I do so love when Gandalf comes to visit. It may be my coming of age today, but I find myself acting more like a child. A part of me is bothered by this, but I find myself ignoring it. I of course ran to greet Gandalf but couldn’t resist chastising him for being late. To which he gruffly put me in my place, and we dissolved into laughter. I was wholly unable to resist jumping from my spot on the hill onto the cart and into Gandalf’s loving embrace. He has been like a grandfather and uncle. Tried calling him uncle once, since he and Uncle Bilbo are so close, but it sounded so silly not to mention the dark look I got from him, which I still clearly remember followed by a firm “Gandalf will do.”
I am forever begging Gandalf to tell me everything of the outside world. Gandalf and Uncle Bilbo have always indulged my unnatural curiosity, as Gandalf describes it. Hobbits, by and large, are not curious creatures. It seems I’ve been given an unseemly large dose of the quality. Disturbing to most but fortunately, Uncle Bilbo fed it rather than curbed it. And though Gandalf chides me about it, I know that secretly he would be disappointed if I didn’t ask.
Though many in the Shire call him “a disturber of the peace,” I think the peace could do with a bit of disturbing. When the young hobbit children come flocking to his cart begging for fireworks, Gandalf is always so stern, seeming to ignore them. Next thing you know, fireworks are spouting everywhere, and Gandalf has reinforced the opinion of the general grownup hobbit population.
I was so excited to see Gandalf I completely forgot my book. We were almost to Bag End before I remembered it. But then perhaps it is for the best. Retrieving my book from my reading place will give Gandalf and Uncle Bilbo a chance to catch up. I also know there are plans afoot that they will want to discuss and if I hang about they’ll only get exasperated with me. Better to leave of my own accord than to be asked to leave. Besides, there will be plenty of time to catch up after the party.