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 to sit down on, or to eat. It was a hobbit hole, and that means comfort.
It had a perfectly round door like a port-hole, painted green with a shiny yellow brass knob in the exact middle. The opened on to a tube-shaped hall like a tunnel, a very comfortable tunnel without smoke, with paneled walls, and floors, tiled and carpeted. Provided with polished chairs and lots and lots of pegs for hats and coats; the hobbit was fond of visitors.
That's from memory, and I could go on, but you get the idea, the Hobbit is written like a kind of beautifully literary bedtime story, or tale to tell by the fire. Its communal message of love and courage brings people together, and fills them with a sense of community, and love for their fellow man. Few things can calm the soul as Tolkien's soothing words drifting across your ears and through your minds, filling them with sounds and images of rolling hills, and green grass, and children playing in the meadows. But it can also can show the hardships of life, and in that way is a comfort as well, a story to tell as you huddle together for company with a frightened 5-year old during a thunderstorm. Then watching their fear slowly disappearing as her emotions drift from the room to the story, and she feels and sees what Bilbo sees, and immerses herself in the beautiful comfort of Tolkien's world.
This is my favorite quote: "Going on from there was the bravest thing he ever did"