Hello! Thank you so much for taking the time to give my story a chance. I hope you won't regret it. This is my first attempt at a Hobbit FanFic. I am no master of all things Tolkien, nor will I pretend to be. If you notice anything incorrect or out of place, feel free to tell me. I am open to criticism and hope that you'll not feel in the least bit shy about voicing your opinions. I began this story in hopes of creating another narrative of events in the Hobbit and I want to know what you're thinking. Guesses, ideas, feelings. I want to know it all, so drop me a line and tell me how I'm doing.

-Alex

It was just another day. Nothing special, new or different from the last, but Moira greeted it cheerfully and gladly, turning her face towards the morning sunshine, tracking the sun through the blue as it passed over the lip of the mountains to begin it's tranquil stroll to the peak of the sky. She smiled to herself as the quiet noises of day began to filter in through the small, round window she sat at – the only window in the warren she had managed to carve out and maintain. It was going to be a good day, she told herself. In all her time in the little house, she had experienced very few dark days, even when the rain was tapping at the door and the wind pushing at the window. Very few days had the darkness passed the threshold into her sanctuary.

She hummed to herself a half-remembered melody as she moved around the hearth, stirring the fire and preparing breakfast. She had no idea why, but today of all days, she could not help but to smile. Luca was far from the same. He shuffled quietly from the back room, trailing a blanket that had wrapped itself almost impossibly around his legs, rubbing sleep blearily from his eyes. His blond curls were a mess of wild, untamed entropy, forming a golden halo around his head in the lazy morning light. He pulled half-heartedly at the blankets, but when they showed no sign of letting go easily, he forsook the venture and curled up in the corner, prepared to drift off to sleep once more.

"Luca, you can't go to sleep on the floor," she teased, keeping her voice just short of her usual volume.

"Tan too," Luca mumbled, pulling the faded brown blanket up to his chin. Moira pulled herself away from the skillet, mentally keeping track of it as she passed over to her little brother, an even bigger smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

If she left him there, he would go back to sleep. He'd proven that before. If he was tired enough, Luca could go to sleep anywhere: leaning in the corner, under the table, behind the hedge. Anywhere that was calm and quiet. She had lost track of him for whole afternoons at a time, frantically searching for him high and low, but lo and behold, he'd always turn up when she was at her wits end. Or when it was supper.

"Time to wake up, Luca." Moira crouched before him and tugged at a stray golden curl. He pulled the blanket higher and made a sound in the negative. She sat back on her heels, running her fingers through her hair. It needed to be washed. "Well then," she sighed, straightening – did her bones always creak like this – "I guess I'll just have all this food to myself. Too bad, too. I made hotcakes special this morning."

The blanket boulder shifted. "Wif bwoobewies?" came the muffled reply.

Her grin stretched wider. Victory was at hand. "Yes, with blueberries and honey and cream." She took a step toward the table as she listed off the treats. "But I guess, if you don't want any…" Luca stumbled into action, moving before he had detangled himself from the blanket. With the blanket still over his head, he managed to charge the woodpile, sending logs rolling, but – oh! – he was still moving, his momentum and sheer power of will lifting him over the havoc he had wrought on the unsuspecting kitchen, and right into Moira's turned back. "Luca," she laughed, not at all bothered by the mess, "carefully. The food's not going to run away." She tugged down the blanket from his face and kissed his forehead, giving him a gentle smack to the bottom to get him tootling off in the right direction, now able to see, but still somewhat inhibited by the blanket.

He pulled himself onto the upturned crate that served as the only chair in the small room – how he had missed it in the first place was laughable – and waited impatiently, his little legs thumping against the crate, as he was still too small to touch the ground.

Moira gently pulled a cake from the pan, setting it on the cracked china plate before Luca, ruffling his hair as she passed around him. "Ah!" she warned as his fork flashed out lightning quick, bringing the entire cake to his lips. "It's hot," she warned.

Luca eyed her warily and deliberately scooped the hotcake into his mouth with an obstinate pop. He was trying to be difficult this morning, but it did little to dampen Moira's mood. At this point, he was doing more harm to himself than anything else. She watched, and eyebrow arched in amusement as his stubborn face transformed into one of shock, a grimace of pain, and then steely determination to not back down. He burnt his tongue, alright.

"How is it?" she asked, trying to smooth her face as Luca squirmed in his chair.

"Hwot," he garbled, trying to speak around the burning mass of flour and fruit he had suspended in his mouth.

