In which I make the questionable decision that reading (and writing about) every scrap of throwaway parchment Tolkien ever scribbled on is not enough to occupy my time.

( No, wait, hear me out ... )

In which Bilbo is presumed dead, Gandalf spills the beans (finally), and it all comes down to a jar of tobacco.

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In which Bilbo refuses an even bigger fortune, Beorn shocks his animal companions by taking in house-guests, and Thorin breathes his last.

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In which Thorin summarily convicts Bilbo of treason, the goblins conveniently turn up in time to stop a disastrous war between our protagonists, and the Eagles are cruelly snubbed.

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In which Bombur is tempted by slumber, Gandalf looks in on the fruits of his labour, and Bilbo applies some good old-fashioned hobbit-sense to sort this mess out.

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In which Bard and his allies demand their due, the dwarves dig in, and Bilbo disapproves of everything.

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In which Smaug succumbs to battle rage, Bard explodes onto the scene, and the Master of Esgaroth gives a lesson in political manoeuvring.

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In which Bilbo pockets a priceless jewel, Thorin puts the cart before the horse, and Smaug is dead, but no one knows it.

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In which Thorin single-handedly prevents mass panic, a mostly innocent Lake-town is implicated in a nefarious conspiracy, and Bilbo faces Smaug in round two of the 2941 All-Middle-earth Riddling Championships after a strong performance against Gollum in round one.

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In which Bombur chooses comfort over safety, the Lonely Mountain decides that doorsteps are the next step in mountain evolution, and Bilbo is inspired by a thrush.

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