Isembold hobbled up the Hill with his bag slung over his shoulder, clutching his walking stick. His bones were not what they had been back in his own adventuring days and his daughter Heliconia had had to drive him to Hobbiton from Tuckbank. She had other business in Hobbiton and at any rate, from the tales Isembold had heard in his shop and at the tavern, he wasn't sure Bilbo was quite ready to receive more than one visitor, if any at all.
Isembold couldn't exactly blame him either. He knew from personal experience what busybodies hobbits could be, and that was without almost being robbed of a home and having all his belongings auctioned off. He and a few other relatives had tried to convince everybody that Bilbo was only off adventuring, but the legal situation was clear: a year after a hobbit disappeared without any notice, they were to be declared dead and if they left no heir, their belongings would be auctioned off.
That Bilbo had never left on an adventure before hadn't made their case easier. He was well into his middle-age and most Tooks had gone on an adventure before then or even stopped going on adventures altogether. When Isembold's brother Hildifons had disappeared, they had been able to delay his being declared dead because it was well known that he left for months at a time. In the end, he was declared dead after all, since he hadn't returned to the Shire even decades later. By now, Hildifons would be almost a hundred years old himself and even Isembold had to concede that the chances his brother still lived were rather slim. Of course, Hildifons had been used as a negative example of why not to go adventuring for at least two generations of hobbits, not helping them in Bilbo's case either.
And when Isengar had disappeared to go to sea, he had at least left a letter detailing his plans with Peony Smallborrow, one of his lady hobbits. Just when Isengar had been about to be declared dead, she had come forward with the letter, deciding her reputation was less important after all.
Isembold's daughter Ruby had offered to forge a letter from Bilbo (Isembold did not want to know where she had learned that particular skill), but since they had all professed their surprise at Bilbo's disappearance a year ago, that would only have gotten her into difficulties.
But in the end, Bilbo had returned in the nick of time and had at least been able to keep his home.
What had happened in the week since then, well, the tales varied. Daisy Goodfellow had reported that Bilbo had come by her smial and wanted to buy back his kitchen table. When she hadn't wanted to sell it, he had offered quite a sum of money and she had sold it after all. This led to tales of hobbits who had definitely seen great wagonloads of chests being carried into Bag End the night of Bilbo's return by the very dwarves that had been said to kidnap Bilbo when he disappeared. When a few of Bilbo's neighbours in their tweens went to visit Bilbo, they had tried to investigate where the chests that surely had to be filled with gold were hidden. Bilbo had caught them and been less than happy. Miro Sandyman had said Bilbo had become as angry as a dragon and two days later, word was, Bilbo had become a dragon.
Then stories went round that when Bilbo wanted to buy back his mother's favourite chest of drawers from Gerania Greenbelt, he had not offered money or gold, but had turned into a dragon and demanded it back, threatening to burn down her smial if she didn't. Isembold had heard Gerania deny that and claim that Bilbo had been polite and had paid her a more than fair price for it, but that story was rarely told. And tale was that Bilbo was angrily turning away visitors or not opening the door at all.
As it was, Isembold was not entirely sure of the welcome he would receive. Still, he had visited all his nieces, nephews and other relatives when they came home from their adventures. He would have waited a bit longer until the tales about Bilbo signalled he didn't mind visitors, but the tales only seemed to be growing wilder and Isembold was over a hundred by now. He knew that if he put things off, he might end up no longer being able to do them at all. The stroke that killed his brother Hildibrand had come out of nowhere after all, and he had been much younger than Isembold.
"You're not going to visit Mad Baggins, are you?" A young hobbit Isembold couldn't remember asked. "I'd be careful if I were you, Mister Isembold. He's right dangerous, he is. Might set you straight on fire. Dragons are dangerous that way."
"That's my nephew you are talking about. He is not a dragon and I'd thank you not to talk of him that way. Good day."
"And good day to you," the hobbit replied, taking a step back at Isembold's tone and walking off with a shrug that Isembold knew only too well: let the Took do what he wants, if he gets hurt, it won't be my fault; I warned him after all.
Huffing with anger, Isembold continued up the hill. If this was the way people were treating Bilbo, it was no wonder he was only leaving his smial to buy back his furniture.
When he reached Bag End at exactly eleven o'clock, Isembold was torn between indignation and apprehension. Even though he planned on treating Bilbo as respectful as always, Bilbo had no way of knowing he would.
Isembold rang the bell.
The door was opened rather more quickly than Isembold had expected and with quite a bit of force. Bilbo emerged, fuming and much skinnier than Isembold remembered him, his clothes speckled and out of order.
"If you think..." Bilbo's voice trailed off and his expression changed from anger to surprise. "Uncle Isembold!"
"I hope I'm not disturbing you, but I was hoping you could help me with my maps."
"Of course you're not disturbing me! I thought it was one of the Noake tweens again. They've been a right bother. But do come in, do come in! You're right in time for elevensies and these days, I always seem to bake a little too much."
