Pressing Flowers

Chapter One: In the Beginning

Being completely honest Bilbo rarely, if ever, stepped out his door without reason. If he could survive without ever having to face the hissing or piercing stares of his neighbors he'd probably stay inside Bag End forever. It wasn't that he hated the Shire, it was beautiful with its picturesque village. He hated the façade, he hated that it looked so beautiful when its people were rotten to the core. He hated how beautiful the orchard was in the spring; the apple blossoms a beautiful rainbow of pale pinks and whites, looking so pure and peaceful when deep the Hobbits that lived hidden within the hues of colors were nothing more than a raging hornet's nest. Waiting to attack and sting the first person that invaded their privet little sanctuary. Yes, it truly was beautiful, the warm spring sun bathing all it could with it's warm embrace. The thick scent of lavender and honeysuckle drifting on the breeze. The entire small town encased in rolling green paddocks and sprawling wheat fields. Hiding the diabolical people who were capable of the darkest and most evil of deeds.

Outsiders and visitors might not be aware, but he knew better than most of the monsters the lurked within the angelic people. His body was a testament of just what they could do. The scars on his body stood as a stark reminder of just how terrible the Hobbit people were to those who were different. He had tried to escape them countless times, one time making it as far as the boarder of the Shire, he had tried to delude himself that he could make it. If he just ran faster, if he pushed harder, maybe he could beat them. He foolishly packed his bags many times. Each time he was caught and brutalized beyond repair, more scarred and broken than the last. Hamfast left to patch him up and tell him not to give up hope.

Bilbo often thought if he could find someone to travel with… He knew minimal sword play, his mother having to teach him in secrecy, the Breeders and the Cullers not giving her access to the weapons to train with made it hard for them to learn. If he found a group to travel with, maybe it would be easier to escape, he often dreamed of someone coming to whisk him away to safety. But he knew after so many attempts it was a fool's errand, and happy endings likely only existed in the fictional stories Hamfast brought him when he was able. He wished a stranger with the skills he needed would come and save him, someone who was strong willed and had the strength to persevere. He would likely need a group of people, and that was not likely to happen any time soon… not with such a small amount of time left.

"Firik?" Bilbo called through the silent Smial. It was amazing how chillingly aware he became of his situation on days like this. "Firik? Will you come out with me?" He tried again, he vaguely heard the click clack from Firik's nails somewhere in the vast and lonely Smial. "It's one of our last days, let us go outside, love. Let's relax my dear friend." He called as he opened the door, Firik came loping from one of the back bedrooms, a grim expression on his stern face. Firik always seemed to give Bilbo a sever expression when he spoke of the end of his freedom. Obviously as a wolf he was unable to scold him, but it always seemed to cow Bilbo into knowing he was crossing a line with the canine.

Bag End was quiet today; Hamfast was out tending to the children while his Missus took ill. The Gamgee Missus was pregnant with the youngest Gamgee, and this pregnancy seemed to be taking its toll on her. Hamfast offered to bring the children for a visit, but Bilbo insisted he stay and tend to the lady. Bilbo lived by very simple rules, "Don't go outside of Bag End limits", "Don't get between Hamfast and the Missus", "Stay away from Breeder territory", and "Don't touch his scars". Four very simple rules that he lived his life by, and for the most part they paid off and made life easier for Bilbo. Some were easier than others to follow, but he did his best to keep in line and on the safe side of things.

Firik followed him through the door, waiting for him to shut it behind them before padding down the steps, his thick black coat rippling with every move, long tail wagging slowly behind him with every step. He sat regally by the bench and waited for his friend and master to take a seat and lighting his pipe. Almost as soon as Bilbo lit his pipe Firik was up on his hind legs, both feet trapping Bilbo on the bench. Whining and attempting to find comfort in Bilbo's lap.

