A drabble written to the first prompt given our team in the Back-to-Middle-Earth Month challenges.  For Iorhael for her birthday.  With thanks to RiverOtter for the beta. 

Regrets Thought at the Party

            Today I’m thirty-three, and an adult according to society.  I can vote in the elections for Mayor.  I can handle my own money, and own property; I can make legal agreements and marry without having to seek permission.  I can found a family and father children and love a wife.  I can be a landlord.  I can head my family of name and keep its book.

            I’m thirty-three, and have come into my inheritance, as Bilbo has just proclaimed----

            ----just before he disappeared with a flash and a bang!

            Why do I find myself wishing I were still thirty-two?