“…It was just a quick glance and I was very young at the time. I’m terribly sorry, Bilbo,” Merry concluded, fiddling with the buttons on his waistcoat. His eyes drifted to the book with its familiar red cover, closed and clutched tightly in Bilbo’s hands.

Guiltily Merry turned away, peering instead out the window overlooking a sunlit glade. In the distance he could hear the faint sound of singing, accompanied by a bird chirping nearby. When Merry turned back Bilbo’s head was bent, his chin nearly touching his chest. He seemed to be shaking.

“Bilbo?” Merry said, alarmed. His cousin drifted off to sleep often and without warning, but now Merry worried that something was seriously wrong. When he placed a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder the old hobbit looked up, laughing.

“My dear boy,” he barely managed to say. “Tell me, which part did you read?”

Merry grinned in relief.