Here we go again. This chapter is really the true beginning of the story with special reference to His Dark Materials. Please review and tell me what you think. -BADPENNY
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Something soft brushed and tickled under his chin: fluffy, soft and warm, it flicked up the side of his cheek, around his eyebrow and back down.
"Bilbo...Bilbo, its morning, the sun is shining and we are hungry," A singsong voice chimed in his ear.
Indeed the sun was shining, shining right through Bilbo's canary yellow curtains and down onto the embroidered throw that covered the bottom of his bed. Birdsong trickled in through the slightly ajar window and a cool morning breeze, still holding a chill from the night, wafted the curtains.
All was still. All was quite in the bedroom of Bilbo's smial, but he knew that once he stepped out the door his day would begin, and at that moment; as he tried to sort through the addled confusion of his sleep filled mind, Bilbo wasn't fully prepared to deal with that.
"Five more minutes Sting, I promise, five more minutes," Bilbo mumbled softly, as he rolled over on to his belly and pressed his face into the cool softness of the adjacent pillow.
Sting, still in the form of a ginger tomcat, hopped on top of Bilbo's shoulders and starting pawing Bilbo's curly hair. "That's what you said ten minutes ago! The longer you leave it, the harder it will be to clean." Sting declared matter-of-factly, using his long tufty tail to tickle the sensitive pointed tips of Bilbo's ears.
Bilbo had just turned 36. On its own 36 was not an important number, not even to the Tooks. No, 36 was a normal birthday like any other normal birthday; or would have been to anyone apart from Bilbo Baggins.
For you see dear reader, Bilbo Baggins was not an ordinary Hobbit. Certainly not, for not only being a Took-Baggins, but he had a problem; the problem being that his daemon had not settled: not even a little bit.
Hobbits are a quiet and illusive people, they value food and comfort and good friends. They grow the best pipe-weed in Middle Earth and are famous for their splendid parties and hospitality. You may have already have known that, but I bet you didn't know that all Hobbits- no matter rich or poor, gentle or common- are excepted to settle young and have dozens and dozens of Hobbitlings.
Hamfast Gamgee is a prime example of a perfect Hobbit. He loves gardening and food and more importantly, his daemon settled into the form of a large pig when he was still a tween after he met his future wife and Settling Love for the very first time.
That's the thing you see, its fine to have reached the age of 32 without settling, for from that moment onwards people expect the happy news imminently. But now at the age of 36, Bilbo was alone, constantly plagued by well meaning relatives and unable to be classed as an adult: which in its self was infuriating.
Oh, and coupled with the fact that Bilbo's daemon male instead of female, by Hobbit standards Bilbo Baggins had officially been named as odd.
And that was precisely the reason why his family, extended or otherwise, decide to darken his doorway every year and wait with baited breath to hear of his settling. And every year, they drowned their disappoint with his best wine and emptied his larder, filling his sink with pots and leaving him to do all the cleaning up.
Although it did have to be said that Bilbo's larder was so large and so well stocked that it would take a pack of hungry dwarves to properly empty, and Bilbo doubted he was been seen any of those in the Shire.
Bilbo stood with sleepy eyes at the sink full of bubbles, still in his pyjamas with Sting picking crumbs up off the floor, when there is a rather loud and rather rude knock at the front door.
"It's a Sunday," Sting said thoughtfully, as he hopped up onto the kitchen table in the form of a rabbit.
"Indeed it is," Bilbo thought out loud as he pulled his best dressing gown off the back a chair. But Sting was quite right, it was a Sunday: which in the Shire meant two things. Firstly, there was no post on Sundays. And secondly, no one, not even a Took, would go visiting so early on a Sunday morning.
A knock came again, this time louder, ruder and more urgent.
"Well, I never!" Bilbo grumbled peevishly as he stomped towards the front door, glancing at the hallway clock as he did so. Sting flew behind him in the form of a robin and landed lightly on his shoulder as he yanked open the door.
9:30. 9:30 on a Sunday morning! Really, this is most unnatural! I may not have settled but I am a grown Hobbit and I don't need to be mooli...
