Mr. Gandalf walked slowly down the hallway of Middle Earth High after finishing his conversation with Frank. He finally stopped at a classroom door and knocked on it three times with his walking stick.
“No thank you!” a voice called from inside. “I don’t want anymore visitors, be they students or former students!”
“And what about very old friends?”
The door slowly opened to reveal a man somewhat on the short side, in comarasion to to the History teacher standing before him. “Mr. Gandalf?” he spoke in disbelief.
“Mr. Bilbo!” was the reply. The two embraced each other warmly, glad to be in each other’s company once more.
“Good to see you, good to see you. Sixty-seven years old, who would believe it? You haven’t aged a day!” Mr. Gandalf looked fondly at his old friend.
“Come on in. Welcome, welcome!” Mr. Bilbo rushed Mr. Gandalf inside. “Would you like some tea? Or maybe something a bit stronger. I’ve got a few bottles of vodka left. 1975 – very good year. What do you say open one, huh?”
Mr. Gandalf looked shocked. “Mr. Bilbo! Here in school?”
The English teacher looked flustered and a bit red in the face. “Oh . . . oh no, of course not!” he laughed nervously. “N-no, not here, at home. I meant at home.”
Mr. Gandalf nodded at his friend knowingly. “Yes, I bet you did. Just tea, thank you.”
As Mr. Bilbo put the tea on, he hastily changed the subject. “I was expectiing you back last week! Not that it matters, you come and go as you please. Always have, always will. It’s amazing you haven’t been fired yet, what with all the substitutes the school has to provide. I can make you some eggs if you like. . . Mr. Gandalf?”
Mr. Gandalf was wandering around the room, looking at all the pictures of faraway places on the classroom walls. “Just tea, thank you.”
“All right.”
Just then, a knock was heard on the door. “Mr. Bilbo!” called Laura, one of his students. Mr. Bilbo groaned, and made a motion to Gandalf. “I’m not here!” he hissed. When she had left, he sighed. “I’ve got to get away from these confunded students! They never give me a moment’s peace. Iwant to see the mountains again, and find someplace quiet to finish my book. a high school is no place to do that; I should have realized it earlier.
Mr. Gandalf waited a moment before speaking. “So you mean to go through with it then.”
“Yes, yes, it’s all been settled. All the arrangements are made.” Mr. Bilbo handed his friend the tea kettle.
“Frank suspects something.” Mr. Gandalf noted as he took a small sip of the tea.
Mr. Bilbo snorted. “Well, of course he does. He’s in you’re eighth period, after all. Not some block-headed idiot from third.” (NOTE: I am in third period history 😉 )
“You will tell him, won’t you?”
“Yes, yes, I will, I will.”
“He’s very fond of you, Mr. Bilbo.” added Mr. Gandalf thoughtfully.
Mr. Bilbo sighed again. “I know. He’d probably come with me if he could, but I doubt the orphanage will let him, the way they are with kids these days. And I think in his heart Frank still loves being a Freshman. The students, the teachers. . . he rarely complains about the cafeteria food! But I’m old, Mr. Gandalf. I feel. . streched, like a student who is trying to cram a whole weeks worth of studying into one night. I need a holiday, and I don’t expect I shall return.” The pair walk over to the window, looking out at the school grounds. “Mr. Gandalf, my friend! This will be a night to remember!”
Mr. Gandalf looked at him quizzically. “We’re watching A Night to Remember at the Party?”