????? If you are interested in Hobbits you will learn a lot more about them in The lord of the Rings:

1.???? THE FELLOWSHIP OF THE RING

2.???? THE TWO TOWERS

3.???? THE RETURN OF THE KING

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THE LORD OF THE RINGS

BY

J.R.R TOLKING

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The following pages contain the first chapter

of The Fellowship of the Ring, the first part

of J.R.R. Tolkien’s epic adventure

The Lord of the Rings.

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In a sleepy village in the Shire, young

Frodo Baggins finds himself faced with an

Immense task, as his elderly cousin Bilbo

entrusts the Ring to his care. Frodo must leave

his home and make a perilous journey across

Middle-earth to the Cracks of Doom, there

to destroy the Ring and foil the Dark Lord

in his evil purpose.

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A LONG-EXPECTED PARTY

?When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birth-day with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton.

?Bilbo was very rich and very peculiar, and had been the wonder of the Shire for sixty years, ever since his remarkable disappearance and unexpected return. The become a local legend, and it was popularly believed, whatever the old folk might say, that the Hill at Bag End was full of tunnels stuffed with treasure. And if that was not enough for fame, there was also his pro-longed vigour to marvel at. Time wore on, but it seemed to have little effect on Mr. Baggins. At ninety he was much the same as at fifty. At ninety-nine they began to call hm well-preserved; but unchanged would have been nearer the mark. There were some that shook their heads and thought this was too much of a good thing; it seemed unfair that anyone should possess (apparently) perpetual youth as well as (reput-edly) inexhaustible wealth.

?“It will have to be paid for,’ they said. ‘It isn’t natural, and trouble will come of it!’

?But so far trouble had not come; and as Mr. Baggins was generous with his money, most people were willing to forgive him his oddities and his good fortune. He remained on visiting terms with his rela-tives (except, of course, the Sackville-Bagginses), and he had many devoted admirers among the hobbits of poor and unimportant families. But he had no close friends, until some of his younger cousins began to grow up.

?The eldest of these, and Bilbo’s favourite, was young Frodo Baggins. When Bilbo was ninety-nine he adopted Frodo as his heir, and brought him to live at Bag End; and the hopes of the Sackville-Bagginses were finally dashed. Bilbo and Frodo happened to have the same birthday, September 22nd. ‘You had better come and live here, Frodo my lad,’ said Bilbo one day; ‘a(chǎn)nd then we can celebrate our birthday-parties comfortably together.’ At that time Frodo was still in his tweens, as the hobbits called the irresponsible twenties between childhood and coming of age at thirty-three.

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?Twelve more years passed. Each year the Bagginses had given very lively combined birthday-parties at Bag End; but now it was understood that something quite exceptional was being planned for that autumn. Bilbo was going to be eleventy-one, III (3), a rather curious number, and a very respectable age for a hobbit (the Old Took himself had only reached I30); and Frodo was going to be thirty-three, 33, and important number: the date of his ‘coming of age’.

?Tongues began to wag in Hobbiton and Bywater; and rumour of the coming event travelled all over the Shire. The history and character of Mr. Bilbo Baggins became once again the chef topic of conversation; and the older folk suddenly found their reminiscences in welcome demand.

?No one had a more attentive audience than old Ham Gamgee, commonly known as the Gaffer. He held forth at The Ivy Bush, a small inn on the Bywater road; and he spoke with some authority, for he had tended the garden at Bag End for forty years, and had helped old Holman in the same job before that. Now that he was himself growing old and stiff in the joints, the job was mainly carriedon by his youngest son, Sam Gamgee. Both father and son were on very friendly terms with Bilbo and Frodo. They lived on the Hill itself, in Number 3 Bagshot Row just below Bag End.

?‘A very nice well-spoken gentlehobbit Mr. Bilbo, as I’ve always said,’ the Gaffer declared. With perfect truth: for Bilbo was very polite to him, calling him ‘Master Hamfast’, and consulting him constantly upon the growing of vegetables-in the matter of ‘roots’, especially potatoes, the Gaffer was recognized as the leading authority by all in the neighbourhood (includ-ing himself).

