NOT QUITE THERE YET: The Memoirs of Bingo Bolger-Baggins, the Bastard of Bagshot Row
[Bingo Bolger-Baggins walked briskly along Bagshot Row under a star-laced sky. He opened the gate in front of Bag-end, climbed the flower-lined steps, and continued along the path that led behind the smial to the old shed at the back of the garden. Lighting a lantern, Bingo entered the shed. Smiling wistfully as he gazed upon the garden tools lining the walls, he strode to the back wall,and gingerly moved aside a wheel-barrow and some shovels to uncover a small door. He took out his handkerchief and, wiping the grime and dirt from a plack upon the door, revealed the inscription: "The Residence of Bingo Bolger-Baggins, Esqr." Bingo unlocked the door and closed it softly behind him.]
It seems like ages since I've been home. And what a luxury to sit alone and write! I may stay in here for weeks--yes, the fridge is working and still stocked full of Green Dragon Inn frozen entrees---how lovely--I can! Maybe I'll even get time to brush up on my Quenya--and those finer points of Sindarin grammar that got me in trouble last year--don't ask.
I've had all the lobbying work I could stand for a while--but what Trotter and I accomplished in Gondor was indeed worthwhile, I should think. There'll be no Golden Arches gracing the sky-line of Bree now, thank you very much. And there's the end of all Ted Sandyman's plans for the Woody End. I have half a mind to decline my re-election to co-chair the Eriador chapter of DOMEACE and just rest, but Trotter would have my head, I'm sure, if I left him with all the work. Dear Trotter. My love and respect for King Elessar will never waiver, yet it still rankles a bit that a rightful hobbit would never be granted the mantel of Kingship. Trotter was born to be a king! But then, that's why the creation of HADL is so very important.
Blessed solitude, when I'm ready to hand you over I suppose I should first go up to the house and congratulate the newly weds. Dear "cousin" Frodo--it will be good to see him, but I wonder if he is yet ready to acknowledge that we are more than cousins? I can't blame him though for not wanting to accept that his mother had a lover before she married his father--especially when that lover was the infamous Rollo Bolger. A connection I surely would not want to acknowledge if I could have done otherwise--alas. And dearest Samwise--or I should say, Mayor Samwise--I am so proud of him! I wonder how it will be seeing him again. I wonder if I should have come back? Well there's nothing for it now. And my wonderful bed is calling--and how no bed can call like a Shire-made bed! How long has it been since I've slept in a proper, hobbit-sized bed? I shan't keep it waiting a moment longer.