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Frodo sat eagerly with the crowd of other young Hobbits in the drawing room of Bag End. His Uncle Bilbo’s stories were not to be missed, after all. His journey to steal treasure from a dragon was the greatest adventure a Hobbit had had in living memory and Bilbo was an excellent storyteller. Frodo listened with rapt attention while Bilbo painted the scene of the dramatic Battle of the Five Armies.
“And then everyone was finally friends again.” Bilbo smiled. “The Lake Men and the Dwarves had sorted out their quarrel over the shares of the treasure, and the Elves and the Dwarves were back to just quarrelling about their ancient history instead of the Company’s visit to the Elvenking’s dungeon. I made new friends myself too! The Elvenking named me an Elf-friend, you know, and the great ravens were very happy to have had everything solved so peacefully.”
Flit, who was perched next to Frodo, perked up at the mention of her kin. The large bird was at knee-height with Frodo when they stood and was almost the same size as the smaller faunts that had come to listen with their older cousins. Frodo was also intrigued at the extension of the story. He had the benefit of knowing all the full versions of Bilbo’s adventures, but Bilbo rarely spoke in any detail about the adventures that happened after the Battle. Although the return journey back again to Hobbiton was just as long as Bilbo’s journey towards the Mountain, and nearly as eventful, it tended to put Bilbo in a sombre mood when he dwelled on any of the memories associated with Thorin’s death.
“Indeed, the birds were the most sensible folks involved in the whole affair!” Bilbo laughed. “It was the watchful Eagles that realized the goblins were on the move, and the Ravens’ counsel that Thorin should avoid starting a battle. Sadly, I missed the departure of Gwaihir, the Lord of Eagles, but I did get to meet Roäc, the Raven chief, again!”
* * *
There was a pause as Bilbo and the remainder of the Company faced each other for their farewell; they were all too full of too many feelings to express themselves easily in speech. Balin was accompanied by Roäc, the ancient Raven perched on the venerable Dwarf's arm, and Roäc's escort from Ravenhill.
"I am grateful to you as well," croaked Roäc, breaking the silence, "neither of us entirely succeeded in preventing a battle, but it would have gone much worse for Erebor if your attempt with the Arkenstone hadn’t caused Dain to hurry on towards Erebor and we would have had to face the Goblins and Wolves without him.”
“Aye lad,” Balin said, “you did your job as our burglar splendidly, and then you sacrificed your own share in the reward to be used for the Lake Men’s claims against us. We would like to apologize for how thankless we must have seemed to you.”
“Please,” Bilbo said, embarrassed, “we all said things we regret that day. Really, I am not even sorry to have less treasure than than the shares we originally stipulated, I have quite as much as I can even manage to take with me.” He already had to have an awkward conversation with Bard that had ended with Bilbo being convinced into two chests of gold and silver, and would much rather not have a repeat. Especially since he did feel some guilt for saying that Dwarves were politer in speech than in action, even if he had been quite provoked at the time.
“Yes,” Roäc barked a laugh, “making sure you can carry it back to your nest is very vital for collecting treasure. But no, that is not what we meant. It would be a shame if we missed an opportunity to provide you aid in return merely because you live so far away. I have an adventurous youngster who's keen to see the West. So if it is agreeable to you, my granddaughter Flit here will accompany you."
Roäc gestured with his beak at another Raven who was hopping excitedly on the ledge of the repaired doorway. Bilbo admittedly could barely tell any of the Ravenhill Ravens apart, but on closer inspection she was slightly smaller than most of the other and was one of the few that had blue eyes, and Bilbo was fairly certain he had seen her before as one of the messengers that Roäc had sent to and fro.
"Certainly," Bilbo said politely, "I would be pleased with the company." Then a worrying possibility occurred to him. "Er, can you speak Westron?" Bilbo asked Flit. He was beginning to regret that he hadn't simply admitted to Balin in the first place that he had not the faintest idea of what to do with bird calls beyond appreciatively listening to bird songs.
"Of course!" Flit said. The young raven’s voice wasn’t as harsh old Roäc’s, but still considerably lower than a Hobbit Lass’. "Grandfather still taught us while Smaug was in the mountain."
