"My dear Frodo. You asked me once if I told you everything there was to know about my adventures, and while I can honestly say I have told you the truth, I may not have told you all of it.

I am old now, Frodo. I'm not the same hobbit I once was. I think it is time for you to know what REALLY happened.

It began long ago, in a far away land to the east. The like of which you will not find in the world today. There was the city of Dale. Its markets known far and wide, full of the bounties of vine and vale. Peaceful and prosperous. For this city lay before the doors of the greatest kingdom in Middle-Earth: Erebor.

Stronghold of Thror, King Under The Mountain, mightiest of the dwarf-lords. Thror ruled with utter surety, never doubting his house would endure, for his line lay secure in the lives of his son, and grandson.

Ah, Frodo, Erebor. Built deep within the mountain itself, the beauty of this fortress was legend. Its wealth lay in the Earth, in precious gems hewn from rock and in great seams of gold, running like rivers through stone.

The skill of the dwarves was unequaled, fashioning objects of great beauty out of diamond, emerald, ruby and sapphire. Ever they delved deeper down into the dark. And that is where they found it. The Heart of the Mountain.

The Arkenstone.

Thror named it 'The King's Jewel'. He took it as a sign, a sign that his right to rule was divine. All would pay homage to him, even the great Elvenking, Thranduil.

As the great wealth of the dwarves grew, their store of good will ran thin. No one knows exactly what began the rift. The elves say the dwarves stole their treasure. The dwarves tell another tale. They say the elf king refused to give them their rightful pay. It is sad, Frodo, how old alliances can be broken. How friendships between peoples can be lost. Slowly, the days turned sour, and the watchful nights closed in.

Thror's love of gold had grown too fierce. A sickness had begun to grow within him. It was a sickness of the mind. And where sickness thrives, bad things will follow.

The first they heard was a noise like a hurricane, coming down from the north. The pines on the mountain creaked and cracked in the hot, dry wind.

He was a Fire-Drake from the north.

Smaug had come.

Such wanton death was dealt that day. For this City of Men was nothing to Smaug. His eye was set on another prize. For dragons covet gold with a dark and fierce desire.

Erebor was lost. For a dragon will guard his plunder as long as he lives. Thranduil would not risk the lives of his kin against the wrath of the dragon. No help came from the elves that day, nor any day since.

Robbed of their homeland, the dwarves of Erebor wandered the wilderness. A once mighty people brought low. The young dwarf prince took work where he could find it, laboring in the villages of men. But always he remembered the mountain smoke beneath the moon, the trees like torches blazing bright, for he had seen dragon fire in the sky, and a city turned to ash. And he never forgave, and he never forgot.

Far away, in another corner of the world, dragons were only make-believe. A party trick conjured by wizards on midsummer's eve. No more frightening than fairy dust.

That, my dear Frodo, is where I come in. It was the beginning of an unlikely friendship that has lasted all my life. But it is not the start of my story. For me, it began... well, it began as you might expect.

In a hole in the ground, there lived a Hobbit.

Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, full of worms and oozy smells. This was a Hobbit hole, and that means good food, a warm hearth, and all the comforts of home"

Bilbo Baggins sat at his desk writing and writing in a big red book, chuckling as he did. A young Frodo Baggins, with mail in one hand and an apple in the other, came up behind Bilbo, setting the letters on his desk.

"Thank you," Bilbo said.

Frodo spotted two drawings and picked them up, smiling as he looked at them.

"What's this?" He asked. One of the drawings was of a younger Bilbo, in the times when he wasn't weighed down by the thoughts of his past. The other was the face of a young female hobbit, a slight smile on her face.

"That is private!" Bilbo snapped, snatching the photos from Frodo's hands "Keep your sticky paws off."

Frodo tried looking at what was written in the book, but the older hobbit quickly covered the pages."It's not ready yet" he said.

Scoffing, Frodo asked "Not ready for what?"

"Reading!" Bilbo said.

The young hobbit managed to sneak another peak at one of the photos, seeing the warm smile of the woman in one of them. Next to her was a rugged young dwarf. Grabbing it again, he looked to his uncle and spoke.

"Oh look! It's Aunt (Y/n)!" Frodo smiled. Bilbo slightly laughed for a moment. "And, who's this next to her?"

