Chapter 331: The Ring Revealed
The cart stopped before the round door under the oak.
Knock, knock, knock…
Gandalf raised his staff and rapped the door of Bag End with the ferrule.
From within came a taut voice:
"Visiting, flattering, or claiming-kin callers need not apply, thank you!"
Gandalf shook his head helplessly.
It seemed the fellow had not been short of unwanted company of late.
"And what if it is an old friend?"
Creak.
The door flew open at once.
"Gandalf!"
"My dear Gandalf…"
Bilbo threw his arms around him.
"It is wonderful to see you," he said, even as he glanced past Gandalf's shoulder.
"Stop looking. Levi is probably still on the road," Gandalf said.
"Oh, very well." Bilbo drew his gaze back with a touch of disappointment.
"I can hardly believe it, Bilbo."
Gandalf crouched a little, hands on the Hobbit's shoulders, and marvelled, "One hundred and eleven, and not a sign of age on you…"
Old Took had not looked like this at the same age.
Gandalf narrowed his eyes.
There were many things in this world that could keep a body young and stretch out its years.
Like… a certain Ring of Power.
But which Ring would that be?
"Enough of standing about. Come in, Gandalf!"
Bilbo swept an arm in welcome and ushered him inside.
"My apologies. I wasn't expecting you until later this week. I have not prepared much today, only some chicken and pickles. Shall I open a good bottle instead? This one is older than I am…"
Talking as he went, Bilbo bustled off to see to food and drink.
Gandalf settled himself at the table.
There, spread before him, lay an old map. It was indeed worn. It was the very one used in the quest for the Lonely Mountain and, truth be told, out of date.
Fresh notes and marks crowded it, more than half of them about the Free Cities.
Looking at this hand-updated map, Gandalf asked suddenly, "Are you ready?"
Bilbo's hands stilled.
"Yes. I am ready. I yearn for the world outside, Gandalf. I dream of it still, to see again those wide fields and deep woods…"
"I am old."
Pouring Gandalf's tea, he went on, "There is a strange feeling, Gandalf."
"I may not seem old. I look younger than some in their sixties and seventies. But only I can feel one thing…"
"I feel thin. Stretched. As though something has pulled me out too far. If I had to put it into words… it is like… like butter scraped over too much bread…"
Gandalf's face grew grave as he listened.
Knock, knock, knock…
As they spoke, someone knocked again at the door.
"Who now?" Gandalf muttered, glancing that way. "I would guess it is the one you most want to see."
"Oh—welcome, welcome. I have been waiting for you, Levi. If you had not come soon, I would have wondered if my letter had gotten lost. Come, sit, sit. The water has just boiled. I will brew you a fresh cup of tea."
"Then I will trouble you for one."
"No trouble at all, none at all," Bilbo said, waving both hands before hurrying back to the kitchen in search of cakes.
"At least I am in time, it seems?"
Levi took a seat at the small table beside Gandalf.
"In time enough."
Gandalf smiled.
So the three old friends gathered at that little table and took their afternoon tea together.
After Bilbo had played gracious host to Gandalf and Levi, evening drew on.
He went out ahead of them to oversee the final preparations for the party.
In that gap, Gandalf pulled Levi aside and laid out everything he had learned that day.
"Stretched," he said.
"The Rings of Power do not truly lengthen a Man's life. Think of those Men who bore them before. It seemed they lived longer than others, but their span was not 'extended'. It was forced, 'stretched' by the Ring."
"That is why their strength waned as the years dragged on. Their spirits grew thin under that stretching, too frail in the end to support the power they wielded."
"Does not sound like any sort of blessing," Levi said, shaking his head.
"No. It is no blessing. I must speak with Bilbo about it," Gandalf decided.
"Hey, Gandalf, Levi, do not stand there daydreaming. The party has started!"
"Oh. Coming."
Their talk broke off. At Bilbo's call, they went out to join the revel.
The party was as lively as any could remember. Just as Bilbo had boasted, it was unprecedented, perhaps the merriest feast in the Shire's history.
And the host was lavish in his giving. Bilbo had presents for everyone.
Everyone, that is, but the Sackville-Bagginses.
The air that night was thick with warmth and noise.
Young Hobbit lads and lasses danced on the green. Gandalf drove stick after stick of firework into the ground and lit them, and when the mood took him, he added a touch of magic, turning the bursts into little beasts of flame to chase and delight the children.
Frodo prodded his good friend Sam into asking the girl he fancied to dance. Old Bilbo leapt and waved as he told his tales, making the children around him widen their eyes and gasp.
In a quiet corner of the field, beside two sneaking shadows, a tent suddenly burst into fire. A gigantic dragon of flame shot out, a firework gone wild. Its course was clearly wrong; for a moment, it looked ready to explode over the very heart of the party and cause disaster.
In the end, it turned out all right.
The flaming dragon soared high and burst into the sky. On the ground beneath its launch-point lay two young Hobbits, faces black with soot, laughing up at the sparks.
Then Gandalf took each by an ear and scolded them roundly.
"Merry. Pippin. I should have guessed…"
The two miserable scamps were soon set to washing dishes.
Everything was easy and bright.
Until, at the height of the feast, Bilbo climbed onto the high table and began his speech, greeting guest after guest and their families by name.
Halfway through, he vanished.
The crowd cried out as one.
"Fine trick."
The sudden voice in Bag End's hallway made Bilbo jump.
"You gave me a fright, Levi. If that was on purpose, I must say your prank was quite a success."
"Thank you for the praise."
Levi was leaning by the door, watching Bilbo pack his belongings into his travelling bag and leave a letter on the mantelpiece.
There was a thoughtful look in his eye.
"This is not a good way of it, Bilbo. Not funny at all," came another voice from the doorway just as Bilbo finished his packing.
Gandalf.
He and Levi exchanged a glance, nodding once. They had an understanding.
"Oh, Gandalf."
Bilbo greeted his old friend and protested,
"Not funny? How so? Did you not see their faces? They were priceless!"
He had not yet grasped how grave this was.
"Bilbo, there are many magic rings in the world," Gandalf said, fresh from using the Ring of Fire to set off fireworks for children, "but none of them should be used lightly."
Having reminded Bilbo, he turned to Levi.
"You knew about this long ago, did you not?"
Levi shrugged.
"I did. Long ago. Very long ago. I even tried to destroy it, more than once. I failed."
At that, Gandalf had no time to react before Bilbo did. The old Hobbit flared up at once, shaking his head.
"Destroy it? No, no, that will not do, Levi. I am very fond of this Ring. It is beautiful, is it not? In every way that matters it is mine, and I mean to leave it to Frodo along with everything else."
So the moment had come at last.
Seeing the hint of obsession in Bilbo's eyes, Levi sighed and handed him a cup of milk.
It was time to deal with the Ring.