"No Firik! I'll get ashes in your coat! I just gave you a bath." Bilbo scolded, but after struggling to get Firik off his lap for a few moments before he relented. Firik, at his size and muscle mass, weighed as much, if not more than Bilbo. It wasn't a wonder that people avoided Bag End; the last person who attempted to taunt Bilbo had nearly been mauled to death by the frightening protector of Bilbo Baggins.

Several hours had passed since he had come and sat on his bench. Bilbo seemed content to watch the swallows swoop, they antagonized Firik by swooping down and pecking at his before taking flight again. Several times Firik had attempted to catch the birds before being given a look by Bilbo. A compromise was made when Bilbo went and collected some bird seed for them to eat their fill of. The warmth of the beautiful sun and the fluttering birds gave Bilbo something to focus on, he could feel his nerves building but his body trying to stay relaxed. This was his last day of freedom, surrounded by the rolling smoke of ole' toby, the finest weed in the South Farthing. He was enjoying the wind jostling his golden ringlets gently his hazel eyes focused off somewhere in the distance. The sound of birdsong on the wind, the scent of fruit blossoms and honeysuckle on the breeze.

Firik had long since given his master peace and was laying in a relaxed slump just a little way past Bilbo's left foot. They were both calm, enjoying the deep breath before the plunge into darkness. Bilbo savored calm days like this. With the night so full of fear and apprehension it was nice to have several hours of freedom. Breeders owned the night, those who didn't fall under their category were left wondering if they would be taken, wondering if they would be chosen to cull. Bilbo feared for the worst almost nightly. Bilbo had remained untouched and free from the Breeders since Firik had grown into his feet almost 3 years ago. For some that would seem too long, for others not nearly long enough. Bilbo savored every second he could find that he was alone with Firik.

Bilbo wasn't sure how long he sat there in that moment, staring off into the midday sun, wondering if he would ever see it again. He had stopped taking little puffs of his pipe, it seemed useless now, the enjoyment in the moment had fled to a throbbing numbness that he couldn't seem to shake. He had been so lost in thought when Firik let out a sharp warning bark it startled him so badly he slipped off of the bench and landed with a soft thump on the ground. He whipped to snark at Firik for making a sudden loud noise when he heard the growling. Firik stood affront of him, hackles standing on end, teeth bared, looking every bit like the alpha male Bilbo was sure he would be in the wilderness he once called home. His ears were pinned flat against his head, focused on something that Bilbo was not yet comprehending. He whipped his head around just in time to catch the slide of greying woolen fabric sliding up to his gate, and thus catching sight of what Firik was defending him from.

A tall man stood just outside his gate, his tall hat making seem even taller, and cast a shadow over his face. Bilbo Baggins had never seen a man before, sure he had seen paintings, sketches in the old books in his library, but he had never seen a live one. His hair was light grey; it was long touching just below his shoulders. His face bore matching facial hair, the hair came down to just below his rib cage, it was groomed into a contained madness making him look wise in his age. He had a pipe tucked into the corner of his mouth, filled with a fruity smelling tobacco. He wore a dark wool cloak and matching robe that looked to be rather aged by wear and weather. He carried a staff, and Bilbo could see an aged looked sword peeking out from under his robes.

Bilbo startled again when the man cleared his throat. It was suddenly as if Bilbo remembered the manners his mother had taught him before she passed away. He stepped forward cautiously, gently resting his small hand on Firik's shoulder as an act of comfort. His hazel eyes shining in both fear and obvious interest. It was after he continued to stare at the man for another few moments before he finally opened his mouth.

"G-good morning!" Bilbo stuttered, his voice sounding hoarse from lack of use. He coughed awkwardly as the man seemed to stare between Bilbo and Firik for a few moments before smirking.

"What do you mean? Do you wish me a good morning or mean that it is a good morning weather I want it or not, or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?" the man riddled, confused Bilbo, but he tried not to show it. He simply smiled, trying not to show his fear before replying.

