Chapter One : Misguided Meetings
"My dear Frodo, you asked me once if I had told you everything to know about my adventures. And while I can honestly say I have told you the truth, I may not have told you all of it. I am old now, Frodo. I'm not the same Hobbit I once was. I think it is time for you to know what really happened. It began long ago in a land far away to the east, the like of which you will not find in the world today. There was the city of Dale. Its markets known far and wide, full of the bounties of vine and vale. Peaceful, and prosperous. For this city lay before the doors of the greatest kingdom in Middle-Earth: Erebor. Stronghold of Thror, King Under the Mountain, mightiest of the dwarf lords. Thror ruled with utter surety, never doubting his house would endure, for his line lay secure in the lives of his son and grandson. Ahh Frodo, Erebor; built deep within the mountain itself, the beauty of this fortress city was legend. Its beautiful wealth lay in the earth, in precious gems hewed from rock, and in great seams of gold, running like rivers through stone. The skills of the dwarves was unequalled, fashioning objects of great beauty out of diamond, emerald, ruby and sapphire. Ever they delved deeper, down into the dark. And that is where they found it. The heart of the mountain; the Arkenstone. Thror named it the King's Jewel. He took it as a sign, a sign that his right to rule was divine. All would pay homage to him, even the great Elvenking, Thranduil. But the years of peace and plenty were not to last. Slowly, the days turned sour, and the watchful nights closed in. Thror's love of gold had grown too fierce. A sickness had begun to grow within him; it was a sickness of the mind. And where sickness thrives, bad things are sure to follow. The first they heard was a noise like a hurricane coming down from the north. The pines on the mountain creaked and cracked in a hot, dry wind. It was a fire drake from the north. Smaug had come. Such wanton death was dealt that day, for this city of men was nothing to Smaug; his eye was set on another prize. For dragons covet gold, with a dark and fierce desire. Erebor was lost, for a dragon will guard his plunder for as long as he lives. Thranduil would not risk the lives of his kin against the wrath of the dragon. No help came from the elves that day, nor any day since. Robbed of their homeland, the dwarves of Erebor wandered the wilderness, a once mighty people brought low. The young dwarf prince took work where he could find it, labouring in the villages of men, but always he remembered the mountain smoke beneath the moon, the trees like torches blazing bright, for he had seen dragon fire in the sky, and his city to ask. And he never forgave, and he never forgot. That, my dear Frodo, is where I come in. For quite by chance, and the will of a Wizard and his trusty companion, fate decided I would become part of this tale. It began, well, it began as you might expect. In a hole in the ground, there lived a Hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, full of worms and oozy smells. This was a Hobbit-hole, and that means good food, a warm hearth, and all the comforts of home."
Bag End was a peaceful place, a place Hobbit rested, played and worked in peace for many years happily. Bilbo Baggins sat comfortably outside his home, smoking peacefully with his eyes closed. A single smoke ring came from him, rather unexpectedly transforming into a moth and blowing into his face. The unpredicted smoke forced Bilbo to open his eyes to cough, looking up in surprise at the tall grey hooded figure, a raven perching on his shoulder.
"Good morning." Bilbo greets, reluctantly.
"What do you mean? Do you mean to wish me a good morning, or do you mean that is a good morning whether I want it or not?" The tall figure riddles, Bilbo and the bird both simply looking puzzled. The tall older man continues to speak. "Or, perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular morning. Or are you simply stating that this is a morning to be good on?"
"Um, all of them at once, I suppose." Bilbo answers rather bewildered. The perched raven gives a slight chirp at the answer. "Sorry, can I help you?"
"That remains to be seen. I'm looking for someone to share in an adventure." The man says, the bird tilting its head.
"An adventure? Now, I don't imagine anyone west of Bree would have much interest in adventures. Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things. Make you late for dinner, hmm mm." The small Hobbit says, grabbing the mail out of his mailbox, chuckling to himself while picking through the several pieces of mail. Looking at the tall man, feeling quite uncomfortable at the stare. Puffing his pipe in vexation, the Hobbit begins heading back inside his Hobbit hole quite quickly. "Good morning."
"To think that I should have lived to be good-morninged by Belladonna Took's son, as if I were selling buttons at the door." The man almost yells as the raven begins to squawk.
"I beg your pardon?" Bilbo asked offendedly.
"You've changed, and not entirely for the better, Bilbo Baggins." The Hobbit looks more confused at the man's words.
"I'm sorry, do I know you?"
"Well, you know my name, although you don't remember I belong to it. I'm Gandalf! And Gandalf means… me." Gandalf announces proudly as the raven chirps, as if trying to gain attention. "Oh yes this is Lyra." The raven puffs her chest out proudly.
"Gandalf… not Gandalf, the wandering Wizard, who made such excellent fireworks! Old Took used to have them on Midsummer's Eve. Ha ha!" Gandalf look quite pleased at the boasting comments being given to him, his smile growing ever so slightly at the Hobbits words. "Well. Hmm, I had no idea that you were still in business." The Hobbits words made the Wizards smile quickly drop and the raven chirping in laughter almost.
"And where else should I be?" Gandalf asked almost offended.
"Ha, ha! Hm, hmmm well.." Bilbo just continues to puff his smoke, trying to hide the awkward moment.
"Well, I'm pleased to find you remember something about me, even if it's only my fireworks. Well, that's decided. It will be very good for you, and most amusing for me. I shall inform the others." Gandalf announced as he turned to leave. Bilbo in frustration retreats into Bag End ranting as he goes.
"Inform the who? What? No. No. No! Wait. We do not want any adventures here, thank you. Not today, not-mmm. I suggest you try over the Hill or across the Water." The Hobbit freezes as he stands outside his door after his short rant. "Good morning." He says, before quickly retreating into the comfort of his home. Once inside, he bolts the large round door shut and leans against it. Hearing a curious noise, he places his ear onto the door. Unaware to Bilbo, the slight scratching noise he was hearing was coming from Gandalf's staff etching a glowing symbol onto the door. Alarmed, Bilbo quickly glances out his side window, only to jump in fright and surprise at Gandalf's eye peering back at him. Hiding behind the closest wall, he peeks out after a few seconds to witness the Wizard speaking to his bird. Although he could not hear the words, his relief grew when both the old man and bird left his home. However, unaware to Bilbo Gandalf's words were completely heard and understood by the raven. But this wasn't a raven at all, or rather a true raven. As Bilbo would come to find out, sometimes the different wasn't always frightening as he believed. He would have his life story changed that night, after the door rang during his dinner.
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