A/N: This is my first attempt at a Lord of the Rings fan fiction. Unlike many, I am not necessarily a die-hard Tolkien fan (not yet, anyway), but I am trying my best to stay somewhat true to the story. But remember: since this is my story, I will more than likely choose to change some things. Please be polite with your criticisms, and I will try to create a decent story for everyone. Enjoy!

******

Night stretched dark and cool along the Shire, bringing with it the songs of crickets and the icy glow of stars. In the distance, a hawk flew soundlessly through tall grasses, re-emerging with a mouse clutched in its talons. The petals of various flowers had closed in the absence of sunlight. Trees rustled softly as occasional breezes sifted through their leaves. Such calmness was always a welcome guest in that region of Middle-earth.

Peregrin Took left the tavern much earlier than usual, hands buried deep inside his pockets. He had grown tired of forcing a smile. His spirits did not dance with the songs and carefree chatter of his kin; his troubles could not be flushed away with endless mugs of ale, nor replaced by edible roots, wedges of cheese, or loaves of bread. Ever since their quest to destroy the Ring, nothing was the same anymore. No one truly understood the magnitude of importance of their task, did not understand that the efforts of four little hobbits had saved all of Middle-earth, and gained them the respect of the kings of Gondor and Rohan. No one seemed to care that they were absent for such a span of time, save for Sam's lovely wife, Rose. These facts troubled his mind. To make matters worse, the atmosphere rippled with sorrow now that Frodo had gone for good. He missed his friend; they all missed him terribly, and there were times when he could not bear it. This evening was no exception. Besides, Merry would no doubt be arriving at his home soon, and he must prepare for the company of his beloved friend.

The hobbit walked along the dirt paths, nodding at those he passed on the way, his large feet kicking a few stones every now and then. There was no moon in the sky, and he felt the darkness surround him like a cloak. Pippin caught himself wondering if Valinor ever saw night, or if only sunlight graced the undying lands with its eternally warm touch. Was Frodo no longer beneath the same sky as his friends? He shook his head, knowing his questions would go unanswered. Such had been the way for eight years.

He felt some relief when his home finally came into view: a large round door leading into a great hillside, his home all his life. All he wished for was a cozy seat in front of a crackling fire, a cup of hot tea warming his fingers, perhaps some quiet, meaningful conversation with Merry. But as he reached for the doorknob, he froze. For the first time that evening, he felt cold, like a finger of ice had run up his spine. He turned ever so slowly. Something about the night seemed to warn him, and he scanned his surroundings carefully. Nothing unusual; only Shire-folk walking past his home, one or two waving at him in greeting. He waved back, but still looked around. He did not try to ignore it; no, Took's were far too curious to ignore anything. He began shivering. Night seemed to call to his heart and tell him something was coming. Something strange. Different.

Stepping away from the door, Pippin took slow, measured steps back to the main path, glancing up and down the walkway, but seeing nothing.

"H-hello?" He managed to say at last.

Silence. It did not comfort him at all. He suddenly wished he had his Elvish dagger on his belt at that moment.

Swallowing, he walked onto the road, walking up the hill, throwing numerous glances over his shoulder to make sure he was not being followed.

"Everything alright, Pippin?"

He jumped only slightly at the voice, and spun to face Perido Stoors and his wife, Mavyan.

"Fine, yes, everything is fine," he said too quickly and smiled.

The Stoors gave him confused looks, but nodded and carried on. "Not a good liar, is he?" Perido mused to his wife, who swatted him upside the head.

"Mind your manners, beloved," said Mavyan.

He watched them walk away, the darkness eventually swallowing them whole. He sighed to himself, realizing he was alone once more. He resumed walking, and questioned himself for it. Why could he not ignore the curiosity that always pulled at his mind? What was it he was seeking? And if he found it, then what next? Tell Merry and keep it only between them? What am I looking for?

What he saw next caught him off guard: a dark shape began to materialize over the hill. A tall horse and hooded rider. His eyes widened, his face grew pale, and he released a strangled cry, remembering the Black Riders they had escaped years ago. Had they returned? Was it possible that Sauron was once again sending forth his evil minions? No, it was destroyed. The Ring had been destroyed! He thought wildly, taking frightened steps backwards. It cannot be...it cannot be...

