The Hobbit Alternate Ending Essay

The brilliant green door was whipped open aggressively, milliseconds after my brown ash staff made contact with the circular door, erasing the secret mark that I had made present just the morning before. Bifur, Bofur, Bombur and Thorin tumbled in onto the mat like clumsy deer born for the first time, landing at the feet of the enflamed hobbit that now stood before us. Bilbo Baggins, great-grandson of Old Took looked more confused and stricken than a wet cat and apologies immediately started flowing out of his mouth like the current of the Forest River. A hearty laugh bellowed out as I could just not help myself, leaning on my staff, observing the grumbling dwarves as they set their stubby bodies upright, tripping over their beards.
“Carefully! Carefully!” I said. “It is not like you, Bilbo, to keep friends waiting on the mat, and then open the door like a pop-gun! Let me introduce Bifur, Bofur, Bombur, and especially Thorin!” I chuckled raising a bushy silver eyebrow. The dwarves and Bilbo exchanged cordial greetings and then the dwarves proceeded to hang up their colored hoods. Thorin, the old grudge holder, was not pleased of the entrance, and was quite haughty towards poor Bilbo.
“Now we are all here!” I exclaimed, surveying the row of thirteen
hoods and my own hat that gathered on the wooden pegs. “Quite a merry gathering! I hope there is something left for the late-comers to eat and drink! What’s that? Tea! No thank you! A little red wine, I think, for me.” I continued, followed by the chorus’ of my companions requesting their own snacks. I made a few more requests and the little hobbit scurried into the kitchen to fulfill them. When Bilbo returned, we had all taken seats with plates piled high and merry chatter flitting around the room like a swarm of bees. My companions had made quite a mess of things and when it came time to clean up, despite old Bilbo refusing their help, the merry dwarves began to get up and clean and sing songs about their busy doings.
I silently chuckled, joining Thorin by the hearth, who had been occupying himself with enormous smoke rings that floated like a cloud wherever he willed them to. Pulling out my short clay-pipe, I sent smaller smoke rings of my own in pursuit of Thorin’s, sabotaging them with a satisfying “Pop!”. The small rings returned and became sea foam green in coloring, hovering above my head in a cloud, giving me quite the sorcerous look if I may say so myself. Thorin grew bored of this, calling for music, and the rest of his companions complied, bringing out assorted instruments from seemingly nowhere. As they sang songs of the misty mountains, the light seeped out of the cozy room, a blanket of darkness replacing it, the only light coming from the glowing embers in the dying hearth. Across the room, Bilbo was fascinated by their low tones and mystical lyrics. Perfect, I thought to myself, it’s working, he is becoming entranced. After the tones died down, the trembling hobbit stood as if contemplating to flee.
“Where are you going?” said Thorin, in an accusatory tone that told me he had an idea about what Bilbo was really on his way to do. Bilbo explained he was on his way to get light, and immediately Thorin said no, saying that there should be “dark for dark business!”. Bilbo stuttered then sat down again, missing the stool and landing in the fender with a crash. I silenced the room and then Thorin got down to business, outlining the journey that lay ahead of us. As any sane person would under the circumstances, the reality of what Thorin was saying was finally setting into Bilbo’s hobbit mind, and it was just too much. A savage shriek ripped out of him like a train whistle and the room erupted in chaos. I struck an ethereal sapphire blue light from the end of my ash wood staff to ensure order, but in the process, poor little Bilbo could be seen kneeling by the hearth, and emotional mess calling out “struck by lightning!” over and over again. The only words we could muster out of him for a while, we took him and laid him out of the way on the drawing-room sofa, and then we returned to our dark business.
Bilbo was not supposed to react like that, it wasn’t in the plan.
In the time it took him to finally come to, I had to do my best to convince the others that Bilbo was indeed the fourteenth member that they required to complete the long treacherous journey to reclaim the mountain Erebor from the dragon Smaug. I placed that mark on the door for a reason and there was no other answer. I heard a noise by the door and knew it was Bilbo eavesdropping in. Eventually when he had had enough verbal slander about him, he came in and began to defend himself saying that he could prove them wrong, and that he was indeed good for something. I finally had had enough of the dwarves’ bickering about the matter and put my foot
down.
“Just let anyone say I chose the wrong man or wrong house, and you can stop at thirteen and have all the bad luck you like!” I exclaimed getting quite frustrated with the difficult and ignorant dwarves. That quieted them down and I sent an angry scowl towards Gloin, one of the main protestors. I asked Bilbo to fetch a lamp, finally, to put some light on the manner, and when he returned with a lamp with a blooming fiery red shade, I spread a map out, and told Thorin it belonged to him. The map had been given to me, to give to him, along with a little key, and I had quite the troubled time finding the right moment to deliver it.
The rest of that night was spent discussing our upcoming treacherous journey, discussing strategies, and filling the holes in for the mightily confused and distraught Hobbit. At the end of the night, it can be safely said that we were all exhausted and Bilbo, seemed to be convinced to join us on our journey. He offered us lodging that night and breakfast to start off our journey in the morning. That night I fell asleep to the dwarves low enchanting voices as they quietly sang in the next room over, preparing myself for the unexpected in the adventure that awaited us.