A small blob of smoke rose from the nest of wood that housed its source. The ring grew as it drifted, only to be met by another, similar creature, one that, surprisingly, fluttered. A small butterfly ventured through the ring, breaking it, before splashing into the face of the hobbit that created the ring of smoke.

Bilbo sat contentedly, inhaling the smoke form her pipe-weed while gazing at the green pastures of the hills and playing children of the Shire. She loved this, the serenity, the calm… even if they all thought her odd. She understood their misconception, their confusion, even their suspicion. After all, a daughter of Belladonna Took and Bungo Baggins with no Bungo at all gave reason for suspicion, but better that be all than they learn the truth. Bungo raised her as his own, loved her as his own, and that is all that matters. It was no bother to them so long as the odd, non-hobbit-like lass in the Bag-End hole protected their homes. But oh, Lobelia Sackville-Baggins were in for a nasty surprise, bloody twat that she was…

As she sat, contemplating her past and present thoughts, she disregarded when the sun suddenly ceased casting its warm glow on her. Her honey eyes, closed and relaxed, did not think to open at the anomaly, for she resided at Bag End of the Shire, where no evil thought to disturb the peaceful hobbits, though probably for lack of knowledge of their existence than a simple mercy.

However, when the smoke butterfly burst in her face, Bilbo hastily opened her eyes, recognizing such mischief. Her mother may have been fond of that confound wizard, but she, particularly, cared not too greatly for his adventures. She squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze.

"Good morning," was her statement, cold and direct.

"What do you mean?" answered the grey wizard, "Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that is it a good morning whether I want it or not; or perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular this morning; or are you simply stating that this is a morning to be good on?"

"All of them at once, and perhaps a greeting and a farewell," responded the hobbit, a small twitch of annoyance lifting the corner of her mouth and a narrow of her eyes crunching up her eyebrows.

Her answer must have lacked a certain something, for the wizard's grin turned into a frown. A noise reflecting deep thought escaped the wizard, and the hobbit lass only lifted her eyebrows in response. Her legs swung to the side, body facing away in slight dismissal, but the wizard seemed to not understand her oh so subtle hints.

"Can I help you?" she asked, more direct and tone slightly sarcastic.

The wizard adopted a contemplative look, seeming to study her. She bristled at his sudden answer.

"That remains to be seen," he responded, looking at her with questioning eyes.

Indignation flared through her being. If he was going to be a twit, he could very well leave. If she could offer no help to him, then he should very well be on his bloody way. As she prepared to voice this, however, the wizard spoke once more.

"I'm looking for someone to share in an adventure," stated the wizard, raising his own eyebrows and giving her a knowing look.

The pipe left her mouth with a speed resembling lightning. Her mouth opened to form a retort, but whatever words she was going to say died on her tongue. Her mind flashed back to past adventures. She raised an eyebrow at the wizard, eyes once more narrowing.

"An adventure? No, I don't imagine anyone west of Bree would have much interest in adventures," she stood, her voice giving a giant hint of disdain for said adventures, "Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things," she began to list as she opened her mailbox and retrieved its contents, "Make you late for dinner."

Throughout the entire speech, Bilbo's tone of sarcasm and disregard made the wizard silently sigh on the inside. Perhaps the time with the elves had been a tad, well, overdone, and her father had been upset she'd been late for dinner, but nasty? She had fun, if the lass could recall. Her only stared as she read her mail, making little noises of recognition or surprise at her mail. Her mockery was most certainly not appreciated, thank you.

Gandalf did, however, take a small bit of delight in the increasing peaks the hobbit sent his way, obviously growing at bit anxious at his continual negation to leave. She put the pipe back in her mouth and inhaled a bit of smoke.

"Good morning," she dismissed, giving a quick turn and raising both her eyebrows as she trailed up the stairs leading to her home.

"To think that I should have lived to be good morninged by Belladonna Took's son as if I was selling buttons at the door!" exclaimed Gandalf.

The hobbit turned at that, glaring at the wizard through the surprise at his tone. He had never spoken to her in that manner before! She had never answered in this manner before but she had good reason.

"Beg your pardon?" she asked.

"You've changed," announced the wizard, looking at the hobbit and shaking his head, "And not entirely for the better, Bilbo Baggins."

The hobbit lass did not know what to do, what to answer to that. This man, this wizard, what to say? She went, she is ashamed to remember, down the path of woeful ignorance.

"I'm sorry do I know you?" as soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to her head repeatedly on a door. If nothing, this would only encourage him, and she very well did know him, as her behavior obviously bloody well hinted at, good gods.

"Well you know my name," said the wizard, guessing at her game, "Although you don't remember I belong to it. I am Gandalf. And Gandalf means," he paused, moving slightly as if trying to find words to make her understand, "Me."

She did understand. A name does not mean a person. Though her surname may be Baggins, her blood was Took, and her heart was Took, and her brain was Took, she was a Took. No, she might have been, but not now. And she had to let him know as much, and this little game seemed to be working best. His eyes stared at her, searching for a spark of realization. She would not humor him. Her pipe lifted at him as she began her reply.

"Not Gandalf the wandering wizard who made such excellent," a bit of flattery went a long way, "Old Took used to have them on All Summer's Eve."

Gandalf smiled, thinking Bilbo was answering positively to their game. He turned and chuckled, looking as if his work had been rewarded. Well, Bilbo could not very well leave that expression on his face, could she? She dropped her tone down to her sarcastic disdain voice.

"No idea you were still in business."

The smile dropped off the wizard's face faster than the pipe returned to Bilbo's mouth. The wooden instrument did little to hide the uncomfortable flutters that now tingled all through her body.

"And where else should I be?" he asked with a glare.

Yes, that had been a mistake. Stupid, stupid old Took, always thinking without her brain; Stupid, stupid, stupid…

Her feet shuffled as she put weight on the different appendages, shifting to and fro and muttering, trying to pass it off as a chuckled when no words left her mouth. The glare sent her way eased at her obvious anxiousness.

"Well, I am pleased that you remember something about me," more than something unpleasant went to unsaid comment, "even if it's only my fireworks."

His face turned softer, skewing into, what is that… affection? And now, wait, what is that? What is he doing now? No…

"Well, that's decided," he said, not giving her a moment to intervene, "It'll be very good for you, and most amusing for me. I shall inform the others"

She stared at him, piqued and shocked. Her head shook trying to understand what just happened.

"Wha… What? No, No! No- wait," she finally answered, turning and walking back toward her home. She turned to address him, "I do not want any adventures," she pointed to the ground with her mail, "here. Thank you, not today. No- I," cutting herself off before she finished her words sounds truly convincing, well done Bilbo, "I suggest you try over the hill, or, or, um," she was doing a marvelous job, she told herself, truly, brilliant, bloody brilliant, "across the water," she signaled with her pipe, pointing, as if that would send the wizard away, "Good morning."

With that, she all but ran into the hobbit hole, closing it with lock and key and leaning heavily against it. That was beautifully handled, well done you daft hobbit, she told herself. She sighed, running a hand through her lock and pulling on them.

The mail was set down on the counter and, as she was about to venture further into her home, she heard a scratching noise on her door. She looked out the window only to be met with a glare of Gandalf's. Stubbornly, her head shook vehemently. He raised an eyebrow and walked away. Running to another window, one in her study, she saw the wizard walk off onto the road. She sighed. Might as well expect company for dinner, what with the mark on the door. Knowing Gandalf, who knows who, or what, he'd be bringing for dinner. Some fish would do nicely, with lemon and a pastry for dessert.