A stranger arriving in the midst of the ordinary town of Tuckborough is a strange occurrence indeed. A rather secretive stranger with quite the mysterious and enigmatic purpose is simply beyond strange, which would be exactly the reason why two young hobbits are currently crouched under the bench watching the stranger with a pointed blue hat avidly from an (apparently) unseen hiding spot.
To be fair, approximately all of the inn's patrons were listening eagerly to the conversation between this stranger and the innkeeper, and everyone one of them was entirely disappointed by the lack of information. It was entirely certain that any business that the stranger had in these parts was to be conducted with utmost secrecy. But even so, rumours abounded. Whispers of, perhaps, trouble from the East circulated as villagers casted surreptitious glances at the conversing pair. One could even hear suggestions of mysterious wizardry. At that most recent remark, the two young hobbits glanced eagerly at each other, and one could see the immediate spark, no, the blinding explosion of curiosity and interest at this new revelation.
Wizards have always been rather riddling and confusing to speak with. Their very presence was most often a riddle in itself. You can tell why the pair of children would be so thrilled by this new enigma.
Now, rumours are most often not true, but for this instance, the hobbits of Tuckborough have guessed on the mark, and the excitement between the children mounted as they wait ever so patiently for the wizard to just hurry up and move on!
But see! It seems that fortune has finally befallen the two boys! There, you could see the wizard heading off to his rooms at the inn along with the innkeeper. With a rustle and a scraping of the bench, the young hobbits Hildifons and Isembold Took soon pattered off after the retreating point of the hat and into the long winding corridors to where, for sure, they could overhear the cryptic purpose of this unexpected visit.
Soon, they heard the amiable voice of the innkeeper begin speaking.
"We don't have all too many curious folk such as you passing through the town. If I might ask, what exactly are you doing here of all places?" queried the innkeeper.
"Oh, simply a little of this and a little of that. Nothing of concern, I think." That was a typical wizard-like response.
"It is only the typical dullness and monotony of life that has brought me here to look for something more entertaining. Besides, there is a certain, hmm…, secret that I bring here. Ah yes, that insignificant box over there holds a secret and a queer one at that," replied the wizard's gruff voice. By and by, the wizard moved on into the next room with the innkeeper chattering away as always, and in an instant, the hobbits were out of the room, having paused for only an instant to pick up that innocent box, and had raced all of the way to the safety of the closest refuge, the old barn.
The place may have been a little musty from its lack of use, and all around them, clouds of dust billowed and many a sneeze could be heard. But still panting from their flight, the pair sat down immediately, ignoring the grime to open the box… until they realized a very major flaw in their hasty exit plan. Yes, they had forgotten the key.
Do not laugh at the poor hobbits! Remember that being caught eavesdropping on a wizard can have some very hazardous consequences indeed. After all, it is never advisable to provoke a wizard. And so, the hobbits now have a bothersome quandary, how exactly is this box to be opened without the key?
But of course, that is not a problem when Isembold is a part of the scheme.
"I have a Plan."
Hearing the capital "P" in the statement, Hildifons had the common sense to feel alarmed at this point considering past experience with Plans, but Isembold was quick to reassure.
"Oh, don't worry. This is no cause for dismay! I think that this Plan is excellent indeed. In fact, I believe it will involve a particular acquaintance of ours and a little bribery if you catch my drift."
"Most unfortunately and though I would really rather not have, I am afraid I have just caught your drift and wish to return it to you right this moment."
Common sense notwithstanding, the two hobbits were racing across and around the narrow, winding paths of the village, stopping at a small farm with a small and comfortable little cottage where after locating their quarry, they set about with the difficult task of convincing Tolman Burrows, known as Tom, to join their cause.
After reluctantly handing Tom a dozen little pastries as payment for the job, they waited under the bright, blue sky that would have indicated delightful hours of play in any other circumstance. And they waited. And waited. And waited a little more until, finally, they discerned the racing figure of their burglar.
"Where was it?" "What does it look like?" "How did you find it?" came the inquiries with breathless impatience as, panting, Tom reached the field.
"… It's not there."
The silence after that singular pronouncement could be considered dead, but more accurately, at this point, it should be beyond dead. And then, a single word.
"Explain."
"Truly, it's not there. There was not a single key in sight. Not in the creaky drawers. Or on the old and scratched desk. Neither in the lumpy baggage nor in any dusty corner. The fact was proven and then proven again that there was not a key anywhere in the wizard's rooms. If you want a key, you'll need to have the blacksmith make one. Good-bye." And he was gone.
Suffice to say, it was not a happy pair of children trudging back to the old barn with weary disappointment. You are probably entirely frustrated with the fact that the thought of simply picking the lock has not once occurred to them, but pray, do not mention it! Childhood innocence must be preserved after all.
And so, Isembold announced, "That settles it then. We're off to the blacksmith."
By the time they had run all the way to the forge, it is also necessary to mention that the blacksmith was none too happy with their request either. Having pooled the entirety of their allowance together, the pair had just made the smith's price and was currently in the midst of explaining their need without clarifying the finer details.
"If I understand all right, you want a replacement key. To open that box with something of yours inside it because you never had the key to the box in the first place."
"Yes, that sounds about right. Doesn't it, Hildifons?"
"Er, yes. That's it. Just like that."
The disbelieving eyes of the blacksmith stared right back at them as he declared, "I'll have it finished in a few days." with all the weary patience of a schoolteacher finally giving in and agreeing to a request that has been asked after far too many times.
And finally, after days of impatience and fidgeting, the efforts of the two children paid off and their newly acquired key was clutched tightly within their grasp. Sitting, this time, in their favourite refuge of a little clearing near the edge of the woods, the hobbits looked intently at their goal. Everything around them seemed tinged with anticipation - the silver branches of the birches were near trembling, the vibrant larkspurs, buttercups, and orchids were positively glowing, and even the vivid green of the grass was anxiously waiting. The tension was thick, thick enough to be the consistency of, say, pudding. It was time for this elusive secret to finally be revealed. With a satisfying click and the thud of the lid hitting the ground, the box finally swung open to reveal… the gleaming key they had just spent ages looking for.
That and a rather amused wizard standing behind them.
"Let me tell you something that I think you ought to know. You have found it. The secret that is. Not too many people have ever bothered to remember this, but a goal, once reached, can often be very disappointing. So remember, be careful with your goals and always think ahead, and perhaps the next time you will not be so unwary."
Stifling his mirth, the wizard vanished into the trees, leaving the two hobbits dumbfounded… by the one time a wizard has ever bothered to make sense.
~O~
As always, recognizable characters and places belong to the author.
Author's Note: I actually wrote the story for a project, and now I have just changed the names to make it un-original. The brevity would be the result of a very annoying element called a page-limit. :)