A/N: This story is primarily Movieverse, with the addition of 'The Scouring of the Shire' and some of the other hobbit characters mentioned in the books. Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin have returned to their beloved home to find that it has entirely changed in their absence. Ruffians rule it and a mysterious individual named 'Sharkey' has taken control. Farmer Cotton meets up with them and offers that they all stay with him while they figure out a way to deal with the situation.

Rating: T for violence and adult themes.

Pairings: Sam/Rosie, Frodo/Rosie, Meriadoc/Estella, Peregrin/Diamond

Disclaimer: I do not own this brilliant universe or its characters. They all belong entirely to J.R.R. Tolkien and the interpretative genius of Peter Jackson. In the first few, preliminary chapters, I use some direct quotes from the book.

Chapter I Notes: *The Cotton family: Tolman (Farmer Cotton, Tom), Lily Cotton (wife), Young Tom, Rose, Jolly, Nick, and Nibs.

A Journey of Hobbits: [All That Glistens]

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Chapter I

Around the Kitchen Table

"I for one would rather suffer now
Than leave this life without passion
This is our chance
Our time to stand"

-As I Lay Dying

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Frodo and Merry sat together at the table in the Cottons' small kitchen, the events of the evening still weighing heavily on their minds. Farmer Cotton and his wife had briefly excused themselves to prepare hot beverages and scrape together a decent supper. Their children occupied the seats on the opposite end of the two travel-weary hobbits.

"They all said you'd been offed," Nibs said, wide-eyed and mouth even so slightly agape.

Merry furrowed his brows and frowned a bit, "well, that's what comes of listening to the likes of rumors. As you can see, Frodo and I are very much alive, so you can all stop starting at us as if we were ghosts."

"Oh," Nibs nodded, trying to compose his face. "Right."

"I don't know what foolishness any of you have been up to," Rosie spoke up then, as all but one of her brothers seemed to have gone speechless. "When Sam came riding through here earlier, he only said he'd been off with you, Mr. Frodo," her eyes shifted to him, stern and purposeful. "And all I have to say about that is you'd better have a good reason for disappearing the way you all did."

"Good reason?" Merry replied, tone indignant. "Why, if y-"

"It's alright," Frodo spoke up then, having merely regarded the Cotton daughter in silence. His glance briefly shifted to Merry before it returned to Rosie, a reassuring smile crossing his face. "All will be explained in time. At the moment, unfortunately, we have other things to concern ourselves with."

Rosie seemed sated by that, though a trace of discontent was evident to Frodo. He found he entirely understood the call for its presence, as he'd deprived her of her dear Sam for an entire thirteen months without word of his whereabouts or assurance of his return.

"The least you could tell us is the location you all been residin' in," Mrs. Cotton pressed as she returned to the table, loaf of bread in one hand and a sampling of ham in the other.

"It was no single location," Merry corrected, "and different for each me and Frodo. I was in Rohan most of the time, while he trekked to the very edge of our map. Mordor, to be exact. He and Sam both."

Frodo noted the confusion that followed this answer, and considered it was also well placed. It was a thing unheard of among Hobbits (with the exception of Bilbo, at least). He supposed they probably expected this of him, an adventurous streak running in the family or something of the like. However, for the others, and especially for Sam, it was nearly uncharacteristic.

"Rohan and Mordor?" Tolman Cotton questioned finally. "Such foreign places I've scarcely heard of! what business had you there?"

"A quest of vital importance," Frodo started to answer, yet he hardly knew how to properly explain. "Involving a ring of power, and the need to travel to the only place it could be destroyed. It had been kept here, in the Shire, for over 50 years, in possession of my Uncle. Gandalf learned of its nature and assigned us with its transportation from here, to Bree, and then on into Rivendell."

He paused then, as Tolman's eyes lifted to the window, scrutinizing and belaying that his mind was, indeed, beginning to return to their current situation. When his attention shifted back to Frodo, he only nodded and smiled politely. "Well, I'm glad to see you've all returned safely."

"I certainly hope you didn't face too much trouble," his wife added, her expression also notably distracted.

An indignant huff escaped Merry but, as he caught Frodo's eyes, he composed himself. "None that couldn't be handled, no."

A silent nod was all she offered at that and, after a moment, Frodo felt it was time to turn the direction of their conversation to what was undeniably more pressing. "Tell me how all this began, Tom."