?‘But what about this Frodo that lives with him?’ asked Old Noakes of Bywater. ‘Baggins is his name, but he’s more than half a Brandybuck, they say. It beats me why any Baggins of Hobbiton should go looking for a wife away there in Buckland, where folks are so queer.’

?‘And no wonder they’re queer,’ put in Daddy Twofoot (the Gaffer’s next-door neighbour, ‘if they live on the wrong side of the Brandywine River, and right agin the Old Forest. That’s a dark bad place, if half the tales be true.‘

?‘You’re right, Dad!” said the Gaffer. ‘Not that the Brandybucks of Buckland live in the Old Forest; but they’re a queer breed, seemingly. They fool about with boats on that big river-and that isn’t natural. Small wonder that trouble came of it, I say. But be that as it may, Mr. Frodo is as nice a young hobbit as you could wish to meet. Very much like Mr. Bilbo, and in more than looks. After all his father was a Baggins. A decent respectable hobbit was his father was a Baggins. A decent respectable hobbit was Mr. Drogo Baggins; there was never much to tell of him, till he was drownded.’

?‘Drownded?’ said several voices. They had beard this and other darker rumours before, of course; but hobbits have a passion for family history, and they were ready to hear it again.

?‘Well, so they say,’ said the Gaffer. ‘Yousee: Mr. Droge, he married poor Miss Primula Brandybuck. She was our Mr. Bilbo’s first cousin on the Mother’s side (her mother being the youngest of the Old Took’s daughters); and Mr. Drogo was his second cousin. So M. Frodo is his first and second cousin, once removed either way, as the saying is, if you follow me. and Mr. Drogo was staying at Brandy Hall with his father-in-law, old Master Gorbadoc, as he often did after his marriage (him being partial to his vittles, and old Gorbadoc keeping a mighty generous table); and he went out boating on the Brandywine River; and he and his wife were drownded, and poor Mr. Frodo only a child and all.’

?‘I’ve heard they went on the water after dinner in the moonlight,’ said Old Noakes; ‘a(chǎn)nd it was Drogo’s weight as sunk the boat.’

?‘And I heard she pushed him in, and he pulled her in after him,’ said Sandyman, the Hobbiton miller.

?‘You shouldn’t listen to all you dear, Sandyman,’ said the Gaffer, who did not much like the miller. ‘There isn’t no call to go talking of pushing and pulling. Boats are quite tricky enough for those that sit still without looking further for the cause of trouble. Anyway: there was this Mr. Frodo left an orphan and stranded, as you might say, among those queer Bucklanders, being brought up anyhow in Brandy Hall. *A regular warren, by all accounts. Old Master Gorbadoc never had fewer than a couple of hundred relations in the place. Mr. Bilbo never did a kinder deed than when he brought the lad beck to live among decent folk.

?‘But I reckon it was a nasty knock for those Sackville-Bagginses. They thought they were going to get Bag End, that time when he went off and was thought to be dead. And then he comes back and orders them off; and he goes on living and living, and never looking a day older, bless him! and suddenly he produces an heir, and has all the papers made out proper. The Sackville-Bagginses won’t never see the inside of Bag End now, or it is to be hoped not.’

?‘There’s a tidy bit of money tucked away up there, I hear tell,’ said a stranger, a visitor on business from Michel Delving in the Westfarthing. ‘All the top of your hill is fell of tunnels packed with chests of gold and silver, and jools, by what I’ve heard.’

?‘Then you’ve heard more than I can speak to,’ answered the Gaffer. ‘I know nothing about jools. Mr. Bilbo is free with his money, and there seems no lack of it; but I know of no tunnel-making. I saw Mr. Bilbo when he came back, a matter of sixty year ago, when I was a lad. I’d not long come prentice to old Holman? (him being my dad’s cousin), but he had me up at Bag End helping him to keep folks from trampling and trapessing all over the garden while the sale was on. And in the middle of it all Mr. Bilbo comes up the Hill with a pony and some mighty big bags and a couple of chests. I don’t doubt they were mostly full of treasure he had picked up I foreign parts, where there be mountains of gold, they say; but there wasn’t enough to fill tunnels. But my lad Sam will know more about that. He’s in and out of Bag End. Crazy about stories of the old days, he is, and he listens to all Mr. Bilbo’s tales. Mr. Bilbo has learned him his letters-meaning no harm, mark you, and I hope no harm will come of it.

