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After a long day of toiling in his garden, Bilbo Baggins closes the door softly behind him, inhaling the delicious aroma of potato soup bubbling on the stove. The hobbit places a loaf of bread into the oven to toast as an accompaniment to his supper before he adds more logs to the crackling fire. Autumn is one of the Shire’s favorite times of year when the harvest is plentiful and the weather is cooler, allowing for its residents to make their favorite soups and stews.
Bilbo walks over to his favorite armchair that is, regretfully, beginning to look a bit more worn these days due to its owner’s habits. He sets a mug of steaming tea on the circular ottoman at his feet, balancing the bowl of soup precariously on his knees. Bilbo’s newest book sits on the armchair, ready to be devoured. He comfortably settles into the chair, peace settling deep within his chest. Although, the hobbit cannot quite seem to escape the irony that it’s much quieter than he would like in his own home without the sheer chaos he has grown accustomed to. Traveling with thirteen dwarves and one meddling wizard will do that, after all.