Isembold stepped inside. The hall was emptier than he had expected, only the clothes pegs and an old umbrella stand were to be seen.
"I'm afraid I'm still a few items of furniture short," Bilbo said with a wry smile. "I'm sure you have heard of the auction. I bought the pegs back from Widow Brownlock and it looks like nobody wanted that ugly umbrella stand. It's a shame really, it was the one thing I wouldn't have minded losing."
"I'm afraid we couldn't stop them. Some of your relatives from the other side of the family were rather insistent that the property be auctioned off and they get their fair share, though I'd be willing to bet that they were actually quite eager to get more than their share. I'm sorry about all this unpleasantness you've been through."
Bilbo laughed. "I've become used to more unpleasant situations by now. And it is giving me the chance to repaint without too much hassle. It was quite a shock of course and getting my things back is taking more time than I'd like. They even sold my clothes, for goodness sake. Funnily enough, they left me my collection of handkerchiefs."
For some reason, Bilbo seemed to think this was rather funny. Isembold followed him into the kitchen.
"I'm currently painting the dining room, so we'll have to eat here. Have a seat."
Bilbo gestured at the comfortable chair and pulled over a stool to sit on for himself. Chairs seemed to be another thing still missing from Bag End. Bilbo bustled around, pulling out two old plates with chipped edges, two cups of tea, a platter of scones, some cream and jam and the good Baggins silverware.
Isembold tried not to raise an eyebrow at the strange combination, but Bilbo remarked on it himself.
"The Brownlocks have been kind enough to lend me a few of their plates until I get my own back or buy new ones. They and old Halfred Greenhand's family have been very kind and helpful, although they do shake their head about this adventuring business. I was lucky enough to burst into the auction right as the silverware was being sold. I think my dear cousin Otho's new fiancée was rather keen on it and I doubt I would have been able to buy it back. I suspect they were the ones that wanted their fair share or a bit more of it, as you say. Otho's mother Camellia is always pushing Uncle Longo to aim for more already, but I get the feeling that this Lobelia Bracegirdle will expect Otho to give her the very best of everything. She seemed quite disappointed that she and Otho won't inherit Bag End once Longo dies."
Isembold nodded, taking one of the scones Bilbo offered him. "They were quite outspoken in their support for the auction. But let us talk about more interesting things. Why don't you tell me about your adventure?"
Bilbo obliged and Isembold's eyes grew wide as the story unfolded. He had listened to all of his relatives' tales of their adventures, but this one outshone them all. Isembold thought back to all the old tales about dragons, but he couldn't recall a single one featuring a hobbit.
"That is quite a tale indeed," Isembard said when Bilbo had finished. "Have you thought about writing it down?"
Bilbo shook his head. "I have mostly thinking about the practical things since I returned. They do keep me busy."
"Well, give it some thought," Isembold said. "These things are forgotten more quickly than you might think and it would be a shame to let such an adventure go untold. Did you see much of the lands beyond the Misty Mountains? My maps on that area are rather vague on this area, as you can see."
He unfolded a few of the maps he had brought with him on the table, which had been cleared of food and dishes.
Bilbo chocked back laughter as he looked at them.
"What is this? Is there a sea right behind the Misty Mountains? And does this one have a desert?"
Isembold grinned. "I'm afraid so. Many of the old accounts aren't as accurate as I'd like and generations of hobbits seem to have tried their hands at filling in the blank spot as they saw fit. You can see why I'm keen on finding out anything you might know about the area."
Bilbo smiled and got up, going to the travelling pack that leaned against the wall. "You are in luck, Uncle Isembold. As it happens, I remembered your love for maps. When we spent a couple of days in Rivendell, I used the time to make a few copies and sketches of some of the maps there."
He spread them out across the table and Isembold's heart sped up. Some of maps were mere sketches, often of places he had only heard of in distant legends. Others were more elaborate, showing, rivers, smaller streams, hills and villages, full of details although Bilbo was in no way a skilled map maker that knew which things to be mindful of. And there were notes upon notes in Bilbo's spidery writing.
"I copied the maps and Gandalf could give me details on things that had changed since the maps were made. You can take them with you if you like, although I might want to borrow them if I do end up writing a book. I'll be happy to try to fill in any gaps as well as I can once I've cleared up this mess with my belongings."
Isembold blinked, then waved Bilbo over and pulled him into a hug.
"Thank you, Bilbo! This is better than any Yuletide gift."
Bilbo laughed. "Well, I'm glad at least you appreciate my adventure."
"I'm sure your smial will be flooded by your Took cousins once I tell them that you have quite a tale to tell. That is, if you want them here. I don't want to send you any more unwelcome visitors."
"Oh, send them over! I'll be glad to have guests that only want my stories and food instead of my possessions, money or home."
As Bilbo grinned mischievously, Isembold had to wonder how they had all missed the Took side in Bilbo. Despite of all the struggles and losses Bilbo had been through, this adventure had clearly changed him for the better.