"I warned you!" she laughed, serving herself and putting the bowl of freshly whipped cream and strawberries onto the table before them. She ate standing up, her back to the little fire in the hearth behind her, and watched her brother's tortured little face. He finally managed to swallow and started to giggle, spraying the table with blueberry and cake. He clasped his hands over his mouth, trying to hold it all in, but his merry blue eyes shone as his shoulders shook even harder.

Moira pulled herself away to get Luca another hotcake, also giving the giggling boy a chance to gather some more control. She dropped it onto his plate and this time Luca took smaller bites, slathering the cake in the heavy whipped cream and fresh strawberries – an extravagant gift from their neighbors. Moira hated to admit it, but she was glad that they were so well looked after. On her own, she could never afford such special treats for them. After Andy… well, it was much easier to provide for all three of them with two working to put food on the table. It was much more of a struggle now with just her and Luca, especially as Luca was growing so quickly now – two inches in the past five months – that he would soon eat them out of house and home.

A lot had changed over the past – was it almost two years already? Luca's rounded belly was gone, replaced by a slimmer torso and knobby legs of a child, her toddler of a brother stretching out into someone more equipped to take on the world. He certainly was growing up! And what about herself? Had she not changed too? It was almost certain that she was different, she felt different, but Moira could not put her finger on the exact difference. But she was glad of the change. It had been difficult when they first started out, but now, she hardly stumbled over unfamiliar words and she missed very little from their old life, or at least, that's what she told herself.

Moira was content with living in the present and though she had many challenges on a daily basis, she also had such blessings as she could never repay. So lost in thought, Moira almost missed Luca raising his arm to his mouth.

Almost.

"Freeze, mister!" Luca turned guilty blue eyes on her, slowly lowering his arm and reaching for the linen napkin that sat conveniently next to his left elbow. He wiped his sticky face on the napkin rather than his sleeve and gave her an almost blinding smile.

"Tanks, Ma." Oh, the little charmer! If anyone could get out of trouble by smiling and batting his eyelashes, it would be this little golden wolf in sheep's clothing.

"Hmm. Alright, go get dressed. I laid your clothes out on the trunk." Luca sprang from his seat, knowing that he had just barely gotten off scot-free, and shot out of the room, still trailing the blanket now wrapped tightly around one ankle. A stumble and a quiet thump was the only sound of his escape.

The plates were tidily stacked into the sink and Moira pulled back her hair, twisting it up and out of the way for the day. She was just tucking in the ends of the kerchief around her hair when Luca stumbled out of the back room, trying, in vain, to put his head through the armhole of his tunic. Moira rotated the shirt and tugged on the ends. Golden curls easily emerged – this time through the right hole – and Luca smiled up at her, flashing little pearls.

Moira returned his smile and reached down for his hand, ready to be off into town. She grimaced as his hand met hers, transferring sticky onto her. She looked down at him and his grin was even wider, knowing that he had tricked her.

"You!" she laughed, reaching out to tickle him. Luca let out a happy shout and dashed out the door before she could get him, leaving a cloud of dust behind him as he charged down the lane from their house. Moira laughed outright, and ran after him, pausing only long enough to shut the door securely before she was chasing after him, calling "I'm going to get you for that!"

She managed to overtake her much younger brother before they reached the road, scooping him up into her arms and settling him on her shoulders. Moira walked the familiar path down into the main town of Bree, laughing as Luca reached for the early Chithingbuds on the trees that lined their path. She nodded to the gate watchman as they passed through the side door into the main street of town. Luca, feeling fearless, let go of Moira's head long enough to tap the top of the door twice – once for Moira and once for himself – for luck, they'd always say.

There was the usual light traffic of strangers moving through town, merchants and farmers, mostly, bringing their goods to sell along the road or to some of the more established stores of Bree. Luca rested his chin on Moira's head, yawning.

Spring was in the air. Little bulbs were beginning to flower, dotting the windows with light pinks, reds, and oranges. Small tufts of soft, green grass were peaking through the cracks of the town walls, adventuring further into the walled town that very much seemed to resent the small straggling soldiers of nature since they seemed constantly beaten down and torn at. Children would happily go out of their way to stomp upon them. The passing ponies and horses always managed to crop them almost into oblivion. But the grass was stubborn and by late summer would have inched their way throughout the entire town, bringing just a little touch of wild nature into the industrious trade town.

