The Hobbit

“Not the Gandalf who was responsible for so many quiet lads and lasses going off into the Blue for mad adventures? Anything
     from climbing trees to visiting elves—or sailing in ships, sailing to other shores! Bless me, life used to be quite inter—I
     mean, you used to upset things badly in these parts once upon a time. I beg your pardon, but I had no idea you were still
     in business.”
    “Where else should I be?” said the wizard. “All the same I am pleased to find you remember something about me. You seem to
     remember my fireworks kindly, at any rate, and that is not without hope. Indeed for your old grandfather Took’s sake, and
     for the sake of poor Belladonna, I will give you what you asked for.”
    “I beg your pardon, I haven’t asked for anything!”
    “Yes, you have! Twice now. My pardon. I give it you. In fact I will go so far as to send you on this adventure. Very amusing
     for me, very good for you—and profitable too, very likely, if you ever get over it.”
    “Sorry! I don’t want any adventures, thank you. Not today. Good morning! But please come to tea—any time you like! Why not
     tomorrow? Come tomorrow! Good bye!” With that the hobbit turned and scuttled inside his round green door, and shut it as quickly
     as he dared, not to seem rude. Wizards after all are wizards.
    “What on earth did I ask him to tea for!” he said to himself, as he went to the pantry. He had only just had breakfast, but
     he thought a cake or two and a drink of something would do him good after his fright.
    Gandalf in the meantime was still standing outside the door, and laughing long but quietly. After a while he stepped up, and
     with the spike on his staff scratched a queer sign on the hobbit’s beautiful green front-door. Then he strode away, just about
     the time when Bilbo was finishing his second cake and beginning to think that he had escaped adventures very well.
    The next day he had almost forgotten about Gandalf. He did not remember things very well, unless he put them down on his Engagement
     Tablet: like this:
Gandalf Tea Wednesday
. Yesterday he had been too flustered to do anything of the kind.
    Just before tea-time there came a tremendous ring on the front-door bell, and then he remembered! He rushed and put on the kettle, and put out another cup and saucer, and an extra cake or two, and ran to the door.
    “I am so sorry to keep you waiting!” he was going to say, when he saw that it was not Gandalf at all. It was a dwarf with
     a blue beard tucked into a golden belt, and very bright eyes under his dark-green hood. As soon as the door was opened, he
     pushed inside, just as if he had been expected.
    He hung his hooded cloak on the nearest peg, and “Dwalin at your service!” he said with a low bow.
    “Bilbo Baggins at yours!” said the hobbit, too surprised to ask any questions for the moment. When the silence that followed
     had become uncomfortable, he added: “I am just about to take tea; pray come and have some with me.” A little stiff perhaps,
     but he meant it kindly. And what would you do, if an uninvited dwarf came and hung his things up in your hall without a word
     of explanation?
    They had not been at table long, in fact they had hardly reached the third cake, when there came another even louder ring
     at the bell.
    “Excuse me!” said the hobbit, and off he went to the door.
    “So you have got here at last!” That was what he was going to say to Gandalf this time. But it was not Gandalf. Instead there
     was a very old-looking dwarf on the step with a white beard and a scarlet hood; and he too hopped inside as soon as the door
     was open, just as if he had been invited.
    “I see they have begun to arrive already,” he said when he caught sight of Dwalin’s green hood hanging up. He hung his red
     one next to it, and “Balin at your service!” he said with his hand on his breast.
    “Thank you!” said Bilbo with a gasp. It was not the correct thing to say, but
they have begun to arrive
had flustered him badly. He liked visitors, but he liked to know them before they arrived, and he preferred to ask them himself.
     He had a horrible thought that the cakes might run short, and then he—as the host: he knew his duty and stuck to it however
     painful—he might have to go without.
    “Come along in, and have some tea!” he managed to say after taking a deep breath.
    “A little beer would suit me better, if it is all the same to you, my good sir,” said