In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort. This is where our story begins.
It was the 60s in the Shires, and that meant lots of free love and mind opening drugs, yet despite all the free loving going about there was one hobbit who was just not interested in that kind of thing. That hobbit was Bilbo Baggins, and despite his naming resembling something widely used in the Shire, Bilbo was reserved and just couldn't find a Hobbit that sparked his interest. Maybe it was because none of the hobbit were adventurous enough, or it could simply have been his desire to find a real man, either way nothing struck Bilbo's fancy and so he sat alone on his porch, pondering his loneliness while he smoked some good pipe weed his friendly Took cousin hit him up with. That's when suddenly there was a huge puff of glitter and as he wiped the sparkled from his eyes there stood before him a rather tall elderly fellow. He had a long white beard, and his grey hair appeared to have been dipped died at the ends. His sleeveless robe was pink, and he wore a long pointed hat that went down in all the colours of the rainbow. His staff was pink and at the top seemed to resemble something most phallic, as he stood hand in hip staring down at the young Hobbit.
"Good Morning?" Bilbo said confused, he was a very polite and well-mannered Hobbit. He also happened to drink lots of tea, and speak with correct pronunciation but that probably had nothing to do with the Baggins connection to the old Britannia Hobbits.
"Bilbo honey, it's two in the afternoon, hardly morning. Where you out partying with them Tooks again?" The man moved his whole body as he talked, and yet it all seemed very graceful.
"Oh god no! I haven't partied with the Tooks since my little rebellious streak in my youth, honestly what type of Hobbit do you take me- wait! How do you know about that?" Honestly he had to learn to be less of such a scatter brain.
"You don't remember me! Why, I'm Gandalf the Gay! The most fabulous wizard in all off middle Earth!" Gandalf looked both offended and amused, as the Hobbits face turned to that of realisation.
"Oh my, Gandalf of course! How could I forget, oh those where the days, dancing to Rue Paul under rainbow fireworks. You still around, I would've thought for sure at your age you would've…"
"Would've what?"
"Nothing! Soooo what are you doing round here?" Bilbo began to go red; he often got flushed when he was embarrassed.
"Well, I was looking to share an adventure with someone. Oh speaking off do you want a skittle?" He asked offering out the bag he had hidden in his belt
"Oh yes please- Hold up, an adventure! Oh no, no way not interested." Quickly getting up Bilbo began to make his way to leave.
"No interested! And what happened the Bilbo who jumped at the chance of some fun and partying. It's with some folks who really know how to party! You used to be out till dawn going right the edge of the Shire where all the wild things went on." Gandalf called out making Bilbo stop in his tracks and he internally cringed at the memories.
"That Hobbit has gone Gandalf. I'm older now, grown up, I can't be going out partying like the youths."
"Can't be out partying! That's it; I have decided this will be most beneficial to you, and god damn hilarious to me." Gandalf said with a snap of his fingers as he disappeared once again in a poof of glitter.
"This cannot be good." Bilbo sighed, as he entered his house to make some tea, not noticing the little LGBT symbol Gandalf had drawn on his door.