The LotRized Hobbit
One evening when Bilbo was in his Tweens he was out on one of his walks, and late in the day, he became so engrossed in watching two conies in the process of making more conies on a hillside that he quite lost track of time. Nightfall fell – which it tends to do, whether tautologically or not - and our Bilbo decided he would not reach Bag End safely in the dark, for there was a rumour that the Necromancer’s dark spies were in the area. (Mind you, it was only a rumour!) And so, as Bilbo had an old and faded dwarf cloak in his handbag (he had burgled it from a troop of travelling dwarf musicians that he only later got to know - but more of that later), he decided to sleep under the stars. He found a copse of trees with a leafy floor and he made camp in a spot overlooking the road east of Hobbiton.
In the middle of the night, Bilbo was awoken by joyous sad exquisite singing. It was that particularly lovely singing which you only ever hear on quiet country roads in the middle of nowhere in autumn or high summer. Bilbo sat up and wiped his eyes. Along the road he saw a beautiful elf walking. Well, not so much walking, but gliding. She was not only the most beautiful elf he had ever seen, but she was the only elf he had ever seen, and her shimmering beauty set her apart from all the others he had never seen. He was so enraptured by her (or entranced, he wasn’t sure which when he thought about it later), that he cried out in fluent Elvish, “Hey, Lovely Lady, don’t just walk (or glide) on by, with nary a glance at me, and pretending you can't come sit with me on these comfy leaves and so forth! Of course you can! Have I not left this spot between me and that fallen pinecone to sitteth your loveliness upon? It is only a small gap, but surely it is squeezeworthy. Anyway, what else is there to do out here in the middle of nowhere when the Evenstar is shining?”
The Elvish Lady let out a tinkering laugh (not a jolly laugh, as that would be unbecoming for an elf), and she straightaway glided up under the trees and sat with him for a nary while. It was as if she had heard his cry and was responding to it. Indeed, she was very kind to him, for she ended up sitting with him for a longer-than-usual nary while. Meanwhile the Evenstar cast her ethereal light upon the mortal world and an unknown amount of time passed, for time (especially Elvish time) was quite different in those far off days.
“I have a small flask of beer, would you like some?” asked our Bilbo (using the Sindarin Elvish) after a nary time.
“I’ve never sculled such a liquid,” answered the gorgeous Elvish Lady in a voice that could melt hearts and launch ships and make Catholic Priests ponder their celibacy. (Of course, I can only give a vague translation of the Elvish she used, and I realize her words can’t sound ever so pretty in English, but I can assure you they sounded really elegant and sensual in Elvish).
So anyhow the Lady had a good smidgin from Bilbo’s flask. After a moment, she sighed. “Oh, I feel a slight tingle in a part of my beautiful body, but the tingle is not in that part of my beautiful body that a man has got, but in that part of a (real) woman that a (real) woman has got, for it is in the part that in a man is missing, whether now or in time immemorial (I include herein, Elvish time, dear Bilbo, if truly that be your name) Nor is that tingle in that part of me that is the end of my finger.” And she smiled at him with eyes agleam like amethysts and diamonds and carbuncles (quite suggestively, in fact).
Bilbo smiled shyly and took a swig too. “Oh I see what you mean, for I too feel a tingly sensation in a certain part of me, which is truly that part that a (real) Lady does not possess, and I assume here that Elvish Ladies are conformed generally after the same fashion that hobbit ladies are. Nor is it in the part which is that part that is the end of my finger, though the part I refer to might verily be thought of as ‘finger-like’ if it is glanced briefly in a dim light on the occasion of me having happy thoughts whilst watching certain hobbit lasses skinny dipping in The Water, though not the ugly ones.”
And they laughed at that, and their night passed both serenely and energetically – and somewhat warmly too. Bilbo woke in the morning with a root in his back and a certain part of his body very chafed and sore, but it was not that part that was the end of his finger.
Bilbo then mulled over things as he blinked in the morning sun. He wondered if after all, last night had been nothing more than a big marvelous sweaty dream. Mind you, his palms were not the least bit chafed and sore, as one might expect, if indeed that part of his body (that was not that part of his body that was the end of his finger) had been worked vigorously all through the night (asleep or otherwise). Anyway, the Elvish Lady had mysteriously vanished, not even the end of her finger remained; though she may have just wandered off while he was sleeping - that sleep having been a long deep sleep full of contentment...
Bilbo never found out that the Elvish Lady was a mighty Princess with Maian blood who sometime later bore his child. The truth was, Bilbo had not dreamed the events of that night. They had really happened (and it had been absolutely great!) It was merely a coincidence that it had happened exactly like it had happened in a certain dream he was want to have on a regular basis - indeed, most every night. Remarkably, it was the selfsame dream that many other hobbit lads (and hobbit lasses of a certain persuasion) had been having since time immemorial! (Bilbo, in fact, had had what we now know as a “right-royal-nocturnal-session” - though this sounds far more elegant when you say it in Elvish).
Anyhow, the Elvish Lady subsequently (after deep reflection) named the newborn child ‘Smeagol’. This translates as “Little Elf-like-Hobbit”, but only after passing it down through Sindaran into Westron and so on into English, and using quite a slab of poetic license as well....