Special thanks to FrodoBaggins88 for being my beta for this chapter!

September 18, 1380 S.R.

Some nights later, when everyone in Hobbiton lay tucked cozy and warm in their beds in their own holes, a stranger to most, friend to far and few of its inhabitants, crept through quietly its streets, making his way eventually up to Bagshot Row. Finally the small cart pulled up in front of his destination, and after a wording halting the weary horse, the visitor climbed down off his cart. He unhitching the horse from the cart before taking up his staff in hand (for he was an old man), and opening the gate he lead the animal inside, turning him loose to graze on Bilbo’s grass.

As he walked to the door, he knew he would have to rise early and do something about his cart as he did not doubt it would attract young, curious hobbits as moths to a flame, for it was laden with all sorts of items related to his trade as a wizard. The young could never resist pilfering some of the treasures it contained, and some of those treasures as he well knew were very dangerous in inexperienced hands.

He knew Bilbo had taken up the habit of locking his doors at night because he had had unwanted visitors, indeed unwanted relatives, barging in on him at all hours of the day and night. Since the lights were out and it appeared that Bilbo was in bed, the wizard decided not to follow his usual custom of banging in the door with his staff. Instead he reached inside of his robes, burrowing deep into hidden pockets, searching for one particular item, and pulling out several other items that he did not want or need at the moment before he found the object of his search. Finally he pulled the key to the door from his pocket, and leaning over, he unlocked the door without much trouble before stepping inside of Bag End.

He set his hat by the door as well as his staff, as both were too big and would only hinder his careful navigations through Bag End’s tunnel as quietly as he wished. After all, Bilbo was most likely in bed and he did not wish to be an inconsiderate houseguest by giving his dear friend a fright with some sudden, unexplained noise from what should have been a completely silent smial.

He was halfway down the South tunnel, headed for the room where he usually stayed while he visited Bilbo when he decided that a cup of tea would be in order before he lay down his wearied head. So, turning around, the wizard made his way back toward the kitchen, and once there he quickly stoked up the fire and put the kettle on to boil before finding the Big Folk tea cup Bilbo had had made for him. Soon the kettle whistled and he quickly removed it from the fire, pouring the hot water into the teapot and waiting a few moments before he poured it into his cup.

With a satisfied smiled, Gandalf the Grey closed his eyes, intending to savor the warmth and taste of his tea in the quiet of Bilbo’s kitchen before he sought out his bed at last.

Primula awoke suddenly and sat up in bed, glancing at Drogo as though he had made the noise that had awakened her from her slumber. But thankfully he only lightly snored in his sleep, and after she touched his forehead to reassure herself he really was recovering, she slipped her feet out of bed. Pulling on a dressing gown before straightening her night bonnet, Primula padded her way softly down the hall, stopping first at Frodo’s room to make sure he was sleeping soundly.

Once she was sure he was fine, she went to check the rest of the smial, and when she found nothing in the other rooms, she was convinced that she had dreamed the noise that had awakened her.

She had turned to return to her room when she noted a light coming from the kitchen as though someone had stoked the fire up. As she was sure that everyone else who lived in Bag End was asleep at 11 o’clock at night, she decided to investigate and see who or what had invaded Bilbo’s kitchen at such an unreasonable hour of the night.

Gandalf opened his eyes just in time to see a hobbit sized blur run into the kitchen and over to where Bilbo kept his pans. Within seconds, a hobbit matron stood before him wielding a Dwarven-made iron skillet, her eyes ablazed with fury as she waved it at him, ‘Out, you over grown cowardly thief!’

Gandalf looked on her in amusement more than anything else and he raised his hands, saying, ‘Madam, please,’ he said, trying to rise awkwardly from the too small bench, causing the hobbit to scream.

‘You’re not intimidating me, you big oaf!’ the hobbit matron replied, connecting the skillet with his mid-section just to prove her point. ‘I said get out!’ Gandalf had had the wind knocked out him at least, and as he drew in a breath to speak, they were both startled by another voice coming from the kitchen’s doorway.