Bilbo's train of thought died as he stared, open mouthed and gawking at the figure stood in the doorway. It was a man. An actual Big Person, standing nearly doubled over on his front porch, wearing bedraggled travel clothing and very discourteous expression. His dark hair hung down by his unshaved jaw and his squinty eyes peered down at Bilbo as if he had just said something rude about his mother.
"Can I help you?" Sting piped up quickly when Bilbo's own voice deserted him. The man eyed Sting with surprise. It was rather uncommon for a daemon to talk to a human they didn't know but then again Bilbo was still recovering from shock. The stranger's black rat daemon darted out of his tattered clothing and brushed a lank lock of black hair back to whisper something in her human's ear.
Self-consciously, Bilbo tugged at the rope of his dressing gown and shuffled his hairy feet.
"You Baggins?" The man asked gruffly, his voice thick and raspy, sounding more like a rack over gravel.
Bilbo recovered himself when Sting dug his talons into Bilbo's shoulder. "Oh, Baggins...yes, Bilbo Baggins at you service. And who might you be?" He stammered, trying to sound polite as possible and failing miserably.
"That don' matter," the stranger snorted rudely and began digging through the layers of his dirty clothing. After much rummaging in his breeches, the stranger extracted a smallish package wrapped in grey rags and held it out to Bilbo. "This is for you."
"I don't want it," Bilbo retorted quickly, stepping back from the slightly moist looking package. The stranger stepped over the threshold, grabbed Bilbo's wrist and pushed the uncomfortably warm object into the Hobbit's hand.
"This was meant for you. Keep it hidden. Keep it safe and let no one know you have it." The stranger growled, squeezing Bilbo's wrist until he winced in pain and Sting sprang from his shoulder, transforming into a sheepdog and began barking furiously at the tall man.
Staring from Sting to Bilbo, the stranger's face transformed from ardent purpose to something that could only be named as dawning understanding. He let go of Bilbo's wrist and stepped back onto the garden path.
"Heed what I have said, Bilbo Baggins of the Shire. Good Mornin'" and with that, the stranger was gone. Leaping over Bilbo's fence and disappearing down the lane before you could say Sackville Baggins!
Bilbo stood for several moments too bewildered, too bemused and too scandalised by the meeting that he stared dumbstruck and speechless; staring off down to the lane, in the direction that the strange man walked before being able to move. After a few moments Sting tugged at the corner of his dressing gown and led Bilbo back to the kitchen and nudged him down into one of the wooden chairs by the table.
After darting off to shut the front door, Sting put his forepaw on Bilbo's knee and made a pining noise.
"Well... that was...what on Middle Earth?" Bilbo began to mumble under his breath, his strawberry blonde curls trembling with frustration and confusion. "Oi!" Bilbo cried out when Sting nipped his toes.
"What is it Bilbo?" Sting asked excitedly, poking the package with his nose and then quickly recoiling when he smelt it.
Bilbo stared down at the alien package, disgusted by the tattered cloth and the stains that covered the material. It was filthy, no gentle Hobbit would let such an object into their smial. His mother would have cried bloody murder and his father would have...
And that was how he made his mind up.
"It's nothing to do with us. The less we know about it that better!" Bilbo snapped, barging past Sting and stomping off into the spare bedroom to the storage box at the foot of the bed; tipping it on its head and emptying the maps, books and whatnots onto the floor, Bilbo hid the package and covered it over- not to be seen or looked at again.
Well. Not until later that afternoon anyway.
"But Bilbo it was for us! The man said it was ours!" Sting protested over and over again, flapping about any room that Bilbo tried to settle in. "Bilbo! Bilbo, look at me! Come on just a peak! It'll be fun! Bilbo! No one will know!"
As you may have already have guessed, Sting was a true embodiment of Bilbo's Tookish side.
"Enough! Not one more word about it or I'll make us go and have tea with Old Took," Bilbo warned dangerously as Sting shifted into a brown rabbit, landing heavily on top of the display cabinet and nearly knocking off some of his mother's best china which was over 100 years old.
