A soggy night in the woods

Tolkien sat aways off from the fire under a tree.  He was wrapped in his cloak around himself fend off the cold rain.  Not for the first (nor the last) did het like Bilbo Baggins and longed for a pipeful of tobacco and a warm fire in the grate.  For him it was his office at Oxford or the dark, smoky backroom of the Eagle and Child where he traded stories and new writings with his friends.  His mind snapped back to his present situation.  He was with a party of thirteen dwarves and one hobbit on a mission to win back the dwarves ancestral home.  Here in Other Earth as he had taken to calling this place he found himself dropped into they called him Gandalf and seemed to think he was a wizard of all things.  Since he could not figure out what the mechanism was that brought him here or how to go home he figured the best thing to do was help the dwarves and continue to be 'Gandalf' until he knew more.
Bilbo sat down next to Tolkien and produced a bottle of Old Winyards (an excellent vintage) that bilbo had grabbed on his way out the door from Bag End, his home back in Hobbiton.  Bilbo may have forgotten his kerchiefs on that fine May morning last spring, but he had not left home with out at least a few comforts and this bottle was the last of the wine from home.  The hobbit offered it to Tolkien and said "What troubles you Gandalf?"  It is warmer by the fire and the Dwarves now that they had had a little to eat have taken out their instruments and begun to play.  Tolkien decided in that moment to share his story and all that had happened with Bilbo.  He needed someone to talk to and the diminutive hobbit showed a kind intelligence and honesty so far on the journey, besides he was the other member party pretending to be what he was not because even though he was hired as the group's burglar he was the least likely burglar in the world and that decision had selfishly been Tolkien's nearly six months ago back in the hobbit's hole when the dwarves wandered up to the green door with the yellow nob.  Back then Tolkien thought this all to be a kind of game or maybe a bad pint served up at the Bird and baby in Oxford...

I am writing about the Secret of the Inklings on most days now.  I am writing brief glimpses of the story in little vignettes while I figure out the plot.  These blog posts are a further distillation of a couple of days of writing long hand.  I expect to to post two or three of these little story sketches each week.  So Gentle reader if you are interested in an alternate tale of Middle Earth where Tolkien is actually Gandalf then join me on this quest and we shall see where it leads us.

Carl