The further adventures of Bilbo the Hobbit. (with my deepest apologies to JRR Tolkien)

Sounds so lovely figgy

Is this bagginshield-fanfiction? Please let it be

Early one evening Merryon told Bilbo all about the mysterious sickness that had overcome his people and how it had spread out from the dread tower of Minas Morgul.
''But how can I help you'' said Bilbo, ''I have very little experience in enchantments and such matters are best left to wizards.''
''Gandalf believes you are the right person for the task'' was all Merryon would answer. ''We must leave this night, I hope that you can pack quickly?''
''This is all very sudden, are you sure it must be so soon?'' when it came to the push Bilbo felt very reluctant and more than half inclined to refuse to budge. He made a lot of excuses and made a good deal of fuss but in the end all was stowed away in neat packs. Bilbo took out his old walking cloak, his best staff, and carefully locking the front door he hopped over the garden gate with a heart lighter than it had been for many a year.

I'll admit to misreading Svaltalfar as Svalfartar the first time. But it's enjoyable to see a LOTR fanfic posted here as it feels like a while since we've had one that isn't also a Forumshire fanfic.

Yes, and about time Mrs Figg wrote some more, hmmm!

Indeed!

It was a mellow golden twilight when they set out through the sleepy lanes of Hobbiton. A low mist was beginning to rise from the sun warmed fields and becks, Blackbirds sang their evening songs and all was drowsy and getting ready for bed. Merryon walked ahead and Bilbo marvelled at the way his wings glinted and sparkled in the setting sun, he wondered what it would be like to fly and then he suddenly recalled the terror and pain of the only other time he had flown through the air, carried aloft by a Great Eagle and desperately hanging on to a Dwarves leg for dear life. His arms ached in memory of that voyage and the way he could have just let go and let himself fall...he shuddered and was glad to have his feet on solid earth.
A dog barked in the distance and Bilbo shook himself out of his daydreams.
The sun blazed in a few last moments of glory before it sank behind distant blue mountains in the East, and then the grey twilight sank like a curtain on the land.
They made steady progress passing hamlets and outlying solitary farmsteads, they passed the Green Dragon with its windows now dark and shuttered for the night, the last Hobbit customers now drowsily tucked up in their warm beds. Bilbo wished he was lying between his nice woollen blankets, he already regretted the meagre breakfast of the morrow, although he had packed double rations and could have fed a whole company of hungry Dwarves with second rounds to spare. He remembered how it felt to go hungry and he didn't like it one bit.
The ground steadily became wilder and less tended, small rivers grew larger and more meandering with larger bridges. Small lamps which had led the way over the more slippery ones now stopped as they grew less populated. The way now went slower as night fell and a chill fell over all the land.
Merryon knew the road and did not falter or look left or right they travelled in silence listening to the night sounds scurryings of invisible creatures in the undergrowth the occasional startled rabbit the snap of a twig, the silent swooping of a hunting owl. little dramas unfolding as Hobbits lay sleeping safe.
They stopped once eating and drinking under a large tree before setting out once more, and in the early morning reached the High Hey a huge tended hedge on the outskirts of Crickhollow. Bilbo craned his neck and looked up at the towering shadow the lower branches were covered by a network of sparkling silver cobwebs, very large cobwebs it seemed, they glittered dully in the grey dawn light and a strong aroma of leaf mould and green hedge filled the air. Bilbo shivered his breath steaming, despite his heavy cloak and hood he was chilled to the bone, he felt very tired and his legs ached, he felt quite grumpy but had no outlet so he kicked a nearby branch.
The branch kicked him back.
''OUch! he cried, and looked wildly round, but nothing was there but the tall brooding Hedge.

Please please please let it be an Entwife,

crikey never thought of that!

Bilbo was a patient soul and in the past he had once suffered quite a lot of uncomfortable things with a light heart and resilient spirit. But that was many years ago and now Bilbo loved his home comforts and was less inclined to laugh at danger and cold feet.
He planted those cold feet firmly on the ground, tilted his chin up and told Merryon he really couldn't think of going on further that morning without a hot bath and rest.
''But there are no hot baths to be found in the Old Forest'' said Merryon, ''and that is wither we are bound''
''oh don't worry your head about that'' said Bilbo, ''a cousin of mine lives in a cottage down the lane and he is a very hospitable chap''
and it was true, Blossom Bulger was a very hospitable gentleHobbit but he had left a large white card on his front door with the words 'Away off on bizniz yonder key in usual place'
''what on earth can the dratted fellow mean'' thought Bilbo, quite put out, and then he remembered Blossom liked to leave his keys under flower pots as he always forgot his front door key, or most likely lost them on the way back from the Inn.
In the end Bilbo was glad that Blossom was away from home, he was a thoroughly nice chap but was sure to have goggled at Merryon and asked lots of awkward questions that Bilbo did not wish to answer. He was glad that his thirst for adventure had not been scoffed at by a well meaning relative.
The cottage was a hidden secluded sort of place, but inside it was homely and comfortable. They built a roaring fire in the grate and had their hot baths. Bilbo felt greatly cheered by a plate of fried mushrooms and white loaves and then he felt greatly sleepy and toddled off for forty winks on a small truckle bed in one of the guest bedrooms.

