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The Hobbit
In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort.
It had a perfectly round door like a porthole, painted green, with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The door opened on to a tube-shaped hall like a tunnel: a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with panelled walls, and floors tiled and carpeted, provided with polished chairs and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats – the hobbit was fond of visitors. The tunnel wound on and on, going fairly but not quite straight into the side of the hill – The Hill, as all the people for many miles round called it – and many little round doors opened out of it, first on one side and then on another.
In This Novel You Will Learn
No going upstairs for the hobbit: bedrooms, bathrooms, cellars, pantries (lots of these), wardrobes (he had whole rooms devoted to clothes), kitchens, dining-rooms, all were on the same floor, and indeed on the same passage. The best rooms were all on the left-hand side (going in), for these were the only ones to have windows, deep-set round windows looking over his garden, and meadows beyond, sloping down to the river.
This hobbit was a very well-to-do hobbit, and his name was Baggins. The Bagginses have lived in the neighbourhood of The Hill for time out of mind, and people considered them very respectable, not only because most of them were rich, but also because they never had any adventures or did anything unexpected: you could tell what a Baggins would say on any question without the bother of asking him. This is a story of how a Baggins had an adventure, and found himself doing and saying things altogether unexpected. He may have lost the neighbours’ respect, but he gained – well, you will see whether he gained anything in the end.
That Crime Does Infact Pay
The mother of our particular hobbit—what is a hobbit? I suppose hobbits need some description nowadays, since they have become rare and shy of the Big People, as they call us. They are (or were) a little people, about half our height, and smaller than the bearded Dwarves. Hobbits have no beards. There is little or no magic about them, except the ordinary everyday sort which helps them to disappear quietly and quickly when large stupid folk like you and me come blundering along, making a noise like elephants which they can hear a mile off.
They are inclined to be fat in the stomach; they dress in bright colours (chiefly green and yellow); wear no shoes, because their feet grow natural leathery soles and thick warm brown hair like the stuff on their heads (which is curly); have long clever brown fingers, good-natured faces, and laugh deep fruity laughs (especially after dinner, which they have twice a day when they can get it).
This Novel Is For You If…
Your Tookish half yearns for an unexpected adventure
You don’t mind keeping company with Dwarves
You’re good at riddles in the dark
There’s annoying family who want your home
Meet Your Narrator
Hi, I’m Amber-Rose Thomas
BUSINESS COACH. ADS STRATEGIST. GIN AFICIONADO. FRANCOPHILE. CAT PERSON.
I started Launch with Amber as a business coach who was tired of watching my clients get terrible results from the ads agencies they were hiring. I thought “We can do this better!” and so we did!
Now we offer done-for-you Facebook Ads services, launch strategy and trainings to coaches, experts and course creators all over the world.
I’m also a Facebook™ Blueprint Certified Ads Manager, and a professional marketing strategist with the Chartered Institute of Marketing (CIM) with a track record across multiple niches and industries.
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There’s no need to apologise for the blue mould in your cheese nor to worry about someone pillaging the pantry. But do make sure to blunt the knives, bend the forks, smash the bottles and burn the corks, chip the glasses and crack the plates. For that’s what Bilbo Baggins hates!