A craftsman or two sat out before their workshops, whittling and smoking, leaving the smell of pipe weed and pine hanging in the air around them. It had been a hard winter, but everything was falling right back into its natural place. Peace and quiet reigned in the hills, but here was a bustling town of industry and craftsmanship.

Moira nodded to those she knew as they passed and Luca waved energetically to all those they didn't, his tiredness completely forgotten as they were swallowed up in the bustle of town.

The tidy bakeshop sat on the corner of the busy road, already lively with early morning customers. The smoke from the fires floated lazily above their heads, smelling of fresh bread, giving the air a warm, heady scent. Just next to it was the shop Moira worked at, a common store dealing mostly in dry goods. It was decidedly less crowded than the bakery, at present, but would fill up throughout the day as their suppliers came to haggle prices on the goods they had to sell.

"Now, mind your manners," Moira said, lifting Luca off her shoulder and opening the shop door, letting Luca trot in ahead of her. He paid her no mind, running to the corner – his corner – of the shop, passing by the wizened owner who manned the coin drawer. That is, he was headed to the corner, but came to a sudden halt and changed direction, heading straight for the shop counter.

"Good morning, Master Luca," the elderly Hobbit said solemnly, bowing low behind the counter in a very practiced and dignified manner. Luca barely came up to his hip, but returned the bow, although somewhat awkwardly as he tried to hide his grin that was shining through his own regal manner.

"Good mowning, Mastwer Noats." The Hobbit smiled and nodded. Luca stretched up to his tippy toes and crossed his arms, resting his elbows on the counter, barely clearing the top, clearly expecting something.

"Good morning Master Noakes," Moira murmured, pulling and apron from a peg by the door, sliding it over her head and knotting the ties in the back.

Everard Noakes had owned this particular shop his entire life, it originally being built by his great grandfather, Gaffer Brockhouse of Bree. The little shop had been made to last through the ages, and last it did.

Moira turned to go into the back stock room, not missing the brightly wrapped sweet slide across the counter and disappear into Luca's waiting hand. She smiled to herself, gratitude and fondness for the elderly Hobbit almost overwhelming her. She had tried to repay him once after finding candy wrappers in her brother's pockets, but Master Noakes refused her outright, demanding that he had a right to spoil the boy as he chose, as his children were grown and grandchildren too far away to visit often. Now it had become something of a ritual and Luca held fast to it. Moira, many years ago, had something of a similar relationship with her own grandfather and so she didn't put a stop to it. She was almost relieved that Luca could be brought up well and experience childhood as she had, even though their circumstance had drastically changed.

Luca, satisfied with his Sterday greeting, popped the small, hard candy into his mouth and trotted off to his corner. The two scrubbing brushes and chips of wood were right where he left them the Hensday previous and he resumed his games with enthusiasm. Even in the other room, she could hear his happy shouts of "Fiwer!" and "Pepare to bowd!"

Today, Luca was a pirate.

The back stock room was warm and quiet, filtering out most of the noise from the street, but it could never block the voice of Luca. His play gave the shop a lighter air, more comfortable and less stifling. His game of pirates had started a few days earlier after an exceptional bedtime story – if she did say so herself – of how Peter Pan fought and defeated the pirates, cutting off the had of their captain and throwing it to the waiting crocodile below. Peter Pan was the one story Moira could reliably remember and retell to her younger brother. The other stories were too dull or filled with princesses for Luca to be distracted by them for long, but Peter Pan endured.

A new shipment of salted pork had come in as well as basic rough cloth not fine enough for the millinery or tailor. Moira went about sorting the barrels and folding the fabric, laying the latter aside to take out to the storefront. The logbook sat heavily on its shelf, its pages dog-eared and aged yellow, but remarkably it stood up year after year to constant use.

Moira logged the new items neatly, pausing only to count the barrels and listen to the gentle ring of the shop door. Master Noakes would take care of whoever it was. "Must be a customer," Moira noted with half a mind. She could hear the deep voice of the stranger and the clipped and efficient answers of Master Noakes, just as she always could with any customer, but the one thing she could not hear was Luca. This gave her pause as she straightened and pushed away from the table she sat at. Luca was never this quiet.

Except for once.

Moira shook off the feeling of terror that came with the memory. Master Noakes was watching after him, after all. Luca could hardly get himself into any kind of trouble with the veteran Father guarding the storefront.

But it couldn't hurt to check in on him. Better safe than sorry, she told herself.

