The Hobbits who lived in the Shire were a branch of humankind. In Sindarin, they were called Periannath, which simply meant halflings. They had no objection to that name, but preferred to call themselves Hobbits.
The ancestors of these little folk could be traced back to ancient times. Their footsteps had covered much of Middle-earth before they finally settled in the Shire.
They loved a comfortable life and were highly skilled at farming, crafts, cooking, and similar pursuits.
Their cooking deserved the highest praise of all.
Their roast meat was crisp outside and tender within, its aroma irresistible; their stews were rich with ingredients and savory broth; their ham had just the right amount of fat, without being greasy; their mead was sweet and tart, and never went to the head.
All this greatly pleased Allen, who was staying there. He felt that only during his time at the Green Dragon Inn had he truly satisfied his appetite.
Because of this, Allen often wondered whether he could bring the cook back to Wilderness Town.
That was an impossible dream. Hobbits hated surprises, disliked adventures, and loved their home above all.
If the owner of the Green Dragon Inn learned of this, he would surely throw Allen out of his inn at once.
To ensure he could enjoy excellent food every day, Allen had never breathed a word of his idea.
Over these past days, Allen had explored most of the area with Gandalf. Tonight was the time Gandalf and Thorin Oakenshield had agreed upon.
Early that morning, Gandalf had gone out alone to attend to some business.
Allen was in no hurry. He stayed at the inn by himself, planning to head over that evening. After all, Bilbo Baggins's home was very close by.
At dusk, after eating his fifth meal of the day, Allen rose and set off for Bilbo Baggins's home with a gift.
The future Burglar lived in considerable comfort. His home even had a name of its own: Bag End. It was the largest and most luxurious house in the area, and Allen had passed it many times.
On those occasions, Allen often saw Bilbo smoking outside his front door, and sometimes stopped to exchange a few words.
Once they became acquainted, Bilbo proved a hospitable host. He would fill a pipe for this Big Folk who so often stopped by to chat, and the two would smoke and talk together.
He was a simple, exceptionally polite Hobbit.
Had Allen not known the story, he would never have guessed that this hospitable Hobbit, who knew so well how to enjoy life, would join an adventure and become the future Burglar, Bilbo Baggins.
By the time Allen reached the door of Bag End, he could already hear a commotion inside. The Dwarves must have arrived.
Allen stepped forward and rang the bell. Soon, amid a stream of complaints, a thoroughly disgruntled Bilbo opened the door.
When he saw that his visitor was Allen, he groaned, "No, no, no, no, no, Allen, you've come at the worst possible time. Though I've often wanted to invite you over for afternoon tea or something."
As he spoke, Bilbo glanced back into the bustling house and continued, "But you can hear it yourself. Tonight has been an absolute nightmare. For some reason, a whole lot of Dwarves suddenly turned up, saying they were going to hold a gathering in my home. Now everything is in chaos. Allen, please come back another time, would you?"
Perhaps because he had found someone he knew, Bilbo poured out a great many complaints. Allen listened patiently to them all.
Then an apologetic look crossed Allen's face, and he said with a smile, "I'm sorry to say this, but I'm part of this gathering too. Please accept my gift."
Allen gave Bilbo a slight bow and handed him the wine he was carrying, then continued jokingly, "Well then, Master Bilbo Baggins, Allen at your service."
Bilbo stood stunned for a moment before finally accepting Allen's gift. He sighed and resigned himself to his fate. "Bilbo at your service. Please come in, Allen. At least you're not a Dwarf, are you?"
Once inside, Allen settled himself, found a corner, and sat down. He had come with a full stomach and had no desire to join the ranks "plundering" Bilbo's pantry.
Yet Allen had barely sat down when the doorbell rang again.
The expression on Bilbo's honest face was verging on frenzy. He set down the wine and went to the door once more, and a great crowd of Dwarves poured into Bag End behind Gandalf.
Then Bag End descended into outright revelry.
It had to be said that even faced with such an unexpected intrusion, Bilbo remained impeccably mannered. He even found time to bring Allen a pot of tea and fill a pipe for him.
After greeting the newly arrived Gandalf, Allen wandered around Bag End, smoking his pipe.
He watched everything unfolding there at his leisure.
This was far more comfortable than sitting in a cinema. He was truly right there in the scene.
Only after the tobacco was smoked, the tea drunk, and the Dwarves had tidied everything away did Thorin Oakenshield arrive at Bag End's door.
There was no denying that this Dwarves Prince had a commanding presence. The moment he arrived, all the Dwarves stopped their merrymaking and quietly watched him eat until he finished.
