So imagine my surprise when one day my life suddenly seemed to flip itself upside down?

It didn't really start any differently than any other day, if I recalled correctly, but when I awoke, I felt a strange sense of something that I just couldn't quite place even as I tried think of what might have been the cause of it! I turned every which way in bed, huffing when I couldn't really get comfortable anymore and decided to just get up and start on breakfast.

When I got up though and noticed that it was just as early as it always was when I usually woke, I felt confusion over why I still felt such a strange foreboding feeling on this very good morning. Why did it feel so unusual on today of all days? I was a Hobbit and what could feel so unusual in the Shire of all places!?

I tried to ignore the feeling as I got up, changing out of my night clothes and into my regular daytime chemise shift. I stepped into my fluffy petticoat, smoothing it down out of habit rather than anything else and picked out a normal comfortable blouse and threw that on the bed along with a tan colored skirt. I buttoned up the shirt quickly, pulling down my cuffs sharply before tying my skirt into place and turning around to make sure that my bow was straight. Another smoothing out of habit later, I went back to the closet and pulled out my favorite yellow waistcoat and slung that on quickly before I took a light blue kerchief from the nearby drawer and tied it as I went to the kitchen.

By the time the last of my buttons was buttoned and I was standing in my kitchen, I still couldn't dismiss the faint sense of strangeness in the air and wondered where it could be coming from, pacing around the table and cleaning up some old food crumbs from the supper the night before before going into the pantry and sizing up what I wanted to eat for breakfast. A good breakfast would set everything right!

I chose something simple enough (eggs, bacon, toast, and cheese and ham, mmmm!) and took the few plates necessary for the meal on my arm and hands but couldn't help but turn back and look inside the pantry just as I was leaving.

For some reason the sensation seemed to center in on the pantry and as I stared at the giant larder containing all my delicious food, stocked full with meats, vegetables, a rich array of fruits, and a very sizable (if not coveted) collection of jarred homemade jams and jellies, I noticed that the sense of foreboding came over me even stronger.

My immediate thought was that I had forgotten about something in there or if I accidentally left something out for too long but after finding nothing in the quick glance over, I shrugged and went to the table and started to make breakfast. A good breakfast would set the world right again...

"Where did that blasted pipe get off to?"

Later on even after second breakfast that was the second thing that was quite unusual when it came to my routine. For everyday as long as I could remember, I knew where I had placed my pipe but despite having looked all over my bedroom for it, I just couldn't find it!

I felt myself huff in irritation, my hands unconsciously beginning to ruffle my skirt because of the itch my own voice triggered in my hair when it got too loud. "Where is it?! I swear, if Falco hid it last night -augh!"

I couldn't even hide my own frustration anymore and ruffled my fingers through my hair to try and alleviate the tickle in the shoulder length curls but as I kept grumbling, I could hardly stop the sensation!

Giving up on finding my pipe in my bedroom, I grumbled as I made my way through the spacious Bag End, shuffling about with my head turning every which direction as I wandered into the sitting room. I poked my way through the mantle above the fireplace and rummaged around near the pile of books and maps near the chair, scratching my head when I couldn't find the (much wanted, much sought for, much desired, much NEEDED ) pipe in any of the normal spots.

When all the sitting room was turned over and still failed to produce said pipe, I groaned loudly and knotted my fingers back into the fabric of my skirt before taking off for my study, going immediately to my writing desk and finding not a trace of it hiding among the papers and empty ink jars. I eventually ended up on my hands and knees to look underneath the desk, and stacks of overturned books and maps that I had planned to earlier catalog into some semblance of order.

When all that still failed to produce my pipe, I scavenged the drawers around the room, pulling them out and shoving them back in harshly, each one huffing a gasp of touch against my knee with each slamming noise before the last one finally was tugged open and there, amidst all my inks and quills, was my much sought for pipe!

"Now what are you doing there?"

