The knock came in the middle of the night. Rosie sat up in bed and swallowed a scream. She was surprised at how warm her room was; it had been freezing when she had fallen asleep. Doors squeaked down the hall.
"Da?" one of her brothers called; they all sounded alike at this hour. What time was it?
"Stay quiet," their mother whispered. "Stay in your room."
"Who is it?" asked another one of her brothers.
Rosie slid out of bed and poked her head out from behind her door. She could see her brother's heads leaning out from their door, one on top of the other. Her mother stood on top of the stairs, looking down.
"Stay in your room," Mom hissed.
"We are," that was definitely Nick who said that.
Their mother's hand emerged from behind her shawl to wave at them. It rested on the stair rail. "Who is it?" she asked.
"I don't know." Her father's voice was shaky. "A hobbit, that's for sure. There's four of them. With ponies."
"Four hobbits?" Tom asked.
"Quiet," Mom said.
"Maybe," Da said. "Two of them are awful Big."
Rosie sucked in her breath. Her brothers looked at each other, up and down. They stepped out from their room. Rosie immediately followed.
"What are you doing?" Mom asked. "Get back in your room."
Tom glanced at her as he went down the stairs. Mom clutched her shawl as the other three boys passed, but reached a hand out for Rosie when she came by. "Rose," she said.
It was all she needed to say. They looked at each other. It was dark; Mom was nothing more than a shape and shadows, but Rosie imagined her green eyes, wide. She pursed her lips. She thought for a moment. What could her Mom be so afraid of? What would make her better?
"It'll be fine, Mom," she said.
Mom let go. Rosie stepped down the stairs; her white nightgown glowed in the moonlight. She could hardly see the stairs behind her furry feet.
In the parlor, the boys were readying weapons. Tom had his whip; Nick had a poker; Nibs had a knife; Jolly had his stick. Da brandished his walking cane.
"Are you sure it's not Gaffer Gamgee?" Mom asked.
The question was – well, not silly per se, not really. No one answered. Rosie looked around for a weapon, something to hit with. She saw something large, with a handle coming out of it. She grabbed it and joined the huddle of boys near the door.
"What you got?" Jolly whispered.
She looked. "Frying pan."
They looked at it. You could tell, even in the moonlight, that it was covered in dust.
"Ready, boys," Da said.
They lifted their weapons as one as Da reached an unsteady hand for the door.