WARNING* This story contains huge spoilers! But don't worry! If you haven't read the books, then you can just lean back and relax with the foreknowledge that Tolkien wrote stories full of fairytale archetypes. And, in all fairytales, it is expected that: 1) the good guys win, and 2) that someone either dies or lives happily ever after in the end. Those expectations aren't really spoilers, are they? So if my story follows these expectations, then there really aren't any spoilers in it.

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Disclaimer: All original characters belong to their original maker, Mr. J. R. R. Tolkien. No infringement of copyright law was intended. If suit is filed, I'll feed the lawyers to my Balrog (This lawsuit shall not pass!).

Author's note: I decided to change a few things, but nothing major! I pretended that Frodo was born in 1378, so that in the year 1420, he would be forty-two (about 28 in human years using the 2/3 human age/ hobbit age ratio). I decided to decrease his age simply because of my feelings after seeing the movie; I can no longer visualize the character Frodo as being the age written in the book (50). To me, he does seem very young. (My reasoning behind the last statement: 1) his best friends are rather young hobbits, 2) he fights to master his child-like emotions and to control his anger on various occasions, and 3) he relies on those older than himself for guidance, such as Aragorn and Gandalf, in a manner that reveals an adolescent insecurity.)

This story follows the books' canon faithfully until the very end of the War of the Ring--specifically, when Aragorn is wed. Because I have the power as an author to do so, I chose instead for him not to be married just yet, and I sent the hobbits home to the Shire a little early. I thought they needed to go home and fix things in the Shire instead of patter around Gondor for a few extra months in the aftermath of the War. Besides, Sam really missed his garden and his gaffer, and he wanted to go home!

I hope you enjoy this story immensely and find it worth your while. I have entertained myself for a few weeks by researching old lore and Tolkien's stories to create this little ditty, and I hope you get curious enough after reading this to explore the realm of European, Oriental, and Native-American fairy-lore. It's very interesting stuff. With that said, read on!





I. The Return of the Ring-bearer



When the hobbits returned home in November, they found their beloved Shire in shambles.

Ruffians, robbers, thieves, and rogue orcs had attempted to make the Shire their own during the War of the Ring. But rallied by the arrival of the seemingly-fearless hobbits from the Fellowship of the Ring, the Hobbits of the Shire had staged a revolt. Merry and Pippin had led the attack against the ruffians, and because it was their courage that pushed the hobbits' attack forward against the enemy in what was later called the "Battle of Bywater," they had landed themselves a place as heroes in the hearts of all in the Shire.

Frodo and Sam had gone the day after the battle to release the poor hobbits that the ruffians had kept prisoner. Among the prisoners was the surly Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, now a widow and childless (her son, Lotho, had been killed in the spring). They found that her spirit had changed. She was now a quiet, mousey old hobbit who was very glad when Frodo came to her rescue. She was so glad, in fact, that she had given both Bag End and Lotho's inheritance to Frodo; the money, she said, was to be used to help all the hobbits who had been hurt by the fighting. Then she left Hobbiton to spend the end of her days with her family, the Bracegirdles. Frodo's friend, Fredegar "Fatty" Bolger, Fatty no longer, was also among the prisoners, and when they found him, he was almost too weak to stand. Near Fatty's cell in the Lockholes was old Will Whitfoot, who asked Frodo to take over his role as mayor until he recovered, and Frodo could not refuse the old hobbit's request. So Frodo became mayor, and for nearly six months, he, Merry, Pippin and Samwise worked together to restore the Shire: Frodo, Merry, and Pippin worked furiously to rebuild architecture and tear down ruffian camps, while Sam took the role of replenishing the greenery. For all of their efforts, the spring of 1420 was the most beautiful that the Shire had ever seen.

