Prologue
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It was a very strange affair, in which Bilbo Baggins appeared out of the wild blue again. He had come on a handsome pony, draped in finery of velvets and silks and muslins, the likes of which none of them could say they'd ever seen before. Foreign things, said those who had seen him riding in with their own eyes. It was all very queer. And this conclusion was often met with much wagging of heads and murmurs of agreement. It was very queer indeed, as they had all thought, for all this time, that Bilbo Baggins was dead.
No one quite knew how it all started, and frankly they didn't want to know thank you very much. It was not hobbit-like to investigate things, much less involve themselves in something as unsavory as an adventure. The day of the occurrence was very much like any other, with tillers tilling and farmers farming, and the weather quite fair. And so, when the old gardener Noakes had come dashing through the winding hills that led downward from Bag End, carrying the news of Bilbo's disappearance with him – all of them were utterly scandalized, to say the least.
He had arrived first in town, passing the market and the Old Mill on his mad dash through the square. Many paused in their wanderings, their tasks, and matters of business, every head turning in interest to watch the old gardener as he hastened onward. It was the first unexpected and rather bizarre thing that had happened that morning, and all before second breakfast – Noakes was the very essence of hobbit-like behavior, a citizen of good repute and often regarded as being quite amiable in nature. He never rushed to do much of anything, not even on the path leading to his master's house at the end of the highest hill in the village. The quickest anyone had ever seen him was a brisk walk, and always it was for the purpose of very important things such as being late for tea or supper. This time he had been undoubtedly more hurried, and everyone that saw him pass later recounted he looked pale as a ghost. Whatever had happened, it left the old gardener fairly unhinged.
His story, when he had a pint of ale in him and had calmed a great deal from the fright he'd suffered, was an astonishing one. A crowd soon gathered around him, all as wide-eyed and slack-mouthed as he, while he told of the tragedy that had befallen the house of Bag End.
"I wouldn't of believed it myself if I didn't see it with me own eyes! Mr. Bilbo off on an adventure. And with odd folk, very odd. Beards and swords and ponies, thirteen of them. Relieved I was to find they were leaving at dawn. On me way up to the house, I seen 'em filing down the path, great thick fellows with dreadful weapons on their person. It downright spooked me, I tell you, and I was shaken to the bone till I left for breakfast. And when I come back, good and settled again from a cheery meal with Primrose, I seen Mr. Bilbo himself tearing through the hills as if a pack o' wild dogs was on his heels. Someone calls out to him, and he says 'Where you off to!' and he says he's goin' on an adventure! I tell ya it all stinks, the whole of it, and I knew nothin' good would come of Gandalf riding into town. Wherever he goes, strange things follow after!"
"Are we certain Mr. Bilbo went of his own accord?" said one of the spectators.
"It stinks! All of it, I tell you!" Another cried. "Mr. Baggins has been kidnapped!"
"They've taken him!" Squeaked another. "He'll have his throat cut in his sleep!"
"Pipe down, the lot of you! I was there," Noakes scolded, wagging his finger. "And anyone who was there could tell ya – Mr. Bilbo was on his lonesome, and he was runnin' through the village on his own two feet. He went after those queer folk, and it was his own self who took him."
It was talked about for weeks after.
An adventure! In Hobbiton, of all the places in the world, where nothing extraordinary ever happened and no one ever did anything unexpected or unpleasant. How very, very odd! It was altogether disturbing, and feathers were understandably ruffled. After all, Mr. Bilbo Baggins had always been the most respectable of gentlehobbits, keeping to himself mostly, though he was very sociable at parties. He always kept his door painted, his garden vibrant, and the hair on his toes was always perfectly groomed, the very picture of seemliness.
"Mark my words," Noakes had said grimly. "We won't be seein' the likes of him again. Dangerous out there. He's cooked for sure!"
The gardener's prediction had been shared by many, and it was one that became more and more likely to be truth as time went on. Hobbiton had since come to terms with what had somehow morphed from prophesy to fact. No one had ever expected to see the likes of Bilbo Baggins again.
His reappearance was met with pale faces, slack mouths and a distribution of fresh gossip that did not cease for months thereafter.
Mister Baggins has found his way home!
an: i actually had this up as a story called "Lambs Become Lions", but i've decided to go another direction with the story altogether. enjoy! :)
summary: Upon returning from his quest with the dwarves of Erebor, Bilbo becomes the pariah of the village, quite ignored and disliked among those who were once friends. He becomes quite lonely and, upon deciding that his hole needs a much needed spring cleaning, he hires a maidservant to help him get the place into tip top shape.
disclaimer - all characters, except for my OC's, are the property of J.R.R. Tolkien.