Disclaimer: All hobbits and Middle-earth belong to JRR Tolkien, but in my dreams, they belong to me.

Characters: Gandalf (ancient), Isengar 78, Paladin just turned 7, Adelard still 11. This tale is more or less *about* Bilbo; Bilbo sort of has a cameo at then end.

Summary: Gandalf visits Great Smials in hopes of finding the right hobbit for a certain task...

Burglar for Hire

Great Smials, Astron 1341, S.R.

The old Man ambled steadily up the long lane that would lead him to the huge, round red door of Great Smials. The grey-cloaked figure had stabled his white horse beside the ponies of the current Took and Thain, enabling him to pay a long overdue visit to a hobbit he was quite fond of. The old Man wore a grey cloak over his raiment, his long, white beard hung below his waist. He leaned heavily upon his staff as he walked forward, his enormous black boots thudded with every step. The only other sound to be heard on this fine spring morning were songs of twittering birds nesting in the tall shrubs within the gardens nearby.

Most folk in these parts only knew this Man for his fireworks, or merely as the old wizard that Gerontius took in as a friend. Gandalf laughed quietly to himself; if they only truly knew his purpose in Middle-earth. After this unannounced visit, one of these peculiar Tooks would come to know him just a little bit more closely.

Having left his thirteen companions back the Green Dragon Inn in Hobbiton, Gandalf finally stood before the round door then pulled on the cord to sound his presence. The soft jingle of the doorbell that rang behind the door met his ears. The wizard next imagined himself scratching a particular symbol on the outside of this door, and then shook his head. No...to scratch the symbol he thought to employ for his uses would only end in confusion. Although there was only one Great Door, there were, in fact, many other side entrances around the Smials. Something else would have to do. As he pondered his plight, the door suddenly opened up.

The young maid merely stood in the doorway stunned. She lifted her eyes to the tall Man who stood on the welcome mat. “Mornin’...sir,” she said, swallowing hard, “May I help ye?”

Gandalf barely contained his grin while he answered the serving lass. “I am here to visit my old friends here at Great Smials, although I should first like to greet my dearest of these friends, Isengar Took.”

“Aye, sir,” the maid answered with a curtsy. “If--if ye follow me, I will take ye t’ the parlour where ye can wait ‘til we’ve announced ye t’ Mr. Isengar.”

Five minutes later, the wizard could hear a breathless hobbit came trotting down the tunnel. “You kept him waiting in the parlour?!”

Gandalf smiled.

“He’ll turn us all into toads for that!”

Gandalf’s smile bubbled into a hearty chuckle.

Finally, a familiar jolly face came bustling into the parlour with additional little pattering feet. “Hullo, Gandalf! It’s wonderful to see you again after all these years!”

Gandalf smiled broadly at seeing his old friend, and then his gaze went to the smaller faces hovering round Isengar’s legs.

Isengar noted the shift in Gandalf’s grey eyes. “Dear me--forgetting my manners!” He gently pried the youngest child away from his leg, “Come along, now, children. He won’t bite!”

“Gandalf, these are my nephews, Adelard Took--Siggi’s son, and Paladin Took--Adal’s son. I’m looking after Adal’s lad for a bit while he sees to his father.” Isengar forced a smile. “Much has happened since your last visit ten years ago when my brother Isengrim died.”

Both wizard and hobbit ambled leisurely amid the gardens adjacent to the north-wing of Great Smials. The fresh, spring air revived their lungs in comparison to the heavy air of the smial tunnels from the long winter. Gandalf always enjoyed a turn in the gardens with this very hobbit‘s father, Gerontius. It indeed had been a long time since he last tread this garden path.

“You do not believe that Hildigrim has long, then?” Gandalf enquired, watching the two children caper about on the grass just ahead of them.

“He spent most of this past winter in bed,” answered Isengar. “I have a feeling he’ll do the same the next. He’s old, Gandalf--one-hundred and one years old. Belladonna did not go fast, either. She was ill for over a year before succumbing to the disease that plagued her.”

At hearing about Belladonna, Gandalf stopped in his tracks. “Belladonna is also gone?”

“Aye,” Isengar replied. “’Twas the autumn of 1334. And poor Bilbo--I know he misses her. Losing a parent is never easy at any age.”

Gandalf continued his walking, his thoughts going back to when Gerontius’ first daughter was born. The hobbit beamed from ear to ear when Gandalf blessed the infant before the entire family. Even then, the wizard saw something peculiar in the babe’s eyes; something that he had only seen previously in Hildifons, and later in Isengar.

Many times on his early visits to Great Smials, Gerontius’ children begged for stories of the Outlands, yet there were the three aforementioned children who did not consider the wizard’s tales as mere fantasy, but hung upon every word. There were occasions that Gandalf, with permission from Gerontius, would take Hildifons and Isengar on a short tramp. Belladonna had accompanied them on a few occasions, however, when she entered her tweens, Adamanta insisted her daughter stay at home and learn how to be a proper lass. Belladonna, however, managed to sneak out with them one last time before becoming Mrs. Bungo Baggins.