‘My dear Gandalf,’ said Bilbo in a stunned voice before he recovered his wits enough to say, ‘O good heavens, Primula! Put that skillet down! This is no thief come to rob me but a very dear friend of mine!’ He waited until she reluctantly lowered the skillet before continuing, ‘Gandalf, this is my nephew Drogo’s wife, Primula.’

Gandalf knelt so he was more at Primula’s level when he said, ‘A pleasure at last to meet the wife of Bilbo’s favorite nephew.’ The old wizard actually took her hand and kissed the back of it, causing his former enemy to blush.

‘You’re the Gandalf the Grey?’ she asked skeptically. ‘The wizard?’

‘Indeed I am, madam,’ Gandalf responded with a smile and wink.

‘Well somehow I thought you’d be taller,’ she replied as he rose up from the floor.

Her comment caused a chuckle to escape from the wizard even as something small attached itself to his leg. Gandalf looked downwards to see a small hobbit lad hugging his left leg tightly, and he touched the boy’s head, saying, ‘Ai, now who have we here?’

Bilbo smiled, ‘Gandalf, may I present Drogo’s son and my favorite nephew, Frodo Baggins?’

At hearing Gandalf’s name, Frodo looked up at the wizard and exclaimed, ‘I knew it was you! I knew it!’

When the lad looked at him, Gandalf was taken aback, for rarely had he seen such a Light as bright and beautiful as his Lady Varda’s stars themselves shining forth from an adult mortal, much less from one who was still a child! The wizard positively gasped as he beheld the small face turned up in joyous rapture as it smiled on him in anticipation. Gandalf found that he had to fight tears as for an instant he had a premonition regarding this boy’s feature – a premonition that was gone as quickly as it had come.

‘Frodo,’ Primula admonished her son, ‘Let go of his leg!’ But the little hobbit continued to clutch his leg as though his life depended on it, so much so that an embarrassed Primula had to pry her son off of Gandalf’s leg, ‘I’m terribly sorry, sir. I don’t know what’s come over him.’

Gandalf smiled, ‘No harm done.’

A sudden knock came on Bilbo’s front door, making all 4 of the kitchen’s occupants jump, and Bilbo hurried to answer it muttering, ‘Who on Middle-earth could that be at this hour of the night?’ He swung the door open to seeing a gathering of his neighbors, mostly menfolk, standing on his stoop clutching pitch forks and other forms of household items as weapons.

‘Mr. Bilbo, are ye and yers fine?’ asked Hamfast from the midst of the small crowd.

Bilbo smiled, ‘We’re all right as rain here, Master Hamfast. I must ask what are you all doing standing here on my front step in the middle of the night?’

"Well, Mr. Baggins, wees all heard this bloodcurdling scream a’comin’ from yer hole and we’s afraid that some thief had broken in and was murdering ye,’ Hamfast answered for the crowd.

‘I’m fine, I assure you all,’ Bilbo replied.

‘Who does the cart belong to, if you don’t mind me asking?" asked Daddy Twofoot.

‘To me, Mr. Twofoot,’ said Gandalf from behind Bilbo, bending down to look at the crowd of hobbits.

‘We should have known that it was that confounded wizard!’ said a voice that sounded a lot like that belonging to the miller.

‘I am sorry that we disturbed everyone,’ Bilbo said as the crowd began to break up.

‘Mad Baggins,’ some said on their way down the Hill, while others shook their heads saying, ‘Old Bilbo’s cracked all right, associating with the likes of wizards and such other queer folk.’

Hamfast waited for the crowd to disperse before he stepped closer to the door, ‘Is there anything ye’ll be needing, Mr. Bilbo a’fore I be heading home?’

Bilbo nodded, ‘Only for you to apologize to Bell for me for interrupting your night’s sleep.’

‘O don’t ye be worrying about us, Mr. Bilbo, we’re all fine,’ replied Hamfast.

‘Still, please send her my apologies as I know your youngest son just stopped getting his days and nights mixed up recently,’ Bilbo said again.

Hamfast nodded, ‘I will, sir. Will there be anything else?’

‘No, no,’ said Bilbo, ‘You just get yourself home and get some more sleep if you can.’

