Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings or any of it's characters and I cannot claim to hope to do justice to the genius of Tolkien with any of my writing- yet I do it respectfully as an ardent admirer of Middle Earth with it's evils and innocence alike. Thus my story is humbly submitted.

A FIVE SCORE PRELUDE

1368-1418

A Visit: Part 1

September 23, 1368 S.R.

Bilbo stepped lightly out his door and shut it. The fall breeze was cool against his cheek and he smiled. It had been much too hot of late for his liking.

The lawn was still green and lush and vibrant, as were the flowers that trimmed the main entrance- but the trees were just beginning to change and their leaves glinted golden in the bright of midday.

He walked down the path to the road briskly, whistling an unfamiliar tune. In his hands was a green, paper package onto which a white envelope was tightly secured with a silver ribbon.

He was making a visit.

"Hullo Hamfast!" he said, when his gardener came into sight. He had been kneeling by the far rose bushes, shears in hand.

"Hello, Mr. Bilbo," he said, looking up from his work. "T'is a good day for a walk. One can't ask for better weather than we've got."

"One certainly can't," Bilbo replied happily. "And I intend to enjoy it."

"As you should, Mr. Bilbo, sir."

"Did you happen to try that bottle of Old Wineyards?"

"That I did, sir. Thank you, sir!" the gardener said with a smile. "Just last night, in fact. And it was a proper 1320, to be sure."

"That's wonderful, Hamfast! I'm glad you enjoyed it. I had a bit myself at my little party. Oh! Which reminds me! I'm going out of town. It seems mine wasn't the only birthday yesterday. My cousin Primula- she's my cousin Drogo's wife- had her baby only just last night."

"Indeed, Mr. Bilbo?"

"Yes, and a boy, too. Though Primula's in a bit of shock, it seems. Poor lass. She's been having fits, strange dreams, I've been told. So I thought I'd go down to Buckland and pay them a call. They've been staying with Rory Brandybuck in Brandy Hall- Primula being his sister and all- and I've been wanting to see the old chap anyway. It might be my last chance before winter sets in."
"Aye, that it might."

"Well anyway, I'm borrowing a wagon from a friend in Bywater. A couple of lads already took my stuff down for me, so I'll just be leaving from there. I won't be gone too long- no more than a week or two. And I was wondering if you could keep watch on Bag End for me 'til I'm back?"

"Why, of course I could, sir. Be glad to."

"Thanks. Oh! And could you do me another favor? Keep it locked. That young Lotho's in town and he's up to no good, seemingly. He was caught spying in windows last night."

"Is that so?" A strange look of realization spread across the gardener's face.

"Is something wrong, Hamfast?"

"What? Oh, no. Nothing, Mr. Bilbo, sir. I was just thinking."

"Oh. Well- you have the keys and I think there's some cakes on the table that need to be taken care of. I wouldn't want them to spoil before I return," he winked.

"Of course not!" the other said with a grin in return.

"Well, then I'm off! Good day, Hamfast!"

"Good day, sir!"

And with that, the old hobbit struck back down the lane.

The gardener, however, did not resume his clipping. Instead, he put down his shears and walked down the hill toward the far window of his home. Beyond the glass was his son's bedroom. Below it… were footprints.

"Trolls," he muttered and went back to work.