I did my spring cleaning a little late this year, and discovered something magical in one of my junk drawers while throwing out old receipts and calendars. Lost within the cabinet for years was a copy of a poem 13 year old me had written for English class. It seems fitting to share with you the first few paragraphs, as it was written as a birthday present to Bilbo Baggins, and today is both his and Frodo’s big day.

Bilbo Baggins’ Birthday Bash

Twas the day of the celebration

when all through the town

the lasses were dressing up,

and the lads were dressing down.

Colored ribbons were tied into my curly, long hair

in hope to look well, for the Grey Wizard would be at the party, there.

The children playing with friends, and the elders still in their beds

with visions of dancing and drinking in their heads.

Ma in her apron, and I in my dress,

we headed towards the party field for a long birthday mess.

When ahead on the road we heard such a song,

I skipped ahead of Ma to find out what was wrong.

Away I dashed down the hill towards the sound,

tore through the bushes with one long, single bound.

The grass with a scenery so deep colored green

gave an aura of joy, what a sight to be seen.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear

but a tall, grey man with a long scraggly beard.

In a large wooden carriage he drove toward my way,

I knew in a moment that it was Gandalf the Grey.

Happy Hobbit Day to all, and to all a good morning!

“Good morning!” said Bilbo, and he meant it. The sun was shining, and the grass was very green. But Gandalf looked at him from under long bushy eyebrows that stuck out further than the brim of his shady hat.

“What do you mean?” he said. “Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?”

“All of them at once,” said Bilbo.