I asked even as I grabbed it and held it, looking at it like it could tell me anything but the note next to it was all that I needed to tell me exactly what had happened. As I picked it up, I could feel a frown come across my face, my cheeks flushing with embarrassment because of how it said the pipe had come to be in the drawer in the first place.

'Left this here so you would remember to work on your book! - BB'

"Oh, Bilbo Baggins... you..."

I huffed and sputtered and could barely think and remembered how I had gone to the Green Dragon the night before and how I stumbled back in late at night, thinking it cute when I came up with the idea to place my pipe in there so that I would remember to actually work on my story rather than smoke the day away.

"...that was in such poor taste."

I scratched again at my head as I made my way back to the main foyer and finally breathed some fresh air as I headed outside, instantly taking in the brightness of the morning and the cool touch of the breeze. It was indeed as good a morning as I first noticed, I noted as I sat down on the nearby bench and enjoyed the sight of the Shire busy at work as farmers busily tended to their crops and milked their cows nearby.

I lit my pipe and breathed in, letting my thoughts just settle on nothing at all as I listened to the sounds of the Shire, the breeze and the children and the voices all covering me with their all too familiar blanket that seemed to keep me safe from everything else.

I had no idea how long I sat outside on the bench minding my own business and enjoying the sounds and sensations of the Shire but just as I was thinking of going in for lunch, I felt a wisp of smoke flit against my nose and startle me! Instantly my eyes opened because I had never felt such a sensation before and if it were someone calling me to get my attention, then I didn't want to be rude and make them think that I had been sleeping or anything. I was a respectable hobbit lass and I would eagerly greet anyone who had come to my door.

When I opened my eyes though and saw a very tall man dressed entirely in grey colored robes (each in a state of curiously worn shabbiness) standing there looking - no, staring! - at me, I couldn't help but feel quite uncomfortable and a blush come to my cheeks from his polite scrutiny. He seemed friendly though with his clear blue eyes but he didn't say anything as he continued to stare. I squirmed in my seat looking at him in confusion and darting my eyes to see if anyone I knew was nearby. Seeing no one and him just looking at me waiting for something, I settled on directly addressing him.

"Good morning."

I was relieved that my voice came out steady enough but my nervous flick with my pipe poked me on the edge of my mouth rather than go in smoothly and without skipping a beat at all, the older man greeted back, "What do you mean? Do you mean to wish me a good morning or do you mean it is a good morning whether I want it or not?"

His voice was steady with just a hint of amusement, a slight teasing nature becoming apparent even as he grinned down at me. As he spoke, his voice was in my ears and pressing against my right shoulder but it did not beckon me or pull me in any which direction as can sometimes happen with more forceful voices but his just sat there, a steady pressure that continued as he spoke and stopped when he finished his question towards me.

"Or," I quickly glanced at my shoulder because of how tangible the pressure was, "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?"

I was beside myself with confusion because of the strange line of questioning this old man was putting me through and because ever since I was younger, all the voices around me had faded to almost a dull plethora of incomprehensible sensations save for only the loudest or sharpest. This old man's voice was far from the loudest or clearest but his was far from a dull sensation that I could not immediately place. Despite his voice becoming louder and gruffer from the inflections of his amusement, I realized it did little to affect how tangible the sensation was against my shoulder. It was just as steady and just sitting there like it was and had always been there. It left me befuddled and my throat dry because never could I remember hearing such a voice before.

"All of them at once, I suppose?"

How thankful I was for being raised like a proper Hobbit lass where manners were bred into one's very being with just as much routine as washing your feet before bed. In my confusion and shock, it was the only saving grace I could muster for this man. I had no idea what to really say to all of that and it seemed he did not much like my answer for as soon as I said it, he hummed low in his throat, a most displeased tone if ever I heard one! In response to the change of tone, the sensation on my right shoulder pushed forward gently even as he frowned at me.

