For a Wizard whose errands took him all over Middle-earth, the sleepy hills and quiet hamlets of the Shire were a sanctuary. Strolling between verdant hedgerows and bursting gardens, Gandalf the Grey enjoyed the company of the Hobbits living there: a gentle people of naïve eccentricities, and makers of the finest pipe weed in all the lands. On a fine evening Gandalf might be found sitting outside Bag End with Bilbo or Frodo Baggins, pipes in hand, blowing smoke rings which the Wizard brought to life with subtle magic. Beyond the Shire’s borders Gandalf’s long-stemmed pipe and tamper traveled with him, perched in the crown of his staff. The scent was a reminder in times of darkness or peril of the peaceful, green land and his friends, far to the west: the closest thing to a home the Grey Pilgrim had.