what's this?
a ring.
no, thank you! we don't want any more visitors, well wishers, or distant relations.
gandalf?
my dear gandalf!
come on, come in! welcome, welcome!!
tea? or maybe something stronger.  i've a few bottles of the old winyard left, 1296. a very good year, almost as old as i am. it was laid down by my father. what say we open one, eh?
i was expecting you some time last week. not that it matters, you come and go as you please, always have done, always will.
you've caught me a bit unprepared, i'm afraid. we've only got cold chicken, bit of pickle, some cheese here. ooh, no, that might be a little risky.
er, we've got raspberry jam and apple tart. got some custard somewhere. not much for afters, i'm afraid. oh no. we're alright. i've just found some sponge cake. nice little snack. hope it's enough. i could do you some eggs if you like?
oh. right. you don't mind if?
i'm not home.
i've got to get away from these confounded relatives, hanging on the bell all day, never giving me a moment's peace. i want to see mountains again. mountains, gandalf.  and then find somewhere quiet where i can finish my book. oh, tea!
yes, yes. it's all inhand. all the arrangements are made.
'course he does, he's a baggins. not some block headed bracegirdle from hardbottle!
yes, yes.
i know. he'd probably come with me if i asked him. i think, in his heart, frodo's still in love with the shire, the woods and the fields.  little rivers. bilbo stands gazing out of the kitchen window.
i am old, gandalf.  bilbo looks at gandalf sadly.
i know i don't look it, but i'm beginning to feel it in my heart.
i feel thin. sort of stretched, like butter scraped over too much bread. i need a holiday. a very long holiday and i don't expect i shall return. in fact, i mean not to.
old toby, the finest weed in southfarthing!
ohhhh, gandalf my old friend. this will be a night to remember!
so, there i was. at the mercy of three monstrous trolls. have you ever heard of a troll? do you know what a troll is? great big nasty twenty foot high smelly things. and they're arguing. arguing about how they were going to cook us!
whether it be turned on a spit or minced in a pie or whether they were going to sit on us one by one and squash us into jelly! but they spent so long arguing the whether-to's and why-for's that the sun's first light crept over the top of the trees. and turned them all to stone!
dragon? nonsense. hasn1t been a dragon in these parts for a thousand years!
my dear bagginses, and boffins, tooks and brandybucks. grubbs, chubbs, hornblowers, bolgers, bracegirdles and proudfoots.
today is my one hundred and eleventh birthday. yes, and alas. eleventy- one years is far too short a time to live among such excellent and admirable hobbits! tremendous outburst of approval!
i don't know half of you half as well as i should like; and i like less than half of you as well as well as you deserve.
i have. things to do and i have put this off for far too long.  close on: bilbo's knuckles turn white as he tightens his grip on the small object behind his back.
i regret to announce, this is the end. i am going now. i bid you all a very fond farewell!! bilbo looks across at frodo, hesitates.  then.
goodbye.
come on, gandalf! did you see their faces?
it was just a bit of fun. oh, you're probably right as usual.
i'm leaving everything to him.
yes, yes, it's in an envelope. over there on the mantelpiece. gandalf frowns at the empty mantelpiece. bilbo suddenly feels his waistcoat with a look of guilty surprise.
no, wait. it's here in my pocket. isn't that. isn't' that odd now? yet, after all, why not? why shouldn't i keep it?
well, no. and yes. now it comes to it, i don't feel like parting with it. it's mine. i found it. it came to me!
well, if i'm angry, it's your fault! it's mine. my own, my precious.
so? what business is it of yours what i do with my own things? bilbo's voice, shape and manner have suddenly changed.
you want it for yourself!
you're right, gandalf. the ring must go to frodo.
it's late, the road is long.  yes, it is time.
hmmm?
oh, yes.
i've thought up and ending for my book"and he lived happily ever after to the end of his days."
goodbye, gandalf.
it's mine, my own, my precious.
 it's a dangerous business, frodo, going out your door. you step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's not knowing where you might be swept off to.
hello, frodo, my lad!
i meant to go back. wander the paths of mirkwood, visit laketown, see the lonely mountain again. but age, it seems, has finally caught up with me.
my dear boy.
my old sword "sting". here, take it!
yes, yes, made by the elves, you know. the blade glows blue when orcs are close. and it's times like that, my lad, when you have to be extra careful.
here's a pretty thing. mithril, as light as a feather, and as hard as dragon scales. let me see you put it on. come on.
oh! my old ring.  frodo frowns as bilbo moves toward him.
i should very much like to hold it again, one last time. bilbo reaches forward, eyes locked on the ring.
oh!
i'm sorry, that i brought this upon you, my boy. i'm sorry that you must carry this burden. i'm sorry for everything.