This was the only prompt Cotton needed before he began to explain. He told them of Pimple and his trading of supplies, of the arrival of the ruffians, the tearing down and rebuilding of new structures, the scavenging and lock ups. Things had only gotten worse from there, as Pimple declared himself 'Chief'. Rules were declared and belongings and food were stolen. Sharkey had come then and ruination had set in.

"Who is this Sharkey?" Merry asked. "I heard one of the ruffians speak of him."

Cotton was quick to answer this too, revealing that Sharkey was the big man whom had taken residence at Bag End. No one had seen him, but all the ruffians were at his bidding. His orders included hacking, burning, ruin and now even killing. He had begun turning the Shire into a place of industry, where peace could not be found, even in the night.

"That's right!" added Young Tom after his father."'Why, they even took Pimple's old ma, that Lobelia, and he was fond of her, if no one else was. Some of the Hobbiton folk, they saw it."

Frodo's eyes lowered briefly, as he was reminded of what he had seen in Galadriel's mirror, all that time ago. It seemed the Shire's future had indeed been heading in that foretold and foreboding direction. A wasteland; a place of bondage and misery.

A sad sort of smile crossed his face as he listened to Tom junior's telling of Lobelia's stand against the ruffians, and at how she had shown more spirit than most anyone else. The woman had always possessed such a fierce temper, and he sincerely hoped that they might find her yet alive when the ordeal was over.

However, his attention was instantly roused and directed to the front door as Sam burst through, followed by his gaffer. Frodo was pleased to discover that the old man hadn't much changed since he'd last seen him.

"Good evening. Mr. Baggins!" the gaffer said as he set his own eyes on him. "Glad indeed I am to see you safe back." He approached the table with his son behind him, claiming the attention of every occupant in the room. "But I've a bone to pick with you, in a manner o' speaking, if I may make so bold. While you're been trespassing in foreign parts, chasing Black Men up mountains from what my Sam says, though what for he don't make clear, they've been and dug up Bagshot Row and ruined my taters!"

"I am very sorry, Mr. Gamgee," responded Frodo, sincerity evident in his voice. "But now I've come back, I'll do my best to make amends."

"Well, you can't say fairer than that," the gaffer returned. "Mr. Frodo Baggins is a real gentlehobbit, I always have said, whatever you may think of some others of the name, begging your pardon."

Frodo merely nodded, knowing the man was referring to his uncle. Others had deemed him cracked, even somewhat ostracizing him from their simple society. Hobbits were typically tentative creatures, and responded to the unknown as would a fearful child, with avoidance and, on occasion, resentment.

"And I hope my Sam's behaved hisself and given satisfaction?" The man then asked.

"Perfect satisfaction, Mr. Gamgee," Frodo assured him. His mind returned then to that look of discontent on Rosie's face, as he all at once knew a way in which he might somewhat appease her. With a slight, genuine smile, and without averting his gaze from the gaffer, he continued. "Indeed, if you will believe it, he's now one of the most famous people in all the lands, and they are making songs about his deeds from here to the Sea and beyond the Great River."

When he looked to Sam then, he noted the blush, but also a fair bit of gratitude contained in his gaze. Rosie had offered him an impressed, wide smile and, as Frodo also glanced to her, he noted how prominently her eyes shone as she beheld Sam.

Her family too, it seemed, all looked to his friend with similar, admiring expressions. They were proud of him. From beside Frodo, Merry also afforded Sam a firm nod. The former gardener deserved their respect, as his valiant efforts had rightfully earned him all manner of praise.

"It takes a lot o' believing," said the gaffer, ever practical in his opinion. "Though I can see he's been mixing in strange company." His eyes looked to the foreign and exquisite garb his son wore.

"'Strange indeed," Frodo offered, containing another smile at that. It was, after all, a severe understatement.

It was after an ensuing pause though, that Farmer Cotton redirected the focus of the conversation. "Enough on all that now, we'd best be preparing for a full day come tomorrow." He looked to his children, "better be oft to bed with us then. There'll be plenty of time to hear more of Sam's wandering's when this is all said and done." He looked to the trio and gaffer before motioning a hand to a set of spare rooms, "you all can bunker here as long as you need."

"Make yerselves at home," Lily added as she rose beside her husband.

"Thanks for the offer," Merry replied as he stood, stretching his arms. "But I'm going to keep watch on the main road. I'll return in the morning."

"Do you need any help?" Sam asked.

Frodo silently looked to his cousin, willing to assist as well.

"No, you two rest," Merry insisted as he stepped towards the door. "Keep up defenses here."

"Very well," Frodo relented. "Be careful."

The Brandybuck nodded before heading out into the night and securing the door behind him.