She quitted the back room with the new shipment of cloth hung over her arm. She'd just set them right, check on Luca, then return to inventorying the newest merchandise.

Luca was in his corner, just as she'd left him, but his game was forgotten as he stared at the stranger. He was tall and broad in the shoulders, long braids streaming down behind him. Not a Hobbit or a Man, but a Dwarf. The name seemed hardly fitting, as he was easily a head taller than Moira.

That had been one of the more difficult aspects of life to adjust to. Being small. In this new world where everything was larger than life, Moira found herself constantly at odds, battling against this new challenge. She wasn't half as intimidating as she had been now that those around her had grown to epic proportions, though she maintained a respectable height. As a Fallowhide, she was meant to be taller, she was told, though she was still not sure what people meant by that.

"Ah, Moira. Just the person I needed," Master Noakes called out as she made her presence known. It was strange to see the small Hobbit excited, but he fairly glowed and he smiled at her confused silence.

Moira cleared her throat, attempting to overcome her initial shock. No wonder Luca was standing like a statue in the corner. She, herself, felt like a child very much out of her element. "How may I help?" she managed to choke out, laying the fabric aside.

"Please, see to this gentleman here while I go looking for some of those old maps I have hidden away in the back room," he said, already moving past her, giving her an encouraging pat on the shoulder to get her moving. To the Dwarf "It'll only be a moment. I'm sure I know where I put them." And he was gone.

Moira eyed the stranger nervously, but moved forward to meet him at the counter. "How may I assist you today, Master Dwarf?"

"I'm in need of supplies."

She hesitated at the almost demanding tone, but caught herself, saying smoothly "We are very well stocked and if we do not have what you require, we may procure it from one of our vendors or show you to a shop better equipped to handle your needs."

He nodded, apparently satisfied with her answer and held out a piece of parchment detailing the goods he required. She took it, unrolling the alarmingly long list. Moira took a moment, hesitating over the words as she fumbled her way through the unfamiliar runes. She glanced up and flushed red when she discovered that he was still watching her, a small frown tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Moira cleared her throat, pushing back her panic at the strange words, and smiled at the Dwarf. "I'll see what I can do. Please, feel free to look around the shop in the meantime."

Good Lord! What had Master Noakes gotten her into? "Don't panic. Panicking now will by no means help you." She turned away quickly, trying for the life of her to decipher the writing clutched in her hands. Some of the words she knew, and so Moira moved about the shop, hardly taking notice of the stranger or her little brother. All of her concentration was on that damned list.

Luca remained motionless in the corner, unabashedly staring at the Dwarf. Luca had never had much of a chance to see one. It's true that the odd vendor or traveler would move through Bree, usually headed to the larger Dwarf settlement in the Blue Mountains to the West, but few lingered for very long in the town among Men and Hobbits. The Dwarf in question stayed at the counter, not yet conscious of his audience.

Moira was finally gaining some ground on the list, placing each item on the counter as she went. Char cloth, a needle and thread, pipe tobacco –the expensive stuff, too– a whetstone, a pint of oil, hemp rope, and waybread. She was just about halfway through the list when she hit a snag. The waybread. It wasn't often asked after, as many travelers didn't have very much further to journey and would rather procure fresh loaves of sturdy bread from the bakery just next door. The waybread sat in crates atop a top shelf, easily in reach for a Man or even the Dwarf, but not for her.

She turned, intending to use the stool, but changed her mind as she saw her brother still openly staring at the Dwarf. That wouldn't do. Hadn't she told him that it was rude to stare? "Luca, can you help me for a moment?" He slowly pulled himself away, but his eyes remained locked on the Dwarf as he shuffled from out of the corner. Moira tried to suppress her grin at his shyness. Usually he was only too ready to help. "Come here, you," she said, grasping him under his arms and hoisting him up onto her shoulders.

The height seemed to pull him from his thoughts and he laughed as he was swung around to face the shelf. "You see that box way at the top of the shelf?"

"Yep," he replied, grabbing a fistful of her hair to remain steady, already reaching for it.

"Ow," Moira teased. Luca loosened, but did not relinquish, his death grip on her hair. His arm wobbled under the weight of the box as he slid it down to and then over the edge of the shelf. Moira had her arms raised to catch it, not fully trusting her brother to be able to bear the weight. She steadied the two of them, box safely in her arms and walked back over to the counter where the Dwarf was waiting.

