My Dear Bilbo,

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. Estella Took loved the comfort of her home. The smell, the sounds. But something was always missing. She was a Took after all. She had the need for adventure in her blood. The stories she has read by her fireplace have twisted her mind and she often daydreamed of adventures of her own. Little did she know that on her 35th birthday, she would get exactly what she always dreamed of.