![]() He had decided that he was not quite his sort, and wanted him to go away. Then he took out his morning letters, and began to read, pretending to take no more notice of the old man. ![]() Baggins, and stuck one thumb behind his braces, and blew out another even bigger smoke-ring. Nasty disturbing uncomfortable things! Make you late for dinner! I can’t think what anybody sees in them,” said our Mr. “I should think so-in these parts! We are plain quiet folk and have no use for adventures. I am looking for someone to share in an adventure that I am arranging, and it’s very difficult to find anyone.” “But I have no time to blow smoke-rings this morning. If you have a pipe about you, sit down and have a fill of mine! There’s no hurry, we have all the day before us!” Then Bilbo sat down on a seat by his door, crossed his legs, and blew out a beautiful grey ring of smoke that sailed up into the air without breaking and floated away over The Hill. “And a very fine morning for a pipe of tobacco out of doors, into the bargain. “Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not or that you feel good this morning or that it is a morning to be good on?” But Gandalf looked at him from under long bushy eyebrows that stuck out further than the brim of his shady hat. The sun was shining, and the grass was very green. “Good Morning!” said Bilbo, and he meant it. He had a tall pointed blue hat, a long grey cloak, a silver scarf over which his long white beard hung down below his waist, and immense black boots. He had been away over The Hill and across The Water on businesses of his own since they were all small hobbit-boys and hobbit-girls.Īll that the unsuspecting Bilbo saw that morning was an old man with a staff. ![]() He had not been down that way under The Hill for ages and ages, not since his friend the Old Took died, in fact, and the hobbits had almost forgotten what he looked like. Tales and adventures sprouted up all over the place wherever he went, in the most extraordinary fashion. Gandalf! If you had heard only a quarter of what I have heard about him, and I have only heard very little of all there is to hear, you would be prepared for any sort of remarkable tale. By some curious chance 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.
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