“Nassty, tricksy Hobbitses!” the creature with the bulbous eyes hissed. “It takes our Precious! We must find him and get it back! Gollum!”
Bilbo woke with a start, realizing he was sweating heavily. Outside the open window a persistent wind gusted through the garden, now coming from the daylilies, and now from the compost pile. He wiped his brow with the back of his hand.
“I need a hot bath. That will do the trick!” he promised himself.
But he knew the dream awaited him, only needing for him to doze off for it to claw at him once more.