In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled
with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with
nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means
comfort.
Bilbo saw that morning was an old man with a staff.
He had a tall pointed blue hat, a long grey cloak a silver scarf over which his
long white beard hung down below his waist and immense black boots.
“Good Morning!” he said 😞
