In a corner of Avallone's great library, someone had erected something like a campsite—if such comforts could be found while camping. A pot of tea and a plate of seed cakes sat between piles of manuscripts pulled without constraint from the lower shelves, half-forgotten by the half-hidden, white-haired hobbit who sat cheerfully devouring tales instead.
Finrod peered over a stack of leather-bound books. "Good afternoon, Master Baggins!"
"Oh! Good afternoon!" Bilbo beamed up at him. "I was just reading about you, as a matter of fact, and your deeds of courage and derring-do and all of it. Very exciting!"