Finally, Bilbo exchanged his farewells with the Dwarves and set off for the Shire with mingled relief at returning home and regret at parting with his friends. They had all agreed to visit each other again in the future, but none of them were likely going to have a chance to make the long journey between Bag End and Erebor for quite some time. Especially the Dwarves, who had a large task ahead of them in restoring Erebor now that they had regained it.
Gandalf was going with Bilbo back to the Shire, and they were riding their horse and pony at a leisurely pace in the sunshine. It reminded Bilbo of how they had set out from the Shire on the start of the adventure, which he supposed was only fitting, although it saddened him to think that he would never travel with Thorin, Fili and Kili again.
Beorn, who was back in Man's shape again, travelled with them as well for now, since his home was on their way. Beorn's great long legs easily kept pace with the ponies and he was carrying Flit as well. One change from his earlier adventure which Bilbo was very appreciative of was that he was no longer the smallest member of his travelling party and getting picked up himself by Beorn.
"Bilbo, you agree with me don't you?" Flit asked, interrupting Bilbo's nostalgic musing.
"I'm sorry," Bilbo said, "I wasn't paying attention?" Flit and Beorn had been speaking together with the croaks and caws of the Raven language, which made just as little sense to Bilbo as the chirping of the thrush had done, but was rather less pleasant to listen to.
“Beorn was telling me about how he joined the battle!” Flit explained. “And I told him about how we found out about your quest to the mountain, that the thrush was speaking too fast for you and had to come bring someone to translate. Anyway, I thought that thrushes should really have more patience in speaking instead of being so fond of listening to themselves sing.”
“Ah,” Bilbo said, “a bit more patience might have helped Balin since he knows birds very well, but I confess I wouldn’t understand them either way. So I can see their point in focussing on their talent to sing well.”
"The thrushes certainly sing well," Flit said grudgingly, "but that is all they do. We Ravens are far more talented in vocals, really. I'm at least capable of learning to speak Westron instead of having to rely on finding folks who can understand birds."
“I won’t argue there!” Bilbo smiled in amusement. “Your talent is certainly very convenient for everyone.”
As they journeyed farther, Bilbo paid more attention to the new landscapes. This time they were giving a wide berth to Mirkwood and making their way around the dark woods instead of through them. Bilbo was glad of it, that was one part of his adventure that he would much rather not relive.
* * *
Several years later, Bilbo set off for the mountain again to visit his friends. Frodo, while delighted with being entrusted with the responsibility of having sole run of Bag End, was also disappointed at missing the adventure. He was even more delighted when Bilbo finally returned back to the Shire. Frodo had missed Bilbo a lot during his year long absence, especially since it had meant that Frodo had had to celebrate his 29th birthday without him.
Bilbo’s Dwarven companions had also accompanied him on the return journey, although they parted at Bree. His friends had some business to attend to in the trading village before they were to leave for Erebor again. Bilbo on the other hand was not very interested in Bree and was very eager to be home again in Bag End. After a night's sleep in his own feather bed and a warm first breakfast made in his own kitchen, he was feeling fully recovered from his journey. Bilbo then spent their second breakfast regaling Frodo with the goings on in Erebor, including the mishap of how he had lost his own hat and had to borrow one of Dwalin's dark-green hoods to wear during the return journey.
“You see, as I was gathering firewood, I spotted these superb mushrooms growing under the trees,” Bilbo said wistfully, “but I didn’t have a bag handy. So rather than leave them, I carried them in my hat. Which, unfortunately, also meant that it was not securely on my head when we afterwards had to pack up camp in a hurry to avoid some goblins Flit spotted. The real problem is that I was the only one there who appreciates a good mushroom, otherwise we could have just packed them in with the rest of the food supplies and no-one would have needed to remember any additions like a poor Hobbit’s hat.”
"I wish I could have gone too," Frodo said plaintively, "I am not a child anymore."
