He had been having a recurring dream. Not a nightmare, but a dream. It was peculiar, and never ceased to cause him to awaken with confusion as he sipped at his morning tea and ate his bit of bread.

The girl, rather the woman in the dream was not someone he had recognized. Her dark hair had flashes of red when the light hit it, but otherwise appeared to be a dark, plain brown. It fell in mysterious waves with a slight curl, which added to the confusion because he had never seen someone's hair fall in such a way, especially when it was released from a tight, tight knot atop her head that made it appear straight.

Her skin would never be described as fair, however the woman was quite pretty, however the olive color was anything but without flaw. A small, faintly pink scar was on her cheek in a line with a tinny curve, which was peculiar, along with a few freckles that were dotted under her eyes.

Oh and her eyes. As if he could forget them.

They were gray, a hardened color. A cloudy color. They were not bright and full of life, nor were they dead. They were solid though, as if nothing could break through her, despite her small frame overall. Her eyes conveyed a kind of toughness that was nothing less than intriguing. He was captivated by this mysterious lass whom had just begun appearing in his dreams.

However, the dream itself was also very perplexing. It was dark, very dark, but then this woman appeared before him, standing, as far as he could assume. No matter how hard he tried to speak, no words would escape his lips. In fact, he couldn't move either, or see himself. It was as if he didn't exist in this dream except for as an audience for this confusing happenstance.

The woman's hair would fall out of it's knot, a light shining in on her, before she would roll her eyes without saying a word before she would slowly fade out and then he would be alone in the darkness…

Then he would wake up.

The sun was shining high in the sky of Hobbiton. Children were playing, helping clogging the paths for the townfolk who were busy working. Among those working, Samwise Gamgee was gardening away around the area of Bag End, making the area look like it were blooming with more and more life by the day. Frodo liked to be left alone during tea time these days, which Sam respected, however he couldn't help but worry about his dear friend.

Nearby, a small hobbit girl was running through the fields, playing with imaginary other children that she tried to create in her mind. Her honey blond curls bounced with her movements as her dress fluttered about her. The young girl's laughter could be heard, which emanated a smile from Sam as he recalled his younger years when he was just as carefree as the Shire children.

The girl let out a squeal in surprise as a bird, a rather large one in her bright green eyes, flew from one of the trees, startling her. Her hobbit feet carried her as she broke into a sprint towards the path in front of Bag End, as she had concluded that she should rush home to tell of the large bird. However, she lost her footing causing her to tumble to the ground, ripping the hem of her dress along with scraping open her knees.

The sight of her own blood made the young lass whimper, which drew the attention of Samwise who was within earshot. Seeing the girl as she burst into tears, he abandoned his gardening to check on her.

"Are you alright?" he asked, before noticing her scraped knees, "Did you slip and hurt yourself while you were playing?" Concern washed over his features.

She nodded slowly, trying to wipe the tears from her face with her dirt covered hands, which only drew some dirt to add to her already dusty looking appearance. Playing outside since the morning often did that to children, and Sam wondered where the girl's mother or father was, since most of the children were well supervised.

"Here," he said, picking her up rather swiftly, "Let's get you inside and clean up those scrapes, alright?"

The girl nodded again as Samwise slowly opened the door to Bag End and entered, "Mr. Frodo!" he called, "You still have bandages right?"

"What happened?" his voice called out before he entered the living space to see the small blond lass sitting on one of the seats, her dress' hem ripped and knees covered in a bit of dirt and blood.

"She was running down the path and slipped and fell," Samwise explained, "I thought we could get her knees bandaged before taking her home."

Frodo nodded, before going and fetching the bandages as Sam washed the wounds. The girl was very quiet as she sat and got taken care of, Frodo noted, as he bandaged up her knees for her.

Frodo then insisted, "Sam, you go finish up your work. I'll take her home."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes," he nodded, "Now go."

As Sam left to go tend to the garden before Frodo then turned to the small girl, "Now let's get you back to your mother."

The two began to walk in silence before the young girl spoke for the first time in front of Frodo, "My mother is dead. I live with my auntie."

Frodo found a lump forming in his throat to that, recalling how touchy of a subject his parents were when he was younger, and could only imagine that this girl probably felt the same way, though she made no indications of feeling the same.

"It's okay though," she said softly, with a big grin, "Auntie is very nice. Lonely, but very nice. She's sad a lot of the time. She doesn't think I know, but I do."

"Why is your aunt sad?" Frodo inquired and the girl's response caused his face to harden.

"I think she misses my mommy."

The remainder of the walk was in silence as the girl hopped a bit to keep ahead of Frodo. They arrived at her hole, the door a dark blue color and the area surrounding the house was plain. Green, but plain.

"Auntie, I'm home!" the young girl called opening the hobbit hole door in a sweeping motion, sounding chip.

"Pashmina, where were you?" A voice demanded before Frodo found his breath hitch and his heart began to pound when the speaker entered his line of view. It was the lass from his dreams, however she looked much more exhausted than in his dreams, also seemed much more irritated, "I told you not to wander far."

"I'm sorry," she apologized sheepishly, "I didn't mean to. I was just having so much fun…and then I slipped and fell in front of this nice man's house."

The woman's gaze shifted from Pashmina, the young girl directly to Frodo, "Go clean up, Mina. Did you rip your dress?" she sighed, "I'm so sorry if she bothered you. She's far too much like her mother."

"She wasn't a bother," he spoke, "Accidents happen."

"Oh, yes, but she shouldn't have gone so far, but thank you for taking care of her," the woman sighed, "Where are my manners? My name is Tricollete….Tricollete Gingko. That little terror is Pashmina…Would you like some tea? It should be ready now…"

"I'm Frodo…Frodo Baggins. And tea would be quite wonderful."

"Okay," she murmured, "Follow me, I'll take you to the living area."

As he followed her through her hole, he realized that it was not incredibly homey as he would expect as most of the picture frames were lying flat against the shelf so the pictures couldn't be viewed, and the decorations themselves weren't pronouncing a homey feel either (except for with Pashmina's room that they could easily see from the living area with the door wide opened and it was decorated with bright pictures and colors). The other bedroom, Frodo assumed, was behind the closed door attached to the living area which had a deep purple and blue theme to all of the furniture. Tricollete invited him to have a seat while she went to go grab the tea, allowing his bright blue eyes to look about the hold curiously.

Books lined the shelves that didn't contain turned over picture frames, and Frodo found himself wondering what could have caused her to turn over the frames, but he figured it would be too rude to ask of the lass whom he had only met for a few moments.

Tricollete returned with the tea, and she sat down slowly on the couch beside him.

"Have you always lived in Hobbiton?" Frodo inquired, not recognizing the name, nor the face of this female and Bilbo had invited practically the whole Shire, especially those from Hobbiton to his one hundred and eleventh birthday.

"No," she answered smoothly, almost hesitantly, which sparked Frodo's curiosity further as the lovely lady's gray eyed gaze dropped to the floor, "We've been here close to three weeks now."

"Where did you come from before?" he had hoped that he could never find the limit of questions this girl would answer, for Frodo was inconceivably intrigued by the female.

"Buckland area," her answer was blunt, yet only gave him a region of where she was from as opposed to an actual location.

"Why did you move to Hobbiton?"

"Why all the questions?" she asked coldly, which was a response that he was not expecting. Her body language seemed to communicate that she was locking down as she crossed her arms over her chest.

"Sorry," he stammered, "I was just…It's small talk."

"Small talk," she repeated, "Doesn't that involve getting to know both parties and not just one?"

"Is this your way of asking about me?" Frodo inquired and Tricollete sipped at her tea.

"Perhaps."

"