The days melted into weeks, and as they passed Bilbo began to wonder why he had not employed a housekeeper before. Though she was an extra person to feed, Andrethiril helped with so many of the chores that he had free time to do other things. She had even given his little door a fresh coat of vibrant green paint. She had walked into his study where he had been reading, streaked somewhat with green pigment, but with a triumphant smile on her face. It had made him smile himself, before promptly sending her off to the bathroom to make herself decent.
Whenever Bilbo sat down to eat he had her tell him stories of faraway places she had been to. He knew so far that she had grown up in a distant Elven kingdom called Lothlorien, and was much older than he. She had traveled to many places, and she said that she had been to the Shire before, long ago, and as far West as the Blue Mountains and the Grey Havens. When he asked her why she was out in this part of the country, she told him that she was waiting for someone, and because she didn't know how long she had to wait, she had sought out a job.
Hearing her stories stirred the Tookish side in him more than anything else, and much to the internal Baggins' dismay he began to wonder how wide the world truly was beyond the borders of the Shire. But though he began to wonder, he still had no desire to go traipsing off into the wild blue yonder. Yet if others wished to do so, and brought the tales back to his comfortable home, they were welcome to do so.
It was a fine Tuesday morning, and Bilbo was sitting outside his beautiful Hobbit hole, smoking a long pipe and blowing smoke rings. He had just been admiring how fresh and green the world was, while waiting for Andrethiril to return from her trip to the market. But it wasn't long before he found himself looking up into the wizened blue eyes of…
…another stranger.
Oh bother, he thought, not another one. At least the first one wasn't this old… This stranger was wearing grey clothes- a grey tunic, a grey cloak, and the most absurd pointy grey hat that Bilbo had ever seen. A long grey beard reached down to his belt, which Bilbo admitted wasn't grey, but brown. Two grey, bushy eyebrows stuck out over the eyes that Bilbo was staring into. Where this stranger had come from, Bilbo had no idea.
The two of them stared at each other for a moment. After an awkward few seconds of silence, Bilbo had had enough. "Good morning," he stated, wanting to appear friendly though he was anything but pleased.
"What do you mean?" the stranger asked, cocking his head to one side. "Do you mean to wish me a good morning, or do you mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not?"
Bilbo simply stared at him, still holding the pipe to his mouth, which had fallen slightly open.
"Or perhaps you mean to say that you feel good on this particular morning," the stranger went on. "Or are you simply stating that this is a morning to be good on?"
Bilbo paused for a moment to think this through. "All of them at once, I suppose," he said at last.
The stranger remained silent, looking oddly at Bilbo. Bilbo looked away uncomfortably for a moment, then looked back at the stranger. "Can I help you?" he asked.
"That remains to be seen," the stranger grunted. "I'm looking for someone to share in an adventure."
The pipe left Bilbo's mouth in an instant. "An adventure?" He asked, blinking in surprise at the absurdity of the notion. "Well I don't imagine anyone west of Bree would have much interest in adventures. Nasty, disturbing…" he rose to get the mail out of his mailbox, looking for something to keep himself occupied with as he spoke, "...uncomfortable things. Make you late for dinner," he added with a chuckle, holding his pipe in his teeth while he sorted through the letters. Finding nothing in them of notable interest, he cleared his throat and glanced up at the stranger. "Good morning," he said again, in a way that meant the conversation was over. He turned to go inside.
"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 stranger said, making Bilbo pause and turn around.
"Beg your pardon?" Bilbo was a little shaken to hear the name of his dear mother come from the mouth of a stranger.
"You've changed," the stranger noted, "and not entirely for the better, Bilbo Baggins."
"I'm sorry- do I know you?" Bilbo asked, completely puzzled that the stranger should know his name. Andrethiril had known it, he supposed, but only after asking around at the marketplace and being directed to his home. This was different. Uncomfortably different.
"Well, you know my name," the stranger said, "although you don't remember I belong to it: I'm Gandalf! And Gandalf means…." the stranger paused to think of what his name meant. "ME." He said at last.
The name clicked in Bilbo's mind, vaguely. "Not…Gandalf the wandering wizard who made such excellent fireworks? Old Took used to have them on Midsummer's Eve!" He laughed, gesturing with his pipe, and the stranger's smile confirmed his memories. "No idea you were still in business," Bilbo added, a little rudely but not dishonestly.
The stranger's smile faded. "And where else should I be?" he asked, a little gruffly. Bilbo cleared his throat and swallowed, slightly intimidated, but Gandalf seemed to cool off. "Well I'm pleased to find you remember something about me," he said. "Even if it is only my fireworks. Well, that's decided. It'll be very good for you," he pointed at Bilbo, "and most amusing for me. I shall inform the others." He turned to go.
"Inform the who? What- no no," Bilbo stuttered, "no- wait- we do not want any adventures here, thank you. Not today- not…" he was so flustered- he just wanted the stranger to go away, but not without the right message. "I suggest you try over the Hill or… across the Water."
And with a final "good morning", he retreated into his Hobbit hole and closed the door firmly behind him.
Meanwhile, Numeniel was walking up the pathway towards Bag End. She was coming back from the Bywater market, for the shopping would not do itself, and on her way she had strayed beside the path to pick wildflowers to brighten Bilbo's mantle. She had time, and it was a beautiful spring day. The wind was playing with the escaped strands of her hair, trying to tease the rest of it out of her braids. Birds flew by overhead, brightening the air with their song like the sun that was brightening the sky. Numeniel drew in a long, contented breath of the spring air and smiled. Springtime in the Shire was much more pleasant than anywhere else in the world, she was convinced. But it was getting on to summer, and she knew the days would grow warmer, and the fruits and berries would ripen. The early strawberries, she remembered, were already starting to blush red.