Their work involved a lot of travel. On this rather short trip, Sam whistled one of Bilbo's traveling songs as he rode on the back of the old wagon that bounced along the worn East Road between Hobbiton and Buckland. He was dressed like a prince. He wore mail and his elven cape because Merry and Pippin had said that the roads were dangerous enough that there was still a need to wear protective armor. It had only been eight months since Frodo and his friends had left the company of Aragorn at the Gap of Rohan, and six months since the Battle of Bywater. It was now April, and Frodo had decided that it was time to move the things he had inherited from Bilbo, currently being stored in Frodo's small house at Crickhollow, back to Bag End in order to make the home a comfortable place where he and Sam could live near the old gaffer, Sam's father. The old gaffer was a cause for concern to Sam, for now the gaffer was quite an old hobbit, and his health often declined in the winter months. Sam was very glad to soon be living close enough to Hobbiton to keep one eye on the gaffer and his other eye on pretty Miss Rosie Cotton.

Sam thought dreamily of Rosie until he was roused by the sound and the fresh smell of the Brandywine River as it grew ever nearer, and he was pleased to feel the shade of the beech trees on his face. He turned himself around from where he sat cross-legged on the back of the wagon. He could see that Frodo was driving the ponies, Bill and Strider, up the path, and Merry and Pippin were chewing sunflower seeds on the long driver's bench beside Frodo. Merry and Pippin swayed with the wagon and seemed strangely quiet as they nibbled the seeds.

"There's the bridge up ahead, Frodo,"said Merry, stirring suddenly and pointing some distance up the river bed.

"I don't see it yet, Merry. Your eyes must be better than mine," replied Frodo, straining his eyes to see any bridge-shaped shadows on the gleaming river.

" I didn't say I saw it, Frodo. I just know it's there."

Of course, Meriadoc Brandybuck was correct. For this was his country even more than Frodo's, and he knew it very well. In very little time, they came to the bridge, and Sam leaned over the side of the wagon to stare into the clear waters as they crossed it. In the fast-moving water, Sam saw the shimmering backs of silver trout, and he was suddenly reminded of Gollum, who used to eat fish such as these raw. He was glad when the wagon clattered over to the other side and they were once again over the dusty road.

"Mr. Frodo," called Sam over the jolly racket of the ponies' hooves, "Where are we going now? Are we going to stop and see Gandalf and Mr. Bombadil?"

Frodo shook his head sadly. "No, Gandalf and Tom Bombadil have business together. He'll find us sooner or later. We're going to turn South now to the High Hay path."

The High Hay was a pleasant drive that wound around the trees of the Old Forest, and the hobbits were refreshed by the woody scents and the wild sounds of the wood. Pippin and Merry wore secret smiles on their faces as they looked at the trees, for these old growths reminded them of their pleasant time in Fangorn where they had met their friends, the Ents. Frodo looked on, wary of the old woods, and his normally flushed face looked very pale. Truthfully, Frodo wasn't really as well as he pretended he was. Only a week ago, Frodo had closed himself away in the dark, empty rooms of Bag End, and wrapped himself in every cloak and blanket he could find. His hand had burned for the Ring with a consuming fire, and an awful cold chill had settled upon him during the last days of March. The chill had only become bearable three days ago, and he became himself again when Sam returned from the Whitfurrows. He never told Sam that he had been ill.

The sun sank into the West and the sky burned red and violet when the hobbits approached Crickhollow's long driveway. The trees there were big and burly like those of the Old Forest, and their shadows were long upon the ground. Frodo wondered idly what shape of disrepair that the house had fallen into since Freddy Bolger had been captured and could no longer take care of the property. He hoped that no harm had befallen Bilbo's things, especially his books. On the outside, the house looked fine when they drew near it. The only difference from the usual that Frodo could see was that the turf roof of the house was blooming with wild flowers: cowslip and primrose blossomed yellow, and the pale primrose mingled with lavender buds and blue periwinkle. Clover bloomed white and red, and crimson poppy blooms stared over the yellow eaves of the house with their sad black eyes.

Frodo halted the wagon and jumped from his perch, giving the ponies, Bill and Strider, affectionate pats before Sam loosed them and led them out to the pasture behind the house to graze and find water. Merry and Pippin hopped off the driving bench to collect their packs from the back of the wagon, while Frodo fished in his waistcoat pocket for the key to the house. He produced the key, and strode to the great round door and turned the key in the lock.

Frodo expected quite a large bit of dust in the house, and he closed his eyes for a moment to shield himself from the puffs of dust. To his surprise, when he opened his eyes and they adjusted to the shadows, he saw that the house was clean and orderly, and his old cloak was still hanging on the hook in the entryway. The entry hall was quite dark, for it was nightfall now, and Frodo went to the far window to open it and allow some moonlight and fading sun rays to illuminate the hall. He unhooked the latch, causing the window to squeak open. Fresh night air pored in, and he sighed as it caressed his face with cool fingers. Suddenly, he felt a bitter cold sharpness at his throat. He gasped when he realized what it was. Someone was holding a dagger to his neck.

"Don't move,"said a voice behind him; it was hoarse and low. "I can see that you are armed, but so am I. Lay your sword on the sill."







II. Mistaken Identity





Frodo took Sting out of it's sheath very, very slowly without turning away from the window or disturbing the blade at his throat. He laid it on the sill, but it was still within his reach. He wanted to call for Pippin and Merry, but he could not find his voice.

"Who are you? Identify yourself," demanded the voice. It was unnaturally low.

Frodo slowly turned around, and the blade did not leave his throat, but shifted to follow his movement. He could see little of the assailant in front of him, for the moon had cast his lean shadow over the face of the person. The blade glittered at his neck, and the hand gripping it was not the hand of a ruffian. The hand was small and clean, as well as white-knuckled and frightened. It held the blade with a delicate strength.

Frodo said, "I am Frodo Baggins, Son of Drogo, and the owner of this house." Frodo's reply was strong and sure, and it added to the surreal, otherworldly appearance that he had at the moment: he was backlit by the moon, his mithril coat gleamed at his neck, and his head was haloed with pure silver light. He looked very much like a lord of great power.

The dagger retreated from his neck very quickly; he heard it drop to the floor, and the shape before him fell to its knees.

"Forgive me, Master Baggins. I didn't know who you were. I thought you were one of the rogues that are prowling about. I beg your pardon, sir!" pleaded the voice. Frodo now understood why the voice had before sounded so unnatural in the lowness of its tone, for now the voice was high and clear. It had been a girl that was his assailant, feigning a masculine tone in order to intimidate him. Now all the pretense was dropped, and the voice was definitely that of a hobbit-lass', and it was accented with sounds from the hills of the North.

Frodo moved out of the moonlight's path, and the beams fell on the hobbit on the floor. The aspect of her that struck him first was the fiery red hair that pooled about her prostrate form, and the frightened tears that he could see on her pale cheeks.

"Don't be afraid of me," said Frodo, whose heart was full of compassion. "Who are you? And why are you here? Stand up, let me see who you are."

She arose very slowly, cautiously, and raised her eyes to him, round with fear and wet with tears. Frodo was a bit confused, for at first glance, she appeared to be very much a hobbit, but when he saw her slender frame and small feet, he began to reconsider her lineage.

She said very softly, "I'm Poppy--"

At that instant, Merry and Pippin pushed open the door and came in with their arms and backs burdened with packs, chattering and laughing. "Frodo? Oh, there you are. Where do we put these..." Merry stopped, noticing the girl and gave a bow. "Hello, m'lady." He quickly dropped his packs and stashed them around the corner in the side hall. He straightened, and brushed himself off with a broad smile. "My name's Meriadoc Brandybuck, son of the Thain. I see you've met Frodo," he gave Frodo a glance, and then looked to Pippin.

Pippin suddenly started. He followed Merry's lead and dropped his packs, then grinned. "Hullo! The name's Peregrin Took, son of Paladin, but my friends call me Pippin." Pippin took her hand, and with quite a show of bravado, kissed it with the courtliness of a knight.

She stared at the tall, robust-looking hobbits, and said, "I--I hope I'm a friend. I'm Poppy Marigold Fairgoold-Took, daughter of Addleton. I should explain..."

"Please do,"said Frodo. "But first, I'd like to have us all here so that you don't have to explain twice."

"How many more are in your company?" she asked slowly, calculating exactly how many more hobbits the little house could hold.

"Oh, there's just one more. He's my friend, Sam. He'll be along in a minute."

"Then, I think I should set the table for four......This story is a long one, and you look like you could use some refreshment,"said Poppy, before curtsying and heading towards the kitchen.

The hobbits stared after her, and with a silent agreement they determined that she was not dangerous, and could be trusted enough to allow them to start unpacking a bit. The rest of their trust would be based upon the story she told.







III. The Inquiry





The hobbits gathered around the table in the warm kitchen where Poppy was taking the tea kettle from the fire. Sam had heard a short rehash from Frodo about their interesting first encounter, and was eyeing her suspiciously as she poured the tea into the little porcelain cups. Merry and Pippin seemed content to merely admire her as she busied herself with the meal. Merry, specifically, found her particularly attractive in her domestic manner, and watched her slender form in the firelight as she busied herself with setting the tarts and cakes on the table. Her hair was a long, glowing mass of loose red curls held back from her face by a pale yellow ribbon that matched her cotton dress. She moved surely around the kitchen and finished her work, then unfastened her apron and beckoned them to sit with her.

She sighed as she sat down, then she cleared her throat before she said, "I think I should first tell you why I came here . . . and then how:



"It was the New Year last year when Freddy Bolger, who had been tending this property, came to Bree. He came to petition several of the fellows there to take a stand against the ruffians who had invaded the Shire. . . I'm sure you've heard, we've had a great deal of trouble.

"Well, he gathered about fifty, and they fought a quite a battle, until Bill Ferny, who had joined the posse just to try to make a few friends, turned-coat and joined the enemy with a few other cowards. As I heard it, the fight just went downhill from there, and some of the boys were killed. One of them was very dear to me, and he and Freddy had been old friends for several years, so when he died, Freddy understood when I told him that I just had to get away. Away from Bree, and the fighting, and away from always being afraid. Freddy told me that he still wanted to fight, for it is a very worthy cause, so before he led the next battle on the hills of Scary, he asked me to take care of Crickhollow for him as a steward. He said it was a favor he was doing for a respectable friend, so I said I'd do it. I traveled with him to the Baranduin Ferry before we parted ways. And I've been here ever since he was captured-- by those, those horrible brutes, and I haven't heard from him for a long while."

Poppy's eyes misted, and she dabbed them with a napkin before she said, "Poor Freddy! He was so brave."

At this, Frodo said gently, "You needn't worry about Freddy, miss. The battle's over now, and he's been free for many months. He's recovering in Hobbiton." Frodo chuckled a bit, and added, "You wouldn't recognize him now. Thin as a sapling! He's half the hobbit he was."

At this, the hobbit-lads laughed and Sam tightened his belt. "I think I'm nearly half the hobbit I was, too!" he said.

Pippin's laugh faltered a bit, and his grin diminished. He stirred his tea thoughtfully and said, "You said you're a Took. So am I: a descendant of the Old Took; but, I've never seen you in Tuckborough."

Poppy said, "There's a story to answer that, too. I'm also a descendant of the Old Took. I'm from Hildifons' line."

"Hildifons? Old Took's boy? Now I know you're lying! He disappeared! He went off on an adventure and never came back. He died!" Pippin stated firmly. He was riled to a sudden suspicion.

"True," said Poppy softly, "but that was many years after his adventure. I happen to know the story, too. If you're not too tired. And then, I'd like to hear yours. Freddy said that you left on an adventure, Master Baggins. He said that a wizard told you to go."

"Yes, a wizard did tell me, but that story would take a whole day to tell you the gist, a week to tell accurately, and a whole year to tell fully," said Frodo.

"Too true!" beamed Sam. "That story runs from here to Gondor and even farther!"

"Gondor! It sounds incredible!"said Poppy. "I would love to hear it as soon as you feel up to it."

"Hmm," mused Frodo. "I don't even think I could tell it right without going over my notes."

"And finishing that book!" said Sam, giving Frodo a poke. "You promised Mr. Bilbo that you would."

"And I will, just not yet. I'd like to also write down some of Gandalf and Strider's adventures before I even start on the account of the War."

Poppy's eyes were now wide from hearing words like 'war', 'adventures,' and 'Bilbo.' Bilbo Baggins, she had heard, had left on a marvelous journey many years ago. She was listening intently to Frodo and Sam's conversation before she felt Merry and Pippin turn their eyes to her.

"Tell us your story; we'd really like to hear it," said Merry. "Please?"

"Pretty please," corrected Pippin.

"'Pretty please' what?" said Sam, who hadn't been paying attention.

"I think they're asking her to tell Hildifons' story," said Frodo.

"Oh, well then, good! I'd like to hear this story," Sam quieted after he said this, and he reached for a honey cake to munch as Poppy sipped her tea and began to recall the tale she had heard as a girl.







IV. Hildifon's Adventure





"This is the story that my grandfather, Papa Brattle, told me a long time ago:

'Long ago, when Hildifons Took was rather young, he often went into the forest in the southern Woody End to look for mushrooms, his favorite food.'"

"Mushroom is my favorite, too!" interjected Pippin.

"Of course it is!" she said. "You're a hobbit and a Took, as was Hildifons. Eh--Now then:

'Hildifons was on one of these visits to the woods when he found some mushrooms. But these weren't ordinary mushrooms. They were part of a fairy-ring...That's a ring of mushrooms that spring up when fairies dance under the moonlight, according to the old poem:

The soft stars are shining,

The moon is alight,

The folk of the forest

Are dancing tonight:

O swift and gay

Is the song that they sing;

They float and sway

As they dance in a ring...*

'Fairy-rings are gateways between our world and the world of the little folk, the "Fay," as they call themselves. And when a hobbit or any other creature puts one foot inside the ring, they can see the fairies that have passed into our world, but when they put both feet in the circle, they put themselves in danger of being taken to the world of the Little People. Hildifons knew nothing of fairy-rings, and was thinking only of mushrooms as he gathered them and sang his mushroom song:

My belly is empty, there's plenty of room

For a tasty bite of a scrumptious mush-

'Then suddenly, a mighty whirlwind of fairy power took him to a strange new world. Round and round it whirled him, and he thought that it would never stop, but finally Hildifons settled to the ground in Fairyland. He saw no one, but at once felt the sticky heat that enveloped this part of the fay world. It was full of lush, exotic plants; it was a jungle of fan-shaped leaves and marshy ground.'"

"Did he see an Oiliphant? Oiliphants come from the jungle, you know," said Sam.

"He might have,"said Poppy patiently. "I don't know...But back to the story before I forget:



'Poor Hildifons was lost, and still very hungry, so he (following good hobbit-sense) decided that he would first get something to eat, and then figure out where he was. He looked to the marvelous trees there, and found among their branches some little brown nuts that looked very tasty. He was just about to pluck one, when he suddenly heard a horrible voice saying, "I thought I heard a little voice singing in my woods! I'll mash you up and roast you!"

Hildifons was startled, and he turned around quickly to see what was threatening him in such an awful way. Hildifons still saw no one, and was now very frightened. He looked and looked and looked around, until he spotted a huge shape looming in the path. The creature that he saw was a great Oni, a slant-eyed, strong, muscled fairy-beast that carried a heavy smithing hammer in the leather belt that wound around his big belly. Hildifons hid, for he did not want the Oni to see him.

'The Oni had managed to corner a tiny wood gnome that was portaging a little leaf boat over his head. The gnome was wearing an acorn cap and bright yellow pants made from stitched daffodil petals. The petal-pants shook as the gnome pleaded with the Oni in his little voice, "O please, Great One. Do not eat me! I must hie to my sick father, or he shall die!"

'The Oni laughed a terrible laugh deep in his belly that shook the ground and silenced the squawking jungle birds. "How can I deny a last request?" boomed the Oni. "I shall not eat you, but beware of the water beast when you sail over the pond!" The Oni then turned and thudded back down the path, never noticing Hildifons. The little gnome picked up his boat and scurried to the edge of the pond.

'"O, dear! O my! How shall I ever get across without waking the beast?" lamented the gnome. He stood still until he came to an idea: "I shall sing a lullaby as I go across the river. If I wake the beast, it will go back to sleep when it hears my song!" The gnome then sang one of the strange, beautiful songs of his people, whose language has long been forgotten by mortal tongues.

'Hildifons watched all of these happenings, and in his heart, he wished the frightened little gnome well on his journey. He listened to the gnome's song, and felt a little sleepy, and he began to yawn. Suddenly, heavy footsteps again came up the path, and the Oni reappeared, his ugly face twisted with rage.

'"No!"roared the Oni, "You shall not SING! Only I may SING!" Then, in his anger, the Oni summoned the water beast with his deep, growling voice:

Nya-Nya Bulembu! Nya-Nya Bulembu,

Come out of the water and eat!

The Oni master summons you!

Laugh and show me your teeth!

'Then the horrible monster rose out of the pond. It was as big as a bull, and covered with pond scum. It had horrible claws on its webbed feet, and Ah! Such deadly teeth! The teeth in the front of his mouth were razor-sharp and as long as a hobbit's arm. White they were, and gleaming menacingly. The Nya-Nya Bulembu glided its way over to the gnome with strokes of its powerful tail. The gnome squealed and tried to paddle away, but it was obvious that it could not escape the horrible beast.

Hildifons was now stirred with a sudden glorious thought that might save the gnome: "Why is it that only the Oni may sing? Is there power in song over this beast?"

So Hildifons leapt from his hiding place in the trees and sang in his clear, pleasant voice:

Nya-Nya Bulembu! Nya-Nya Bulembu,

Go back to the water and sleep!

Please go away, I beg of you!

Do not do evil with your teeth!

Because Hildifon's voice was more beautiful and pleasing to the Nya-Nya Bulembu than the Oni's awful growling, the creature obeyed Hildifons and sank back into the water. The Oni turned to Hildifons and bellowed with rage, and he raised his mighty smithing hammer over his head to strike the hobbit. Hildifons quickly ducked from the blow and darted under the strong roots of the proud fan-leafed tree. The Oni smashed at the trunk and roots of the great tree with all of his might, but he soon became exhausted, for the Oni is a fat and heavy thing.

Hildifons sensed that his opponent was waning, and he struck at the Oni's great foot with his little dagger. The Oni howled with pain, and hopped up and down on his good foot, dropping his heavy hammer. Hildifons struck again at the Oni's ankle and his blade bit deep. The Oni sank to the ground with a groan and said, "Enough! Enough! I humbly surrender!" The Oni pulled himself upright and limped away.

Hildifons came out of hiding to see if the gnome was all right and capable of the journey across the pond. But when he looked out over the water for the boat, he saw-- instead of a little gnome-- a beautiful fairy maiden sitting on a rock. Fair she was, and dressed in white with flowers in her hair and vines in her girdle. She was Leelinau, a nymph of the woods and a princess of her people. She called to him in her sweet voice, "Bravest of Little People! Blessed art thou for thy courage! See, the Oni has left you his magic hammer, and the might of its blow shall grant thee any desire of thine heart."

Hildifons was entranced with her beauty, and her smile and voice warmed his soul. He picked up the hammer, and looked to the fairy, as if asking for permission. Then he obediently raised the hammer high, and he wished a wish with all of his might before he brought the hammer to the earth with a heavy blow of triumph.

He soon got his wish: to wed the beautiful nymph and return to his people. He married her in Fairyland, and then they came to this world.'

"And so," she finished, "they lived happily in the wilds of the Shire, and had many strong and clever children. One of whom was my grandfather, who told this story to me."



* * *





NOTES:

*Poem by Katherine Davis (1892-1980) called "The Fairy Dance".

*The Oni is a character from a Japanese fairytale called "Little One Inch," and the Nya-Nya Bulembu is from an African tale called "The Moss-Green Princess." Both tales have been told orally for many generations, and their original authors have been lost to time and retelling.