"I'm sorry to have disappointed you, my lad," Bilbo responded, "but you are not of age yet either. The road east is much safer than it once was now that the Goblins suffered a great defeat in the Battle of the Five Armies, and safer still if you have an excellent scout as a travelling companion," Bilbo stroked Flit's glossy neck, who preened at the compliment, "but it's still not to be travelled casually. Besides," said Bilbo, and winked, "Lobelia is the closest thing to a dragon in the Shire and someone needs to protect Bag End while I'm away so that she doesn't try to move in again.”
“I suppose that is a worthy goal,” Frodo said with amusement, “but not a very exciting one!”
Some weeks later Bilbo had another, much briefer, trip to make, and Frodo was helping him pack again.
"You're taking Sting?" Frodo asked in surprise as Bilbo took the sword down from its spot hanging on the wall. "I thought you were only going to Bree?" The area around the Shire was usually thought to be safe. Frodo had been orphaned by a capsized boat and knew better than most that even safe areas could have accidents, but he hadn’t thought a sword would be needed for a simple trip to Bree.
"Oh I am," Bilbo reassured as he tied the sheath to his belt, "I'm just being careful. I've heard that the Bounders have been having a bit of trouble lately. There's been some discussion about increasing their numbers. Nothing serious has happened so far, but there have been a lot of small incidents. Especially chicken coops have had their eggs stolen. It might just be a very bold fox, or there might be a scavenging wolf prowling. It's best for them to get to the bottom of it anyway, and until they do it’s best to use a bit of extra caution."
When they were done, Frodo bid goodbye to Bilbo, and spent the rest of the morning in the study. Flit had elected to stay behind with Frodo while Bilbo returned Dwalin's hood and was currently sunning herself on the windowsill of the study. She could of course not pick favourites between her two Hobbits, but she had lately spent a lot of time with Bilbo on the long journey to Erebor and had seen far too little of Frodo.
But soon Frodo found himself abandoning his book in favour of looking at Bilbo's map of the Lonely Mountain. He sighed, tracing the route Bilbo had followed.
"At least you are the one looking after Bag End now?" Flit comforted. "Last time Bilbo visited Erebor he had to find a minder for both of you. You will have plenty of your own adventures someday.”
“It’s just that I wanted to have an adventure with Uncle Bilbo,” Frodo said, “and I don’t think he’s intending to have another one. He might be amazingly well-preserved, but he talks more and more about how has been feeling his age. Now that he’s seen the mountains again, he’s most likely going to stay in the Shire.”
* * *
It is never possible to please everyone, and there was one creature who did not enjoy the Shire. The little rivers held equally small fish, the little morsels often darting out of even Gollum's practised hands. He was also growing very sick of stealing eggs out of nests, but it attracted less attention than stealing from unattended cradles usually did. He could not afford to be chased off yet. There was exactly one thing that could keep Gollum here, and that was the thing that had driven him out of his cave and into his hopeless wandering. Or not quite so hopeless, as it turned out.
Bilbo's adventures had always involved a peculiar amount of luck, but in this case, it involved bad luck. When Gollum had first caught wind of the Hobbit making the journey westwards again, he had not dared to make a move immediately. Gollum had learned not to take anything for granted when dealing with the tricksy Baggins, and he was determined that he would get the Precious back. He had not liked his odds while the Hobbit's troublesome party was around, nor could he draw too much attention from all of Hobbiton after Baggins' journey was over. But he at least had found out where the 'Shire' was. Now Baggins could not disappear again, and that small victory already brought him much closer. He could be patient, and his patience was rewarded when Bilbo came crossing the Shire's woods again. Alone this time. "Bless us and splash us, my Precious!" Gollum cackled to himself, settling in to wait for night time. "We will regain you at last!"
The full moon was shining brightly in the sky, but the pain it caused his eyes could not compare to the aching loss of his Precious and could ignore it. Silently he padded towards the small campsite, his long fingers twitching with excited anticipation, then he dropped into a cautious crawl when he came within hearing distance. His roving gaze spotted Bilbo's Sting. The moonlight was glinting on the hilt of the nasty Elvish blade, but the foolish Hobbit had left the sheathed sword laying with his baggage. Making sure to block Bilbo's way to the knife, Gollum pounced.
* * *
Bilbo awoke with a yelp, but he was too sleepy and disoriented to do more than flail in bewilderment. Instinctively he shoved his finger into his magic ring.
