It had now been many years since Lord Arathorn's passing. Gilraen and Estel, along with the other rangers now lived their lives in the wild. Aragorn had grown up over the years, and a strong and handsome lad was he. He had taken his father's place to lead the Rangers of the North. However, there was one thing that was not to his mother's liking. For that matter, it didn't really bode well for the welfare of Middle-earth either. Aragorn had long decided that his was not the path of a king. His duty would be to all of Middle-Earth. He would just remain Aragorn, and nothing would change that. He would just be one of those guarding Middle-Earth from the dark forces. He would walk the paths his people would, as a ranger, but not as a king. He would fulfill his duties as one among them, but not as the heir of Isildur. He would not claim the throne that belonged to the one whose greed brought about Middle-Earth's misery.
Meanwhile, at the Shire, there was one visitor whom the rest of the Shire folk admired for his fireworks, for they knew nothing of him beyond that. A meddling old man he was called by many, and nonetheless, he was loved and admired by the little hobbits of Hobitton. Gandalf the Grey. Not many knew of his involvement as Guardian of Middle Earth, and the bearer of a ring of power. To them, he was just a funny old man whose fireworks were a sight to see. A man who brought gifts of dwarvish make and caused a lot of trouble wherever he went. He stood at the doorstep of a hobbit named Bilbo Baggins. He knew not why he needed one of such race, just that it was necessary. After all, this particular hobbit had intrigued him quite some years ago. It was not often that one saw Shire-folk longing for adventure. Gandalf only hoped that had not changed with the passage of time. Deciding that it had to be done, nevertheless, he approached Bilbo with his proosition. It turned out that Bilbo had changed after all. It did quite surprise the wizard that Bilbo had all but forgotten him. Thus, it would seem, that the maiar had no choice but to resort to manipulate the outcome of their meeting.
That very evening, dear Bilbo found himself in detestable company. His hobbit-hole being inhabited by a lot many dwarves was not something he particularly wanted. However, the next morning, it was officially decided. He was going on an adventure. An adventure to the Lonely Mountain of Erebor. An adventure along with a wizard, and a company of thirteen dwarves.
Bilbo was in two minds. The Tookish side of him wanted to go on the adventure anyway, but the Baggins in him didn't. It wanted him to return home to a warm hearth, and lots of food, and yet, he had signed the contract. There was no going back now. Not for him. Not after the incident with the trolls, who were now mere stones. Not after all the trust that the Grey wizard, and four dwarves of the company, them being Kili, Fíli, Balin and Dorí, had on him. Sure, they had a map which they couldn't even read. There wasn't anybody who could do so, not even Gandalf, but they would find a way. That is, if they hadn't ended up in the goblin tunnels soon after that. Bilbo, though, hadn't been caught along with the others. He had ended up in the realm beneath, with Sméagol, or Gollum, as he later began to be called, and that is when he found it. Isildur's Bane. The One Ring. Not that he knew it then, of course, but it didn't matter anyway. It had been found.
Bilbo had discovered it to be magical, and thus hadn't disclosed the secret of its discovery to anyone. Not even Gandalf, the one he trusted the most. The 'Company' soon managed to escape, only to be captured, yet again, for luck had long forsaken the dwarves who had no place they could now call home. First by giant spiders, cursed spawn of Ungoliant, and then by the Elvenking himself. The Elvenking had no evil intent, of course, but with dark days coming ahead of them, he couldn't be too liberal with tresspassers. Especially when they were dwarves. Never trust a dwarf! Bilbo, however, managed to sneak them out with the help of some barrels, and of course, the invisibility that his new-found ring granted him, and off they were to Lake Town. Here, much to their surprise, what awaited them were some elves from Mirkwood, Bard the Bowman, and some others who wouldn't quite let them continue their pursuit without being promised a share of the wealth from Erebor. There were hoards of cursed gold in the mountain. Enough for them to overcome those stopping for they were nothing but a challenge. An obstacle in their path. One they would never take lightly, because dwarves were never ones to back down from a challenge.
Nevertheless, they went ahead, until finally, they reached the Lonely mountain, and it was just that. An 'uninhabited' solitary peak. They place they would have called home, had the fiery breath of the dragon not threatened their very existence. Just that they had a key, with no knowledge of where the door was. They didn't even know if they were already too late. Dwarven doors seldom lay unguarded (with the exception of Smaug the Terrible), and without a dwarven rune or two. It was with the help of Bilbo's keen eyes, that they finally found a staircase. Where there is a staircase, there is a way in, and so, they followed it, only to reach a stone wall. No doors, no keyhole. Perhaps, they really were doomed, for that was all this quest was deemed to be by most people, even the dwarves from the Iron Hills. A doomed quest, for a doomed heap of gold.