Disclaimers: See Chapter 1 for more info.


Frodo lay back on the mattress, sweat beading down his face. The dream was so intense. Sauron was in the dream, only he wasn't exactly in full form. Then there was that mysterious dirty blonde haired dwarf… and Ugnâsh. He survived? How was that possible? His hand pressed against glass… he was looking into a mirror… seeing his blue eyes, his frightened expression and messed up curly brown hair… wait. Was he still dreaming…

His eyes opened up fast. He felt hot and sticky in his night gown. He peered up at his bedroom window. It wasn't dawn yet. How long had he been asleep? Had he dreamt twice? Or was it the same dream? It looked like a running dream. Yes, he was awake now, but it was so intense. Perhaps he should tell Everhart Boffin, the same hobbit navigator who proved to his innocence and who attempted to capture the orc Ugnâsh about three months ago.

"Frodo? Frodo!" It was Aria's voice. Aria Breuer, his authoress. She had spent the summer at Brandy Hall with him and his cousins. Frodo smirked roughly. They had been a good three months. "Frodo, come on." Aria barged into his bedroom. "Your Aunt Esme wants us in the dining room for breakfast." Aunt Esme was Frodo's cousin Esmeralda Took-Brandybuck, Saradoc Brandybuck's wife and, even Frodo could admit, a very good cook.

"Now?" Frodo asked, moving to a sitting position on the bed. "It's not dawn yet." He rubbed his eyes, in an effort to get the matter out.

"Bad dreams?" Aria asked him. Frodo looked up at her with a knowing expression. Even from the candlelight, Frodo knew she was right.

"It was." Frodo heaved a heavy sigh. "It was about Sauron and Ugnâsh. I haven't taken Divination, but this foresight…" He exhaled. "It's growing stronger."

"Come on. Maybe food and good conversation will help take your mind off the dream," Aria said.

"You sound like Sam," Frodo looked up at her.

"In a way, but from my experience, distraction sometimes helps with bad dreams," she said.

"I'll take your word for it," he said, moving out of the bed. "I'll be out in a minute." And he did, for once he finished in the bathroom, he entered the dining room. There was Saradoc and Esmeralda, but also Aria. And given the small of good, hot food, Frodo knew breakfast was ready.

"Come, Frodo. Have a seat," Esmeralda told him.

Frodo sat down, grabbing whatever scrambled eggs, bacon and sausage he could get his hands on. From the first bite, he knew the food was delicious. He looked up the moment Saradoc turned his way.

"Frodo," Saradoc started, "this is going to sound difficult, but I've spoken a bit, by owl, with my future self. Somehow, Merry must have told myself what was going on." He paused. "I know that messes a little with our fixed timelines, but we've agreed to let you and Aria go to the Hobbit Quiddtich World Cup. With one change… you two will be traveling with the Heads of the Authors and Authoresses to the Hobbit Quidditch World Cup. I cannot escort you there, but there is a portkey available that will take you both this morning to the game." He added last, "After the cup is won and the match finished, the Heads of Authors and Authoresses will escort you both back here, where you will spend the rest of the summer, until September 1st, when you return to Hogwarts. That way, we're not interfering with the timelines that much."

"How did you know—" Frodo was cut off by Esmeralda, who spoke up,

"It's a long story, Frodo, but we did work things out with our future selves," Esmeralda said. "Even though we've found ways in the past to speak to our present, past and future selves, we figured this time would be all right."

"It was safe to open the connection here, while the worlds and timelines are safe to use," Saradoc answered.

"That's different," Frodo said.

"Yes, it's quite fascinating," Saradoc said.

"So I'll still be allowed to spend the summer here," Aria asked.

"Yes, dear girl, you can," Saradoc answered.

"Thanks," Aria said, her expression slightly serious.

"Well, eat up. You have a match to attend," Esmeralda answered.

"I know, but…" Frodo turned from Esmeralda to Saradoc, asking them, "…what is a portkey?"