Without even realizing how I had even reacted to the influence of the feeling on my shoulder, I sat back up straight again, baffled by how I allowed myself to be pushed along by his voice. I tried to keep my eyes on him but by then I was so nervous and couldn't keep still, wriggling in my seat like I made to get up, before I remembered myself and attempted to calm my nerves and focus on the old man again. I was intent to show him my manners and not rush off back into my home like a scared bunny. I was a proper Baggins of Bag End, after all!

"Can I help you?"

"That remains to be seen..." At this he seemed to look at me expectantly, "I'm looking for someone to share in an adventure?"

My pipe fell from my mouth because of all the things I anticipated him answering my question with, that one was very much not something I would have expected!

If I thought I was baffled before by the general mystery of this old man and the confusing state he put me in, I could hardly deny that I was more so now. I couldn't even properly think of how to address such a question politely because adventuring in the Shire was unheard of! It was very much un-lass like, and it was confounded and unexpected and unruly and- and-

I just had an adventure this morning, thank you very much !

In my mind looking for my pipe had been quite more than enough adventure for me! I had been flustered and irritated while looking for just a little pipe and if this man wanted me to go on an adventure with him (a proper one at that) then, I couldn't even imagine what I would be going through!

I was almost tempted to let a blunt-witted 'what' escape from my lips but reigned back my surprise because I was a proper hobbit lass and we did not say such indelicate things. "An adventure?"

Yes, I reckoned that was much better that just a dull what and it seemed to help me find the Baggins in me because immediately, I felt myself compose a little and a polite smile turn up my lips, "Now, I don't imagine anyone west of Bree would have much interest in adventures."

Yes, that was the proper thing to say and it was even more helpful than what I expected because then the old man could find someone else who was more than willing to adventure with him.

Once it was out of my mouth with a slight tickle in my hair, I felt most satisfied that that was enough for this conversation and instantly felt a relief settle over me as I stood from my bench and smoothed down my skirts. The old man just continued to look at me though and just to clarify to him why I could not, I continued as I went to my mailbox to collect my mail, "Nasty, disturbing, uncomfortable things."

I put my pipe in my mouth so that I could sort through my mail, "Make you late for dinner, heh!"

I wanted to end this conversation as quickly as possible by showing him how very busy I was but he just continued to watch me in my flurry of movement, seeming to take in an interest in the show I was most likely providing for him. Nervously I finished sorting through my mail with the look of purpose but he just continued to stand there and honestly in my mind, I could hardly think of what to say to make him go away for even as much as I liked his seemingly friendly nature, I was not going on any adventures!

Now, if he wanted to come inside for tea or something on some other day when I hadn't wrecked my hobbit-hole in my earlier adventure to find my pipe then that we could have eventually agreed upon. However, as of right then, I was indeed very busy but I had to at least say something other than an outright refusal. It would have been very impolite just to say no with little else done to ease the rejection.

What came out was a jumble of sounds and odd pipe smoking and a nervous, "Good morning!"

How mortified I was by this because it was hardly respectable but now that it was all said and done, I felt that that was truly the most I could provide for this conversation. In a strange sense of defeat and desire to get away from this strange old man, I turned to leave and quickly scampered up the steps, "To think that I should have lived to be good morning'd by Belladonna Took's daughter, as if I were selling buttons at the door!"

His words were clear in the breeze of the day but as he spoke, the weight of his voice's pressure on my shoulder seemed to gravitate back almost like a tug and as he continued, I felt it harder to leave him as quickly as I would have otherwise liked. It was such a steady pressure, almost as if his physical hand were holding me back to prevent me from leaving! I was suddenly reminded of how earlier in our conversation his voice had made me lean forward because it had seemed to tug me forward.

I turned around to face him just as he finished because I was shocked by the fact that his voice changed in such a way. I was used to sensations providing different levels of intensity but to actually change in what it physically felt like to me was so unlike anything I had ever felt before! It left me unable to find the words to even address the fact that he mentioned my Mum's name with such an ease of familiarity as if he knew her as well as any other Hobbit!

