Bilbo Baggins was old.
Like, really old. 111, to be precise. And because of his ripe old age (in which he still felt as if he were one with the youngsters) he decided to throw a party.
The party would have nearly the entire Shire as guests. It was splendid. But, because this is dear old Bilbo we are speaking of, he wanted to end this party with a bang.
Bilbo was different than most hobbits, and his adopted nephew, Frodo, took after the guy. One such quirk is their shared friendship in an old wizard called Gandalf.
Frodo watched as the wizard approached Hobbiton in a horse drawn buggy. "You're late," he said, crossing his arms.
Gandalf glared at the young hobbit. "Fashionably so. A wizard is never late, Frodo Baggins, nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to."
Frodo broke into a grin that could both warm the countryside and send younger hobbits and the whole of men into hiding. "Oh, how I missed your odd humor!"
The duo rode onward until they reached Bilbo's dwelling at Bag End. Frodo hopped off the cart and ran frolicking away, to do Sauron knows what.
Gandalf hit his head trying to get through the door. After all, it was a hobbit's home he was entering, and hobbits were stout fellows.
Immediately he was assaulted by a battering of silverware.
"Go away! We don't wish to see to any more Sackville-Bagginses!"
Gandalf stooped under the low ceiling and stared down the hall as the attacker came into view, wielding a rather nice set of spoons. "What about ancient friends?"
Bilbo stopped and smiled. He had a much more appealing laugh than his nephew's. "Gandalf! I thought you were Lobelia! Wretched woman."
He simply nodded his agreement, preoccupied.
He sat down at the table, Gandalf eyeing a map framed on the wall. It reminded him of Bilbo's past adventures. The hobbit bustled about him.
"Tea? Or maybe something a little stronger..." He went out of earshot to rummage in the kitchen. "I was expecting you last week. Not that it matters, you come and go as you please, always will. You've caught me unprepared. We've only got cold chicken, a bit of pickle..."
Gandalf smiled as he rattled those off in the other room. "Just tea, thank you."
Bilbo came back, sitting across from his old companion.
"I know I don't look it, but I am old." Bilbo suddenly stated after an awkward silence.
Gandalf hid a smirk behind a knarled hand. Dear Bilbo, even the One Ring cannot spare you of that, he thought with amusement.
"It is time for me to go, Gandalf."
Bilbo gazed out the window to the rolling green hills of the Shire. Peaceful and tranquil, and most importantly, safe. Safe from adventure, which the elderly hobbit so enjoyed. "Tonight will be a night to remember."
That night, after many of the festivities had died down including an incident with some dragon shaped fireworks, the crowd screamed at Bilbo to give a speech. Most of the hobbits were drowsy and dull from their ales and full plates.
Smiling good naturedly, Bilbo walked to the front of the assembly. "This would be a grand time to single each and every one of my terrible relatives out, but I have not the time to so. For I am leaving."
The crowd murmured.
"I am happy to announce this is the end. I am leaving now."
With one last mischievous smile, Bilbo Baggins slipped his greatest treasure on his finger: a plain gold ring. He vanished into thin air like some parlor trick and was never seen in the Shire again. (Much to the happiness of the Sackville-Bagginses)
Frodo stood up, staring at the stage where his uncle had disappeared. His cries for Bilbo were lost in the crowd of gasping and gossip.
That night when Frodo stumbled back into his uncle's home, he nearly tripped over Bilbo's ring, lying just past the threshold.
He picked it up with wonder, then started, finally noticing he was not alone.
Gandalf sat in the next room, blowing smoke rings from his pipe and gazing dreamily into the crackling fire.
"What the Mordor are you doing in my house?!"
Gandalf snorted on his smoke, seeing the ring in Frodo's hand. "What? Oh, I trespass often. I like watching you sleep."
Frodo blinked.
The wizard stood, bashing his tall, pointy hat on the rafters. "Wrong popular young adult series. My apologies."
"Where is Bilbo?" Frodo asked fearfully.
The man, twice as tall as he, pushed past the hobbit. "He has gone on vacation. A permanent one. On the bright side, he has left you everything!" Gandalf wrinkled his nose. "And by everything, I do mean everything. That man had some peculiar hobbies."
He walked to the door. Frodo managed to expel the image from his mind. "And where are you off to?"
The wizard paused. "I don't know really. This is just a way to move the story along." His eyes looked deep into Frodo's, piercing his soul. "That token of yours is most powerful. Watch over it with your life."
Frodo's eyes widened. "But it's only a RING!"
Ignoring him, he replied,"Keep it secret. Keep it safe." Gandalf turned to go but glanced over his shoulder at the shaking hobbit. "Oh, and Frodo? Keep it sexy." He winked, and with that he was off.
Never in a million years did young Frodo imagine he would have adventures like that of dear Bilbo's. But a year later, whence Gandalf returned, he would be swept off his feet in a flurry of lies and treachery, as is given for a coming of age story.
