Of Teacups, Adventures, and Hobbits of a Queer Sort
1. Of Teacups, Adventures, and Hobbits of a Queer Sort
In order to fully enjoy this story, when you read it in your mind you must give it a Hobbit accent. It’s not nearly as funny if you don’t.
Bilbo Baggins. Harumph! What a queer Hobbit, though, I can’t say I blame him. I would be queer, too, if I was the son of a Baggins and a Took. A bad mix, that is, a Baggins, especially one such as Bungo, and a Took, though I can‘t say too much bad about Belladonna, considering she was the prettiest Hobbit ever to set foot in Hobbiton, and a very polite lass too. But yet, she was a Took, and the Tooks are all a very queer sort of Hobbit. They will do such ridiculous things as waking up one morning and deciding they want to go have an adventure. And then, the most queer part of it is, they will then go and have one! Harumph! Those Tooks should know by now that if Hobbits were made to have adventures, they would be three feet taller and five times thinner. But yet, Belladonna Took married Bungo Baggins and moved into that Hobbit-hole next door that Bungo built for her. And then they had a son, Bilbo Baggins- half respectable, predicable Baggins, and half queer, adventurous Took from across the Water. It’s almost enough to make you feel sorry for poor Bilbo - almost.
A few of the other Hobbit wives and I were almost positive that Bilbo would soon go mad because of the constant bickering between his Took genes and his Baggins genes. We laughed to think of him waking up one morning wanting an adventure, and then beating himself on the head for thinking such unrespectable and unpredictable thoughts. We took bets on how long it would take the Hobbit to go insane, or how long it would be before he finally gave in and went on one of those Tookish adventures. Well, the answer came one day when Gandalf, the queerer-than-a-Took wizard, came a-knocking on Bilbo’s bright green front door. (He must have just gotten it re-painted. He wouldn’t have scrubbed it, no, because he was a very lazy Hobbit who hated work of any sort.)
Now, I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop on my neighbor, let it be understood. It’s not my fault that I suddenly had an urge to go outside and sit in-between my hole and Bilbo’s hole when Gandalf came round. I was just a young lass the last time Gandalf had come to the Hill, but I could never forget him. It is a very hard thing to forget Gandalf, you see, because he is as tall as the tallest tree in the forest, with a very long, grey beard that the Hobbit children love to tug on. And besides, he is a wizard - yes, a wizard! - with magic powers and everything. And since a wizard with magical powers comes rarely ever comes to Hobbiton, it’s a rather hard thing to forget when one does.
I had said earlier that Gandalf came a-knocking on Bilbo’s bright green door. Well, I was mistaken in my thoughts, so excuse me. It wasn’t until after Bilbo and the wizard had exchanged words that Gandalf knocked on Bilbo’s door. A queer thing, but I suppose that is how the wizards do it (if indeed there are more wizards then Gandalf). Anyway, Bilbo had been sitting having a smoke when Gandalf came by. It wasn’t until then I began to wonder what Gandalf was doing in Hobbiton anyway. Gandalf was big on adventures, though if you are a wizard with magical powers, what else is there to do? Then I wondered if maybe Bilbo and Gandalf were meeting to plan an adventure! I thought that that had to be the one and only logical answer. Wizards don’t come to Hobbiton without a reason, and most often that reason is to get Hobbits (usually Tooks) to participate in their silly adventures.
After Bilbo had greeted Gandalf, and Gandalf had said some very queer wizard-like things, I finally heard talk of the adventure. But apparently I was wrong, (for the first time in my life, mind you), about this particular adventure, for Bilbo did not want to participate. I suppose his father‘s genes were talking then. You see, Gandalf wanted Bilbo to go on an adventure, and Bilbo quite plainly refused. After that, Bilbo invited the wizard to tea tomorrow and bid him a good morning.
And then, the queer thing happened, the queer thing that I began to mention earlier. Gandalf took his staff and knocked on Bilbo’s door- only he did it in a very queer wizard-like fashion. He knocked a few times, and each time he knocked carved a line in Bilbo’s newly painted front door. Then he went away, leaving me quite confused and poor Bilbo probably feeling quite clever on having escaped an adventure.
The next day, at tea-time, I made sure I was outside at a respectable distance from Bilbo’s Hobbit hole, but still close enough to hear the going-ons of its occupants. I was peering down the road looking for Gandalf, but there was no sign of the wizard anywhere. And then, the very queer things began to happen, the most queer of all the things I have mentioned before. Dwarves started arriving, yes, Dwarves! Coming to Bilbo’s Hobbit hole! I could hardly believe my eyes, and I must of rubbed them till they were red making sure I had not fallen asleep and was merely dreaming. But no, they were Dwarves: not tall Hobbits with long beards, real live Dwarves. There were surely a dozen, more likely a score! I was so stunned I forgot to have tea.
And then, after all the Dwarves, Gandalf finally arrived, knocking so hard on Bilbo’s door he left a terrible dent. I thought that Gandalf had invited all the Dwarves to join him and Bilbo for tea, but they stayed for supper as well, and though I don’t know for sure, I believe they all spent the night. Bilbo certainly had enough room in that Hobbit hole of his, for Bungo and Belladonna had loved company and had built at least twenty guest rooms, and I wouldn’t be surprised if there were more!
And then, the next day, Bilbo rushed out of his Hobbit hole in a terrible hurry, without even finishing his second breakfast. Then him, and those Dwarves, and Gandalf were off on their adventure. Everyone was sure Bilbo had gone mad, and when he didn’t return for awhile, everyone assumed he was dead! You can hardly blame us Hobbits, though - all we wanted were some of Bilbo’s nice silver spoons and fancy walking-sticks and expensive plates. It is hardly our fault that we presumed Mr. Baggins dead, he was gone for more then a year, after all. I should not have to give him back his fancy teacups. If you must to blame someone, blame Bungo Baggins and Belladonna Took for getting married in the first place. None of this would have ever happened if those two had been smart enough to know that a Baggins and a Took is a bad mix of Hobbit. It’s almost enough to make you feel sorry for Bilbo, thinking of his parents… but no, not sorry enough to give back those teacups. Harumph.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.