The Return of the Shadow Read online

  6Cf. the end of The Hobbit: ‘His gold and silver was mostly [afterwards changed to largely] spent in presents, both useful and extravagant’. The illegible word here might possibly be arms, but it does not look like it, and cf. the same passage in The Hobbit: ‘His coat of mail was arranged on a stand in the hall (until he lent it to a Museum).’

  Writing of this draft in his Biography, Humphrey Carpenter says (p. 185):

  The reason for his disappearance, as given in this first draft, is that Bilbo ‘had not got any money or jewels left’ and was going off in search of more dragon-gold. At this point the first version of the opening chapter breaks off, unfinished.

  But it may be argued that it was in fact finished: for the next completed draft of the chapter (the third – the second seems certainly unfinished, and breaks off at a much earlier point) ends only a very little further on in the narrative (p. 34), and shortly before the end has:

  But not all of them had said good-bye to him. That is easily explained, and soon will be.

  And the explanation is not given, but reserved for the next chapter. Nor is it made so explicit in the first draft that Bilbo was ‘going off in search of more dragon-gold’. That lack of money was a reason for leaving his home is certainly the case, but a sudden Tookish disgust with hobbit dulness and conventionality is also emphasized; and in fact there is not so much as a hint of what Bilbo was planning to do. It may well be that on 19 December 1937 my father had no idea. The rapidly-written conclusion of the text strongly suggests uncertain direction (and indeed he had said earlier in the chapter that the story was going to be about one of Bilbo’s descendants).

  But while there is no sign of Gandalf, most of the essentials and many of the details of the actual party as it is described in The Fellowship of the Ring (FR) emerge right at the beginning, and even some phrases remained. The Chubbs (or Chubbses, p. 13), the Boffinses, and the Proudfoots now appear – the families named Burrowes (Burrows in FR) and Grubb had been mentioned at the end of The Hobbit, in the names of the auctioneers at the sale of Bag End; and the hobbits’ land is for the first time called ‘the shire’ (see, however, p. 31). But the first names of the hobbits were only at the beginning of their protean variations – such names as Sago and Semolina would be rejected as unsuitable, others (Amalda, Inigo, Obo) would have no place in the final genealogies, and yet others (Mungo, Gorboduc) would be given to different persons; only the vain Angelica Baggins survived.

  (ii)

  The Second Version

  The next manuscript, while closely based on the first, introduced much new material – most notably the arrival of Gandalf, and the fireworks. This version breaks off at the words ‘Morning went on’ (FR p. 45).

  The manuscript was much emended, and it is very difficult to distinguish those changes made at the time of composition from those made subsequently: in any case the third version no doubt followed hard upon the second, superseding it before it was completed. I give this second text also in full, so far as it goes, but in this case I include virtually all the emendations made to it (in some cases the original reading is given in the notes which follow the text on p. 25).

  Chapter 1

  A long-expected party

  When Bilbo, son of Bungo, of the respectable family of Baggins prepared to celebrate his seventy-first1 birthday there was some little talk in the neighbourhood, and people polished up their memories.2 Bilbo had once had some brief notoriety among the hobbits of Hobbiton and Bywater – he had disappeared after breakfast one April 30th and had not reappeared until lunch-time on June 22nd in the following year. A very odd proceeding, and one for which he had never accounted satisfactorily. He wrote a book about it, of course: but even those who had read it never took that seriously. It is no good talking to hobbits about dragons: they either disbelieve you, or feel uncomfortable; and in either case tend to avoid you afterwards. Mr Baggins, however, had soon returned to more or less normal ways; and though the shaken confidence of the countryside was never quite restored, in time the hobbits agreed to pardon the past, and Bilbo was on calling-terms again with all his relatives and neighbours, except of course the Sackville-Bagginses. For one thing Bilbo seemed by some unexplained method to have become more than comfortably off, in fact positively wealthy. Indeed it was the magnificence of the preparations for his birthday-party far more than his brief and distant fame that caused the talk. After all that other odd business had happened some twenty years ago and was all but forgotten; the party was going to happen that very month of September. The weather was fine, and there was talk of a display of fireworks such as had not been seen since the days of Old Took.

  Time drew nearer. Odd-looking carts with odd-looking packages began to toil up the Hill to Bag-end (the residence of Mr Bilbo Baggins). They arrived by night, and startled folk peered out of their doors to gape at them. Some were driven by outlandish folk singing strange songs, elves, or heavily hooded dwarves. There was one huge creaking wain with great lumbering tow-haired Men on it that caused quite a commotion. It bore a large B under a crown.3 It could not get across the bridge by the mill, and the Men carried the goods on their backs up the hill – stumping on the hobbit road like elephants. All the beer at the inn vanished as if down a drain when they came downhill again. Later in the week a cart came trotting in in broad daylight. An old man was driving it all alone. He wore a tall pointed blue hat and a long grey cloak. Hobbit boys and girls ran after the cart all the way up the hill. It had a cargo of fireworks, that they could see when it began to unload: great bundles of them, labelled with a red G.

