Little stories

On the doorstep (translation)

And so Bilbo Baggins stepped in front of his hobbit hole after having opened the round green front door. He leaned forward, looking left and right down the path to make sure that his guests weren't lingering there and had left Bag End. With a pleased sigh of relief, he realized that they were indeed gone and placed his thumbs behind the braces of his trousers which he had been wearing since last night. No more unannounced guests who didn't know how to behave properly! The pent-up tension left his body with a long sigh. Thoughtfully he contemplated the surroundings where he had grown up. On the horizon, the morning sun was slowly creeping over the hills of the Shire and shone its golden light upon the valley. Dazzled by the light, the hobbit pinched his eyes together. As he walked further into his garden and past the variety of flowers in it, he could feel the soft grass that grew between the stone pavers beneath his feet. His gaze wandered down the hill into the valley where the big tree was located at the lake's shore. The hobbit could hear the birds chirping in the treetop. Nearby the booths were being set up for the market and all sorts of goods were being laid out. Upset, Bilbo thought about the dwarves who had emptied his entire pantry yesterday evening. Now he would have to stock it up again. He didn't mind going to the marketplace but how was he supposed to transport all those groceries up the hill all at once? And even more importantly, what was he going to do if he met Gandalf down there? The wizard had been very eager to convince Bilbo of escorting Thorin Oakenshield's company to Erebor. Bilbo even would've rather met Lobelia Sackville-Baggins than the old wizard and that was quite something! "Don't be a fool, Bilbo Baggins, put the wizard and the dwarves right out of your mind and knock your house into shape!", he thought to himself. In fact, the company had left quite a mess behind by bringing mud in on their heavy boots and leaving all of the cooking utensils for breakfast unwashed.

So Bilbo rolled up his sleeves and got to work. When he had finished cleaning the kitchen and the bathroom, he came past the living room where his comfortable wing chair stood and he paused. The contract still lay on the coffee table in front of the fireplace. Very upset, Bilbo realized that the wizard assumed that he would change his mind and, on top of it all, sign the contract! Outrageous! The hobbit snatched the piece of paper from the table and was about to stuff it into the fireplace when he suddenly hesitated. Mister Baggins remembered fainting the preceding night very well and felt ashamed of his weakness. But there was also another feeling: the thirst for adventure, to leave his hobbit hole, discover distant lands and to see the riches about which the dwarves had talked with his own eyes. Thorin's speech had sparked his desire to regain the stolen treasures and to reclaim the Lonely Mountain from the dragon. To fight by their side against the monster with a real sword, no matter how desperate and dangerous that was. All of a sudden, his comfortable and placid life in the Shire seemed terribly boring. A life that held nothing even remotely unexpected for him. A life that would pass just like his father's, his grandfather's and his grand-grandfather's... And there it was again, the Took side of his family.

Goosebumps covered his body as he remembered how the darkness had crept into the room, how with one last crack of the wood the fire had died out and how the dwarves' deep chanting had filled the living room when all the other hobbits had been asleep. Lost in thought, he looked down at the contract in his hand. He could go on the adventure he had been offered if he signed it... But surely Thorin's company was already far away... But if there was the tiniest chance to catch up with them... Before even having finished the thought Bilbo hurried into his study to fetch his fountain pen.

The previous chapter's translation.