He hid it well, but there was a smile, however small, tugging at the corners of his lips. Moira smiled as she lifted Luca from her shoulders, depositing him on the counter along with the waybread. She returned to the hunt with the fire of victory coursing through her. Her size, while a nuisance, would not hold her back.

Luca froze on the counter, now more in awe of the stranger due to their close proximity. The Dwarf, bless him, turned to Moira's blond angle and asked "Would you like to see a magic trick?" His voice was soft and low in the tranquil quiet of the shop. Moira wasn't surprised when Luca eagerly assented, even more in awe than he had been before. She paused in her collecting, watching bemusedly from the side. The Dwarf took a deep breath, resting his hand in front of Luca, pinching at the joint of his left index finger. Slowly, he drew the tip of his finger away from the rest of his hand, sliding the top half of his finger back and forth, completely unattached to the thumb it belonged to.

Moira couldn't help the laugh that broke free. She knew this magic trick, but it had been such a long time since she had seen it. It had been a favorite of her grandfather's and she'd demand to see it over and over again, closely scrutinizing the hands, intent on discovering the secret for herself. Oh, how long ago was it? She must've been Luca's age, give or take a year. It was on her fifth birthday that her grandfather finally took her into his lap and showed her how to do it herself. A small part of her ached as she watched her brother incredulously order the stranger to do it again. Luca never met their grandfather.

She turned away, pulling another parcel off of the shelf. It was no good dwelling on things that she could not change.

Luca gasped and Moira glanced over to the pair. The Dwarf's thumbs were on backwards. Both hands were in fists in front of him, the thumbs touching the knuckles of his index fingers and then pressed down flat, making it seem that they were completely rotated. Luca's small hands danced over his much larger and darker hands, trying to understand. Luca asked very seriously, in almost a whisper "Aw you a Piwate?"

Moira nearly dropped the packages she was ferrying across to the counter, choking on either a gasp of surprise or a laugh. The Dwarf seemed stunned. Was he a Pirate? Where did Luca come up with these crazy questions? A wizard would have made more sense, but a pirate? They were saved by the return of Master Noakes who swept into the room victoriously brandishing a roll of old maps.

"I knew I still had them," he said, beaming up at the Dwarf. "Now, you were asking about Hobbiton?"

"Yes. I'm looking for a Mr. Baggins and I was told he resided there."

"Baggins… not the Sackville-Bagginses? No…" Master Noakes bent over the map running his finger over the well-aged parchment. "Baggins. Ah! Here it is. Bag End. Yes, this is it." Master Noakes traced the road from Bree into Hobbiton, noting important turns and pathways. "It's a few days journey from here, but I have never made the trip myself. Moira, will you join us?"

Moira abandoned the last item on the list and joined the pair waiting patiently for her at the counter. "You've journeyed through Hobbiton, I believe? When you first came to Bree from Needlehole, you must have passed through that area."

"Oh, well it was a long time ago and I hardly remember the trip," she said, lifting Luca off of the counter.

That was a lie.

Oh, how she remembered that journey through the dark, soaked to the bone, lost, and terrified with her baby brother clutched in her arms. Alone and hungry, she had wandered through Rushock Bog for two days before spilling out onto the grassy banks by The Water, not knowing whether it was all a dream or a terrible reality. That was when Andy found them.

"Well, that's the best guess I have. Follow the road until Bywater and then journey North."

"My thanks," the stranger replied, leaning over the map to trace his route over the parchment, committing it to memory. He exchanged coin for goods and Moira, aided by the enthusiastic Luca, began toting the packages out to the Dwarf's string of ponies waiting just outside the store.

"She's a good girl," Master Noakes sighed, falling back onto a stool, "and she does right by that boy of hers."

"They are alone?" The Dwarf turned to watch the girl and blonde child pack away his goods.

"Yes. Her husband, Andwise Bottlebrook, Valar rest him, passed last fall, just before the frosts set in. He got too close to the edge of the river and, well... Hobbits have no business being around the water. She found him, poor lass. Now it's just the two of them."

Conversation stilled as Moira and Luca reentered the shop, but resumed once the door shut behind them as they left the shop once more, arms full of parcels.

"Has she no other family?"

"None that she spoke of. There was a brother in law who came up around the time of the funeral and stayed with them through winter, but he left when spring came around. Wanted to take her and the little one East with him, but she decided to stay rather than risk the journey over the mountains, not that I blame her. The wild is no place for us gentle folk."

"And so he abandoned them?"