"Nibs," Farmer Cotton began saying then to his youngest, "you'll be stayin' to look after your ma and sister tomorrow, understood?"

The boy seemed a little disappointed with the request, yet wordlessly nodded all the same. He received some sympathetic glances from each Nick, Jolly and Young Tom, before they all made their way from the kitchen with only parting waves in the direction of Frodo, Sam and the gaffer.

"Be sure and let me know if you need anythin'," Lily stated to the trio before turning and following after Tolman, who directed Rosie to head to bed also.

At her father's request, the hobbit lass stood, smoothed her skirt, and offered a set of polite smiles to the three who returned her gesture with smiles of their own. Her eyes lingered briefly on Sam before she also took her leave.

The cackle of the hearth was heard in the silence the three were greeted with. Frodo looked to Sam and noted that his eyes had fixed on where Rosie had sat. He lifted a hand to his shoulder, expression earnest. "Go on and get some rest, Sam."

His gardener's attention shifted immediately at that, "you'll be coming to rest right along with me, Mr. Frodo, if I have anything to say about it."

Frodo smiled before assuring him with a nod, "your insistence is rarely wasted."

The gaffer looked between them, discerning how close they'd grown, before announcing that he was going to turn in also, lest he collapse from fatigue right there at their feet.

"Sleep well, Mr. Gamgee," Frodo turned his smile on him.

The man nodded and made his way down the narrow hall, entirely familiar with the residence, as his and Tolman Cotton's families had been close since Sam was only a small lad.

"Come along then," Sam ushered Frodo forward and left him beside the adjoining room to his own. He waited until his benefactor had entered and closed the door behind him before feeling satisfied enough to take to his own room and lie down in the modest sized bed. He kept his ears open though, lest Mr. Frodo take it upon himself to try and exit into the hall.

It worried him how little sleep his friend often acquired, even after the whole matter of the ring had been effectively settled. He supposed, though, it was bound take some time and adjusting until things fully returned to normal.

…

True to his suspicions, Frodo simply sat at the edge of the bed after having removed his overcloak and scabbard, eyes wide and awake as they listlessly stared beyond the pane of glass and into the fog-ridden night. He felt anxious over both Merry and Pippin (one maintaining vigilance and the other riding the length of road to gather his kinsmen).

He already knew that sleep would evade him, as his mind was far too alert and ridden with thought. Tomorrow would determine the fate of their beloved homeland; he only hoped all would go well, and that no killing would need dealing. Not everyone supported his pacifistic views, not least of all Merry, but he trusted that his cousin would nonetheless enforce his wishes.

It was quite an ordeal to return to, and Frodo even felt a bit of guilt as he considered how long he and his companions had remained in Gondor, in peace and rest, while their kin suffered. 'No good can come of lingering on that though,' he reasoned with himself. 'There wasn't any way of knowing.'

He considered the Cotton family then, how sturdy and resilient they were, as well as the account of Lobelia Sackville-Baggins. Hobbits were entirely simple people, passive and unconcerned, yet, when threatened and their lifestyle robbed from them, they could be the most forceful and determined of all. They were all so adamant, fervently and resolutely following the spark he and his companions had ignited. It was truly remarkable.

Frodo remained in the depth of related contemplations until the makings of dawn lightened the sky. He rested his head only a moment, closing his eyes and claiming not but the most fragile and lucid fragments of slumber, until a knock sounded at his door, completely rousing him.

He emerged from the room and greeted Sam with a weary smile, ignoring the slight condescension he recognized on the face of his gardener, prompted at the obvious traces of his tiredness.

They entered the kitchen together and saw that the family had already woken and were sitting with mugs of tea and coffee, along with sparse servings of eggs and toast before them. All but Tolman himself, as Lily stated he had gone up the road to acquire an update from some of the watchers.

The gaffer greeted his son and moved aside to offer him a place to sit. Sam lowered himself into the chair, across from Rosie, who looked up and caught his gaze briefly before he shyly withdrew his attention.

Frodo took the seat beside him, and gratefully accepted Lily's offer of coffee. He sipped at the brew, feeling its rejuvenating effect almost immediately. With one glance to the window, he surmised that the hour had not yet reached the seventh, the world still early. It seemed no one had slept too well, all equally eager and anxious to wake at first light.

"Do you think there'll be many casualties, Mr. Frodo?" Mrs. Lily Cotton asked, a worried crease forming between her brows.

Frodo looked up at the woman, belaying his empathy through the soft set of his gaze before answering truthfully. "I intend to do all I can to ensure there won't be any."

