-General-
September 20th - 3001 of the Third Age
In Hobbiton, preparations for the birthday of Bilbo Baggins and his heir, Frodo Baggins—his dear nephew—were nearly complete. Banners, ale, and food—lots of food—filled the grounds. In the green meadows, a great number of Hobbits could be seen frolicking and humming catchy tunes with joy.
It was well known that Bilbo, of Bag End, was one of the wealthiest Hobbits in the entire Shire. Rumors even circulated that his vast amount of treasure occupied several huge tunnels, hidden beneath his hut... or rather, his mansion. Mr. Baggins had remodeled his home, further expanding his already comfortable Hobbit-hole.
But how is it that our dear Hobbit had made so many changes to his dwelling? The answer lay in the visitors who, year after year, attended his birthday: Kíli, Fíli, Aldril, Glóin, and on occasion Bofur, Óin, and even the grumpy Dwalin.
The good fortune of our Mr. Baggins did not sit well at all with Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, the wife of Bilbo Baggins' cousin.
An ambitious woman if ever there was one, she had initially welcomed Bilbo's return—laden with innumerable treasures after having disappeared for at least half a year—with pleasure. Her belief was simple: all that fortune would end up being inherited by her family once the adventurous Hobbit died. However, what a bitter blow she was dealt when Frodo Baggins was announced as Bilbo's legitimate heir. That did not sit well with her, and since then she had always sought the perfect occasion to spread gossip.
Among it ran one rumor in particular:
"Bilbo is surely cursed; look how he doesn't seem to age a day."
And the truth is that that rumor was not entirely wrong. It could well be said that the magic Ring—the One—that he found during his journey alongside Thorin Oakenshield and company had slowed his aging. Hence, at the age of one hundred and eleven, he still preserved the appearance of a Hobbit of barely fifty.
Such gossip was now being told outside The Ivy Bush inn, located on the Bywater road. There, at the worn wooden tables, the distinctive scent of ale reigned, while the aroma of lamb and roast pork mingled in the air, creating a warm and welcoming atmosphere for any Hobbit.
"Having been Mr. Baggins' gardener has brought me many stories," said Hamfast Gamgee, better known as the Gaffer, father of Sam Gamgee, who in the future would venture on a dangerous mission alongside Frodo Baggins.
Around him, dozens of Hobbits—both old and young—pressed against one another. The Gaffer always drew a large audience when he decided to narrate one of the anecdotes Bilbo Baggins had entrusted to him.
"Have I told you about the time Mr. Baggins witnessed the fall of a Dragon?"
Many nodded. Even so, despite knowing the story by heart, they yearned to hear it one more time. Such were Hobbits: they felt an enormous passion for stories and never tired of hearing them, even if they already knew every word.
As the Gaffer recounted the events, he added details that grew more exaggerated by the moment:
"I tell you! Mr. Baggins rode the Dragon together with the Dragon Slayer Aldril. Both struck the beast with their enchanted swords until the huge monster lost its strength and could never fly again."
The name of Aldril was well known among Hobbits. Although they usually isolated themselves from the outside world, some, in their travels to Bree, had heard bardic songs that spoke of that name with admiration. Furthermore, this Aldril visited Bilbo Baggins every year on his birthday.
Many said that all that was nothing more than tales or simple legends, for in previous years Mr. Baggins celebrated behind closed doors in his hut—or rather, in his house—so not everyone could see the famous Dragon Slayer. Only a few came to know him in person, and to say they boasted about it in the inns would be an understatement.
"Once the Dragon fell, Mr. Bilbo Baggins plucked out a tooth," he proceeded, "and with that trophy, he had a dagger forged by the Dwarves. And as thanks for having rid them of that beast, they gave him countless treasures, the very same he brought back with him after his adventure."
With a last, resounding gulp from his mug of ale, the Gaffer swept his audience with a glassy gaze.
"Even Mr. Aldril says that his best friend is Bilbo Baggins," he concluded, accompanying the phrase with an exaggerated gesture, the evident result of his drunkenness.
"I don't believe it!" a mocking voice intervened. "How could the great Dragon Slayer possibly be friends with a Hobbit?"
All eyes turned then to a young Hobbit, with small golden curls and a skeptical smile.
The Gaffer narrowed his eyes.
"If you don't believe me, you can ask him when he comes to Mr. Baggins' birthday," he said firmly.
He knew Aldril would come; he always did. His relationship with Bilbo Baggins was close, so much so that every year he was invited to those celebrations held behind closed doors. The Gaffer himself had seen him on more than one occasion, and once he even dared to ask him directly. The answer he received was an unhesitating affirmation.
"Are you still going on with those tall tales?" replied the youth. "Do you really think someone so important would deign to come to the birthday of that Baggins fellow?"
He was barely fifteen years old, and although his skepticism was understandable, his tone bordered on insolence.
The crowd nodded, backing him. However, no one noticed that, on the road leading to Hobbiton, a horse black as the night itself had stopped. Its rider watched the scene from a distance, shaking his head wryly.
Emboldened by the general approval, the young Hobbit sprang to his feet.
"I say all those stories are false!" he proclaimed with fanfare.
He did not get to enjoy the moment.
A grave, deep, and imposing voice resonated behind his back, making the air of the inn vibrate:
"They are not. And it is true... Bilbo is my best friend."
As you may have guessed, that voice belonged to our dear Half-elf, Aldril.
While the Hobbits were caught up in the heat of the moment, absorbed in the Gaffer's stories, they had not noticed strange carts crossing the road nor great horses advancing with firm steps toward Hobbiton.
At first, Aldril had decided to simply pass by without drawing attention. However, seeing Bilbo's old gardener defend his best friend's stories with such conviction, he could not help but intervene.
Not only to silence the doubters—he would not allow Bilbo's deeds to be slandered—but also because, deep down, he wanted to show off a little and surprise those Hobbits.
After all, it was a habit he had acquired in his early years... and one that, to his misfortune or amusement, he had never quite lost.
**
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