In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit

"In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit"

This simple but iconic first line sparks a vivid childhood memory in the minds of many regardless of age. Stories as timeless as the tale of Bilbo the hobbit have won the hearts of entire families with parents who grew up reading them eager to pass down their favourite stories to future generations. My family was certainly no exception.

Growing up stories made up a vital part of our evening. Every night after dinner our lounge room underwent a transformation. Dad would retrieve the well-loved copy of The Hobbit from the bookcase and my siblings and I would huddle round, some on the couch beside him and some resting beside it on the floor. Our trusty space heater sat faithfully beside us sending gusts of warmth to protect us from the freezing cold of the winter night.

Dad's fingers gently skimmed over the yellowed pages worn with years of memories. He had once pored over these pages for the first time many years ago igniting a life-long fascination with the fantasy world of Middle Earth. These pages had been read and reread on countless occasions, and now it was finally time for him to relay this timeless tale to his children.

Over the course of many nights, we listened with captivation as we were transported to the strange but beautiful world of Middle Earth, where Bilbo Baggins pottered about his pleasant little town of Hobbiton only to be swept away on a whirlwind adventure filled with dragons and dwarves and ancient caverns with new surprises around every corner.

I listened to the adventures of Bilbo with an innocent wonder and excitement. We held our breath as Bilbo traversed the perilous tunnels under the mountains, separated from his new dwarf friends with only a tiny glowing blade to defend himself. We pondered with him as he met in a dangerous game of wits against the treacherous Gollum as they exchanged their riddles in the dark. We rolled our eyes when Bilbo would constantly complain at every discomfort and hardship of his journey, wishing only for a comforting meal in the warmth of his little hobbit hole.

But every night Bilbo's stories would come to an end. We would be left in suspense as the chapter came to a close and the book would snap shut, signalling us to reluctantly drag ourselves to bed. I would sometime lay awake wishing that I too could be taken on a marvellous adventure by a mysterious wizard and a pack of dwarves across a magical land with a mountain full of treasure waiting at the end. I certainly wouldn't be like grumpy Bilbo who only wants to sit in his house and eat cake all day.

Now many years later I wonder if Bilbo and I have more in common than I thought, and that whether I too would grumble and groan if a wizard dented my own door with his staff and whether I too would drag my feet grudgingly out of the warm comforts of home. I wonder if the thirst for adventure is something that everyone grows out of as childhood becomes but a memory?

I think the reason why the Hobbit still remains relevant to me nearly 100 years after its publication is how I see Bilbo in myself. Bilbo wasn't brave or spectacular in any way, he loved his comfortable home and was content with his simple and repetitive lifestyle. Yet when he was put up to the challenge, he found himself capable of feats he never would have imagined. He was never particularly strong, yet he outwitted a treasure hungry dragon with only the help of his handy magic ring. Yes it is true he still complained and wished that he had never left Bag End from time to time, but he returned home with a new vitality to his life and a spark of adventure in his eyes.

In years to come I hope to see that same spark of adventure in the eyes of my own children or the children of my siblings as the story of Bilbo Baggins captivates young and old alike. I may never embark on an epic quest or befriend dwarves and wizards, but I hope that some day, perhaps adventure may put a dent in my own front door.