In the original novel, Thorin Oakenshield had arrived with Gandalf, and four or five Dwarves had landed on top of him in a heap. He had therefore been unhappy from the outset, and only after Bilbo spent a long time apologizing had his mood eased somewhat.
Now, this future King under the Mountain was late because he had a terrible sense of direction and had lost his way getting here. His mood was therefore still far from pleasant.
Especially after discovering that the Burglar Gandalf had found for him was a Hobbit with no fighting ability whatsoever-and that Mr. Bilbo Baggins had fainted right in front of him-his mood grew even worse.
Thorin Oakenshield was proud, stubborn, responsible, and immensely charismatic. He had always led his homeless people in search of a suitable life, and it had to be said that he had been fairly successful. The Dwarves living in the Blue Mountains all held him in great respect.
But as he grew older, Thorin Oakenshield's desire to reclaim his homeland grew ever stronger. That desire also made him increasingly sensitive, suspicious, and brooding, as well as prickly and sharp-tongued.
Thorin Oakenshield attached enormous importance to this expedition. Otherwise, he would never have offered equal shares of his ancestral treasure as payment.
At that moment, the Dwarves Prince stood up, pointed at Bilbo on the floor, then at Allen, and said helplessly to Gandalf, "Why can't we have that human over there as my Burglar? He could easily serve as our scout as well."
Gandalf quietly answered Thorin's question. "Thorin, as you know, Allen is the human leader of a large town. His town is in the Wilderland. You know what that means. If we need to slay the dragon, he will offer you his help too. But he won't accept the Burglar's job, and I have more faith in Bilbo."
Allen, who was studying the terms of the contract in a corner, had no idea that their conversation had turned to him.
But Allen paid no mind to that, focusing instead on the contents of the terms.
There was, of course, a copy for Allen as well. Gandalf was bound to secure a contract for him from Thorin. Otherwise, why would Allen accompany Thorin all the way to the end?
The terms were much like those in the story, except that Allen's duties were to ensure everyone reached the Lonely Mountain safely and to help the Dwarves gain entry. He would likewise receive a share of no less than one-fifteenth.
Allen found that acceptable and signed his name. He had at least learned how to write that much.
After signing, Allen rose and handed the contract to Balin, the Dwarves whose hair and beard were both white.
This old fellow was a formidable man too. In the original novel, he had set out to reclaim Moria at the grand age of 230. That truly deserved admiration.
Allen exchanged a few words with the old fellow, then, after confirming that there were no problems with the contract, walked over to Thorin Oakenshield.
Looking at the grim-faced Dwarves Prince, Allen smiled and said, "Sir, don't you believe Bilbo could become a successful Burglar?"
As he spoke, Allen glanced at Bilbo, who was still lying on the floor, and said, "I think this Hobbit will make an excellent Burglar. A master Burglar, even."
Thorin Oakenshield ignored Allen's words. He simply looked at Allen, turning a few things over in his mind.
When Thorin Oakenshield failed to respond, Allen knew he did not believe him. Fair enough-no one else would have believed it either.
He thought for a moment, then continued with a smile, "If you don't believe me, let's make a bet."
At last, Thorin Oakenshield showed a little interest. He said slowly, "A bet on what? I doubt this Master Baggins will even join our expedition."
Many of the Dwarves nearby agreed with Thorin. Although they did not dislike the Hobbit who had hosted them, that did nothing to increase their confidence in Bilbo.
They felt that a nice fellow like Bilbo ought to stay in this comfortable house. The wilderness? That was no place for this Hobbit.
They had even placed wagers on whether Bilbo would join the expedition, and Gandalf himself had joined in.
Allen looked at them and shook his head, then said to Thorin Oakenshield, "I'm not betting on that. I believe Mr. Baggins will certainly join the expedition. My bet is that one day, you'll change your opinion of Bilbo Baggins, and he'll win your respect. Well? Will you take that bet, Thorin Oakenshield?"
Thorin frowned. By nature, he was unwilling to take part in gambling.
But at present, he had not the slightest faith in Bilbo Baggins. On the contrary, he very much hoped Allen would take on the responsibility of being their Burglar.
So Thorin Oakenshield asked in return, "What are the stakes? And the time limit? Surely not a lifetime?"
Seeing that Thorin had agreed, Allen smiled happily and said, "No, no, no. Let's make the deadline our arrival at the Lonely Mountain. The loser must do one thing the winner asks, so long as it's within his power. You could even ask me to become your Burglar and face the dragon."
Thorin considered it for a moment, then agreed to Allen's wager.
Meanwhile, someone finally remembered Master Baggins, who had fainted on the floor, and several pairs of hands bustled to lift him onto a reclining chair.
Before you continue