?‘Eves and Dragons! I says to him. cabbages and potatoes are better for me and you. Don’t go getting mixed up in the business of your betters, or you’ll land in trouble too big for you, I says to him. and I might say it to others,’ he added with a look at the stranger and the miller.

?But the Gaffer did not convince his audience. The legend of Bilbo’s wealth was now too firmly fixed in the minds of the younger generation of hobbits.

?‘Ah, but he has likely enough been adding to what he brought at first,’ argued the miller, voicing common opinion. ‘He’s often away from home. And look at the outlandish folk that visit him: dwarves coming at night, and that old wandering conjuror, Gandalf, and all. You can say what you like, Gaffer, but Bag End’s a queer place, and its folk are queerer.’

?‘And you can say what you like, about what you know no more of than you do of boating, Mr. Sandyman,’ retorted the Gaffer, disliking the miller even more than usual. “If that’s being queer, then we could do with a bit more queerness in these parts. There’s some not far away that wouldn’t offer a pint of beer to a friend, if they lived in a hole with golden walls. But they do things proper at Bag End. Our Sam says that everyone’s going to be invited to the party, and there’s going to be presents, mark you, presents for all-this very month as is.’

?That very month was September, and as fine as you could ask. A day or two later a rumour (probably started by the knowledgeable Sam) was spread about that there were going to be fireworks-fireworks, what is more, such as had not been seen in the Shire for nigh on a century,, not indeed since the Old Took died. Nigh on a century, not indeed since the Old Took died.

?Days passed and The Day drew nearer. An odd-looking wagon laden with odd-looking packages rolled into Hobbiton one evening and toiled up the Hill to Bag End. The startled hobbits peered out of lamplit doors to gape at it. It was driven by outlandish folk, singing strange song: dwarves with long beards and deep hods. A few of them remained at Bag End. And the end of the second week in September a cart came in through Bywater from the direction of Brandywine Bridge in broad daylight. An old man was driving it all alone. He wore a tall pointed blue hat, a long grey cloak, and a silver scarf. He had a long white beard and bushy eyebrows that stuck out beyond the brim of his hat. Small hobbit-children ran after the cart all through Hobbiton and right up the hill. It had a cargo of fireworks, as they rightly guessed. At Bilbo’s front door the old man began to unload: there were great bundles of fireworks of all sorts and shapes, each labelled with a large rad G （#THERE NO TYPE TO SHOWN） and the elf-rune, (#THERE NO TYPE TO SHOWN TOO).

?THAT WAS Gandalf’s mark, of course, and the old man was Gandalf the Wizard, whose fame in the Shire was due mainly to his skill with fires, smokes, and was due mainly to his skill with fires, smokes, and dan-gerous, but the Shire-folk knew nothing about it. To them he was just one of the ‘a(chǎn)ttractions’ at the Party. Hence the excitement of the hobbit-children. ‘G’ for Grand!’ they shouted, and the old man smiled. They know him by sight, though he only appeared in Hobbiton occasionally and never stopped long; but neither they nor any but the oldest of their elders had seen one of his firework displays-they now belonged to a legendary past.

?When the old man, helped by Bilbo and some dwarves, had finished unloading, Bilbo gave a few pennies away; but not a single squib or cracker was forthcoming, to the disappointment of the onlookers.

?‘Run away now!’ said Gandalf. ‘You will get plenty when the time comes.’ Then he disappeared inside with Bilbo, and the door was shut. The young hobbits stared at the door in vain for a while, and then made off, felling that the day of the party would never come.

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?Inside Bag End, Bilbo and Gandalf were sitting at the open window of a small room looking out west on to the garden. The late afternoon was bright and peace-ful. The flowers glowed red and golden: snapdragons and sunflowers, and nasturtians trailing all over the turf walls and peeping in at the round windows.

?‘How bright your garden looks!’ said Gandalf.

?‘Yes,’ said Bilbo. ‘I am very fond indeed of it, and of all the dear old Shire; but I think I need a holiday.’