Bilbo slept all the morning and most of the afternoon before he was shaken awake by Merryon. ''oh I was having such a beautiful dream' yawned Bilbo happily, I was flying low over a great sea of green waving grass to a great white city on a mountainside, It was so bright it shone and gleamed in the sun! and there were silver horns sounding, oh! cried Bilbo, ''I thought my poor heart would break at those silver horns sounding!'' Bilbo wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry, so he did both.
They tidied up, washed the dishes and locked the door leaving the key under some pink petunias.
The afternoon sun was warm on their backs but strangely the nearer to the Hey they got the colder the air became. Bilbo's nose began to drip and the hedge dripped cold drips of dew down their necks and on their cheeks. As the hedge loomed over them Bilbo had the feeling of being watched, there was a feeling of wary expectation in the air, they tensed for a blow which did not come.
They passed through a deep cutting under the Hey, it was full of dead leaves and muddy puddles, it was very still and close and the cold increased and grew all around them like a warning.

I'm loving the imagery here.

cheers Eldo.

On they went under the great hedge until the ground sloped up into a basin of tall weeds be-jewelled with frosty cobwebs, they scrambled up the muddy slope and onto the floor of the Old Forest.
Rows and rows of tall grey shadows marched into the heart of the wood, the trees at the edge of the forest were shaggy with ivy and festooned with other nameless drooping creepers. The floor was covered with a spongy mat of dry leaf mould and pine needles. The air was silent of birds and Bilbo could hear the blood pounding in his ears. It took a while to get used to the absolute silence but it was not a restful silence. It was watchful and very alive.
Merryon seemed animated for the first time in many days, he loved the trees and Bilbo asked many questions out of politeness seeing this gave Merryon pleasure and liking to see his companion looking happy at last, but after a while after the tales of trees had become so queer and interesting Bilbo started asking questions in earnest. Trees it seemed were very queer indeed. Merryon told tales of root and branch and the things which lived under great Oaks, he told of trees that were kindly and trees which strangled in the dark. Merryon was most animated when talking about the Shepherds of the trees, who had walked the earth while the great mountains of the moon still slumbered and stars were just a dream, a time before time.

They should have got you on the roll of The Hobbit ! We might have got something more Faery & Tolkien if they had !!!!

gosh thanks Az. that's praise indeed.

Truly, it is well meant !

They waded through the sea of trees, tall weeds and shaggy brambles hampering the way. Bilbo turned to take the last glimpse of the High Hey before it disappeared in the distant gloom. Outside the forest it was a late golden afternoon, the leaves burnished copper, emerald and bronze in the gleaming sunlight, but under the canopy of the trees all was grey and dull. In the distance Hobbiton lay in a purple haze and Bilbo turned away sadly and followed Merryon into the gloom.

They marched on only resting when the light began to fade into night and stars peeped out between the tops of the trees. The ground had steadily wound into a valley with rocky sides, large boulders the size of hay-bales lay scattered amidst tall gorse and fragrant juniper bushes, they lay hunched up like great silent beasts and Bilbo felt they were watching them. The yellow flowers gave off a pungent aroma as they brushed past and a thin mist hid their feet as they walked and the going was slowed by pot-holes and rabbit burrows hidden by grassy tufts. There was a sudden rushing wind which flowed around them and tugged at their cloaks, swirling drifts of dead leaves flew around them like angry birds. Round the side of a towering cliff they walked holding onto their staffs for support against the onslaught of wind and cold. On the cliff top stood ranks of fir trees pointing like admonitory fingers to the sky which had turned a lurid red with the oncoming storm.
''Follow me, this way'' cried Merryon, ''There is no time to lose, we are caught''
They pushed and struggled down a sandy path which was briefly illuminated by lightening, the moon sailed swiftly in ragged clouds, the thunder rolled in the hills and then there was the sound as of a rushing river coming closer and closer and a curtain of icy rain swept down over their heads.
''Quickly Bilbo! to me'' Merryon grabbed Bilbo by the hand and pushed him into the mouth of a cave.

What a great atmosphere, and conjured up so succinctly. I love that photo too.