Somehow I had been attracted by Bilbo long before, as a child, and a young hobbit: he had not quite come of age when I had last seen him. He had stayed in my mind ever since, with his eagerness and his bright eyes, and his love of tales, and his questions about the wide world outside the Shire. As soon as I entered the Shire I heard news of him. He was getting talked about, it seemed. Both his parents had died early for Shire-folk, at about eighty; and he had never married. He was already growing a bit queer, they said, and went off for days by himself. He could be seen talking to strangers, even Dwarves.

”Even Dwarves!” Suddenly in my mind these three things came together: the great Dragon with his lust, and his keen hearing and scent; the sturdy heavy-booted Dwarves with their old burning grudge; and the quick, soft-footed Hobbit, sick at heart (I guessed) for a sight of the wide world. I laughed at myself; but I went off at once to have a look at Bilbo, to see what twenty years had done to him, and whether he was as promising as gossip seemed to make out. But he was not at home. They shook their heads in Hobbiton when I asked after him. “Off again,” said one hobbit. It was Holman, the gardener, I believe. “Off again. He’ll go right off one of these days, if he isn’t careful. Why, I asked him where he was going, and when he would be back, and I don’t know he says; and then he looks at me queerly. It depends if I meet any, Holman, he says. It’s the Elves’ New Year tomorrow! A pity, and him so kind a body. You wouldn’t find a better from the Downs to the River.”

”Better and better!” I thought. “I think I shall risk it.” Time was getting short. I had to be with the White Council in August at the latest, or Saruman would have his way and nothing would be done. And quite apart from greater matters, that might prove fatal to the quest: the power in Dol Guldur would not leave any attempt on Erebor unhindered, unless he had something else to deal with.

So I rode off back to Thorin in haste, to tackle the difficult task of persuading him to put aside his lofty designs and go secretly - and take Bilbo with him. Without seeing Bilbo first. It was a mistake, and nearly proved disastrous. For Bilbo had changed, of course. At least, he was getting rather greedy and fat, and his old desires had dwindled down to a sort of private dream. Nothing could have been more dismaying than to find it actually in danger of coming true!

"I knew in my heart that Bilbo must go with him, or the whole quest would be a failure - or, as I should say now, the far more important events by the way would not come to pass. So I had still to persuade Thorin to take him. There were many difficulties on the road afterwards, but for me this was the most difficult part of the whole affair. Though I argued with him far into the night after Bilbo had retired, it was not finally settled until early the next morning.

Thorin was contemptuous and suspicious. “He is soft,” he snorted. “Soft as the mud of his Shire, and silly. His mother died too soon. You are playing some crooked game of your own, Master Gandalf. I am sure that you have other purposes than helping me.”

”You are quite right,” I said. “If I had no other purposes, I should not be helping you at all. Great as your affairs may seem to you, they are only a small strand in the great web. I am concerned with many strands. But that should make my advice more weighty, not less.” I spoke at last with great heat. “Listen to me, Thorin Oakenshield!” I said. “If this hobbit goes with you, you will succeed. If not, you will fail. A foresight is on me, and I am warning you.”

”I know your fame,” Thorin answered. “I hope it is merited. But this foolish business of your hobbit makes me wonder whether it is foresight that is on you, and you are not crazed rather than foreseeing. So many cares may have disordered your wits.”

”They have certainly been enough to do so,” I said. “And among them I find most exasperating a proud Dwarf who seeks advice from me (without claim on me that I know of), and then rewards me with insolence. Go your own ways, Thorin Oakenshield, if you will. But if you flout my advice, you will walk to disaster. And you will get neither counsel nor aid from me again until the Shadow falls on you. And curb your pride and your greed, or you will fall at the end of whatever path you take, though your hands be full of gold.”

He blenched a little at that; but his eyes smouldered. “Do not threaten me!” he said. “I will use my own judgement in this matter, as in all that concerns me.”

”Do so then!” I said. “I can say no more - unless it is this: I do not give my love or trust lightly, Thorin; but I am fond of this hobbit, and wish him well. Treat him well, and you shall have my friendship to the end of your days.”

I said that without hope of persuading him; but I could have said nothing better. Dwarves understand devotion to friends and gratitude to those who help them. “Very well,” Thorin said at last after a silence. “He shall set out with my company, if he dares (which I doubt). But if you insist on burdening me with him, you must come too and look after your darling.”

”Good!” I answered. “I will come, and stay with you as long as I can: at least until you have discovered his worth.”