The Hobbit

Burrowes would sell by
     auction the effects of the late Bilbo Baggins Esquire, of Bag-End, Underhill, Hobbiton. Sale to commence at ten o’clock sharp.
     It was now nearly lunchtime, and most of the things had already been sold, for various prices from next to nothing to old
     songs (as is not unusual at auctions). Bilbo’s cousins the Sackville-Bagginses were, in fact, busy measuring his rooms to
     see if their own furniture would fit. In short Bilbo was “Presumed Dead”, and not everybody that said so was sorry to find
     the presumption wrong.
    The return of Mr. Bilbo Baggins created quite a disturbance, both under the Hill and over the Hill, and across the Water; it was a great deal more than a nine days’ wonder. The legal bother, indeed, lasted for years. It was
     quite a long time before Mr. Baggins was in fact admitted to be alive again. The people who had got specially good bargains
     at the Sale took a deal of convincing; and in the end to save time Bilbo had to buy back quite a lot of his own furniture.
     Many of his silver spoons mysteriously disappeared and were never accounted for. Personally he suspected the Sackville-Bagginses.
     On their side they never admitted that the returned Baggins was genuine, and they were not on friendly terms with Bilbo ever
     after. They really had wanted to live in his nice hobbit-hole so very much.
    Indeed Bilbo found he had lost more than spoons—he had lost his reputation. It is true that for ever after he remained an
     elf-friend, and had the honour of dwarves, wizards, and all such folk as ever passed that way; but he was no longer quite
     respectable. He was in fact held by all the hobbits of the neighbourhood to be ‘queer’—except by his nephews and nieces on
     the Took side, but even they were not encouraged in their friendship by their elders.
    I am sorry to say he did not mind. He was quite content; and the sound of the kettle on his hearth was ever after more musical
     than it had been even in the quiet days before the Unexpected Party. His sword he hung over the mantelpiece. His coat of mail
     was arranged on a stand in the hall (until he lent it to a Museum). His gold and silver was largely spent in presents, both
     useful and extravagant—which to a certain extent accounts for the affection of his nephews and his nieces. His magic ring he kept a great secret, for he chiefly used it when unpleasant callers came.
    He took to writing poetry and visiting the elves; and though many shook their heads and touched their foreheads and said “Poor
     old Baggins!” and though few believed any of his tales, he remained very happy to the end of his days, and those were extraordinarily
     long.
    One autumn evening some years afterwards Bilbo was sitting in his study writing his memoirs—he thought of calling them “There
     and Back Again, a Hobbit’s Holiday”—when there was a ring at the door. It was Gandalf and a dwarf; and the dwarf was actually
     Balin.
    “Come in! Come in!” said Bilbo, and soon they were settled in chairs by the fire. If Balin noticed that Mr. Baggins’ waistcoat
     was more extensive (and had real gold buttons), Bilbo also noticed that Balin’s beard was several inches longer, and his jewelled
     belt was of great magnificence.
    They fell to talking of their times together, of course, and Bilbo asked how things were going in the lands of the Mountain.
     It seemed they were going very well. Bard had rebuilt the town in Dale and men had gathered to him from the Lake and from
     South and West, and all the valley had become tilled again and rich, and the desolation was now filled with birds and blossoms
     in spring and fruit and feasting in autumn. And Lake-town was refounded and was more prosperous than ever, and much wealth
     went up and down the Running River; and there was friendship in those parts between elves and dwarves and men.

    The Hall at Bag-End Residence of B.Baggins Esquire
    The old Master had come to a bad end. Bard had given him much gold for the help of the Lake-people, but being of the kind
     that easily catches such disease he fell under the dragon-sickness, and took most of the gold and fled with it, and died of
     starvation in the Waste, deserted by his companions.
    “The new Master is of wiser kind,” said Balin, “and very popular, for, of course, he gets most of the credit for the present
     prosperity. They are making songs which say that in his day the rivers run with gold.”
    “Then the prophecies