"Uncle Bilbo?"
Bilbo looks up to see his little nephew Frodo standing in the doorway, dark curls wild. Little Frodo scuffs his toe into the floor and clasps his hands behind his back. Bilbo pushes the map he has been working on aside. Recently he has taken to drawing maps as a way to pass the time when his mind wanders to memories of past adventures. "Yes, Frodo?"
"There's a lady at the door to see you," Frodo says, swaying side to side the way children do when they have too much pent up energy to stay still. Bilbo's forehead crinkles in confusion. "She said…. She said she lived in a town by a lake," Frodo adds haltingly, trying to be helpful.
"Well, then, I guess we must go find out what she needs," Bilbo declares, slapping his things and rising to follow Frodo towards the open front door. He does not know many women and he certainly can't recall a woman who lived by a lake. Who could possibly be at his door? Could she be mistaken? It's true that there aren't many Bagginses in the Shire but he has kept rather to himself these past years. The possibility that this woman has come to the wrong residence is higher than the possibility that he knows her.
When he rounds the corner, the woman is facing away from him, standing on the outside edge of the threshold. She is small, and wouldn't have to stoop to enter the hobbit hole. She is dressed in a simple brown cloak and worn gear favored by rangers and weary travelers. She carries with her only the essentials for traversing Middle-Earth, all she would need to travel long distances in the wilderness.
The sun flashes in her honey-gold hair, streaked with the beginnings of silver, waving to end just past her shoulders. Bilbo catches his breath as a sudden pang of familiarity strikes him. Not a town by the lake. Laketown. Can it be?
She turns then and every doubt fades away. Hazel eyes, bright and fierce, long, dark lashes, and strong and beautiful face. Her lips part in a small, shy smile.
"Oh my word," Bilbo breathes. "Can it really be?"