to you? I remember a young Hobbit who always was running off in search of elves and the woods, who'd stay out late, come home after dark, trailing mud and twigs ad fireflies amount other less mentionable things. A young hobbit who would have liked other better than to find out what was beyond the borders of the Shire. The world is not in your books and maps; it's out there!" The wizard said pointing out the small round window in exasperation.

"I can't just go running of f into the blue. I am a Baggins, of Bag End."

"You are also a Took."

The Hobbit rolled his eyes, unconvinced. In her corner, Authora wondered what was a Took, and why it was so bad being one.

"Did you know that your greet-great-great-great uncle, Bullroarer Took, was so large that he could ride a real horse?"

Bilbo's eyes trail over the picture of his long dead relative a little uneasily. "Yes."

"Well, he could. In the Battle of Green Fields, he charged the goblin ranks. He swung his club so hard it knocked the Goblin Kin's head clean off, and it sailed a hundred yards through the air and went down a rabbit hole. And thus the battle was won, and the game of gold invented at the same time."

That was something she had never read about in her history books before, perhaps she should ask Bilbo about his library later to see if she could read about that account. She was always a killer when it came to knowing random historical facts.

"I do believe you made that up."

"Well, the wizard replied a twinkle in his old grey eyes, all good tories deserve embellishment. You'll have a tale or two to tell of your own when you come back."

"Can you promise that I will come back?" Bilbo asked, looking down into his tea cup with a worried expression. He was thinking of the adventure ahead, if he was to go, they would be going to take back some lost dwarven kingdom inhabited by a dragon. He was unsure if that was a good idea. This was his home. His hobbit hole with his favorite armchair, the library full of books to occupy him. It was where he believed he truly belonged, not in some forsaken land inhabited by who knows what.

"No, and if you do, you will never be the same."

"That is what I thought," replied the hobbit with a shake of his small head,"Gandalf, I can't sign this. I'm sorry."

With that he walked out of the room and down the hallway to his bedroom, hoping to be able to ignore the dwarves. He could not possibly go on this venture when so much was at stake. His home, his belongings, his person. He might not even make it through the first week alive from what some of the dwarves speculated. It was truly impossible.

"It looks as if we have lost our burglar," Balin said sadly

She gave the old dwarf a curious look.

"It's probably for the best, he continued, the odds were always against us. After all, what are we? Merchants, miners, tinkers and toymakers, hardily the stuff of legend."

Thorin's face softened a bit,"There are yet a few warriors among us"

"Old warriors."

"I would take each and everyone of these dwarves, here he even shot her a glance of recognition, over even an army from the Iron Hills, for they alone answered my call. Loyalty, honor, and a willing heart. I can not as for more than that."