The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring

The world is changed.

I feel it in the water.

I feel it in the earth.

I smell it in the air.

Much that once was...

is lost.

For none now live who remember it.

It began with the forging of the Great Rings.

Three were given to the Elves:

Immortal, wisest and fairest of all beings.

Seven to the Dwarf-lords:

Great miners and craftsmen of the mountain halls.

And nine...

nine rings were gifted to the race of Men...

who, above all else, desire power.

For within these rings was bound the strength and will to govern each race.

But they were all of them deceived.

For another ring was made.

In the land of Mordor, in the fires of Mount Doom...

the Dark Lord Sauron forged in secret a Master Ring...

to control all others.

And into this Ring he poured his cruelty, his malice...

and his will to dominate all life.

One Ring to rule them all.

One by one...

the Free Lands of Middle-earth fell to the power of the Ring.

But there were some who resisted.

A Last Alliance of Men and Elves marched against the armies of Mordor.

And on the slopes of Mount Doom, they fought for the freedom of Middle-earth.

Hold positions!

Fire the arrows!

Victory was near.

But the power of the Ring...

could not be undone.

It was in this moment...

when all hope had faded...

that Isildur, son of the king, took up his father's sword.

Sauron, the enemy of the Free Peoples of Middle-earth, was defeated.

The Ring passed to Isildur...

who had this one chance to destroy evil forever.

But the hearts of Men...

are easily corrupted.

And the Ring of Power has a will of its own.

It betrayed Isildur...

to his death.

And some things that should not have been forgotten...

were lost.

History became legend...

legend became myth.

And for two and a half thousand years...

the Ring passed out of all knowledge.

Until, when chance came...

it ensnared a new bearer.

My precious.

The Ring came to the creature Gollum...

who took it deep into the tunnels of the Misty Mountains.

And there it consumed him.

It came to me.

My own. My love. My own.

My precious.

The Ring brought to Gollum unnatural long life.

For 500 years it poisoned his mind.

And in the gloom of Gollum's cave, it waited.

Darkness crept back into the forests of the world.

Rumor grew of a shadow in the East...

whispers of a nameless fear.

And the Ring of Power perceived...

its time had now come.

It abandoned Gollum.

But something happened then the Ring did not intend.

It was picked up by the most unlikely creature imaginable.

What's this?

A Hobbit.

Bilbo Baggins of the Shire.

A ring.

Lost!

My precious is lost!

For the time will soon come...

when Hobbits will shape the fortunes of all.

The 22nd day of September...

in the year 1400...

by Shire-reckoning.

Bag End, Bagshot Row, Hobbiton, Westfarthing...

the Shire...

Middle-earth.

The Third Age of this world.

There and Back Again:

A Hobbit's Tale.

By Bilbo Baggins.

Now...

where to begin?

Ah, yes...

"Concerning...

Hobbits."

Hobbits have been living and farming in the four Farthings of the Shire...

for many hundreds of years...

quite content to ignore and be ignored...

by the world of the Big Folk.

Middle-earth being, after all, full of strange creatures beyond count...

Hobbits must seem of little importance...

being neither renowned as great warriors...

nor counted among the very wise.

Frodo! Someone at the door.

In fact, it has been remarked by some...

that Hobbits' only real passion is for food.

A rather unfair observation...

as we have also developed a keen interest in the brewing of ales...

and the smoking of pipe-weed.

But where our hearts truly lie...

is in peace and quiet...

and good, tilled earth.

For all Hobbits share a love of things that grow.

And, yes, no doubt to others, our ways seem quaint.

But today of all days, it is brought home to me:

It is no bad thing to celebrate a simple life.

Frodo, the door!

Sticklebacks. Where is that boy?

Frodo!

Down from the door where it began

And I must follow if I can

The road goes ever on and on

Down from the door where it began

Now far ahead the road has gone

- And I must follow if I can - You're late.

A wizard is never late, Frodo Baggins.

Nor is he early. He arrives precisely when he means to.

It's wonderful to see you, Gandalf!

You didn't think I'd miss your Uncle Bilbo's birthday?

How is the old rascal?

I hear it's going to be a party of special magnificence.

You know Bilbo. He's got the whole place in an uproar.

Well, that should please him.

Half the Shire's been invited.

And the rest of them are turning up anyway.

And so life in the Shire goes on...

very much as it has this past Age...

full of its own comings and goings, with change coming slowly.

If it comes at all.

For things are made to endure in the Shire...

passing from one generation to the next.

There's always been a Baggins living here under the Hill...

in Bag End.

And there always will be.

To tell you the truth, Bilbo's been a bit odd lately.

I mean, more than usual.

He's taken to locking himself in his study.

He spends hours poring over old maps when he thinks I'm not looking.

Where's it gone?

He's up to something.

- All right, then. Keep your secrets. - What?

But I know you have something to do with it.

Good gracious me.

Before you came along, we Bagginses were very well thought of.

Indeed.

Never had any adventures or did anything unexpected.

If you're referring to the incident with the dragon, I was barely involved.

All I did was give your uncle a little nudge out of the door.

Whatever you did, you've been officially labeled a disturber of the peace.

Oh, really?

Gandalf! Gandalf!

Fireworks, Gandalf!

- Gandalf! - Fireworks, Gandalf!

Gandalf?

- I'm glad you're back. - So am I, dear boy.

So am I.

Whoa, whoa.

No, thank you!

We don't want any more visitors, well-wishers or distant relations!

And what about very old friends?

Gandalf?

- Bilbo Baggins. - My dear Gandalf!

Good to see you. 111 years old! Who would believe it?

You haven't aged a day.

Come on, come in!

Welcome, welcome.

Oh, here we are.

Tea? Or maybe something a little stronger?

I've got a few bottles of the Old Winyard left. 1296.

Very good year. Almost as old as I am.

It was laid down by my father. What say we open one, eh?

Just tea, thank you.

Oh!

I was expecting you sometime last week.

Not that it matters. You come and go as you please. Always have and always will.

You caught me a bit unprepared. We've only got cold chicken and a bit of pickle...

There's some cheese here. No, that won't do.

We've got raspberry jam, an apple tart...

But not much for afters. Oh, no, we're all right.

I've just found some sponge cake.

I could make you some eggs if you'd...

- Just tea, thank you. - Oh, right.

- You don't mind if I eat, do you? - No, not at all.

Bilbo! Bilbo Baggins!

I'm not at home!

It's the Sackville-Bagginses.

- I know you're in there! - They're after the house.

They've never forgiven me for living this long.

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!