Bilbo stopped laughing suddenly. The grief his sister went through was too much to speak of to the young hobbit. Bilbo heard the door open and heard his younger sister voice shout out that she was home. He quickly took the picture from Frodo's hands and hid it again, saying "Speak nothing of this to her". Frodo frowned and nodded.

Frodo went over to a chest filled with Bilbo's old things from his adventure and picked up what looked like a helmet.

"Hello there!"

(Y/n)'s voice echoed in their ears as she walked passed them towards the pantry to drop off their goods. Frodo smiled at his aunt, still wondering who the dwarf was, but didn't ask.

"How are we all? Frodo, what are you doing?" she asked as he picked up a sword.

"Just browsing" he laughed. (Y/n) looked towards Bilbo's desk and walked over to check what he was doing.

"Writing about it all, are you now?" she asked, playfully. Bilbo rolled his eyes slightly, and (Y/n) touched the bead in her hair. "Bilbo, you have mail." she said, looking to the top of the desk.

"What on earth are these?" he questioned.

"Replies to the party invitations" Frodo replied.

Bilbo let out a small gasp, and his mood changed. He was now giddy and excited. (Y/n) turned around and smiled at the two.

"Good gracious! Is it today?" He asked, getting up from his seat.

"They all say they're coming" Frodo said "except for the Sackville-Bagginses, who are demanding you ask them in person." (Y/n) rolled her eyes. Those Sackville-Bagginses all wanted their home for as long as she could remember.

"Are they indeed" Bilbo said, walking past Frodo and grabbing the helmet in his hands, throwing it back in the chest "Over my dead body"

"They'd probably find that quite agreeable!" Frodo joked "They seem to think you have tunnels overflowing with gold"

Bilbo began gathering his trinkets and putting them in boxes and bowls, then covering them with a blanket or a lid.

"It was one small chest, hardly overflowing." (Y/n) commented from Frodo's side, watching as her brother his their belongings. "And it still smells of troll" Bilbo added.

"What on earth are you doing?" Frodo asked, seeing his uncle's actions.

"Taking precautions. You know I caught her making off with the silverware once!" Bilbo said as he moved a jar full of metal appliances.

"Who?"

"Lobelia Sackville-Baggins! She had all our spoons stuffed in her pocket. Ha! Dreadful woman." Bilbo continued as he moved into the dining room "Make sure you keep an eye on her after we're... when we're..."

"When you're what?" Frodo asked

Bilbo stopped for a moment, and (Y/n) caught on to his train of thought, looking at Frodo and saying, "It's nothing... nothing" and walked out of the room. Frodo followed him with a questioning look on his face.

"You know, some people are beginning to wonder about you two. They think you're becoming odd" he said.

"Odd?" (Y/n) questioned as Bilbo barely looked up from his papers on the table.

"Unsociable"

Bilbo chuckled and responded "Unsociable?! Me? Nonsense!"

He picked up a poster he was writing on and turned to Frodo, handing it to him.

"Be a good lad and put that on the gate" Bilbo said.

Frodo looked at the poster, which read "No Admittance except on party business", before going out and nailing the poster to their gate.

After a moment, Bilbo followed him outside, stretching, and looked out at the rolling hills of The Shire. (Y/n) soon followed, breathing in the fresh air. Frodo finished nailing the poster and looked to his aunt and uncle with a book in his hand.

"You think he'll come?"

"Who?" Bilbo replied.

"Gandalf!" Frodo said, smiling.

"Oh! He wouldn't miss a chance to let off his whizpoppers! He'll give us quite a show, you'll see." Bilbo chuckled.

Frodo bounced on his large feet and said "Right, then. Im off"

"Off to where?" (Y/n) asked her nephew.

"Eastfarthing Woods. I'm going to surprise him." Frodo responded on the trail.

"Well go on then! You don't want to be late" Bilbo said as his nephew ran off.

Bilbo sat down on the bench in his yard, smoking his pipe, while (Y/n) took care of their garden, making sure the flowers were in tip-top shape. Both were thinking of the past.

"He doesn't approve of being late, not that I ever was. In those days, I was always on time. I was entirely respectable, and nothing unexpected ever happened"