She nodded slowly, face a bit ashen in dread as her eyes traveled to each of her sons in turn.

"If any of 'em does go here in Hobbiton," the gaffer began, shoving a forkful of egg into his mouth. "Least you can be certain it was on account of pursuin' a good cause."

Frodo and Sam both looked to the man at his words, knowing Lily would take little comfort at hearing them. It was Rosie, though, who spoke up.

"We just have to be hoping for the best," the lass looked to her mother, one arm wrapping about her shoulders. "Papa and the boys need us to at least be doing that."

"Rosie's right," Young Tom assured her. "We need you to be smilin' for us."

Frodo looked between the two, eyes softening further as Mrs. Cotton's two eldest offered their encouragement and comfort. Lily inhaled deeply before grasping Tom's hand and leaning her head against Rosie's. Frodo then glanced knowingly at Sam, who was also gazing at the scene, a fondness expressed by the tender smile crossing his face.

The door opened, interrupting the moment, as Farmer Cotton himself entered, face firm and flushed.

"Pa!" Nick exclaimed, "Any news?"

The man nodded, "seems as if none o' the ruffians were left up at Bag End." He stepped forward and planted a kiss against his wife's cheek before reaching for a slice of toast. "But the gang from Waymeet will be along any time now."

"I'm ready to get started," Jolly added, fist forming, as Nibs only pouted from beside him.

"All in good time, lad," Tolman replied, wiping the sweat from his brow.

"They'll get what's comin' to them soon enough," Sam added.

"Ain't that right?" Young Tom answered with an approving smirk.

"Just remember what I said yesterday," Frodo looked between them all. "No killing, if it can be at all avoided. Especially of any hobbit folk."

"Right, right," Farmer Cotton relented with a nod. "We'll be tryin' our best."

Young Tom and Jolly didn't seem too pleased, but offered their reluctant agreement all the same.

After breakfast, a messenger arrived and pounded on the door, saying he had just arrived from Tookland. Frodo and Sam both listened eagerly for any news of Pippin.

"The Thain has raised all our country," he said, "and the news is going like fire all ways. The ruffians that were watching our land have fled off south, those that escaped alive. The Thain has gone after them, to hold off the big gang down that way; but he's sent Mr. Peregrin back with all the other folk he can spare."

The gaffer shook his head, "you can always count on 'em Tooks to get riled up and rally on a moment's notice."

Sam grinned, "Seems things are finally gettin' underway."

"Thank you," Frodo offered his gratitude to the messenger, who then turned and ran to inform the next household.

They all waited for Merry's return then, as the morning hours wore on. Frodo sent frequent glances, with carefully disguised anxiety, towards the window as he looked for any sign of his kin. Sam exchanged light conversation with Young Tom, Jolly and his gaffer, distracting himself as best he could within their company.

It wasn't until about ten o'clock that they finally saw him, riding up the path, expression stilled and implying that the news he was bringing was less favorable than that of the previous messenger. Farmer Cotton instantly welcomed him into the house, and the Brandybuck approached Frodo and Sam, eyes worn and his demeanor exhausted, as he had been out riding all night.

"There's a big band about four miles away," he declared. "They're coming along the road from Waymeet, but a good many stray ruffians have joined up with them. There must be close on a hundred of them; and they're fire-raising as they come." He shook his head, "Curse them!"

"Ah!" Farmer Cotton exclaimed immediately. "This lot won't stay to talk, they'll kill, if they can. If Tooks don't come sooner, we'd best get behind cover and shoot without arguing." His eyes shifted to Frodo then, "There's got to be some fighting before this is settled, Mr. Frodo."

Frodo's eyes lowered at that, having already suspected the necessity, yet continuing to vainly hope for a more favorable means of handling the situation. A bit reluctantly, he nodded his assent. He fully intended to do all he could, though, to limit the casualties. From both sides.

Sam placed a hand on his shoulder, silently offering his support while, in the corner of the young Baggins' eye, he saw Jolly and Young Tom look to one another with satisfied grins.

"No need to worry on the Tooks," Merry said to Tolman then. "Pip's well on his way with a hundred strong. Should be here any moment."

"Come on then, lads," Farmer Cotton addressed his sons. "Let's be ready to set out as soon as he comes."

Jolly and Young Tom rose swiftly, moving with their father and Nick, who was a little less boisterous about the matter, to where they'd stored some hand crafted weapons. Nibs looked on with envy, his disappointment surmounting as the time drew near for them to set out.

