is dinner-time,’ said Gandalf. A fortunate remark, for the pain and alarm vanished like magic. Now really we must hurry on, for all this is not as important as it seemed. There was a supper for all the guests. But there was also a very special dinner-party in the great pavilion with the tree. To that party invitations had been limited to twelve dozen, or one gross (in addition to Gandalf and the host), made up of all the chief hobbits, and their elder children, to whom Bilbo was related or with whom he was connected, or by whom he had been well-treated at any time, or for whom he felt some special affection. Nearly all the living Baggins[es] had been invited; a quantity of Tooks (his relations on his mother’s side); a number of Grubbs (connections of his grandfather’s), dozens of Brandybucks (connections of his grandmother’s), and various Chubbs and Burrowses and Boffins and Proudfeet – some of whom were not connected with Bilbo at all, within the memory of the local historians; some even lived right on the other side of the Shire; but they were all, of course, hobbits. Even the Sackville-Bagginses, his first cousins on his father’s side, were not omitted. There had been some coolness between them and Mr Baggins, as you may remember, dating from some 20 years back. But so splendid was the invitation card, written all in gold, that they felt it was impossible to refuse. Besides, their cousin had been specializing in food for a good many years, and his tables had a high reputation even in that time and country, when food was still all that it ought to be, and abundant enough for all folk to practise both discrimination and satisfaction.
All the 144 special guests expected a pleasant feast; though they rather dreaded the after-dinner speech of their host. He was liable to drag in bits of what he called ‘poetry’; and sometimes, after a glass or two, would allude to the absurd adventures he said he had had long ago – during his ridiculous vanishment. Not one of the 144 were disappointed: they had a very pleasant feast, indeed an engrossing entertainment: rich, abundant, varied, and prolonged. The purchase of provisions fell almost to zero throughout the district during the ensuing week; but as Mr Baggins’ catering had depleted most of the stores, cellars, and warehouses for miles around, that did not matter much.
After the feast (more or less) came the Speech. Most of the assembled hobbits were now in a tolerant mood – at that delicious stage which they called filling up the ‘corners’ (with sips of their favourite drinks and nips of their favourite sweetmeats): their former fears were forgotten. They were prepared to listen to anything, and to cheer at every full stop. But they were not prepared to be startled. Yet startled they certainly were: indeed, completely blowed: some even got indigestion.
My dear people, began Mr Baggins, rising in his place.
‘Hear, hear, hear!’ they answered in chorus, and seemed reluctant to follow their own advice. Meanwhile Bilbo left his place and went and stood on a chair under the illuminated tree. The lantern light fell upon his beaming face; the gold buttons shone on his flowered waistcoat. They could all see him. One hand was in his pocket. He raised the other.
My dear Bagginses! he began again. And my dear Tooks and Brandybucks and Grubbs and Chubbs and Burroweses and Bracegirdles and Boffinses and Proudfoots.
‘Proudfeet!’ shouted an elderly hobbit from the back. His name, of course, was Proudfoot, and merited: his feet were large, exceptionally furry, and both were on the table.
Also my good Sackville-Bagginses that I welcome back at last to Bag-end. Today is my seventy-first birthday!
‘Hurray, hurray! Many Happy Returns!’ they shouted, and they hammered joyously on the tables. Bilbo was doing splendidly. That was the sort of stuff they liked: short, obvious, uncontroversial.
I hope you are all enjoying yourselves as much as I am. Deafening cheers. Cries of Yes (and No). Noises of horns and trumpets, pipes and flutes, and other musical instruments. There were many junior hobbits present, for hobbits were easygoing with their children in the matter of sitting up late – especially if there was a chance of getting them an extra meal free (bringing up young hobbits took a great deal of provender). Hundreds of musical crackers had been pulled. Most of them bore the mark Dale on them somewhere or other, inside or out. What that meant only Bilbo and a few of his close friends knew (and you of course); but they were very marvellous crackers. They contained instruments small but of perfect make and enchanting tone. Indeed in one corner some of the younger Tooks and Brandybucks, supposing Bilbo to have finished his speech (having said all that was needed), now got up an impromptu orchestra, and began a merry dance tune. Young Prospero Brandybuck7 and Melba Took got on a table and started to dance the flip-flap, a pretty thing if rather vigorous. But Bilbo had not finished.
Seizing a horn from one of the children he blew three very loud notes. The noise subsided. I shall not keep you long, he cried. Cheering broke out again. BUT I have called you all together for a Purpose.
Something in his voice made a few of the Tooks prick up their ears. Indeed for three Purposes. First of all, to tell you that I am immensely fond of you all; and that seventy-one years is too short a time to live among such excellent and admirable hobbits.
Tremendous outburst of approval.
I don’t know half of you half as well as I would like, and less than half of you half as well as you deserve.
No cheers this time: it was a bit too difficult. There was some scattered clapping; but not all of them had yet had time to work it out and see if it came to a compliment in the end.
Secondly, to celebrate my birthday, and the twentieth anniversary of my return. No cheers; there was some uncomfortable rustling.
Lastly, to make an Announcement. He said this so loudly and suddenly that everyone sat up who could. I regret to announce that – though, as I have said, 71 years is far too short a time among you – this is the END. I am going. I am leaving after dinner. Goodbye!
He stepped down. One hundred and forty-four flabbergasted hobbits sat back speechless. Mr Proudfoot removed his feet from the table. Mrs Proudfoot swallowed a large chocolate and choked. Then there was complete silence for quite forty winks, until suddenly every Baggins, Took, Brandybuck, Chubb, Grubb, Burrowes, Bracegirdle, Boffin and Proudfoot began to talk at once.
‘The hobbit’s mad. Always said so. Bad taste in jokes. Trying to pull the fur off our toes (a hobbit idiom). Spoiling a good dinner. Where’s my handkerchief. Won’t drink his health now. Shall drink my own. Where’s that bottle. Is he going to get married? Not to anyone here tonight. Who would take him? Why good-bye? Where is there to go to? What is he leaving?’ And so on. At last old Rory Brandybuck8 (well-filled but still pretty bright) was heard to shout: ‘Where is he now, anyway? Where’s Bilbo?’
There was not a sign of their host anywhere.
As a matter of fact Bilbo Baggins had disappeared silently and unnoticed in the midst of all the talk. While he was speaking he had already been fingering a small ring9 in his trouser-pocket. As he stepped down he had slipped it on – and he was never seen in Hobbiton again.
When the carriages came for the guests there was no one to say good-bye to. The carriages rolled away, one after another, filled with full but oddly unsatisfied hobbits. Gardeners came (by arrangement) and cleared away in wheelbarrows those that had inadvertently remained behind, asleep or immoveable. Night settled down and passed. The sun rose. The hobbits rose rather later. Morning
