It is a true a fact as any that every story has a beginning, a middle, and an end. But stories are not always shown in that order.
Here we are, in the land of our Makers, and I could tell you right now that I am happy. Happier than I have ever been before. But that is the ending. For there is a happy ending, no matter how hard it may seem. You can see the ending before you. In this place, this home. But that's not what you want. You want the beginning and the beginning is less happy. It's not sad. Not really. But as is with all lives there are moments of grief. For how can one be happy if there is no sadness?
They have told you that I'm a great storyteller, so I should tell you our truth. But, the thing is, when the story is great the teller could be abysmal. It is still a great story.
Some storytellers would start with the dragon Smaug, but you already know about that. Some people would say it started with a wizard in billowing grey robes. Some would say it was a great love story, with adventure and heroism. It wasn't.
It started with a hole in the ground- in a hole in the ground where 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. But whilst comfort is nice, a hole isn't a home- especially when you only live in it...