The Hobbit - An Unexpected Journey Edition (IN EDITING)

5. Choices in the Gloom

Edited

”I’ll be alright”, he said, inhaling and exhaling deeply to calm himself down and to reduce his radically beating heart. His anxiety remained high and he was biting nervously on his bottom lip as he stared out into the abyss. “Just, let me sit quietly for a moment.”

Bilbo had silently placed himself down in his armchair after waking up from the previous events, and as he did, he remembered being met by a pair of glasz colored eyes hovering over him, looking bothered and worried before he regained consciousness.

Clutched in the Hobbit’s palms was a steaming hot cup of tea, the scent of the familiar herbs streaming up his nostrils in the form of hot steam, giving him a sensation of calmness and peace. The fire place had been lit with wood and crumbled parchment; living there now was a tall and crackling flame, blazing brightly on the stack of chopped wood, and the radiant light washed away the darkness and the billowing shadows within the room. The light inside the room however, was a gloom – calm and mysterious, soft and harmless. The air was toasty warm, and the sound and smell of home was pleasant to anyone approaching. As the sound, the warmth, and the mysterious gloom light mixed, Bilbo could feel a sensation of sudden tranquility, and his anxiety dropped, along with his swift heart rate. This tranquility however, he did not get to maintain for long.

Gandalf the Grey was determinedly pacing back and forth with a hunched back and a bothered frown. His wooden pipe was held high in the warm air, the poisonous smoke spreading throughout the room, his thumping footsteps – in the likeness of mortal heartbeats – cutting through the silence such as blades would cut through flesh.

“You’ve been sitting quietly for far too long!” he growled, taking Bilbo by surprise as the little Hobbit jumped in his chair. His mouth opened wide in surprise and his eyes expanded into great orbs. He did not see how sitting quietly could be a problem, nor cause any harm.

In great disbelief and confusion, Gandalf shook his head, causing his long, grey hair to rock back and forth over his shoulders.

“Tell me,” he muttered, “When did doilies and your mother’s dishes become so important to you?”

Bilbo carefully squeezed his hot cup of tea in his hands, pressing it against his chest as if he was afraid that someone would suddenly come and snatch it out of his grasp, and he determinedly pierced his gaze into the view in front of him. “I remember a young Hobbit who was always running off in search of Elves in the woods. Who would stay out late, come home after dark trailing mud, and twigs, and fireflies. A young Hobbit who would have liked nothing better than to find out what was beyond the borders of the Shire”, Gandalf went on, pointing with a long finger towards the dark window in the distance as the stubborn Hobbit refused to rip his gaze off of the view of absolute nothingness. Outside, the crickets were continuously singing their modest song, the moon was set high and the view ahead was dark and desolated. In fact, the darkness was quite intriguing and attractive, a soundless whisper commanding any living creature to enter the world of despair and great danger, yet Bilbo forced himself to look the other way.

“The world is not in your books and maps. It is out there.”

Bilbo finally looked up with an anxious expression on his face as he was faced by the dark window in the far corner of the room. Beyond the intriguing, attractive darkness laid something far more dangerous, devious and deceptive than any he had ever contemplated – mysterious creatures with confound appearances - lying, cheating, threatening and blood-thirsty. The unbearable thought sent uncomfortable shivers down the Hobbit’s spine and he swiftly shook his head in protest.

“I can’t just go running off into the blue. I am a Baggins of Bagend!”

“You are also a Took”, Gandalf added, his words causing Bilbo to exhale a heavy sigh. He leaned the back of his head against the backrest of his chair and pierced his frustrated gaze into the ceiling. The thought of him raging off into the wilderness accompanied by thirteen Dwarves, a wizard and an Elf caused his long gone anxiety to rise once again. “Did you know that your great-great-great-great-uncle, Bullroarer Took was so large, he could ride a real horse?”