Morning arose from over the hills of Shire. The dew clung to the blades of grass, while animals began to awaken in their pastures. Slowly, Hobbits' emerged from their holes in the ground to complete their daily tasks and went on with their normal lives. Nothing unexpected ever happened in the Shire. In every hole one could predict there was good food, a warm hearth, and the comforts of home.
Outside of one sat a Hobbit, smoking on a pipe without a care in the world. Eyes closed, the young Hobbit leaned back against the bench. Lips forming into an 'O', the white wisps escaped in a similar shape. However, it took on another path, transforming into a butterfly before flying right into his nose.
The Hobbit's eyes fluttered open with a cough, waving away the smoke in his face. Something shifted further ahead to draw his attention to an older man standing just on the other side of his gate. He wore a gray hat and robes, wooden staff clutched in hand. Clearly he was a Wizard of some sorts – a traveler – and the Hobbit shifted nervously in his seat from the stranger's stares.
"Good morning," he greeted, to be polite.
"What do you mean?" the Wizard inquired. "Do you mean to wish me a good morning or do you mean it is a good morning whether I want it or not?" The pipe fell from the Hobbit's lips, clearly at a loss for words. "Or perhaps you mean to say that you are good on this particular morning. Or are you simply stating that this is a morning to be good on?"
Hesitantly, the Hobbit answered, "All of them at once... I suppose."
"Hmm..."
A long, uncomfortable pause drew out between them. "Can I help you?"
"That remains to be seen," the older man said. "I'm looking for someone to share an adventure with."
"An adventure?" His expression one of surprise, even slightly flabbergasted by the notion. "I don't imagine anyone west of Bree would have much interest in adventures." The Hobbit stood, slowly walking along the edge of the gate. "Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things." Coming to the mail barrel, he reached in to pull forth a few letters. "You'd be late for dinner."
Chuckling at his own joke, he glanced through the stack before nervously looking up at the Wizard who continued to stare.
"Good morning." Turning to leave, the old man spoke up before he could get far up the steps,
"To think that I should have lived to be good-morninged by Belladonna Took's son, as if I were selling buttons at the door."
The Halfling turned in a quizzical manner. "Beg your pardon?"
"You've changed and not entirely for the better, Bilbo Baggins."
This stranger knew his name, which was most troubling. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"
"Well, you know my name, only that I don't belong to it. I am Gandalf and Gandalf means... me."
It took only a moment for Bilbo to finally realize why the name sounded so familiar.
"Not the Gandalf, who made such excellent fireworks on Midsummer's Eve?"
The man nodded, smiling at the praise.
"I had no idea you were still in business."
The Wizard's face fell. "And where else should I be?"
Bilbo hesitated to answer.
"Well, I'm pleased to know you remember something about me... Even if it's only my fireworks... Well, it's decided. It would be very good for you. And most amusing for me. I shall inform the others."
"Inform, who– What? No, no! Wait..." Bilbo turned away, running up the last few steps to stand in front of his door. "We don't want any adventures here! Not today. I– I suggest you try over the hill... Good morning."
The Hobbit scurried inside, quickly shutting the door and locking it behind him. He sighed heavily. Completely exhausted by the confirmation. Bilbo hoped that this Wizard wouldn't stay long–
A strange noise suddenly came from the other side of the door. Bilbo bent down to listen carefully. Startled, he shuffled towards the nearest window to peek out. Gandalf's tall form could be seen moving away from the wooden door, out the gate and down the road. Pulling himself away, the Hobbit wondered if their interaction indeed happened, moving into his study to look through his books for information he sought.
"Bilbo!"
The voice called from the front door. A set of knuckles tapped against the wood as the lock clicked and it opened.
"Are you home?"
Evening had come. Hobbits began to return home for evening meals and to see their families. To sleep off a long day's work.
"In the back!" Bilbo replied.
The young woman dropped her things by the entryway before slipping off each shoe and retreating into the house. The state of him once she rounded the corner startled her greatly.
"Erm, Bilbo. What are you doing?"
"T-Trying to organize a few things," the Hobbit answered, teetering from the weight he attempted to carry. Stacks of books and papers were balanced in one hand, while the other slid a book back into place on a shelf.
"Here, let me help you."
"Oh, that's alright, Poppy. You've been working at the guild all day. Why don't you go and rest?"
"This is nothing," she protested, taking the heavy items from his hands. "I'll bring it to your study."
"Well, thank you then. Thank you."
The young woman grinned walking down the hall. As the two continued to work the sun began to set, Poppy placing a pot of water over the fire in the hearth. Bilbo came in from the pantry, arms full of food for two. She washed the ash and charcoal from her hands, arms, and face before getting close to the food, pulling the dark hair up into a tight bun.
"How was your day, Bilbo?" she asked, chopping up the vegetables.
"It was a good one," the Hobbit answered with a nod.
His attention turned to the two fish over the fire to cook the other side. He rubbed his knees, in thought, wondering if he should explain more about the events that unfolded in his front yard with the Wizard, Gandalf.
"Get many customers?" he wondered.
"A few farmers with broken equipment," she said. "Nothing too out of the ordinary."
Grabbing plates, cups, forks, and knives from the cupboards, Poppy began to set the table.
"Actually..." Bilbo hesitated, "there was something that happened today."
"Oh? The neighbor's dog didn't get into the garden again, did he?"
His head shook. "No, no, it wasn't that. I, um, had a visitor."
The young woman glanced up, cocking a brow in interest. "Who?"
"Gandalf."
Her jaw dropped slightly in shock by the name. "The Wizard who would always show those impressive displays of fireworks during Midsummer's Eve?"
He grinned, for he said the very same thing. "The very one."
"What was he doing here?"
Bilbo shrugged, taking the fish out of the fire. "Beats me. He wanted to know if I wanted to share an adventure with him."
Draining the water from where the vegetables were cooking, she asked, "An adventure of what kind?"
"He didn't go into detail."
"So what was your answer?"
"Huh?"
Poppy served the hot food between the two plates before locking eyes with the Hobbit. "Well, what was your answer? Did you say yes or no?"
He blinked in a perplexed manner. This isn't the kind of response he expected. "I can't just up and leave out of the blue, Poppy. Besides, I hardly know him."
The young woman sighed, sitting down before cutting into the dinner. "You've become such a stick in the mud, Bilbo Baggins."
"Excuse me–"
"Well you have!" She kicked one of his stool legs playfully. "Oh, come now, Bilbo. What happened to the child who used to go running around outside looking for adventure and creating daring stories when we were young?"
"We were kids then. Now we are grown up."
Bilbo nodded at the statement to further confirm his reasoning. Poppy rolled her eyes before taking a gulp of the drink. The Hobbit was about to take the first bite of his food when a knock came to the door. The two of them froze, looking at each other before turning to the entrance. The knock came again.