But as he continued to look, he realized that this shape was not the same. The rider was not sitting upright; he lay atop the great stallion, as if unconscious, arms and legs dangling uselessly at its sides. A man. A young man, judging by his size. A rare sight in the world of hobbits. Why would a man be riding through the Shire at this time of night? Pippin wondered, wandering further onto the path. More importantly, what happened to him? The stallion gave a frightened noise when the small being came into view and reared onto its hind legs. Pippin shrank back in surprise, not wishing to be trampled by heavy hooves, and gasped as the man tumbled from the saddle, landing on the ground with a dull thud. The stallion bolted forward on the well-trodden path, disappearing into darkness at a blinding speed. Deep down, Pippin knew he was gone for good.

His attention turned back to the man, who remained an immobile and silent heap. Pippin immediately went to his knees, trying to turn him over.

"Hey...Hey. Come on, lad, you're alright," he spoke quietly.

He paid no attention to the other hobbits who came by, who had also witnessed the stallion's flight, and the abandoning of his master.

"Where's that horse off to?"

"Who is it, Pippin?"

"Where'd he come from?"

"What happened? Oh, my goodness!"

"There's a man on the ground!"

"Peregrin Took, what has happened? What have you done this time?"

But he heard none of it. When he succeeded in turning him over...turning her over! His eyes widened. A girl! For a while, nothing seemed to happen. There was no sound, no movement, no air. Gone were all thoughts of Frodo, Merry, the Shire, everything vanished like fog as he stared. A young lady. The gathering hobbits went silent again at this revelation.

"By the stars above..." Pippin whispered, pushing back the hood of her tattered cloak and bringing a trembling hand to her cheek. "Where did you come from?" No answer, and he did not expect one. Her young face held a troubled, pained expression, old blood staining her brow and dripping down her head. Blood and dirt matted her fair hair to her skin. And then he realized that a small arrow was jutting from her shoulder like a strange tumor. There were cries from the others, several hands clapping over mouths in shock at her appearance. "Oh..." He breathed, not entirely sure of what to do or say.

Of course, suggestions flew from many mouths, each one yelling at the other. She should go here; she should stay there; throw her into the river, for she'll not last the night; pull the arrow from her shoulder; no, that will make her blood flow quicker...

They were all lost to Pippin. He felt all of the voices falling away from his ears, all becoming a faint, distant echo. No one existed except this poor young girl, armed with only a cloak...and a sword. It was the first time he noticed it, sheathed under the cloak safely. How skilled was she with the blade? So many new questions to deal with…All he was able to do was place a gentle hand upon her forehead, hoping that perhaps she could feel a presence here with her. "Can you hear me, daughter of men?" No reaction. Awaken, he prayed, please awaken, milady.

Only one voice cut clearly through his trance.

"Pippin!" Meriadoc Brandybuck pushed his way through he crowd. "Back off, all of you! Get out of the way!" He stopped once he was through, hovering above the hobbit and the girl, and was rendered silent. He tried to form words, but only succeeded in moving his lips.

Pippin glanced up at his lifelong friend, suddenly very, very relieved. "Merry," he smiled weakly, "we have an unexpected visitor."

Merry gazed at her in wonder, also surprised to see a daughter of men within the confines of the Shire. The blood on her face caused the worry in his stomach to churn. He, too, dropped to his knees, placing a hand on her wounded shoulder. "Who is she?"

"I have no idea, but that doesn't matter. Just look at her. She needs help, and I'm pretty sure she'll be in need of medicine as well. What are we going to do?" His voice came out low and slow, though inside his heart beat at a frantic pace.

Merry looked around, suddenly angry with the spectators. "Haven't you seen enough? Why just stand there instead of giving aide to those who need it most?" He yelled. "Go on, get moving! Get out of here, go on! Back to your homes, for the hour is late."

Some still lingered, but he did manage to frighten a few off, minimizing the group that stood there. Merry took a hold of Pippin's arm. "Let us bring her inside. She should not be exposed to the cold in this sort of condition."

Each of them grabbed an arm, dragging her limp, heavy body towards the burrow in the hillside. Pippin winced as he thought about her wounded shoulder. "Merry, mind her injury!"

"I'm trying! But this isn't exactly easy, Pip," he groaned through gritted teeth as they pulled her to the house. "You said she needs help, and so we're going to help her all we can." For hobbits, even a smaller human posed a challenge to haul into the house, and it took several tries simply to get her through the door. The other hobbits watched with interest, then finally dispersed, no doubt to tell the entire Shire of the new visitor staying in Pippin's home. Pippin sighed to himself heavily as he closed the door, not looking forward to the attention he was soon to receive.