  ‘G for grand,’ they shouted; and that was as good a guess as they could make at its meaning. Not many of their elders guessed better: hobbits have rather short memories as a rule. As for the little old man,4 he vanished inside Bilbo’s front door and never reappeared.

  There might have been some grumbling about ‘dealing locally’; but suddenly orders began to pour out from Bag-end, and into every shop in the neighbourhood (even widely measured). Then people stopped being merely curious, and became enthusiastic. They began to tick off the days on the calendar till Bilbo’s birthday, and they began to watch for the postman, hoping for invitations.

  Then the invitations began pouring out, and the post-office of Hobbiton was blocked, and Bywater post-office was snowed under, and voluntary postmen were called for. There was a constant stream of them going up The Hill to Bag-end carrying letters containing hundreds of polite variations on ‘thank-you, I shall certainly come.’ During all this time, for days and days, indeed since September [10th >] 8th, Bilbo had not been seen out or about by anyone. He either did not answer the bell, or came to the door and cried ‘Sorry – Busy!’ round the edge of it. They thought he was only writing invitation cards, but they were not quite right.

  Finally the field to the south of his front door – it was bordered by his kitchen garden on one side and the Hill road on the other – began to be covered with tents and pavilions. The three hobbit-families of Bagshot Row just below it were immensely excited. There was one specially large pavilion, so large that the tree that stood in the field was inside it, standing growing in the middle.5 It was hung all over with lanterns. Even more promising was the erection of a huge kitchen in a corner of the field. A draught of cooks arrived. Excitement rose to its height. Then the weather clouded over. That was on Friday, the eve of the party. Anxiety grew intense. Then Saturday September [20th >] 22nd6 actually dawned. The sun got up, the clouds vanished, flags were unfurled, and the fun began.

  Mr Baggins called it a party – but it was several rolled into one and mixed up. Practically everybody near at hand was invited to something or other – very few were forgotten (by accident), and as they turned up anyhow it did not matter. Bilbo met the guests (and additions) at the gate in person. He gave away presents to all and sundry – the latter were those that went out again by the back way and came in again by the front for a second helping. He began with the youngest and smallest, and came back again quic
kly to the smallest and youngest. Hobbits give presents to other people on their birthdays: not very expensive ones, of course. But it was not a bad system. Actually in Hobbiton and Bywater, since every day in the year was somebody’s birthday, it meant that every hobbit got a present (and sometimes more) almost every day of his life. But they did not get tired of them. On this occasion the hobbit-fry were wildly excited – there were toys the like of which they had never seen before. As you have guessed, they came from Dale.

  When they got inside the grounds the guests had songs, dances, games – and of course food and drink. There were three official meals: lunch, tea, and dinner (or supper); but lunch and tea were marked chiefly by the fact that at those times everybody was sitting down and eating at the same time. Drinking never stopped. Eating went on pretty continuously from elevenses to six o’clock, when the fireworks started.

  The fireworks of course (as you at any rate have guessed) were by Gandalf, and brought by him in person, and let off by him – the main ones: there was generous distribution of squibs, crackers, sparklers, torches, dwarf-candles, elf-fountains, goblin-barkers and thunderclaps. They were of course superb. The art of Gandalf naturally got the older the better. There were rockets like a flight of scintillating birds singing with sweet voices; there were green trees with trunks of twisted smoke: their leaves opened like a whole spring unfolding in a few minutes, and their shining branches dropped glowing flowers down upon the astonished hobbits – only to disappear in a sweet scent before they touched head hat or bonnet. There were fountains of butterflies that flew into the trees; there were pillars of coloured fires that turned into hovering eagles, or sailing ships, or a flight of swans; there were red thunderstorms and showers of yellow rain; there was a forest of silver spears that went suddenly up into the air with a yell like a charging army and came down into The Water with a hiss like a hundred hot snakes. And there was also one last thing in which Gandalf rather overdid it – after all, he knew a great deal about hobbits and their beliefs. The lights went out, a great smoke went up, it shaped itself like a mountain, it began to glow at the top, it burst into flames of scarlet and green, out flew a red-golden dragon (not life-size, of course, but terribly life-like): fire came out of its mouth, its eyes glared down, there was a roar and it whizzed three times round the crowd. Everyone ducked and some fell flat. The dragon passed like an express train and burst over Bywater with a deafening explosion.

  ‘That means it 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.
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  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 went on.