‘Yes, sir,’ said Hamfast, ‘Well, good night, Mr. Bilbo, to ye and yers – what’s left of it anyway.’

‘Goodnight, be careful as you go down now,’ replied Bilbo before shutting the door, then opened it again as he thought of something else, ‘If you would not mind, keep an eye on Gandalf’s cart after you arrive here tomorrow morning.’

‘Aye, Mr. Bilbo, I will!’ promised Hamfast.

‘All right, thank you and goodnight,’ Bilbo said, this time locking the door back after he shut it. Looking at his guest and family he said, ‘Let’s go to bed, shall we?’

Even with the promise Bilbo obtained from Hamfast Gamgee, Gandalf was up before the Sun sitting outside to enjoy a smoke as he kept watch to make sure that no prying hands belonging to over-curious young hobbits found their way into the back of his cart. He was just tamping out his pipe as Hamfast and Sam made their way up through the gate to begin their work for the day.

Upon seeing the wizard, Sam stood with his mouth wide open, and he remained that way for several moments until Hamfast tapped him on the head. ‘Come along now, Samwise, and close yer mouth. Wees have plenty enough work to do without ye standing there attracting flies with yer mouth all apage.’ He looked at Gandalf, ‘Good morning, Mr. Gandalf. Do ye still want me to keep an eye out for yer cart?’

‘Good morning to you too, Master Hamfast, Master Samwise.’ Gandalf nodded to each as he spoke. ‘No, thank you; I’ll be moving it momentarily so that some rascal doesn’t get it in his head to pilfer my fireworks.’

‘Do ye really have fireworks with ye, Mr. Gandalf, sir?’ Sam asked, unable to stop himself.

Hamfast had walked on, stopping when he realized that his son was not with him, and when he heard Sam ask his question, ‘Samwise, come along now and quit yer botherin’ Mr. Gandalf!’ Sam scurried to catch up with his father.

‘I do indeed, Master Samwise,’ Gandalf called after the hobbit lad, laughing at Sam when he jumped in happiness as soon as Hamfast’s back was turned to him. Gandalf laughed long and hard until he felt a twinge in his side, and he had to wipe away a tear or two of mirth away. Yes, indeed he loved his time among hobbits, especially the young ones who were always curious enough to seek out mischief whenever he came calling to Hobbiton.

Rising from the stoop, Gandalf whistled for his horse who appeared a moment later and stood still long enough for the wizard to reattach the harness. Within moments, he had the cart moved to where it was out of sight, on the other side of the small stable where Bilbo kept his own pony. After turning his horse loose in a nearby paddock, Gandalf went again back up the Hill, re-entering Bag End to discover that someone had arisen, and was cooking a first breakfast that promised to be a hearty one by the smell of it.

As he came close to the kitchen Gandalf smiled upon hearing the young voice of Frodo Baggins chattering away, asking questions. He waited just outside the door as to see whose voice would be answering the young hobbit. It was not entirely to his surprise that he next heard Primula’s voice attempting to answer her son’s questions regarding his hat and staff.

‘Mama, if he really is Gandalf the Grey, then where was his pointy hat and his staff?’ asked Frodo in between bites of the bread and jam designed to tie him over until his mother could finish with their real breakfast. The young hobbit had spent the entire night (at least until he fell asleep again) trying to figure out why he had seen a tall stranger dressed in grey in Bilbo’s kitchen, a stranger who claimed to be the famous wizard Gandalf did not have his staff or the pointy blue hat that marked him as a wizard!

After hearing an exasperated sigh from the lad’s mother he stepped inside of the kitchen, ‘I did not have my hat or staff, Frodo Baggins, because I had left them laying beside Bilbo’s door, as is my custom to do so when I come calling at Bag End.’ He nodded a greeting to Primula before going to sit down at the table awkwardly, determined to enjoy a cup of tea as Frodo continue to stare at him.

‘Frodo,’ came Primula’s voice, ‘it is impolite to stare at other people. Now stop.’