"Don't you worry, Master Oakenshield. They're well looked after. They won't go hungry, not while I'm around and I'm sure their neighbors do what they can for them."

"You are a generous man." Master Noakes smiled and waved away the compliment.

The store bell tinkled as Moira pushed her way through. "A safe journey, Thorin Oakenshield." Master Noakes said, bowing low. The Dwarf inclined his head, taking his leave of them. He paused, briefly ruffling Luca's golden curls, before he swept out of the store and disappeared in the bustle of the street.

"You know him?" Moira asked, looking through the window long after this 'Thorin Oakenshield' had passed from sight.

"He comes through Bree from time to time. A very honorable Dwarf and an excellent craftsman, though he was born to greater purpose. I met him a great number of years ago, when I myself was just a lad and his people traveled and traded with Men more than they do now. Ah, but that was a long time ago indeed. Have you finished inventorying the new goods?"

"Not quite. I still have the kegs to check and then the char cloth to cut and stack. Oh, and I should go and order another batch of waybread before I forget. Your friend bought the lot."

"Oh, I'll do that. It's been too long since I had something in my hands to work on. I'm going to become an idle, old Hobbit, mark my words, but today I think I'll just pretend that I'm not that old yet."

Moira hesitated, but knew better than to argue. He would be stubborn to the end, though both of them knew that he would be tired and stiff after finishing the log. "I'll just put on some tea, then. It'll be good for both of us."

Master Noakes nodded and moved around the counter, patting her on the shoulder. "You're a good girl."

Moira waited for the old Hobbit to disappear behind the tapestry before putting on a pot of tea.

"Ma, was he a piewit?" Moira turned and smiled at her brother who was paused in his game.

"You know, I think he was a pirate!"

"Wealy?" Luca dropped his scrubbing brush ship.

"Didn't you see the way his hands were on backwards?! I think he was Noodler1." Luca's eyes grew wide.

"Noodwer?" He seemed lost in thought for a moment, comparing the Dwarf he had just met with the character of his favorite bedtime story. Luca looked up solemnly at her. "Dat was him," he whispered.

Moira crouched down in front of Luca. "I bet the other pirates are out there right now."

"But dey won't come hew betuz, betuz," he was searching for the reason, "betuz, I'm Petew Pan!" he exclaimed triumphantly.

"I bet they're all running away right now because they know that Peter Pan is guarding the shop."

"Yeah!" he agreed, picking up his 'boat' again and resuming his game enthusiastically.

"So long as you're here, nothing bad can happen," Moira murmured, kissing the top of his head.

She straightened slowly and stretched, looking over the shop. The maps were strewn across the counter, a few of them only inches away from breaking free from the pile. She couldn't leave them like that. The map of the Shire was resting atop the others, but just under it was a map she had often looked at since John had left them in the spring.

She shuffled the maps, tracing the route he had shown her. East. Always East. Up over the mountains, through the forest, along the river, past the town on the lake, and then just a little bit further, to the settlement in the shadow of the single mountainous peak. That's where they were gathering. Part of her wished that she had left with John when she'd had the chance. On the map, it looked like a short journey, but part of her knew that was wrong. What once seemed like an easy distance was now a large and dangerous undertaking even with a pony, which they didn't have nor could afford. On foot, the stretch over the mountains could quite possibly take her months and in the meantime, the clouds would gather and the cold would creep back in. They would be caught in winter before they reached the wood and even then, she was not sure that she wanted to make it that far. Strange stories about the forest reached as far as Bree. Mirkwood. The endless path through dark and the strange creatures that lived there. No, she could not make the journey alone.

But she couldn't wait for John to come back, as he had promised.

Their savings were almost gone, though she devoutly stretched each coin as far as it could reach. It just wasn't enough and she could no longer trust herself to the charity of her neighbors. It had been a hard winter and many of the families that endeavored to support them were suffering and she could not bear to take more from them. She would have to see Luca and herself right. They would have to leave.

For better or worse, they would cross over the mountains.

Chithing is the month – as created by Tolkien for the people of Bree – that spans from March 23rd to the April 21.st - Encyclopedia of Arda by Mark Fisher

Sterday: The Hobbit equivalent to our Monday. "Sterday corresponds more nearly to our Monday and Thursday (Mersday) to our Saturday" – Appendix D

Hensday: The Hobbit equivalent of our Friday – Appendix D

Noodler is a minor character in J. M. Barrie's Peter Pan

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