?‘I do. I made up my mind months ago, and I haven’t changed it.’

?‘Very well. It is no good saying any more. Stick to your plan-your whole plan, min-and I hope it well turn out for the best, for you, and for all of us.’

?‘I hope so. Anyway I mean to enjoy myself on Thursday, and have my little joke.’

?‘Who will laugh, I wonder?’ said Gandalf, shaking his head.

?‘We shall see,’ said Bilbo.

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?The next day more carts rolled up the Hill, and still more carts. There might have been some grumbling about ‘dealing locally’, but that very week orders began to pour out of Bag End for every kind of provi-sion, commodity, or luxury that could be obtained in hood. People became enthusiastic; and they began to tick off the days on the calendar; and they watched eagerly for the postman, hoping for invitations.

?Before long the invitations began pouring out, and the Hobbition post-office was blocked, and the Bywater post-office was snowed under, and voluntary assistant postmen were called for. There was constant stream of them going up the Hill, carrying hundreds of polite variations on thank you, I shall certainly come.

?a notice appeared on the gate at Bag End: NO ADMITTANCE EXCEPT ON PARTY BUSTINESS. Even those who had, or pretended to have Party Business were seldom allowed inside. Bilbo was busy: writing invita-tions, ticking off answers, packing up presents, and making some private preparations of his own. from the time of Gandalf's arrival he remained hidden from view.

?One morning the hobbits woke to find the large field, south of Bilbo’s front door, covered with ropes and poles for tents and pavilions. A special entrance was cut into the back leading to the road, and wide steps and a large white gate were built there. The three hobbit-families of Bagshot Row, adjoining the field, were intensely interested and generally envied. Old Gaffer Gamgee stopped even pretending to work in his garden.

?The tents began to go up. There was a specially large pavilion, so big that the tree that grew in the field was right inside it, and stood proudly near one end, at the head of the chief table. Lanterns were hung on all its branches. More promising still (to the hobbits’ mind): an enormous open-air kitchen was erected in the north corner of the field. A draught of cooks, from every inn and eating-house for miles around, arrived to supplement the dwarves and other odd folk that were quartered at Bag End. Excitement rose to its height.

?Then the weather clouded over. That was on Wednesday the eve of the Party. Anxiety was intense. Then Thursday, September the 22nd, actually dawned. The got up, the clouds vanished, flags were unfurled and the fun began.

?Bilbo Baggins called it a party, but it was really a variety of entertainments rolled into one. Practically everybody living near was invited. A very few were overlooked by accident, but as they turned up all the same, that did not matter. Many people from other parts of the Shire were also asked; and there were even a few from outside the borders. Bilbo met the guests (and additions) at the new white gate in person. He gave away presents to all and sundry-the latter were those who went out again by a back way and came in again by the gate. Hobbits give presents to other people on their own birthdays. Not very expensive ones, as a rule and not so lavishly as on this occasion; but it was not bad system. Actually in Hobbiton and Bywater every day in the year was somebody's birth-day, so that every hobbit in those parts had a fair chance of at least one present at least once a week. But they never got tired of them.

?On this occasion the presents were unusually good. The hobbit-children were so excited that for a while they almost forgot about eating. There were toys the like of which they had never seen before, and had come all the way from the Mountain and from Dale, and were of real dwarf-make.

?When every guest had been welcomed and was finally inside the gate, there were songs, dances, music, games, and, of course, food and drink. There were three official meals: lunch, tea, and dinner (or supper). But lunch and tea were marked chiefly by the fact that at those times all the guests were sitting down and eating together. At other times there were merely lots pf people eating and drinking-continuously from elevenses until six-thirty, when the fireworks started.

?The fireworks were by Gandalf: they were not only brought by him, but designed and made by him; and the special effects, set pieces, and flights of rockets were let off by him. but there was also a generous dis-tribution of squibs, crackers, backarappers, sparklers, torches, dwarf-candles, elf-fountains, goblin-barkers and thunderclaps. They were all superb. The art of Gandalf improved with age.