Truly, Gandalf sorry to hear about Belladonna--her predilection for adventure snuffed out forever. And of course, there was Hildifons’ ill-fated journey east of the Shire.

“All of this is sad to hear,” Gandalf finally spoke aloud. He now wondered if perhaps he ought to pose his question to Isengar at all.

“Well,” said Isengar, brightening up a bit after the depressing news he gave he wizard. “I suppose you aren’t here to just listen to me harp on about things. Do you plan on staying for a while?”

Isengar caught sight of the youngsters rough-and-tumbling on the grass. “Addie! Get off your little cousin this instant!”

“I am only passing through the Tooklands this time, funnily enough. I am sorry that I cannot stop longer.”

“I am sorry as well. Are you at least going to stay for elevenses?” asked Isengar. “Surely you don’t mean to traverse the countryside without a morsel in your belly!”

Another interruption as peals of laughter come from the lads while Addie dragged a weight firmly attached to his ankle across the lawn. Isengar inwardly groaned; the younger child arrived the week before with four clean white shirts, and was currently wearing the last one without jam or mud stains on it. “Paladin! Let go of Addie’s leg!” He muttered, “This shirt will undoubtedly bear the marks of green grass upon it.”

Isengar turned to the wizard, “Half a moment, please, Gandalf. Addie--run and tell the serving maid that we shall be taking elevenses out here in the gardens. Not you, laddie!” Isengar grabbed the braces of the seven-year-old running past him. “I fear it is your lot to stay here with me.”

“Let’s take our ease over there on the bench,” Isengar said, inviting the wizard along. He picked up the whimpering child to his shoulder. “Yes, yes, I know I’m putting a damper on your fun, but trying to keep up with you is like trying to catch a greased pig at the summer fair.”

The cloud of gloom gone, Gandalf smiled. “You certainly have the makings of a mother hen in you!”

“Do I?” laughed Isengar. “I suppose. At his age, lads and lasses aren’t too different from one another. My Blossom will be twenty-eight this year--a proper lass now, as my mother used to say. The very age I was when I stowed away on your old pony cart. How time flies.”

Isengar sat upon the stone bench with young Paladin beside him. The child no longer whimpered, but laid his head upon one of his uncle’s legs and soon was fast asleep.

Gandalf sat down on the ground in front of Isengar, the better to see into the depths of his friend’s Tookish green eyes. “I am more or less here at Great Smials on errand,” he said as he spoke of his task. “You see, while my thirteen companions are housed at the Green Dragon in Bywater, I am out searching for a burglar. Only a hobbit will do for this job.”

Isengar blinked for a moment. He wasn’t necessarily surprised by the solicitation; anywhere that Gandalf went, he knew adventure was sure to follow. However, Isengar knew that he wasn’t the young hobbit he once was when he travelled with the wizard over sea and over land. He certainly didn’t have a tween-aged daughter to care for then--nor a young nephew, however temporary the situation. Nonetheless, for a brief moment, Isengar imagined himself young again and that Gandalf was in fact asking him to go on a quest--not as a stow away, but as a burglar!

As for Gandalf, the wizard saw his friend’s cheerful expression fall. He already knew Isengar’s answer--and it was a correct one, in his opinion. There were children in Isengar’s life now, and there was nothing Gandalf wanted to do in the way of disrupting that.

At last Isengar gave a half-hearted smile. “You dangle a carrot in front me, Gandalf. Alas, I cannot accept your offer. There is the wee one here to think of, as well as my own lovely Blossom who is presently away in Whitfurrows visiting her cousins.” Then he added, “Not to mention, I’m not as quick-footed as I used to be.”

“I am not so sure about that,” said Gandalf, smiling.

“But I might know of someone who is!” Isengar suddenly sprang to life, almost waking the child sleeping on his lap. “He’s been visiting me on and off much of late--ever since his mother passed away six years ago.”

Initially, Gandalf puzzled at this, then smiled. Of course! Belladonna’s own son!

“Bilbo Baggins,” they chorused together.

Isengar went on, “He often presses me for tales about his mother, then ends up asking me for details about my journey south, or what it was like to sail upon the waves of the sea. Whenever I enquire if he should like to go on his own adventure, he baulks at the notion.” Isengar crooked his finger, indicating for Gandalf to lean in closer. “I think he most enjoys listening to tales about the elves!” he said with a conspiratorial wink. “And he has no obligations, if you understand me.”

“Really?” asked Gandalf in mock surprise. He smiled to himself; so Belladonna did leave her adventurous mark in the character of her son, Bilbo. “How splendid!”

* * *

*“...one morning long ago in the quiet of the world, when there was less noise and more green, and the hobbits were still numerous and prosperous, and Bilbo Baggins was standing at his door after breakfast smoking an enormous long wooden pipe that reached nearly down to his woolly toes (neatly brushed) - Gandalf came by.”

And the rest is history.

The End.

* The Hobbit, By JRR Tolkien, An Unexpected Party