In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit.
Bilbo Baggins, living comfortably in his hobbit-hole in Bag End, finds himself on the wrong end of an adventure.
Gandalf the Grey has come recruiting for a burglar willing to raid the home of Smaug (a dragon) whose taken over the ancestral home of the dwarves.
These dwarves, who number thirteen, are deeply suspicious and are unwilling to proceed unless their number is rounded up. Evil is afoot and they refuse to ignore common sense (aka superstition).
Gandalf soon finds that persuading Bilbo ends up a quest in and of itself!
‘I am looking for someone to share in an adventure…it’s very difficult to find anyone.’
‘I should think so — in these parts! We are plain quiet folk and have no use for adventures. Nasty disturbing uncomfortable things! Make you late for dinner!’
Reluctantly (very reluctantly), Bilbo joins on this journey…and soon finds out that quests are not very friendly to hobbits.
Is it nice, my preciousss? Is it juicy? Is it scrumptiously crunchable?
And yet, despite the hardships, trials and tribulations...Bilbo finds himself eagerly plunging ahead.
Already he was a very different hobbit from the one that had run out without a pocket-handkerchief from Bag-End long ago. He had not had a pocket-handkerchief for ages.
Absolutely. Love. This. Book.
I’ve read it so many times, and yet each time through, I find myself just absolutely enamored with the book as if it is the first time.
Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?
It just has such a wonderful feel – I want to read it over and over and over again.
I absolutely love Bilbo’s reluctance to adventure – he and I would get along splendidly! So many characters are just ready to run off and do things…but I would always be like, “What about my books? My blankets? My turtle???”
Agatha, my turtle, for reference
But, even moreso, I adore how Bilbowcomes out of his shell and he grows into hismself.
You certainly usually find something, if you look, but it is not always quite the something you were after.
And, above all, the world that J. R. R. Tolkien is absolutely magical.
Elvish singing is not a thing to miss, in June under the stars, not if you care for such things.
Such an enchanting book – one that I truly, truly treasure.
May the hair on your toes never fall out!