"You'll be comin', gaffer?" Sam asked his father.

The old man nodded, "can't keep lettin' you outdo me as you have of late." He stood and adjusted his belt before declaring that he would step outside to keep watch for the Tooks.

Lily Cotton inhaled deeply and moved to clear the table, busying her hands along with her focus on the task of chores. Rosie looked to her mother before her attention shifted, instead turning on Frodo. She regarded him wordlessly, watching as he conversed with Sam and his gaffer, while returning his foreign-looking scabbard to his waist. It wasn't until he looked up and noticed her scrutiny that she stood and approached him, expression serious. He seemed to be taking lead on all this, with the others reporting to him and seeking his direction.

"Now listen here, Mr. Frodo," she began. "I know you meant what you were saying, about looking out for our losses, but I want your word that you'll be looking out for the lads. My mother couldn't handle losing a one of them, and neither could I. So, even if that means you'll have to be drawing that sword of yours, against that set mind of yours not to be killing, you'll protect them, won't you?"

Frodo took a moment to silently observe the lass as she looked to him with a hand on her hip and an earnest gleam in her eyes. Her words were as stern and commanding as they were gentle and beseeching.

"You can trust Mr. Frodo," Sam put in then. "He'll stand by his word."

"And you do have my word," Frodo responded after him. "I will prioritize the safekeeping of all those fighting on our side before the sparing of any ruffian or opposing kinsman." He offered her as much a smile as he could summon. "Try not to trouble yourself too gravely, Rose. Sam and I will look after them."

Even despite her earlier assurance to her mother, it was apparent to Frodo then that Rose Cotton was as equally worried over this fight, though determined to remain strong and resolved to disguise that fact.

The hobbit lass searched his gaze, somewhat marveling at how solidified his resolution was, as if were almost fundamental to him. It made her feel at once small, so far beneath him in her doubt. His gaze itself too, where she had once detected a glint of the mischievous, had been replaced with only a prominent solemnity.

The moment passed though, and her observation became trivial. She nodded, "I appreciate it."

Frodo returned her nod before turning and making his way to where Merry stood by the door, leaving Sam with Rosie.

"Nibs'll look after you and your mother," Sam said to the Cotton daughter, hardly even knowing what else to break the silence with.

"Your sentiment's kind as ever," Rosie smiled prettily at him. "But we can hold our own well enough."

He returned her smile shyly at that, the fiery lass leaving no room for argument.

"When this is all said and done," she began telling him then, narrowing her eyes just slightly. "I'm expecting a more detailed accounting of just where you've been and what you've been doing all this time."

Off with a Baggins on one of their cracked excursions didn't bode too well all on its own. However, she knew Sam to be a more practical sort of person, and determined not to make any prior judgment. His loyal service to Mr. Frodo was exceptional, but she hoped he hadn't been compelled on that disposition alone to disappear from the world the way he had. A ring of power had been mentioned, and her father had said early that morning that it all sounded a little like fantastical nonsense, same as with Mr. Bilbo and his dragon. It was admittedly fascinating nonsense if she was being completely honest with herself though.

Sam nodded, "I'll be tellin' you everything you want to know."

The smile returned to Rosie's face, as she found herself looking forward to the tales he would reveal. If he'd really received the recognition Mr. Frodo had said, then his deeds had been truly great.

"We'll march on them full force," Merry was saying to Frodo at the door. "Take care of it as swiftly as we can in the centre at Bywater."

"They're all ready and eager," Frodo said with a nod. "Our unity will be our greatest asset."

They both looked then to the group rising up over the hill and approaching the house, a familiar face heading them.

"Pip," Merry muttered before exchanging a smile with Frodo and then calling back over his shoulder. "Tooks are here! Time to move out!"

Farmer Cotton and his sons were out the door without a second prompting, greeting the new arrivals gratefully. Sam followed after them, with a final, brief glance in Rosie's direction.

Pippin made his way up the steps and to where Merry and Frodo stood, his eyes bright and excited. "Everybody ready?"

Frodo found Pippin's cheerful disposition to be rather infectious, and he began to feel a certain positivity towards the coming endeavor. They would be victorious. They were all fighting for something worthwhile. Recalling his earlier promise to Rose Cotton, he determined that his primary role would be one focused on minimalizing casualties, to the best of his ability.

"As ready as we'll ever be," Merry answered his friend.

Lily approached her daughter and Nibs, as they all three stood and stared as the others exited the house and closed the door behind them. For now, all they could do was wait. Wait and hope for the best.