In a hole in the ground there lived a hobbit. Not a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with the ends of worms and an oozy smell, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy hole with nothing in it to sit down on or to eat: it was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort. You are this Hobbit who lives in the merry state of The Shire. You are sat on your bed, mulling over the trials the day may show you. Before long however you are clothed and ready to take on yet another lovely day