"Beg your pardon?"

"You've changed, and not entirely for the better, Bilbo Baggins!"

I was taken aback by what he said because along with knowing my Mum, he also knew me well enough by name and to assume that I had changed somewhere along the course of my life. I was at once struck by my own sense of rudeness for if he truly did know me, how must he think of me now that I've obviously forgotten him!?

I didn't have any sort of proper response to what he said for never had I forgotten anyone quite so badly as I had this old man with such a distinctive voice. In a fit that looked probably more like indignation, I blurted out, "I'm sorry do I know you?"

The tone of my own voice made the sensation in my hair tickle horribly and I unconsciously clenched my hand in my skirt, listening to his response when he answered in a rather long way that his name was Gandalf...and that Gandalf were he.

As soon as he said the name though, I recalled the sensation against my shoulder from when I was a wee faunt, standing behind my Mum's skirts even as she tried to introduce me to the extremely tall grey cloaked man. His voice produced the same pressure against my right shoulder as it did now and he seemed to smile at me with a glint in his eye when I looked at where I felt it in surprise. It wasn't even until later in the party that I even warmed up to him and that was only because of his amazing fireworks that lit up the night sky so beautifully.

How I remembered him as we sat side by side next to my parents, watching the fireworks as each dashed up the sky in a beautiful display each different from the last. With each new firework, wave after wave of heat rolled in my mouth that bordered on too hot at the initial burst of light but left a tingling sensation as they fizzled out into darkness.

"Not Gandalf, the wandering wizard who made such excellent fireworks!" -and was the very first person who knew that I was gifted with something as unique and amazing as the Ear Touch though how he had known has ever been a mystery to me.

Nevertheless, I was happy when Gandalf finally started to smile at me again instead of looking so displeased, "Old Took used to have them on midsummer's eve!" I recalled with a friendly chuckle and a quick puff of my pipe, "No idea you were still in business!"

In my head it sounded friendly enough to say but as soon as it came out of my mouth, I almost wanted to pinch myself such was my horror at how rude it felt in my hair. I knew it sounded much too indelicate and presumptuous of me because as soon as it did leave my mouth, I saw the smile on Gandalf's face fall into such a frown. "...and where else should I be?"

The garbled sounds that came unbidden from my mouth could only be covered up by putting the pipe back in my mouth and hoping that no answer was far better than the horrible possibility of making anymore ungainly noises. Such things could hardly pass as responses for any manner of question, respectable or not!

Immediately I felt embarrassment wash over me as he mumbled to himself about how I only could remember that one fact about him, my cheeks flushing terribly as his disappointment became evident.

"Well that's decided! It'll be very good for you and most amusing for me. I shall inform the others!"

My heart dropped in my stomach because all of a sudden I remembered why Gandalf had even come to my hobbit-hole in the first place and now the very real possibility of him coming by with others! It was all too much and immediately my thoughts scattered and I panicked, protesting about informing said others and hurrying back up the steps to my door before his voice could try and pull me back towards him.

I was flustered and shouting, "We do not want any adventures here, thank you!"

I itched my head when the tickle became too intense to ignore and turned to just run back into the house (scared little bunny be damned) but then that would be terribly rude and I stopped myself at the last moment and turned back to Gandalf, who now looked on in amusement at my display, "I suggest you try over the hill or across the water-" I tried helpfully but stopped because I couldn't think of anything else at all productive to say that was any different than what I had said earlier.

Without anything better to say, I just put all my trust on the manners that were bred into me just as deeply as washing my feet before bed and blindly hoped that they knew what to say when I did not!

"Good morning!" I huffed loudly with a forceful slam of my door, locking it and hopefully putting any last memory of what could have been a very real adventure as far from Bag End as possible.