Bilbo's Memory: The Not-So-Secret-Fire-Works of Gandalf
- Miriam Ellis
- 1 hour ago
- 4 min read
The wandering wizard of hobbit legend can cause a glowing tower of smoke to rain biting sparks in a goblin cavern, set pinecones alight in treetops, and strike a light at the end of his staff in a darksome mine, but it's through the beauty of his flowery pyrotechnics that he glimmers in Bilbo's faulty memory. We hear in the opening pages of The Hobbit that Mr. Baggins' recollection is so unreliable that he has to write things down in his Engagement Tablet, yet in the dooryard on The Hill, one of his memories is brilliantly clear:
"Not the man that used to make such particularly excellent fireworks! I remember those! Old Took used to have them on Midsummer's Eve. Splendid! They used to go up like great lilies and snapdragons and laburnums of fire and hang in the twilight all evening!"
It so happens that the descriptions of Gandalf's fireworks form some of my own warmest memories from my father's first readings to me of J.R.R. Tolkien's The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. In my own corner of Middle-earth these days, we can no longer have fireworks due to climate change-caused drought and the distress experienced by our animal neighbors, but I adored them as a little girl. Holding a sparkler or watching the lighting of a marvel called "Butterfly and Flowers," I felt I was somehow accessing Gandalf's array of dwarf-candles and elf-fountains. I couldn't resist the opportunity to attempt depiction of what Bilbo must have remembered from his own youth.
Here, we are in S.R. 1301, and the Old Took is eleventy-one, seated in state in the laburnum-covered porch of Great Smials with his wife, Adamanta, at Midsummer. Haven't you always wished to know more about the couple's three remarkable daughters? Here, at least, you can catch a glimpse of them gathered dotingly around their honored father. Bilbo's mother, Belladonna, aged 49, stands at left next to her sisters, Donnamira and Mirabella, the latter of whom will become Frodo's grandmother. Bilbo's father, Bungo, whom he is said to closely resemble, sits on the edge of the porch, eyeing the spectacle with a mixture of enjoyment and reserve. The crowd is made up of various Tooks and perhaps some Chubbs, Brandybucks, and Bolgers as well are clustered here in the dooryard of the great dwelling, with its window lights going up and up into the hills.
I savored trying to imagine Old Took smoking his pipe and sporting his magic diamond studs, but the star of this Tookland stage is most assuredly the mysterious old rover who had been taking a special interest in hobbits at least as far back as his rescue of them during the Long Winter of S.R. 1158. Even the head of this clan isn't aged enough to remember that dreadful season of dearth, but in ways that we'll never fully know, Gandalf had become both an established figure in Shire lore and enough of a trusted friend to certain chosen hobbits to be a guest and entertainer at their celebrations. Just as he will one day do at Bilbo's eleventy-first birthday party, here we see Gandalf at his most delightful, sending up fountains of glittering butterflies to sail into shimmering, blossoming trees. It is splendid!
In his excitement, 11-year-old Bilbo Baggins has dashed out into the garden with tiny 7-year-old Drogo, who will one day grow up to become the father of Frodo. In a kind of answer to the awesome lights kindled by the servant of the Secret Fire, the hobbit lads sparkle back at him. It is an echo of my imagining of the Long Winter in which something in the good light of Gandalf calls to the goodness of the Little Folk.
Nearly forty years after this unfaded scene from Bilbo's memory, the staid hobbit finds his heart unexpectedly rekindled by Gandalf and the thought of a little excitement. Mr. Baggins may appear utterly settled in bachelor comfort in the luxurious smial Bungo built, but as we know, Tookishness is about to be ignited. Perhaps having a grandfather who invites wizards to set off rockets in the garden without worrying that they will set fire to the roof is a goodly heritage. Perhaps a spark of it all even remained in Drogo's mind to be passed on to Frodo for his courage.
As for Gandalf, his reply to Bilbo's effusions is rather touching:
"You seem to remember my fireworks, at any rate, and that is not without hope. Indeed, for your grandfather Took's sake, and for the sake of poor Belladonna, I will give you what you have asked for."
By the time the Maia Olórin is standing in the garden of Bag End as Gandalf trying to hire a burglar for a party of difficult dwarves, he has been wandering in Middle-earth for nearly two thousand years. He knows he's been sent because something catastrophic is going to happen at some unspecified point in time. In imagining this as his harrowing assignment, our hearts can be warmed to know he found comfort in the company of hobbits. He is pleased to know that someone thinks kindly of his fireworks, and he mourns the passing of small friends he has made in his care for the Shire. These are empathetic, loving qualities that make Gandalf not just a figure of majesty, but one of consolation.
Little by little, I am working to capture scenes from hobbit history and culture that create the charm and remarkable nature of their kindred. We are like Bilbo when certain things from Tolkien's masterpieces remain bright in our memories year after year.
I hope you will enjoy this video short, and the chance to imagine the open, beautiful displays of light and fire from the keeper of Narya, long, long ago, when Mr. Baggins was just a little lad dressed up for Midsummer, and he was running about hand-in-hand with his small cousin Drogo in the kindly company of a Maia.