"But it's on my mind, it's all I can think of," Sting whined sadly, his long rabbit ears drooping pathetically and his big black eyes quivering. Bilbo sighed, immediately regretting his angry words and opened his arms for Sting to leap into.
"I am sorry my love, I didn't mean to be horrid," Bilbo hummed soothingly as he brushed the soft fur of Sting's ears, enjoying the close feel of his daemon. "Is it really distressing you that much?" Bilbo asked already knowing the answer.
"You know it is, silly Hobbit," Sting retorted indignantly, his voice muffled by Bilbo's chest.
Bilbo sighed –what wouldn't you do for your daemon.
"Fine, but second breakfast first." And so it was that after they ate the carrot cake that Bilbo had made that morning and shared two cups of tea, Sting and Bilbo stood and stared at the small crumpled package that lay at the bottom of the emptied storage chest.
"You open it," Sting prompted, shifting into the shape of a robin and fluttering to Bilbo's head, nestling within his curls.
"No, you're the one who wanted it opened. You open it!" Bilbo snapped sheepishly.
"I don't have hands,"
"Lucky coincidence,"
Gingerly, Bilbo knelt in front of the box and picked up the wrapped object and set it down on the bed. His fingers hovered for a moment before he began plucking gingerly at the filthy fabric. Layer by layer, strip by strip the fabric came away until all that was left was the curious object underneath.
It looked like a golden clock, shiny and beautiful, the sunlight played off its brilliant metal skin and seemed to dance off its glass face. But under its glass face, where there should have been numbers, there were pictures, dozens of pictures. Next to the pictures were three hands which appeared to be controlled by the small knobs on top of the glass face.
"What is it?" Sting asked, landing next to Bilbo as a tom cat.
"I don't know Sting, I haven't a clue," Bilbo breathed as he scooped it up off the bed and examined it more closely. He tested the knobs, turning them with his thumb and forefinger and studying the pictures. "The pictures obliviously symbolise something, like this one, the candle, that's probably-"
"I can't see it," Sting whined as his cat eyes struggled to make out the tiny picture. So Bilbo twisted the dial until it pointed at the picture.
"That's probably for understanding, you know light of wisdom in the darkness and all that," Bilbo said excitedly, his dynamic brain and Tookish curiosity was instantly caught by the curious trinket cupped in his hands. "The moon is probably mystery because of the dark side of the moon," again Bilbo twisted the dial so Sting could see before turning to the next dial which was positioned on a sun symbol.
"But what is it!?" Sting asked desperately, his Tookish side burning terribly bright, when suddenly the arms and hands began to move and whirl on their own.
Sting called to Bilbo but he never heard him. Images and voices from centuries passed were dancing around Bilbo's mind in a dizzying array of sound and colour. Then, all settled into a queer clarity.
"It's an Alethiometer, Sting." Bilbo heard himself say.
The next few minutes were a bit of a blur for Bilbo. He barely remembered Sting turning into a sheepdog and dragging him by his bracers outside, pushing him on to his bench and bringing him his father's pipe. In a daze, he felt Sting drop his pouch of Old Toby onto his lap and wrap himself protectively around Bilbo's shoulders in the form of a cat.
After several long puffs and a smoke ring, Bilbo spoke.
"That was... " Bilbo stammered and having another puff to calm his nerves.
"I don't think I like that, I didn't like it at all," Sting said unhappily, burying his face against Bilbo's neck. Reaching up and soothing his fingers down Sting's tense spine, Bilbo blew another smoke ring.
"Whoever sent it knows what it does. It must be very very valuable and sought after, so I suggest we put it away and forget we ever looked at it, until someone comes to collect it. Agreed?"
As much as Bilbo hated the thought of having the Alethiometer in his home, it would be worse to throw it out in case whoever sent it came looking for it. Play dumb, give it away as soon as you can and no one will get hurt.
Or so the plan went. But as plans usually do, it didn't pan out that way. For as Sting agreed, a lonely figure wearing a tall grey hat and long robes was marching up the road towards BagEnd; and more importantly towards Bilbo and Sting.