Hobbits were, by nature, a very calm and simple folk. They seemed to enjoy the simpler things, such as the brewing of ale, the smoking of pipeweed and above all; well-tilled earth. They were very respectable creatures, they never went on any adventures or did anything unexpected at all. This is the story of a very respectable Hobbit who did a very unrespectable thing.
The green rolling hills of the Shire were peaceful in the early hours of the morning. The golden morning light was just starting to creep into the windows of a lavish but rather lonely Smial at the end of the road known well as Bag-End. The inhabitants of which were just starting to stir in there bed, awoken by the irritating sunlight creeping in through his window.
Bilbo Baggins rolled over onto his back, eyes still stubbornly closed against the morning light. He let out an irritated sigh, resigning to the fact that the sun wouldn't go away just because he wanted it to. Bilbo let out another yet another sigh and opened his eyes to look up at the ceiling of his cabin, except it wasn't the ceiling of his cabin but the ceiling of his bedroom in Bag-End. He blinked. Then he realized that not only was it the wrong ceiling but his eyes seemed to be working far better then they had in many years.
Bilbo sat up and looked around, his eyes fell on a looking glass hanging on the open wardrobe door and what he saw reflected back at him nearly made his heart stop. He was staring at himself except it wasn't the wrinkly face of an old half-blind Hobbit. No, it was the smooth face of a Hobbit with thick golden curls and clear amber eyes. Bilbo pinched himself hard on the arm sure as he was that this was not but a cruel dream when he didn't suddenly wake in his cabin, he realized that despite the complete impossibility of it all that this was indeed real. Though this realization did nothing but confuse him further. Then he suddenly remembered an old tale his mother had once told him, about a maiden whose family had died tragically and Eru had granted the girl a chance to travel back in time to save them. As a child he had thought that the story was nothing but that; a story, though it seemed that there may have been some truth to it after all.
Bilbo leaped from his bed, his foot momentarily getting caught in the blankets nearly making him fall in his haste. He scuddled over to the calendar he had hanging on his wall. 07/04. If this really was the date and he truly wasn't dreaming then in a little less then a month Gandalf the Grey would be walking right up to his front door to ask him on an adventure, an adventure with Thorin and Fili and Kili and every other precious Dwarf he had lost.
Tears welled in Bilbo's eyes though he did not seem to pay them any mind for the singing in his heart. The Hobbit hardly noticed when he fell to his knees. Laughing and crying in an equal messer. Just for a moment, Bilbo allowed himself to simply bask in all the emotions rushing through him like a tidal wave before he would actually have to face the enormity of the situation.
But all moments must come to pass. Bilbo resolutely wiped his face free of wetness. He had to prepare for the upcoming journey, three weeks may seem like ample time but there was a lot he had to put in order before Gandalf came. Still, in not but his nightclothes He stalked out of his room and into his study, sitting down at his desk and grabbing a quill, inkpot, and parchment.
First, he addressed a letter to his cousin Drogo, saying that he would be away on an extended holiday and asking him if he could care for Bag-End while he was away (and also to not let his Sackville Baggins relatives anywhere near it). Next, he wrote his will, for he knew that even if he had survived last time there was no way to be sure he would this time. In the will he stated that he wanted Bag-End to go to Drogo and Primula, he wanted most of the books he owned to go to the library, he gave his garden over to the care of the Gamgee family, and last but not least he explicitly stated that he wanted nothing to go to any of his Sackville Baggins relatives. He would be damned if he saw Lobelia get away with his mother's flat were.
Next, he made a list of all the things he wanted to get done before his departure. The first thing to go on the list was to become a better fighter, although he had held his own fairly well the first time around, he knew he could be a better warrior, how he was going to get better he didn't know, swords or any weapon really were scares to be found in the Shire. The next thing on the list was to go to the tailors so he could get some new travel appropriate clothing. The last thing on the list was to attempt to be mentally and emotionally prepared for the arrival of his Dwarves, or at least prepared enough to not break down into sobs at the first site of them. Bilbo did not have a lot of faith in his ability to accomplish the latter.
As it turns out finding a weapon was even harder than Bilbo had anticipated. He ended up having to walk all the way to Bree before he found any trace of weaponry, but he did eventually find a suitable steel knife, though for him it was more like a short sword, in a small blacksmiths shop on the south end of Bree. He had gotten many strange looks from man and Hobbit alike as he walked down the dirty street with a sword and scabbard strapped to his belt. Well, he supposed it didn't really matter much, people had always thought him a bit odd.
How strange it all seemed, Bilbo reflected as he sat in his comfy armchair by the fire having just returned from his trip to Bree. The whole notion of traveling back through time. Being able to see Thorin again. How often had he prayed and wished and hoped that he could be granted one last chance to see him? The mere thought of seeing him again was enough to bring tears to his amber eyes. How much had he suffered after his death? how long did he greave? Much longer then he cared to recall. Bilbo was uncertain how he would react to seeing the king's face again but he knew it wouldn't be pretty, he just hoped he would be able to hold it together long enough for no one to get suspicious.
The Baggins suddenly thought of the letter he had sent to his cousin several days ago, specifically about the small footnote he had put in warning them not to go near any large body of water for the next several years. He wasn't naive, he knew what he was sacrificing by writing something like that. Bilbo knew that if his cousin and primula headed his warning and lived, he would never have the same relationship with his dear nephew that he had the first time. He had always been a very selfish Hobbit but he knew he simply couldn't deny Frodo the parents he so rightly deserved if he could help it.
This had to be one of his more Tookish ideas, Bilbo thought, sword in hand, as he stared at the wooden 'target' he had set up in his garden. Gandalf would be showing up at his door in just 9 short days and the Hobbit had hardly practiced his swordsmanship at all. He had already gone down to the tailors some three days ago and there really wasn't much left for him to do but train, though he must admit that he felt a bit silly hitting a harmless post aimlessly with his small sword. Oh well.
Bilbo was panicking, just a little. Gandalf would be arriving in just a few hours and he still hadn't gone to the market, he couldn't believe he had forgotten something so important until the last minute.
The hobbit rushed down the streets of Hobbiton, mentally planning all the dishes he wanted to make for supper and then multiplying the recipes by ten. If there was one thing he knew about Dwarves it was that they could eat, a lot. They had emptied all his cupboards and larders the first time and Bilbo was determined not to let that happen this time.
For nearly two hours the Hobbit raided every food, every morsel, from every stall in the market, he got everything from chicken to blueberries. Glancing down at his pocket watch as he walked home with his groceries, Bilbo saw he only had twenty-five minutes until Gandalf's arrival if he remembered right. Rushing up the street and through his round green door, the Hobbit dashed into the kitchen, hastily set down the food, grabbed his pipe and sat down on the bench outside the door and waited.