Shatterpoint
He walked out his front door, pausing as it closed behind him. It was always a dangerous business, walking out one's door, even more for Bilbo. With his eyes closed, he breathed in deeply, letting the possibilities filter out before him. Already, he could see the possible paths stretching in different directions, but all of them had a single point in common, the Grey Wizard. It seemed that no matter how much Bilbo wished it, his meeting with the Grey Pilgrim was unavoidable. He also knew at that point the possibilities became even more endless.
Having decided there was no use worrying about inevitable meetings, the hobbit sat down on his bench and pulled out his pipe. He fully intended to enjoy his morning, never mind the attention he would attract from his neighbors just by coming out his door. Closing his eyes he breathed in his Old Toby from his pipe enjoying the peaceful atmosphere. The warmth of the sun on his face, the breeze blowing through his curls, and the feeling of the Earth on his feet helped him relax.
In the distance he could hear his neighbors getting ready for the day, smell the bread baking, and hear the market sounds from his front step.
