The Return of the Shadow. Christopher Tolkien

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      The original opening page of The Lord of the Rings

       A long-expected party ¹

When Bilbo, son of Bungo of the family of Baggins, [had celebrated >] prepared to celebrate his seventieth birthday there was for a day or two some talk in the neighbourhood. He had once had a little fleeting fame among the people of Hobbiton and Bywater – he had disappeared after breakfast one April 30th and not reappeared until lunchtime on June 22nd in the following year. A very odd proceeding for which he had never given any good reason, and of which he wrote a nonsensical account. After that he returned to normal ways; and the shaken confidence of the district was gradually restored, especially as Bilbo seemed by some unexplained method to have become more than comfortably off, if not positively wealthy. Indeed it was the magnificence of the party rather than the fleeting fame that at first caused the talk – after all that other odd business had happened some twenty years before and was becoming decently forgotten. The magnificence of the preparations for the party, I should say. The field to the south of his front door was being covered with pavilions. Invitations were being sent out to all the Bagginses and all the Tooks (his relatives on his mother’s side), and to the Grubbs (only remotely connected); and to the Burroweses, the Boffinses, the Chubbses and the Proudfeet: none of whom were connected at all within the memory of the local historians – some of them lived on the other side of the shire; but they were all, of course, hobbits. Even the Sackville-Bagginses, his cousins on his father’s side, were not forgotten. There had been a feud between them and Mr Bilbo Baggins, as some of you may remember. But so splendid was the invitation-card, all written in gold, that they were induced to accept; besides, their cousin had been specializing in good food for a long time, and his tables had a high reputation even in that time and country when food was still what it ought to be and abundant enough for all folk to practise on.

      Everyone 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 even to allude, after a glass or two, to the absurd adventures he said he had had long ago during his ridiculous vanishment. They had a very pleasant feast: indeed an engrossing entertainment. The purchase of provisions fell almost to zero throughout the whole shire during the ensuing week; but as Mr Baggins’ catering had emptied all the stores, cellars and warehouses for miles around, that did not matter. Then came the speech. Most of the assembled hobbits were now in a tolerant mood, and 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. But they were – completely and unprecedentedly startled; some even had indigestion.

      ‘My dear people,’ began Mr Baggins. ‘Hear, hear!’ they replied in chorus. ‘My dear Bagginses,’ he went on, standing now on his chair, so that the light of the lanterns that illuminated the enormous pavilion flashed upon the gold buttons of his embroidered waistcoat for all to see. ‘And my dear Tooks, and Grubbs, and Chubbs, and Burroweses, and Boffinses, and Proudfoots.’² ‘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 dear Sackville-Bagginses that I welcome back at last to Bag-end,’ Bilbo continued. ‘Today is my seventieth birthday.’ ‘Hurray hurray and many happy returns!’ they shouted. 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), and noises of trumpets and whistles. There were a great many junior hobbits present, as hobbits were indulgent to their children, especially if there was a chance of an extra meal. Hundreds of musical crackers had been pulled. Most of them were labelled ‘Made in Dale’. What that meant only Bilbo and a few of his Took-nephews knew; but they were very marvellous crackers. ‘I have called you all together,’ Bilbo went on when the last cheer died away, and something in his voice made a few of the Tooks prick up their ears. ‘First of all to tell you that I am immensely fond of you, and that seventy years is too short a time to live among such excellent and charming hobbits’ – ‘hear hear!’ ‘I don’t know half of you half as well as I should like, and less than half of you half as well as you deserve.’ No cheers, a few claps – most of them were trying to work it out. ‘Secondly to celebrate my birthday and the twentieth year of my return’ – an uncomfortable rustle. ‘Lastly to make an Announcement.’ He said this very loud and everybody sat up who could. ‘Goodbye! I am going away after dinner. Also I am going to get married.’

      He sat down. The silence was flabbergastation. It was broken only by Mr Proudfoot, who kicked over the table; Mrs Proudfoot choked in the middle of a drink.

      That’s that. It merely serves to explain that Bilbo Baggins got married and had many children, because I am going to tell you a story about one of his descendants, and if you had only read his memoirs up to the date of Balin’s visit – ten years at least before this birthday party – you might have been puzzled.³

As a matter of fact Bilbo Baggins disappeared silently and unnoticed – the ring was in his hand even while he made his speech – in the middle of the confused outburst of talk that followed the flabbergasted silence. 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 appointment) and cleared away in wheelbarrows those that had inadvertently remained. Night settled down and passed. The sun rose. People came to clear away the pavilions and the tables and the chairs and the lanterns and the flowering trees in boxes, and the spoons and knives and plates and forks, and crumbs, and the uneaten food – a very small parcel. Lots of other people came too. Bagginses and Sackville-Bagginses and Tooks, and people with even less business. By the middle of the morning (when even the best-fed were out and about again) there was quite a crowd at Bag-end, uninvited but not unexpected. ENTER was painted on a large white board outside the great front-door. The door was open. On everything inside there was a label tied. ‘For Mungo Took, with love from Bilbo’; ‘For Semolina Baggins, with love from her nephew’, on a waste-paper basket – she had written him a deal of letters (mostly of good advice). ‘For Caramella Took, with kind remembrances from her uncle’, on a clock in the hall. Though unpunctual she had been a niece he rather liked, until coming late one day to tea she had declared his clock was fast. Bilbo’s clocks were never either slow or fast, and he did not forget it. ‘For Obo Took-Took, from his great-nephew’, on a feather bed; Obo was seldom awake before 12 noon or after tea, and snored. ‘For Gorboduc Grubb with best wishes from B. Baggins’ – on a gold fountain-pen; he never answered letters. ‘For Angelica’s use’ on a mirror – she was a young Baggins and thought herself very comely.⁴ ‘For Inigo Grubb-Took’, on a complete dinner-service – he was the greediest hobbit known to history. ‘For Amalda Sackville-Baggins as a present’, on a case of silver spoons. She was the wife of Bilbo’s cousin, the one he had discovered years ago on his return measuring his dining-room (you may remember his suspicions about disappearing spoons: anyway neither he nor Amalda had forgotten).⁵

Of course there were a thousand and one things in Bilbo’s house, and all had labels – most of them with some point (which sank in after a time). The whole house-furniture СКАЧАТЬ