AN OUT-OF-SERVICE REST STOP ON THE HIGHWAY OF DESTINY: BINGO BOLGER-BAGGINS
[In the sitting-room in Bag-end, Gandalf and Bilbo sat back-lit by the fire. Before them stood a young hobbit, eyes a mirror of a crystalline summer sky from when the world was young, obscured only by a pair of thick glasses. Acne covered the porcelain skin of his young face.
"On second thought, Bingo-lad," continued Bilbo, "Gandalf and I were thinking that it might be better if we gave the ring to little Frodo."
The young hobbit looked down despondently at his furry feet, "Then . . . then I have failed you."
"No, no, dear Bingo," Gandalf gave him a quick, reassuring smile, "We were very happy with your work. It's just that we think Frodo would be a better fit . . . a better fit . . . a better fit . . . a better fit . . . . . . . . . . ."]
Bingo Bolger-Baggins woke with a start, as he had done many a time before from the self-same dream. He wished it were only a dream. Drenched in sweat, he looked out the window of his pantry hole in the garden shed of Bag-end. The sun was just touching the trees with a glimmer of gold as the morning mist was rising. In front of his window, he could see an oliphaunt's trunk as it uprooted his delphiniums and nasturtiums and deposited them in its eager mouth. Another day in the Shire was beginning.