She returned to the path, the stones warm from the sun beneath her bare feet, as she rounded the last bend in the path. But she came to a sudden halt, for there was a large man, clad in grey, stooping over Bilbo's doorstep. It was not difficult for Numeniel to recognize who it was, and her smile became wider. Carefully she crept closer to the gate, curious as to what Gandalf was doing. With his staff he was scratching something onto Bilbo's door- Bilbo's beautiful green door, which she had painted only last week. Mild frustration flared up in her, but it wasn't strong enough to overcome the love she had for her elder brother.
"And when did it become customary for wandering wizards to mutilate doors?" she asked, her head cocked playfully aside as she stepped past the gate. The wizard turned around in surprise and embarrassment, but when he recognized her he laughed. "Numeniel! My old friend."
"Stay that name, my brother," she hissed, running to him and embracing him. "I am known in these parts as Andrethiril."
"I see. Well, here you are!" Gandalf said, when she had let go and stepped back.
"Here I am."
"And what do you think of him?"
"Of Bilbo?" Her eyes glanced behind the wizard to the windows of the Hobbit hole. She thought she could see Bilbo peering through the glass, but she was unsure. "I like him just fine," she said, smiling fondly.
"He spoke for you, I think," Gandalf said. He tried to imitate Bilbo's tone: "We do not want any adventures here, thank you." He then looked at her with a teasing chuckle. "Do you really not want any adventures?"
Numeniel laughed. "He forgot to consult me before he gave my opinion," she said.
"Oh well, it can't be helped. He will be a good addition to our Company," Gandalf said affirmatively, looking back at the Hobbit hole once more, "if Thorin can be convinced." He turned back to her, his eyes apologetic. "Regretfully, I cannot stay," he said, "I must go and inform the others of where we are to meet."
"Very well- I understand." She looked down the pathway. "The Bywater has a fine Inn where they can stay."
"Ah yes, I had thought of that." Gandalf looked over his shoulder at Bag End. "Or..." He looked at her then to gauge her reaction, and his eyes twinkled in a way Numeniel was too accustomed to.
"Olorin, no," she chided, when she realized what he was implying. "They can't come here. It will overwhelm Bilbo, and then he won't be persuaded."
"Stay that name," he laughed, "I am known here as Gandalf."
That earned him a brief smile. "But, Gandalf, they'll throw his house into such a state of ruin and mess. Which, I might add, I will have to tidy the morning after. It would be best to have them all meet at the Inn."
"I suppose you're right." Gandalf then raised a bushy brow. "You do the housework for our burglar?"
"I am his housekeeper," she corrected.
"He hired you?"
She nodded. "He has been very generous," she said softly.
Gandalf grunted, as if pleased with himself. "That gives me more hope," he said. "He is in good hands, then. Keep a close eye on the fellow. And now," He gave her a slight bow, "I must go." Turning, he began to walk down the path.
"Gandalf?" she called after him, and he turned back briefly.
"Yes?"
"When am I to bring Bilbo to meet the Company?"
Her response was only another eye twinkle before the wizard turned away again.
"Gandalf!" she called, "what are you planning?"
"You'll see!" he shouted back without halting.
"In the name of the Aratar," she sighed exasperatedly, as his pointy hat disappeared behind the hill, "what is that supposed to mean?"
She looked back at the Hobbit's green door, then jumped down from the rock to read the markings he had carved there. Her eyes widened slightly as she bent to read them.
ᛒ - Burglar.
ᛞ - Danger.
⟐ - Treasure.
"It says what?" Bilbo asked later, when he was standing with her out in front of his door.
"More or less, it says there's a burglar here asking for work. This symbol, here in the middle, means he wouldn't mind any danger either. An expert burglar, I'd imagine. Wanting a good wage." She pointed to the diamond-shaped symbol at the end.
"I'm not a burglar," Bilbo grumbled, "I've never stolen a thing in my life."
"I believe you," Numeniel smiled.
"Are you sure that's what it says?"
"I'm positive, Mr. Baggins," she said, standing up and folding her arms across her chest. "It's a common way of notice-writing in many different cultures, or used to be. Though why he would write such a thing I cannot fathom." Her only guess was that it was some sort of prank the wizard was playing on them, to rile them up. Gandalf had been known to do such things before. She would give him a good earful when she saw him next, firstly for not telling her his plan and secondly for the way he had ruined a solid hour of her previous labor as a joke.
"What is it with wizards, anyway?" Bilbo sighed, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "Defacing private property, and all for a prank? It's quite a dastardly thing to do, if you ask me."
"I agree. And I can paint over the markings if you like, Mr. Baggins," Numeniel offered. It bothered her that her recent paint job was scarred so.
"Yes- yes, that would do nicely," Bilbo said, bending again to inspect the scratches. "You won't be able to cover up the dents, I suppose, but it will be much less noticeable." He straightened up and sighed. "I saw you talking with Gandalf," he added. "Is he the one you were waiting here for?"
"Yes," she said, "but he was pressed for time, and we were unable to discuss everything. I'll have to meet with him again at a later time more to his convenience, if you wouldn't mind keeping me on for another day or so."
"Oh no, not at all." Bilbo waved a hand dismissively. "You may stay as long as you have the mind to."
"Thank you," she said, smiling.
"Yes, well, you're a great help to me. It'd be a shame to lose you when I've just gotten used to you." Bilbo glanced again at the scratches on his door. "Wizards…" he grumbled, going inside. "I'm going to make some tea. Settle my nerves…"
Numeniel looked down the path to where Gandalf had disappeared hours ago, then shook her head slowly. "What are you planning now, Gandalf?" She muttered to herself, as she went off in search of the paint.