"A-all of them I suppose, I wish to wish you a good morning, because it is both good, and b-beautiful. T-the weather is lovely, and the pipe w-weed is lush who am I to c-complain and degrade the day?" Bilbo replied, his voice starting to even out, but still his weariness was clear.

Bilbo put his pipe back in his lips and took a few puffs of it before slowly approaching his mailbox. He slipped his hand into the box carefully, pulling out the content with care. Mostly surprised because he had any mail at all, no one word to unnatural Baggins. He sometimes got word from Hamfast when he couldn't come for the day, but other than that he didn't receive anything else. One letter caught his attention, his name written intricately on the front of the envelope.

"Oh!" Bilbo heard the man exclaim, his eyes slowly moved up to look at Gandalf, who was staring intently at the letter, "It seems that my letter did not arrive before I, perhaps you might take the time to read it?"

Bilbo again looked rather confused but nodded in agreement.

"Bilbo Baggins,

Long has it been since I have last written, or even visited your abode. You likely don't remember me, or my fireworks, but I do in fact remember you. I hope that it will not be an inconvenience to you, and whoever may be living in Bag End with you at the time, but I wish to visit Bag End once more. I hope to be arriving by September the 21 st , which if I remember correctly is the day before your birthday. Belladonna expressed invitation if I ever wished to return, and I do hope that this continues.

The reason for my visit is both businesses, and a social call. I shall go deeper into the subject of my visit upon my arrival. If you do not wish for me to come, simply address the same letter to myself, and give it to a Ranger. I will be easy enough for them to find that they should not have a high price for the delivery. Stay safe Bilbo Baggins, if I remember correctly a Hobbit's 50 th birthday is a large cornerstone. If you do not wish for me to interrupt this event I will hold off on my visit.

Blessed Be, Mister Baggins.

-Gandalf the Grey, Wizard, and Maker of Fireworks."

While Bilbo carefully read Gandalf took the time to look over the gentlehobbit. He looked much like a fauntling if you asked the Wizard. His skin was pale and flawless, eyes a multicolored intense hazel. His hair was a brilliant layered flaxen curl, that fell carefully just above his shoulder. The hobbit wore an odd fabric that was a beautiful forest moss green; he wore a pale muslin shirt with a pale-yellow vest, and a light blue piece of fabric tied round his neck. He didn't look much like a hobbit to Gandalf, sure he had the feet, the obviously cozy hobbit hole, but he had a glow to him that obviously confused the Wizard. It was likely that if the Hobbit wore shoes, or even didn't have the large hairy feet that he could have mistaken the creature for an Elfling.

"You made all those l-lovely f-fireworks?" Bilbo questioned, not noticing the wizard jump at his sudden excitement.

Sure, he had never really been to a party at the party tree, but he had seen the lovely fireworks, he had heard the music, and he had smelt the food. He could imagine it all on his own, dancing around his hobbit hole with Firik that was until it hit him that he would never be a part of a party. He would always be unnatural and always be alone. Even once the breeders claim him he'll be alone, he had heard their plans to kill Firik once he was under their control. He wasn't stupid, once Firik is gone, he'll have no one.

"My m-mother always spoke of the marvel that your f-fireworks made. I am ashamed to say I haven't seen the b-beauty of them up close myself, but have always wanted to. She spoke very highly of a great wizard G-Gandalf the Grey, is that you?" He questioned as if not believing it completely. He hadn't remembered meeting the man, but he had heard such wonderful stories from his mother's younger years that he had always aspired to do so.

"Yes, I am Gandalf, and Gandalf is me." Gandalf chortled happily.

"W-well then, w-what can I help you with, Master Gandalf?" Bilbo asked while he stepped towards the gate, he slowly opened it for the Wizard, motioning for the man to come in.

The Wizard did so with a pleasant smile. Sending a cautious look and a small nod to Firik, who blinked and seemed to nod in reply before padding to stay by Bilbo's right side, between Gandalf and the Hobbit.

"I'm looking for someone to share an adventure with."

TBC