A Hobbit’s Tale

It seems that despite our best efforts, the world of men is incapable of leaving us Hobbits alone. But perhaps I ought not to complain, for we have had nine fine years without their meddling digital wizardry, and in those fine years we have made good use of the profits. There is now a regular Buckleberry ferry service and Farmer Maggot has doubled his mushroom crop for the year.

But where was I? Ah yes, the clean-footed giants are back again, and they wish to tell the tale of this old hobbit’s journey with thirteen dwarves to recapture the Lonely Mountain from the dragon, Smaug. My old friend and chain pipe smoker, Gandalf, joins me as I travel east, out from the Shire, through Rivendell and onwards, deep into the Misty Mountains. It is here that our old friend Gollum makes his appearance, though in slightly younger form than in our previous encounter – but, I must say, equally as slimy. Now, by the time we had reached the Misty Mountains I can honestly say I was rather exhausted and could think of nothing better than settling down with a barrel full of long bottom leaf for a nice long smoke. But old Peter Jackson had other ideas and the filmographs were fired up and we were off, my dwarves and me, across forest and through mine until we reached our goal, the great lonely Mountain. But there, I can see I have got carried away, so now I must stop or none of you will see it and I will have to cancel the extension I have planned for bag-end.

I shall say no more. But what I can promise you all is that this really will be a night to remember. Let’s just hope I’ve packed enough Lembas bread for the journey home. 

The Hobbit is showing in The Picture House from 13th December.