The Silver Flower had risen over halfway into the starry sky, casting silver shadows from trees and rocks over the Road. A darker shadow slipped from the trees, having left his horse tied inside the tree line. He followed the Road as it wound around fields waiting for Spring's planting, his breath long plumes hanging in the cool air. He pulled his cloak tighter around himself and turned onto Bagshot Row.
In a hole in the ground, a friend of the shadow waited, a dying fire in the parlor the last light to be seen in town. Three knocks, as agreed, came quietly through the door. He twisted the brass knob and pulled his friend inside with a glance up and down the road. Behind him, the man tossed his cloak over his shoulders to reveal the tiny bundle he had been cradling underneath. "Her name is Briana." he murmured, gently peeling back the blanket to show the sleeping child.
"You have nothing to worry about, Dunadan." The hobbit reassured him, "The town believes me to be odd enough. People will wonder, but no one will ask where she came from."
"From now on she will be a Baggins." The Dunadan sighed. "I owe you a greater debt than I could ever repay, Bilbo." He paused at the door, steadying himself before ducking through and refusing to look back.
As he left, the Dunadan wilted slightly, tears concealed under a heavy cowl as he left the way he had come.