Frodo returned his attention to his bread and jam, only half-heartedly picking at it now, and Gandalf smiled as he sipped his tea, saying, ‘Why do you not ask me some of the other questions you were asking your mother just now. You may find me somewhat more knowledgeable about the subject of wizards.’

And that was all the invitation Frodo needed as he began an onslaught of questions that did not end until after Bilbo had made his way to the table, and had greeted his old friend before setting into the food that Primula had prepared onto the table. Primula spoke not a word to Bilbo, instead her eyes looked rather cold whenever they fell onto him, and after she excused herself to take a tray to Drogo, Gandalf invited Bilbo to step outside with him for a smoke.

Sensing what Gandalf wanted, Bilbo turned to Frodo, ‘Why don’t you go practice the letters and words I showed you yesterday? I’ll be along in a few minutes to help you.’

‘You’re not leaving, are you, Gandalf?’ Frodo asked suddenly.

‘No, I’m not, at least not for some days,’ he replied, ‘In any case, I shall be staying through your uncle’s birthday, for I have a special surprise planned for it.’

‘You’re staying for our birthday?’ Frodo said excitedly before Bilbo hurried him along.

Gandalf seemed puzzled at the wording the Frodo’s question, ‘Our birthday?’

Bilbo nodded, ‘You see, Frodo was born on the twenty-second of September as well, and in three days he turns twelve.’

‘And you will turn ninety if I am not very much mistaken,’ Gandalf said as they stepped outside of Bag End.

Bilbo sighed, ‘You are not.’

They had walked around back towards the garden that was in the height of its bloom, and the flowers were opening to release sweet scented into the morning air as they both settled down on a stone bench. Hamfast, upon seeing them coming, had picked up his tools and moved to another part of the garden to accord them some privacy. Sam was still nearby, however, trimming the grass, but he was let be by his father, as he was not close enough to overhear whatever the two friends had to say to one another.

‘Does it distress you to speak of your age, my friend?’ Gandalf asked.

Bilbo was seated turned away from him on the bench, so the wizard did not see Bilbo’s hand absently go up to his weskit pocket and reach inside to caress something. ‘It does not bother me as much as the fact I don’t actually look it.’ The hobbit sighed again. ‘My father was eighty when he died, and when I close my eyes, I can still remember how he looked when he died. Gandalf, he looked so much older, so much more worn out than I do, and here I am nearly at ninety!’

Somewhere in their conversation, Gandalf had produced his pipe and was now casually blowing smoke before he said thoughtfully, ‘Perhaps, dear friend, you have only inherited the longevity of your grandfather Gerontius Took. As I seem to recall, he was of one hundred and thirty years of age when he passed away.’

‘If that is so, then his longevity bypassed my mother all together to reach me as she was two and eighty when she died, looking as old and worn out as my father did when he died!’ Bilbo replied with equal thought. ‘And the Old Took did not exactly look like a very old tweenager when he died, and from some of the comments I’ve heard made, I know I really do look too young for my age.’ He finally withdrew his hand from his pocket, deciding to also bring out his own pipe for a smoke. ‘In any case, you did not wish to see me out here in the garden just so we could talk about my age or how old I look, did you?’

Gandalf puffed for a moment before answering, ‘Indeed, I did not. I could not help but notice some tension between you and the Mistress Primula.’

Bilbo sighed and puffed on his own pipe for a moment, thinking of how to answer Gandalf, ‘First of all, have you been curious as to why you have yet to meet Drogo, although he is here now living in Bag End?’

Gandalf shrugged, ‘I merely assumed that he was recently ill when I noted Mistress Primula preparing a tray to take to their suite.’

‘You assumed correctly,’ Bilbo confirmed, ‘Just this past week Drogo has begun to recover from a rather serious bout of the gaffer’s friend.’

‘I see.’

‘It was during his illness, when he was most ill and possibly near death that I said something I should not have to Primula,’ Bilbo sighed, ‘I suggested that perhaps it would be better if Drogo were to succumb to his illness as it was less painful than the end he was otherwise facing.’

