I am an old hobbit now. The hair on my feet is long and grey, and I have had many adventures throughout the years, but here is a tale I have never told.

I was 31 years old that fall, and had left my home to travel to the famed country of Rohan, and to seek my fortune. I had bought a horse in Bree, and had traveled for months, buying and trading for what supplies I needed. Now I was riding slowly through the forests of Lorien, long since abandoned by the elves, but still quietly magnificent…

…My stomach grumbled as I pulled my cloak closer around me. I decided to rest and eat.

"Whoa boy" I muttered to the horse, dismounting and tying him to a tree. Plopping myself down beside the worn dirt road, I commenced to eat some of the bread the dwarves had sold me. It was three weeks old. I picked out the moldy bits and tossed them to my horse, who was glad for something to eat. No grass grew in the forest. Only trees, moss, some native plants, and ivy, which had twined itself through the branches of the bare trees, making a lacy pattern against the grey sky. Finished, I stood, and brushed the crumbs from my breeches.

I rode on for a few minutes, then stopped, sure that I had seen something from the corner of my eye. I turned. Then I saw her. A woman, asleep under a tree. It must have been wider than I was tall, and higher than any other tree in the forest. The woman's face was serene, yet sad. She looked old, but was very beautiful. Her long silver hair fell in waves about her shoulders, and she wore a tattered mourning cloak that billowed eerily. Once it had been regal, I was sure, but now its black was faded to a dark grey.

I wondered why she was alone and sleeping in the woods. Dried leaves rustled and blew across the path. Was she a sorceress? No. Such things did not exist. I finally decided to wake her. She could travel with me to Rohan.

Davy Longfoot I told myself, She probably has family who've been searching for her for years. You surely can't just leave her here. Perhaps you'll be given a great reward for finding her, and you'll live like a prince. You'll be rich… My mind spun, inventing impossible fairy tales. You'll be rich. You'll live in a palace, and marry a princess, and eat twenty meals a day, more food than any hobbit's ever eaten! You'll grow old and fat, and have ten children who will eat apples and ride horses through the meadows… I sighed, blissful, and shook the woman's shoulder gently.

"Madame, Madame"

I tapped her hand. And screamed. It was cold. This woman was…dead! Ashen, I remounted, and rode away like lighting, trying to forget.

THE END

(maybe)