Hours had passed before anyone was able to locate the body of Bilbo Baggins. Of course, such a feat would have been considerably easier if said body was not invisible. Thankfully the wizard Gandalf had procured a set of night vision goggles, and the more sobered party-goers were able to recover the unconscious old hobbit and put him to bed.
Apparently none had thought it shrewd to question how he had disappeared in the first place. On the one hand, most of the Shirelings were just too hammered to care. But other hobbits, shocked though they were, thought it unwise to dwell on the subject for very long. After all, Mr. Bilbo already had quite the uncanny reputation, and they decided it best not to provoke him.
Samwise Gamgee, however, would not stand for such nonsense. It was unnatural, he thought, even for a Baggins-and he swore on his old Gaffer that he would get to the bottom of Mr. Bilbo's plot through and through. So he ditched the party and stole away to the gardens of Bag-End, and threw himself into the flower-beds beneath the parlor window.
Peering over the sill, he nearly jumped out of his skin when he saw Gandalf pacing tirelessly within the parlor. Sam, like most hobbits, had a keen dislike of strangers. Thus it was only natural that the mere sight of the old wizard scattered all his courage, and he made to get up and leave. But the sudden thumping noise and the groggy voice of Mr. Bilbo compelled him to stay.
"Feeling better?" Asked Gandalf pleasantly. "You put on quite a show, my friend."
"Confound it, Gandalf," growled Bilbo. He slapped a hand to his forehead and muttered, "I should be halfway to Bree by now."
"Get a cab," said Gandalf. "I'm afraid they tend to avoid the Shire because of the lack of gas stations, but I daresay you'll be able to find one in Bree."
"Fine," grumbled Bilbo. "Gandalf, be a love and put some coffee on. I need to pack."
"As you wish," replied the wizard passively. "Anything else?"
"Well, yes," said Bilbo, who had begun to stuff provisions into a great rucksack. "Can I bother you to keep an eye on Frodo? I'm afraid the lad's a bit paranoid-he may think the Sackvilles have gone and kidnapped me or something."
"Perhaps you ought to have said goodbye to him, then."
"You know I'm rubbish at good-byes," said Bilbo irritably. Then in a lower voice he added, "I'm leaving everything with him, you know. Well, except for the magazines with the scantily-clad barmaids. And the tapes. Those I'll keep."
At that, poor Sam to began to gag a little, which in turn nearly compromised his hiding place.
"Oh, naturally," replied Gandalf from his place by the coffee pot. "Is that it, then?"
Bilbo patted his jacket pocket and smiled. "No, it isn't. I had meant to give my old ring to Frodo, but I have decided to keep it for ambiguously sinister reasons. You understand, don't you?"
"Oh yes," said Gandalf. "Why, ‘Ambiguously Sinister' is my middle name. Now, would you prefer your coffee in a travel mug?"
"With this headache, I think I'll take the whole pot," muttered Bilbo. "Thank you, Gandalf. Take care."
"Safe travels, Bilbo. Remember to boil your water before drinking it. And don't eat strange berries. And also, I know hobbits don't like wearing shoes, but if there's Poison Ivy around-"
"Don't tell me how to adventure, Gandalf," cut in Bilbo. "Besides, you and I both know that something must go amiss in the wilderness in order for the plot to advance."
"Perhaps," said Gandalf. "But this isn't The Hobbit anymore, Bilbo. We can't afford to focus on conflicts from your perspective any longer."
Bilbo sighed. "You make me sound like a disposable side character."
"Side character yes, disposable no. We still need to meet you in Rivendell, after all. Now do be gone, my dear friend-you are wasting valuable screen-space."
The sound of a slamming door followed, and then came the clunk of a walking stick against pavement. Sam ducked beneath the pink heads of the Baggins' peonies, and watched Mr. Bilbo fumble his way down the path. He wondered just how safe it was for a hungover old hobbit to be journeying across the Shire, but decided that that was no business of his. Once more he got up to leave, when the door slammed a second time. Mr. Frodo emerged into the parlor, looking even more withered than his uncle.
Gandalf's brow shot up in surprise. "Where have you been? It's almost morning."
"I think I passed out during Bilbo's speech," murmured Frodo. "Did I miss anything important?"
"Well, it's funny that you should ask that," said Gandalf. "You just missed your uncle, actually."
Frodo's eyes widened to the size of cricket balls. "You mean he's gone?"
"Yes. Did he not tell you he was leaving?"
"Well, no," stammered Frodo. "I mean, I know he had joked about moving to a retirement home in Rivendell, but I didn't think he'd actually do it!"
"And without a proper good-bye, no less," tsked the old wizard. "But that, rude though it was, is of little importance. Upon leaving, he left Bag-End and all of its possessions to you."
"You can't be serious," choked Frodo. "All of them?"
"All of them."
"Even his magazines featuring scantily-clad barmaids?" Asked Frodo incredulously.
"Er, no. Those he kept," said Gandalf grimly. "Between you and me, Frodo, your Uncle has some rather unsavory interests. And that reminds me-" he paused and rummaged around inside his wizard-pockets and offered Frodo a rather unremarkable gold ring. "He's also left you with this."
