As much Bilbo wished he could say otherwise, there was not a great deal he could do in preparation for Gandalf's meddling, nor for the inevitable onslaught of too-familiar Dwarves that would be sure to follow.
Bilbo was still no warrior so he couldn't go in search of some weapon to brush up on.
Nor could he contact anybody in preparation; Gandalf had supposedly searched the Shire high and low for the fourteenth member of Thorin's Company and so Bilbo couldn't risk any noisy Hobbit picking up on any preparations before Bilbo had even been asked. Now, this might've seemed dreadfully paranoid of the poor Baggins but, if nothing else, Bilbo had learnt the hard lesson of caution in his considerable years.
He chuffed heavily before biting thoughtfully on the stem of his favourite pipe, the thumb of his too smooth hand repeatedly skimming over the inky 'X' of the Company's arrival.
He had never felt so alone.
The Smial was empty, too quiet and lacking the comfort it used to afford, back when times were less dire and he wasn't a decrepit Elder of over 113 years shoved-
Not to mention the indecision that plighted the too young, not old enough Hobbit.
He still hadn't decided upon what course of action He wanted to take.
At all.
It was dreadfully vexing business. To tell or not to tell, that was the root of the issue. On all fronts.
Poor Bilbo was so uncomfortable, even in his best Dressing gown and rabbit-lined slippers, that he set aside the taunting calendar and paced before his hearth. The smooth fluidity of his perfect joints did nothing to reduce his aggravation.
Did he question Gandalf, trust in his oldest friend as he itched to do? Or had he been sent back for a reason and, therefore, should his influence be as subtle and unknown of as possible…?
And that was another panic-point, as it were, for poor Bilbo; how in Yavanna's good green garden was he supposed to behave towards everyone?
He'd been as pasty and shaky as a sickly lamb when he'd seen his neighbours! How could he cope around his oldest and dearest companions, many of whom he'd bid a tragic farewell?
Well there was nothing else for it, Bilbo concluded later as he settled down into the goose feather downing of his luxurious bed that he'd not felt for decades.
He'd have to be the riddle-y little thief that had outsmarted The Gollum-creature and exchanged prose with a Fire-Drake.
The adventures of Barrel-Rider would have to commence once more.