Amelie Johnson

From a beautifully misty autumn equinox here in the Midwest, I wish you a very merry Hobbit Day, my friends.

It’s lovely that the first official day of autumn falls on the birthday of our beloved Bagginses. Coziness and wanderlust flavor the season, just as they do at the beginning of The Lord of the Rings, and it feels like the cusp of an adventure that always carries the hope of homecoming.

This weekend, The Fellowship of the Ring filled the television in my house. Under warm lamplight and fuzzy blankets, I watched hobbits festoon the Shire for Bilbo’s eleventy-first birthday. Bilbo clutched and then rejected the Ring. Men, an Elf, a Dwarf, a wizard, and four Hobbits crested a mountain (indeed the most epic walking-past-a-rock scene in cinematic history). Frodo set off for Mordor alone—and Sam plunged into the river after him.

Bilbo and Frodo’s birthday is the spark for this journey.

Perseverance. Nobility. Bonds of fellowship. Temptation and triumph. Life lived. Light and hope shattering the Shadow and every nameless fear.

The Lord of the Rings is a tale that really matters. Every year—multiple times a year but especially on Hobbit Day—I attempt and feel like I fail to describe how meaningful the tale is.

And once again, I’ll let the Professor speak for himself.

I’m grateful he battled his own fears so this story could reach publication, and eventually the silver screen.

Happy birthday, Bilbo and Frodo.

Thank you, Professor Tolkien. I look forward to laughing together someday in the place called heaven where the good is completed and the stories continue.

🎂🍁🎆

How are you commemorating this occasion, friends? (Tonight, I’m hoping to curl up with tea and biscuits and honey and embark on a Two Towers rewatch.) Do you have any Hobbit Day traditions, or any traditions you’d love to begin?