?There were rockets like a flight of scintillating birds singing with sweet voices. There were green trees with trunks of dark somke: their leaves opened like a shole spring unfolding in a moment, and their shining spring unfolding in a moment, and their shining branches dropped glowing flowers down upon the astonished hobbtis, disappearing with a sweet scent just before they touched their upturned faces. There were fountains of butterflies that flew glittering into the trees; there were pillars of coloured fires that rose and turned into eagles, or sailing ships, or a phalanx of flying swans; there was a red thunderstorm of silver spears that sprang suddenly into the air with a yell like and embattled army, and came down again into the Water with a hiss like a hundred hot snaked. And there was also one last surprise, in honour of Bilbo, and it startled the hobbits exceedingly, as Gandalf intended. The lights went out. A great smoke went up. It shaped itself like a mountain seen in the distance, and began to glow at the summit. It spouted green and scarlet flames. Out flew a red-golden dragon-not life-size, but terribly like-like: fire came from his jaws, his eyes glared down; there was a roar, and he whizzed three times over the heads of the crowd. They all ducked, and many fell flat on their faces. The dragon passed like an express train, turned a somersault, and burst over Bywater with a deafening explosion.

?That is the signal for supper!’ said Bilbo. The pain and alarm vanished at once, and the prostrate hobbits leaped to their feet. There was a splendid supper for everyone; for everyone, that is, except those invited to the special family dinner-party. This was held in the great pavilion with the tree. The invitations were limited to twelve dozen (a number also called by the hobbits one Gross, though the word was not consid-ered proper to use of people); and the guests were selected from all the families to which Bilbo and Frodo were related, with the addition of a few special unre-lated friends (such as Gandalf). many young hobbits were included, and present by parental permission; for hobbits were easy-going with their children in the matter of sitting up late, especially when there was a chance of getting them a free meal. Bringing up young hobbits took a lot of provender.

?There were many Bagginses and Boffins, and also many Tooks and Brandybucks; there were various Grubbs (relations of Bilbo Baggins’ grandmother), and various Chubbs (connexions of his Took grand-father); and a selection of Burrowses, Bolgers, and Proudfoots. Some of these were only very dis-tantly connected with Bilbo, and some had hardly ever been in Hobbiton Before, as they lived in remote corners of the Shire. The Sackville-Bagginses were not forgotten. Otho and his wife Lobelia were present. They disliked Bilbo and detested Frodo, but so mag-nificent was the invitation card, written in golden ink, that they had felt it was impossible to refuse. Besides, their cousin, Bilbo, had been specializing in food for many years and is table had a high reputation.

?All the one hundred and forty-four guests expected a pleasant feast; though they rather dreaded the after-dinner speech of their host (an inevitable item). He was liable to drag in bits of what he called poetry; and sometimes, after a glass or two, would allude to the absurd adventures of his mysterious journey. The guests were not disappointed: they had a very pleasant feast, in fact an engrossing entertainment: rich, abun-dant, varied, and prolonged. The purchase of provi-sions fell almost to knighting throughout the district in the ensuing weeks; but as Bilbo’s catering had depleted the stocks of most of the stores, cellars and warehouses for miles around, that did not matter much.

?After the feast (more or less) came the Speech. Most of the company were, however, now in a tolerant mood, at that delightful stage which they called ‘filling up the corners’. They were sipping their favourite drinks, and nibbling at their favourite dainties, and their fears were forgotten. They were prepared to listen to anything, and to cheer at every full stop.

?My dear people, began Bilbo, rising in his place. ‘Hear! Hear! Hear!’ they shouted, and kept on repeat-ing it in chorus, seeming reluctant to follow their own advice. Bilbo left his place and went and stood on a chair under the illuminated tree. The light of the lanterns fell on his beaming face; the golden buttons shone on his embroidered silk waistcoat. They could all see him standing, waving one hand in the air, the other was in his trouser-pocket.

?My dear Bagginses and Boffins, he began again; and my dear Took and Brandybucks, and Grubbs, and Chubbs, and Burrowses, and Hornblowers, and Bolgers, Bacegirdles, Goodbodies, Brockhouses and Proudfoots. ‘ProudFEET!’ shouted an elderly hobbit from the back of the pavilion. His name, of course, was Proudfoot, and well merited; his feet were large, exceptionally furry, and both were on the table.

?Proudfoots, repeated Bilbo. Also my good Sackville-Gagginses that I welcome back at last to Bag End. Today in my one hundred and eleventh birthday: I am eleventy-one today! ‘Hurray! Hurray! Many happy returns!’ they shouted, and they hammered joyously on the tables. Bilbo was doing splendidly. this was the sort of stuff they liked: short and obvious.

?I hope you are all enjoying yourselves as much as I am. Deafening cheers. Cries of Yes (and No). Noises of trumpets and horns, pipes and flutes, and other musical instruments. There were, as has been said, many young hobbits present. Hundreds of musical crackers had been pulled. Most of them bore the mark DALE on them; which did not convey much to most of the hobbits, but they all agreed they were marvellous crackers. They contained instruments, small, but of perfect make and enchanting tones. Indeed, in one corner of the young Tooks and Brandybucks, supposing Uncle Bilbo to have finished (since he had plainly said all that was necessary), now got up an impromptu orchestra, and began a merry dance-tune. Master Everard Took and Miss Melilot Brandybuck got on a table and with bells in their hands began to dance the Springle-ring: a pretty dance, but rather vigorous.

?But Bilbo had not finished. Seizing a horn from a youngster nearby, he blew three loud hoots. The noise subsided. I shall not keep you long, he cried. Cheers from all the assembly. I have called you all together for a purpose. Something in the way that he said this made an impression. There was almost silence, and one or two of the Tooks pricked up their ears.

?Indeed, for Three Purposes! First of all, to tell you that I am immensely fond of you all, and that eleventy-one years is too short a time to live among such excellent and admirable hobbits. Tremendous outburst of approval.

?I don’t know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve. This was unexpected and rather difficult. There was some scattered clapping, but most of them were trying to work it out and see if it came to a compliment.

?Secondly, to celebrate my birthday. Cheers again. I should say: Our birthday. For it is, of course, also the birthday of my heir and nephew, Frodo. He comes of age and into his inheritance today. Some perfunctory clap-ping by the elders; and some loud shouts of ‘Frodo! Frodo! Jolly old Frodo,’ from the juniors. The Sackville-Bagginses scowled, and wondered what was meant by ‘coming into his inheritance’.

?Together we score one hundred and forty-four. Your numbers were chosen to fit this remarkable total: one Gross, if I may use the expression. No cheers. This was ridicu-lous. Many of the guest, and especially the Sackville-Bagginses, were insulted, feeling sure they had only been asked to fill up the required number, like goods in a package. ‘One Gross, indeed! Vulgar expression.’

?It is also, if I may be allowed to refer to ancient history, the anniversary of my arrival by barrel at Esgaroth on the Long Lake; though the fact hat it was my birthday slipped my memory on that occasion. I was only fifty-one then, and birthdays did not seem so important. The banquet was very splendid, however, though I had a bad cold at the time, I remember, and could only say ‘thag you very buch’. I now repeat it more correctly: Thank you very much for coming to my little party. Obstinate silence. They all feared that a song or some poetry was now imminent; and they were getting bored. Why couldn’t he stop talking and let them drink his health? But Bilbo hid not sing or recite. He paused for a moment.

?Thirdly and finally, he said, I wish to make an ANNOUNCEMENT. He spoke this last word so loudly and suddenly that everyone sat up who still could. I regret to announce that-though, as I said, eleventy-one years is far too short a time to spend among you-this is the END. I am going. I am leaving NOW. GOOD-BYE!

?

?He stepped down and vanished. There was a blind-ing flash of light, and the guests all blinked. When they opened their eyes Bilbo was nowhere to be seen. One hundred and forty-four flabbergasted hobbits sat back speechless. Old Odo Proudfoot removed his feet from the table and stamped. Then there was a dead silence, until suddenly, after several deep breaths, every Baggins, Boffin, Took, Brandybuck, Grubb, Chubb, Burrows, Bolger, Bracegirdle, Brockhouse, Goodbody, Hornblower, and Proudfoot began to talk at once.

?It was generally agreed that the joke was in very bad taste, and more food and drink were needed to cure the guests of shock and annoyance.