‘And upon hearing you say such, Mistress Primula thought that you really have very little regard for Drogo if you could say such a thing,’ Gandalf concluded, and Bilbo nodded. ‘But tell me, what other end is Drogo facing that you would say that death from pneumonia was far less painful?’

‘In May, I went to Buckland to visit Drogo’s family where they lived in Brandy Hall among Primula’s kin – she was a Brandybuck, you know, before she married Drogo. A day or so after I arrived Frodo told me of a conversation he had accidentally overheard his parents having, and it seemed that Drogo had had a cut on his arms that was weeks old and had not healed yet. Frodo asked me to convince his father to go to see a healer. Milo Gentlewinter, do you know him?’ Bilbo asked and was surprised when the wizard nodded, ‘Well the healer told Drogo that he was dying, that he had had only seen a few cases like Drogo’s and both of the afflicted died within a year of his diagnoses.’

‘Tell me exactly what Healer Gentlewinter diagnosed your nephew with, Bilbo,’ Gandalf instructed and listened as the hobbit did indeed tell him everything he knew.

‘Do you think that the Elves could help him, Gandalf?’ Bilbo asked as he finished.

Gandalf gave his pipe a few more puffs before knocking out its contents and smothering it with his booted foot before stowing the pipe away to say, ‘Elvish medicine is wise in the ways of healing wounds more than it is healing mortal sicknesses.’

Bilbo shrugged sadly, ‘It’s just as well as Drogo says he won’t leave the Shire to travel to Rivendell. Lord Elrond would have to come to him to render him any aid – the stubborn fool!’

Gandalf furled his bushy eyebrows together in thought, ‘Perhaps not, my friend. I have a rather fast way of sending a message to Lord Elrond, though it will take several days for his reply to reach us. Yes, I will write Elrond and see if he may offer your Drogo any sort of aid, if not a cure!’ With that, the wizard left the hobbit alone in his garden, and Bilbo wondered if his friend would return or not.

September 22, 1380 S.R.

Gandalf had indeed returned several moments later, apologizing for his delay in returning as he explained he had to thwart several young hobbits’ attempts to lift some of his fireworks. In his hands he carried a small bird, which he asked Bilbo to hold while he attached with a leather cord a small tubular case that held a short message to Lord Elrond. After he spoke in his own language to the bird, he gently released her, explaining to Bilbo that the bird would carry his message to Rivendell and to the Elven Lord.

But that had been three days ago, and thankfully Gandalf had managed to keep the bulk of his supply for tonight’s display. This year Bilbo had opted for a rather quiet celebration with his family with the Gamgees being the only others (outside of Gandalf of course) to be invited to eat dinner at Bag End that would be prepared as well as catered by Widow Goodbody and her daughters.

The fireworks display, however, would not be a quiet affair as all of Hobbiton had been invited to lay their blankets out near the Party Tree and snuggle with their families as Gandalf had promised a display to rival that of the one he had last given at the Old Took’s last birthday party. And snuggle the families of Hobbiton did, bringing with them their dinners packed away in baskets, pulling out treats as they awaited the promised extravagance, which would not start until the appearance of the Bagginses.

The wait seemed an eternity to the young hobbits but finally the door to Bag End opened, and Bilbo emerged, followed closely by Frodo (since it too was his birthday) along with both of Frodo’s parents, and lastly the Gamgees (as Gandalf had excused himself early). They all made their way down the Hill and towards the Party Tree where seats had been reserved for them around the base of the tree.

"Happy birthday!’ many of the hobbits yelled toward Bilbo and Frodo.

The family settled in, Drogo wrapped in a blanket as well as seated on one, with Primula snuggled in close to him on one side and Frodo on the other. Just as Bilbo settled himself close to Frodo, the first rocket soared into the sky, bursting into a shower that rained jewel-colored flowers on the upturned hobbit heads. For the next half hour the hobbits "ooooo" and "aaaaahed" in delight as flowers, mountains, Elves, stars, dragons, and creatures from the earlier Ages of Middle-earth in a rainbow of colors lit the sky.

The night ended with the final boom of Gandalf’s fireworks, but the memories did not stop there, for the next morning Bilbo found a piece of folded on which a short poem was written: