I'm crying again. I hate it when I allow myself to cry. I've been doing it so often lately, ever since we got back, that I am beginning to question my toughness. Only last week I cried because some random Sackville-Baggins yelled at me for allowing a goat to eat the grass on his front lawn. What sort of a wimp am I turning into?

Anyway, this time I'm crying because a child just called me fat, which I am quite clearly not. However, my younger cousin Jasmine has sticks for limbs, and compared to her I do look a little chubby. But I'm getting side- tracked with my ranting. Gandalf asked me to tell you my story, and if I'm going to tell it, I'm going to tell it right.

I suppose, like all great tales, mine should start with a dark sorcerer, or an epic battle, or some kind of defeat of all evil. Well, I'm afraid if you came here expecting something like that, you're going to be disappointed. For our journey begins in a world far from this one, in a grey, dark, filthy and hostile land simply called Earth. Earth is a world inhabited only by humans and animals, though sometimes it is difficult to distinguish between the two. There are no hobbits, or elves, or dwarves, or wizards, or orcs, or ents, or anything remotely interesting. Can you imagine that? A world without hobbits and their wonderful cooking? I can, for I spent the first sixteen years of my life in one. And I can assure you, it wasn't fun.

I'm going to skip over my childhood quickly, for my early days consisted mostly of being ill-mannered, badly behaved and generally troublesome. Of course, if you know me, you'll know that I'm a lot less mischievous now that I've grown up a bit. No? Never mind, then.

It all started a week into the summer of my sixteenth year. I was lying on the sofa, playing a game of I spy with my cousin Jasmine and absent-mindedly watching a film, The Fellowship of the Ring, at the same time. (I'll get on to what a film is later, believe me, that took a lot of time to explain to you-know-who)

The movie had just started, and, as usual, I was whispering along to the little pieces of elvish in the prologue.

'I amar prestar aen'

Jasmine gave me a look. I chose to ignore her; being weird is fun sometimes.

'han mathon ne nen, han mathon ne chae, a han noston ned 'wilith.'

'Poppy, if you're going to be a full-on nerd, at least warn me first so I can leave the room. I'm afraid that your geekiness will rub off on me. I'll get turned into jam at school if I even show signs of having seen Lord of the Rings. You know what Essex state schools are like.'

Jasmine went to her local comprehensive (a free school where they have to accept you if you live nearby, even if you're the worst behaved child in the world). She wasn't unintelligent, but her mother couldn't afford to send her to a good private school like mine, where you have to pay to attend.

'I know, Jas. And it doesn't help that you're so skinny either- people will think you're an easy target. I just wish that I didn't live 75 miles away from you- I'd make those thugs wish they had never been born!'

Jasmine laughed. 'I'd like to see you try. You might be able to deal with those posh country fags you go to school with, but down in Colchester, these kids can kill people if they get too annoyed.'

'Yeah, you might be right' I replied, staring up at the ceiling again. 'I spy with my little eye…. something beginning with… L'

'Light. Way too easy. My turn. I spy with my little eye something beginning with…. Jasmine gasped. 'F!'

I could hear Frodo Baggins's voice in the background, coming from the corner with the television in it (again, I'll explain what that is later).

'Jas, remember we agreed that the 'thing' we spy can't be from the movie? It'd be too easy.'

'No, Poppy. Sit up and turn around, you great ugly orc-brain.'

Reluctantly, I propped myself up on my elbows and turned my head slightly. I actually almost screamed. Someone was standing in the doorway, looking even more surprised than Jasmine and I, if that was possible. My first thought was that it was Elijah Wood. As strange as that would have been, to find a world famous actor in my grandmother's living room, it was still the most likely of the theories that had magically formed in my head. But a part of me knew that this wasn't Elijah Wood. This person had the curly hair typical for a hobbit, and although his bare feet were normal sized and free of hair, his clothes looked far too small for him, as though they had shrunk in the wash. However, something unusual caught my attention. His ears were slightly pointed. My second, yet far weirder idea was that this was Frodo, somehow in 'human' form.

I stared at him. He stared back. This went on for several minutes until Jasmine broke the silence.

'Um, are you Frodo?'

'Y- Yes, I am. Are you Poppy Gables?'

'No, I'm Jasmine Lloyd, her cousin. That's Poppy.'

Now Frodo and my cousin were staring at me. I sat there awkwardly, not sure who to look at. I eventually decided on 'Frodo', who I still wasn't convinced was the genuine article.

'If you're really Frodo, then how did you get here, why are you here, and how are your ears still pointed?'

'W-Well, Gandalf said that I had to find someone called Poppy Gables and bring her home, and so he sent me here. And he said that there could be some, er, complications, with the transformation process, which is why my ears are still pointed.'

I sat there, dumbstruck. If what this person said was true, then the real Frodo Baggins was standing in my grandmother's house. And what did he mean by 'bring me home?'