"Bilbo's ring," breathed Frodo. "Yes, I suppose that also qualifies as an ‘unsavory interest.' I can't believe he's actually giving me this thing-I had thought he was obsessed."
"Yes, well, that is also between you and me," said Gandalf. "He didn't actually give it to you. I pick-pocketed him while he was knocked out, and I swapped it with my wedding band."
"Hang on. Wedding band? You're married?"
"Wrong again," sighed Gandalf. "I acquired it from King Thingol, because I had the hots for his wife and thought he was an impertinent and undeserving asshole. I'll have you know that I am an excellent pick-pocket," he added.
"Well, that's... I don't really know how to respond to that," admitted Frodo. "Er, thank you, I guess? For stealing Bilbo's ring, I mean. Though I'm not entirely sure why you did it, or why I'm even thanking you."
"Perhaps you shouldn't," advised Gandalf. "The Ring that you hold in your hands is what is known as a MacGuffin, forged by the Dark Lord himself. It is a virtually useless object that will nonetheless cause you great strife, and henceforth drive the entire plotline of this ludicrous story."
"Gandalf, no offense, but that doesn't make a bit of sense," said Frodo sheepishly. "What does it all mean? And what in the Shire is a MacGuffin?"
"Frodo, I literally just told you what a MacGuffin is. You need to clean out your ears, my boy." The wizard sighed and then added, "This Ring is a particularly powerful MacGuffin, and I suspect that the servants of the Enemy will be searching for it. As such, it cannot stay in the Shire for much longer. That is where you come in, my dear Frodo. You must take the MacGuffin away from here; I suspect it will be safe in Rivendell, for the time being."
"What?" cried Frodo. "Why me? Why can't you take it?"
"Well, for starters, hobbits are incredibly harmless creatures. If, say, this Ring were to corrupt you (which it most certainly will), the worst thing that you could do is turn into a perverted and obsessive old hobbit (see Bilbo). However, if I were to be corrupted, I would almost definitely become Sauron's greatest and most powerful bitch."
"I think you are taking far too much advantage of my race," said Frodo bitterly. "Rivendell, huh? I suppose that isn't so bad. Perhaps I'll be able to see Uncle Bilbo again."
"Yes, perhaps you'll be able to see your repulsively wanton uncle again," agreed Gandalf. "In the meantime, I must videochat with the Head of my Order. He is a literary master, and knows how to properly dispose of convenient plot devices like MacGuffins. Once I have finished, I shall meet you at the Inn of the Prancing Pony."
"You'll meet me? What, does this inn not have WiFi or something?"
"No. No it does not. The Shire, despite all its modern-shortcomings, has wonderful wireless. I shall remain here until my chat is complete."
"Well, I suppose I ought to get packing, then," sighed Frodo. "Though I must admit that I'm a little nervous. I mean, I've never ventured outside the Shire before, and I've certainly never travelled alone. But I suppose that if Bilbo can do it, then so can I."
In the meantime, Master Samwise was plotting a quiet means of escape. He reckoned that anymore of this unearthly MacGuffin-talk would turn him loony, and he longed very suddenly for his armchair by the fire, and a mug of cold ale. But as he got up to leave, he smacked his head against the windowsill and fell gracelessly back into the flowerbeds. This, to his dismay, had caught both the attention of Frodo and the old wizard.
"Well! It seems I have found you a companion," boomed Gandalf. He strode over to the window and fished through the flower beds until his hands found the collar of Sam's jacket. The poor hobbit was instantly hauled up through the window and thrown unceremoniously to the floor. "Samwise Gamgee! Are you aware that you have just witnessed a conversation containing key story-exposition?"
"N-no sir," stammered Samwise, scrambling to his feet. "I mean, I have no idea what story-exposition is. Or what a MacGuffin is. Or what a scantily-clad barmaid looks like. Please sir, I just wanted to see if Mr. Bilbo was all right-but I take it he isn't, so I guess I'll just be going now."
Sam began to edge towards the door, but the old wizard barred his way. "Nice try, Master Gamgee, but you've really stepped in it this time," he said impishly. "Frodo has a Ring to deliver, and he needs a friend. Are you up for the task?"
"Have I even got a choice?" muttered Sam.
"Oh, come on, Sam. If I'm going to play the reluctant hero, than I'll be needing a reluctant sidekick," said Frodo, clapping a hand to his friend's back.
"Can't you handle being reluctant by yourself?" protested Sam.
"Well, yeah," said Frodo, shoving his hands into his pockets. "But it's a lot more lonely that way. Come on-It'll be just like camping, only a lot more mobile, since we'll be walking a lot... all the time... because there are no gas stations in the Shire...." His voice trailed off weakly, and he clapped a hand to his brow. "Valar, that sounds awful," he muttered.
"My sentiments exactly," huffed Sam.
"Oh, come off it," said Gandalf. "A little exercise never hurt anyone. Now get packing, you lazy lot, and do be off. This is a private video chat, mind you, and I can't have little hobbits loitering about when there's a perfectly good plotline to advance."
"Somehow, I managed to inherit a house and become homeless all in one day," sighed Frodo. He turned to his fellow hobbit. "Well, come on Sam. Let's get packing."
