The Thain's apartments at the Great Smials were one of the wonders of the Shire. The rich golden brown wood covering walls and floors was called mahogany and came from a land so far away it didn't appear on any map known to a hobbit - even the odd ones who kept an ear out for word of goings on in the wider world.

According to the Year-book of Tuckborough, the floorboards dated back five hundred years to when a Took went on an adventure and came back with a wagon full of oddities - including the beautiful hardwood that so entranced the Took clan, he was dispatched on another adventure to locate more of it. It cost them a good portion of their flocks, but the result was worth it.

Rontius Took was fourteen and despite his love of lore and history, he was not inclined to treat the mahogany floor with any degree of respect. He bounded down the corridor to the guest smial where his favorite relative lodged. After a cursory knock, he pushed open the door.

"Grand-Uncle are there really such things as Orcs," he demanded of the old hobbit seated at a writing desk breathlessly. He wanted the Orcs, awful as they sounded, to be real so that no one could call his uncle a fool or a deceiver. Young Rontius adored this eccentric and exceptionally tall hobbit and could bear slander or stain on his reputation.

His uncle set quill and parchment aside to fix the lad with his faded, but still piercing, green gaze. "Who has been telling you tales?" he demanded in his rough voice. "There are Orcs - some call them Goblins - or I'm not a Took!"

"Addie says its made-up nonsense to scare little hobbits," the lad replied.

"Addie is misinformed," the old Took answered crisply.

"Misinformed?" Rontius was unfamiliar with that word.

"It means she's wrong because she doesn't have the facts," explained his uncle. "I've see goblins, slain them in battle. Are you calling an elder a liar Rontius?"

Young Rontius hastened to point out that he did not think his uncle a liar. The old Hobbit smiled and Rontius suffered his dark brown curls to be ruffled.

His uncle's face grew serious. "You're going to be Thain someday my lad, its your duty to know about goblins and things in case any stray into the Shire."

"Is it also true," Rontius began anew, "that you've met elves and wizards."

"As sure as Shire-talk."

"May I meet a wizard? Please?"

"Well..." the old Bullroarer could not imagine the family taking his exposing Gerontius to elves and Gandalf very well - they already thought him strange in ways that had little to do with his unusual height. Still, he was past a hundred now and stepping closer to his end with each new day. Someone in the family had to carry on the friendship with the wizard, for Bandobras often worried that the Shire could become too isolated and not hear of ill tidings until they arrived armed and fierce at the family smial. Gandalf came to the aid of the Shire during the Days of Dearth and the Bullroarer never forgot his kindness. He had been the one to introduce the wizard to pipeweed and was never hesitant to part with a barrel of his finest for his guest.

He leaned in close to look the lad straight in his green eyes. "All right lad... I'll introduce you to Gandalf next time he comes, but it'll be our secret. Your mum and dad would have my feet for doorstops if they found out."

Gerontius nodded solemnly, but was unable to conceal his excitement. Bullroarer promised that He was going to meet the wizard!