"Thief!" Gollum howled with rage. "Give it back!" He blindly grabbed at the invisible Hobbit, searching for his Precious.
Bilbo recognized the lamp-like eyes, though he had never expected to see old Gollum again. He was also a much more experienced adventurer now since their long-ago encounter under the mountain. When Gollum sank his handful of teeth into Bilbo's finger, the shock of pain could not overcome Bilbo for long. Bilbo managed to wrestle Gollum backwards and grabbed Sting with his good hand, delivering a clumsy stroke with his left hand. It sufficed however. Gollum backed away, hissing angrily at Bilbo and clutching at the shallow wound Bilbo's glancing blow had cut.
"Now really," Bilbo blustered angrily, "this was completely uncalled for. My question may admittedly not have been a proper riddle, but you shouldn't have accepted it then if you didn't want it to count!"
"Thief!" snarled Gollum. "Our Precious belongs with us, not in your pocketses!"
"Then why was it not with you?" Bilbo felt suddenly furious for an entirely different reason. "You lost it through your own carelessness, it came to me!"
Gollum only snarled angrily and turned away to slip off into the night.
When it seemed clear that Gollum was not about to try immediately to steal the Ring again, Bilbo warily lowered Sting. He winced as he examined his wounded hand. Without the excitement to distract him from his injury, he was starting to realise just how painful it was. Indeed, he felt quite faint. The chain that attached the Ring to Bilbo's waistcoat pocket had gotten in the way of Gollum's teeth, but the metal chain digging into the broken skin had done its own damage and it was a very unpleasant affair to gingerly remove the Ring from his finger and carefully tuck it back in his pocket. Finally, he wrapped a clean handkerchief over his bleeding finger and tied it as best he could with only one hand.
Bilbo then filled and lit his pipe, although that was very awkward to do with his one hand in an improvised bandage, and settled down to sooth his nerves. He had once or twice had a fleeting worry that Gollum would try to track him down, but he had never seriously expected to encounter him again in the Shire of all places. Bilbo shook his head, trying to focus on his immediate priorities again. He hadn’t travelled that far, so he decided it was certainly better to turn back home in the morning rather than trying to press on to Bree. He also had to be careful to keep a vigilant eye out for Gollum lurking about. Bilbo took another soothing puff from his pipe, it was going to be a very long night.
* * *
Frodo stepped outside the morning after Bilbo had left, enjoying the bracing spring weather, and saw that Flit was as usual sitting on a low branch in the yard in front of Bag End. Like many birds, Flit preferred the idea of sleeping over an underground home than inside one. The rolling hills of the Shire didn't offer the snug cliff ledges that the peaks of the Lonely Mountain did, but there were plenty of nice trees to perch on overnight instead. Flit was especially fond of the oak tree she was currently sitting on, which Bilbo had planted as a memento of his adventure with the Company.
Unlike usual, Flit and Hamfast ‘the Gaffer’ Gamee was talking together. The usual wariness that most Hobbits felt towards the strange, strangers, and especially strange strangers, and the usual respect that most Hobbits felt for good manners, had balanced out into the Shire treating the odd guest Bilbo had brought back from the Dwarven Kingdom with a distant cordiality. That hadn't really changed even after Bilbo’s neighbours became used to Flit over the years. Curious what they were talking about, Frodo moved to join them. The Gaffer seemed concerned, his gardening shears abandoned next to him.
“Good morning!” Frodo greeted them. “I hope nothing is wrong Master Hamfast?”
“Good morning to you as well Mr. Frodo,” the Gaffer responded, “if we’re to be lucky that is. I happened to catch a glimpse of our prowler snuffling along the road early this morning and I fear it weren’t no wolf.”
“From what the Gaffer told me,” Flit said worriedly, “it sounds like that Gollum creature Bilbo had the Riddle contest with.”
“That’s not good.” Frodo frowned. He was steadily growing more worried himself the more he thought about the news. Bree was about a week away from Hobbiton. Bilbo might have already gotten into very serious trouble by the time anyone would notice he was missed. "I should go warn Uncle Bilbo."
"I'm going too." Flit nodded in agreement, her feathers flat against her body with her own agitation.
"Aye," said the Gaffer, "there is something queer going on. Adventures are trouble enough when they only make you late for dinner." He shook his head at the baffling eccentricity of his adventurous employer.
Mind made up, Frodo left a message with the Gaffer just in case Bilbo did miss them on his own way home. He prepared travelling supplies for himself this time, and put on a travelling cloak, and then he was ready. Bilbo naturally did not have a spare sword, but Frodo had found a sturdy walking stick and he certainly wasn't going to be scared into abandoning Bilbo.
The first day, Frodo saw nothing unusual. It could easily have been one of his frequent walks in the Shire, if it hadn’t been for his own anxiousness. It was what he would have expected however, and it was likely a good sign. He was near Hobbiton still and Bilbo had had a day’s head start on him. Frodo would only have caught up to Bilbo already if something had slowed Bilbo down.
The second day, something did happen.
Frodo stepped back in surprise when a tall Man approached the road. He was uncommonly quiet for one of the Big Folk and Frodo had only just heard the movements of the Man and his group before he had seen him step out of the trees.
"You should rather not wander about, young Hobbit," the tall Man said "We have heard reports of something strange afoot. It is best to avoid the forest until my fellow rangers and I have tracked it down."
He did not look very friendly; he was large even for one of the Big Folk and had a severe face, even though Frodo felt he did not seem evil.
"But that's why I'm here," Frodo explained worriedly, "my Uncle travelled this way and I'm worried that Gollum might have hurt him!" Frodo would have preferred to be able to recruit help from the Bounders, but beggars couldn't be choosers and he was more urgently worried of finding Gollum than suspicious of the rangers.
"You know what it is?" The ranger asked, surprised.
"Well," said Frodo, "I don't know what exactly Gollum is, but I know that he is a very nasty character and that he has a grudge against my Uncle Bilbo."
The ranger turned towards his fellows and a quick exchange of words and significant looks ensued.
Frodo listened intently as he tried to make out the soft conversation of the grim-faced rangers. Oddly, they were speaking Elvish amongst themselves, but they had an unfamiliar accent and Frodo was much better at reading than at speaking Elvish in the first place.
"Can you understand them?" Frodo whispered to Flit. She was perched on his arm, Frodo having long ensured that many of his shirt sleeves were specifically padded enough to tolerate raven claws.
"Sorry, no," Flit responded apologetically. "The Elves are nice folk, but we've never really had much association with them in Erebor. You know how the Dwarves and the Elves are."
“My apologies,” said the ranger after his quick conference died down, “my name is Halbarad. You and your uncle are friends of Gandalf, correct? A while ago Gandalf asked one of our number, Strider, to go and track Gollum, but none of us expected to hear of him here instead of in the East. We would be grateful if we could accompany you.”
“The gratitude is mine.” Frodo said with relief. He knew the route that Bilbo had taken, and he expected that the rangers would have an easy time picking it up if Bilbo had to leave his path.
They hurried onwards, until to Frodo’s utter relief they spotted a very familiar Hobbit coming down the road from the opposite direction. He seemed thoroughly exhausted and blood was spotting through the handkerchief wrapped around his finger.
"Uncle Bilbo!" Frodo called out. "Are you all right?"
"I've been better, lad," Bilbo said wearily, "but it's nothing urgent. Although I've ruined all my spare handkerchiefs."
Luckily the rangers turned out to be well-skilled in healing and Bilbo was soon settled in their campsite with a proper bandage and salve on his hand. Although Bilbo did get a strange look from Halbarad when he dodged the question about why Gollum had even attempted to bite off his finger in the first place. Bilbo was much happier however to direct them to where he had last seen Gollum, with Flit going along to help the rangers search with her literal bird’s eye view. She felt very guilty that Bilbo had been injured in her absence, despite Bilbo’s assurances that it was unnecessary, and was very keen to make up for it by ensuring Gollum was safely taken away by the rangers.
“Having an adventure is not nearly as exciting as I thought it would be.” Frodo sighed. “I was just worried and wishing it was over!”
“It’s always like that, I’m afraid,” Bilbo said ruefully, “adventures never are fun while you are actually having them!”
* * *
Some time later and distance away, Halbarad was eyeing the strange creature they had finally pinned down despite his surprisingly good ability at sneaking through the woods. The ranger was fairly used to dealing with the strange—he had done his share of patrol shifts in the Old Forest after all—but he had no idea what to make out of what had happened with this Gollum. He decided that they should let Gandalf know about the unusual events as soon as possible.
* * *
Gandalf had indeed been very interested, and very concerned, when the rangers’ news reached him, and as soon as he could he afterwards he arrived at Bag End himself. He was still frowning worriedly even when they were ensconced in the Bag End kitchen with one of Bilbo’s excellent servings of tea and scones.
“Why were you looking for Gollum, Gandalf?” Frodo asked. “I would have thought the nasty creature would stay in his cave forever.”
Gandalf shook his head. “He is entirely incapable of ignoring the Ring. One of the lesser rings could be used as a mere tool, but the Great Rings can gain a fast hold on their bearers, and I have long suspected that Bilbo’s magic Ring was in fact one of the Great Rings made by the Elves in the ancient days. From what I’ve seen now myself of its effects on Gollum, my suspicions are even stronger. That is also why I was looking for Gollum, it was very important to discover how and why Gollum had obtained one of them, and why I have long tried to warn Bilbo not to use his Ring anymore.”
“Really, Gandalf,” Bilbo said annoyed, “how could Gollum have obtained something so remarkable? My ring can’t be that dangerous, I’ve used it for decades now and I’m perfectly fine.”
“As I said,'' Gandalf said with equal annoyance, and also no small degree of worry, “no Ringbearer could even consider ignoring their Ring. But it is growing ever more dangerous to use the Ring now. I have told you of how the White Council drove out the Necromancer out of Mirkwood, but he has since then gone to Mordor and the Shadow is growing.”
“But how exactly is that connected to the Ring?” Frodo wondered. He hadn’t missed that Bilbo tended to become irrationally obstinate where his Ring was concerned, though he had not known how serious that was, and was dreading the danger in the Ring that Gandalf was hinting at.
“It has everything to do with the Ring,” Gandalf said, his bushy brows drawing together ominously, “he would never let one of the Great Rings exist outside of his control. Did Bilbo ever tell you that I had found Thorin’s father in the dungeons of the Necromancer? But what neither of you, nor perhaps even Thorin, knew was that the Necromancer had taken Thrain because he was seeking leads for the Great Rings that had been gifted to the Dwarves. He would be just as set on taking the Ring from Bilbo as Gollum was, but the consequences are immeasurably worse if he finds it.”
The Hobbits shuddered and Flit’s wings quivered. Even in the sheltered Shire, they had heard tales of the Necromancer, and in Ravenhill, which was much closer to the wild and dangerous lands, they had heard many more.
"Fortunately," Gandalf said, "the only other person who knew about what happened to this Ring is also caught. If we are very lucky indeed, then we have found Gollum first and his knowledge is still secret.”
“Who else could have found Gollum?” Bilbo asked. “I thought your ranger friends had him now.”
“The Wood-elves are guarding him at present,” Gandalf said, “and as far as the rangers could tell from questioning him, he has indeed been too busy chasing your trails to be drawn east to Mordor, but Gollum, and especially the Necromancer, are cunning and we cannot entirely rule out some form of deception.”
“You really think he could come here, to the Shire?” Frodo said, alarmed. It was such a terrible and inconceivable notion to wrap his head around. “What hope could we even have then?”
"The Shire is a forgotten corner of the world," Gandalf said, "but it is still part of it. It was I myself who first set Bilbo on his road to Erebor that led to all these events. I was already investigating the matter of the Ring, but I shall do so with much more urgency now. This knowledge might even prove to provide an opportunity against the Necromancer, but we can also alert him by moving too openly. Secrecy can protect you for now, but if the Necromancer knows to come look for the Shire then he will be able to find you sooner or later. If we cannot depend on its secrecy, then we must find an alternative to hide it, or destroy it. For now, however, we will do nothing but plan for the future."