I was scrolling through Facebook recently, feeling a little guilty about wasting time, when something totally different from the posts of dogs behaving badly and images of people's lunch stopped me. I don't normally feel I've missed out, but here were images of Hobbit Day on 22nd September, the birthday of Bilbo and Frodo Baggins in J. R. R. Tolkien's novels. People dressed as hobbits and took part in a daylong party with music, food, dancing and probably Gandalf's fireworks to round off the celebration. How could this have happened without me knowing about it in advance?

The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings filled my imagination when I first read them as a teenager to the extent that I would have the latter open under my desk at work. Initially, it was appealing to imagine myself to be a beautiful immortal elf, or to be an action hero who knows all the ways of the wilderness like Aragorn. Dwarves and warriors or horse-lords have their appeal too: strong, loyal, expert fighters. 

Yet when it comes to it, being one of these characters would be rather uncomfortable in reality. Being a skilled fighter takes too much practice and exercise; wandering in the wilderness means camping in the cold, being bitten by insects and going hungry. Even being an elf has drawbacks. Who fancies being on their best behaviour all the time, or would you occasionally want to loosen your belt after a big meal, or have a lie-in? Does any elf ever really relax?

It's Bilbo and Frodo who readers identify with; the beings that are like everyday people, but who find extraordinary courage and selflessness when they need it. The passages in the books where the hobbits get together for a party, a mug of ale or even for second breakfast provide a safe place where the reader can relax along with them. They show what the characters are struggling to protect and make the dangerous passages more tense.

Many writers use a similar contrast to heighten the emotions of their readers, whether to plunge them into fear and loss at the beginning, or to bring relief and resolution at the end. Charles Dickens was particularly good at it, for example in A Christmas Carol where seeing his relatives celebrating together is a final step in making Ebenezer Scrooge mend his ways. In plot terms, this is part of Freytag's Pyramid of exposition, rising action, climax, falling action and resolution.

It might be a midnight feast at a boarding school or a rabbit stew cooked in the woods, but sharing food with friends gives us a sense of belonging and makes us care about those we share it with, whether they are relatives or characters in books.

Personally, I'm more of a hobbit than an elf or a warrior. I'd far rather be sitting on a cosy sofa with a cup of coffee and a biccy reading or writing about an epic quest than going on one. So, if the weather's bad, that's where you'll find me on Hobbit Day next year.