After my last post on Twitter a few days ago (which, for this blog, was incredibly popular, thanks to my three followers on Twitter who actually read it) you may be trying to imagine how my mind has moved on to Hobbits. Do yourself a favor and stop trying. I actually could explain it, but you would either be bored to tears or contact my husband to encourage him to take me somewhere for a mental evaluation. That would be a waste of time. He knows I’m crazy, but thankfully he prefers my brand of crazy to any other kind.
Now, on to Bilbo for a moment. Bilbo is a delightful little Hobbit. He’s crafty, creative, can talk his way out of just about any situation, but when talking fails, he’s handy in a fight. When compared to Frodo, it’s not surprising that we tend to like him better. We sympathize with Frodo, we admire Frodo, we applaud Frodo, or perhaps we criticize Frodo, but we like Bilbo. He’d be much more fun to have a conversation with, I think. There’s all this drama that surrounds poor Frodo. All Bilbo had to do was sneak into a dragon’s lair and steal something. Saving the world was not on the agenda for his adventure, so he could come home relatively unscathed. Frodo came home broken. Bilbo’s story is fun. Frodo’s is epic, with all the triumph and tragedy that tends to go along with epic heroes.
Feel free to comment with all your anti-Frodo feelings here. He’s not a real person. He won’t be offended.