Questions and Answers

“Why do you have hair on your face?”

Beneath the wide brim of his hat Gandalf’s eyebrows knit together as he peered down at the young hobbit with the inquisitive eyes standing before him. “Bilbo Baggins, is it – Belladonna’s lad?” he asked after a moment of puffing on his pipe.

At the child’s nod, the wizard chuckled lightly and sent a smoke ring skywards. It hovered for a moment before soaring over the Great Smials and disappearing into the clouds, far away from the bright lights of the party below. “I suppose I might ask,” he said after a time, “why don’t you have hair on your face?”

Bilbo raised a hand to his chin, apparently pondering Gandalf’s question, or trying in vain to locate a few hairs. Finding no adequate response, he let his hand drop in favor of eagerly asking more questions. “How do you make fireworks? How old are you? And why are you so very large?”

“Bilbo! Where are your manners?” Belladonna demanded as she approached them. She frowned at her son, who seemed less embarrassed by the questions he had posed, and more embarrassed that he had been caught asking them.

“Sorry, Mum,” he said quickly. Bilbo glanced uncertainly at the wizard. “I’m sorry, Gandalf.”

But Gandalf smiled indulgently. “It is no trouble at all. I’ve grown used to the curiosity of Tooks…and even the occasional Baggins,” he replied, glancing from Belladonna to Bilbo. “In fact, I seem to recall being asked similarly impertinent questions by a young lass many years ago.”

Belladonna laughed. “That may be, but we shall not disturb you with any more questions tonight,” she said, sending her son a pointed glance. “Come along now, Bilbo, and have something to eat. I think Gandalf is going to set off more fireworks soon.”

“More fireworks!” Bilbo exclaimed, his eyes shining. “Will there be more snapdragons and lilies?”

“Certainly!” Gandalf replied. In fact, he had not planned on setting off more of those particular fireworks, but he had a soft spot for children and if snapdragons and lilies would make young Bilbo smile, then Gandalf would see to it that there were more of those before the night ended.

Bilbo grinned in thanks and took his mother’s hand as she led him back to the party.

“Mum, I don’t think Gandalf was going to answer any of my questions,” he whispered as they left, though not quietly enough to escape the wizard’s sharp hearing.

“He never does,” replied Belladonna. She had faced this disappointment long ago.

Gandalf watched them leave, waving as the child turned back to smile at him. Then he turned thoughtful, puffing on his pipe as he pondered the unique spirit he had sensed in the young hobbit.

Bilbo was quick of mind, curious, and had inherited from his mother a certain boldness that, regrettably, Gandalf suspected would fade as he grew older. At least, until the opportunity came when that particular trait would prove useful.

Something told him he ought to keep an eye on Bilbo Baggins...