-.-.-

Frodo finished up in the bathroom, dressed in a white shirt, blue vest and dark blue breeches. Just as he stepped out, his path was momentarily blocked by Aria, who jumped out from around the corner. Eventually, Frodo moved her off to the side, but was amazed at her apology.

"Oh, thanks Frodo. So sorry about that," Aria said.

Frodo shrugged. "It's no big deal."

"Nice attire," she said.

"Why thank you," he said, grinning sheepishly. What was he doing? He could handle this, couldn't he? He said, waving his index finger at Aria's blue dress, "Um… nice outfit." Really? That was the best he had? Oh bother…

"Let's get to that portkey," she said, darting down the hallway.

"If we must," he said, following her.

Minutes later, Frodo found Aria with Esmeralda. His cousin was holding a damaged mirror. This confused him. Shouldn't a portkey be more… splendid? Maybe it didn't matter… or it did… what was he doing?

"What's that?" Frodo asked his aunt.

"It's your portkey. Take it." Esmeralda said. "And good luck."

Frodo weighed the mirror in his hand. It was fairly sturdy. Oh, that's right. Aria. "Aria, come on. Hold it."

"Grab on," Esmeralda told them. "And hold tight. I will see you both when you return."

"Aria!" Frodo spoke to her.

"What? Oh!" Aria said, grabbing a hold of one end of the mirror. Frodo found his hand stuck to the mirror. He and Aria were traveling very fast in the air, spun around so many times… until they landed on top of a hill. It was dawn. Aria spoke up first, "Where are we? What… did it work?"

"Oh, I believe it did," the Head of Authoresses spoke. She had dark curly hair, was tall and lanky, and wore purple robes. She extended her hands to Frodo and Aria. "Come. The Head of Authors is going to care for you and your friends in the tent of his choosing. Now, your friends are here in this campsite. I will take you to them." She added, "The Head of Authors and I have already bought the tickets for the authors, authoresses and their chosen hobbits. We will make sure you lot have plenty to do while you're here."

"That's convenient," Frodo said.

"It's call supervision. Now, since you're not adults yet, I see no need as to why there shouldn't be one Head of Authors keeping you all safe and protected." The Head of Authoresses continued. "Now, also, feel free to buy any souvenirs while you're staying with us. The hobbit teams playing in this year's match are from the worlds' Prydain and Lystot."

"I didn't know Prydain had Halflings – hobbits. Sorry there," Aria said.

"It's all right. Hobbits are called Halflings, too. It's common that we're called both, you know," Frodo said.

"But still. Hobbits living in Prydain." Aria asked the Head of Authoresses, "Is there any chance that Taran knows… or Gurgi."

"I'm sure you'll find out whenever you please," the Head of Authoresses said. "But yes, there is a small tribe of hobbits living in the world Prydain. They opened their own Quidditch stadium, and have been the best hobbit Quidditch team there is. Here we are!" She stopped before a rather decent looking tent with beige curtains. She opened the curtain for them, but had one final request. "When the match is over, I will escort you both back to the Portkey, either tonight or tomorrow. But I think tonight you'll need me most."

"What?" Frodo asked, confused.

"Your friends are waiting for you inside, and the Head of Authors. Good luck," the Head of Authoresses said last.

Frodo moved inside the tent. Aria came up behind him, but was just as amazed as he was. Inside the tent was a wide living room. Other accommodations included about three or four bedrooms, a bathroom, a study and a kitchen. The curtain ceiling was large enough for the tall, regal Head of Authors, who had dirty-blonde hair and wore bluish-green robes. And there were Frodo and Aria's hobbit friends Samwise Gamgee, Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took. Sam was busy reading a brochure on the hobbit Quidditch teams, while Merry and Pippin spent their time investigating the kitchen and other rooms.

"Sam," the Head of Authors told him, "meet me in the kitchen. We have lunch to prepare." He turned towards Merry and Pippin. "As for you two, keep out of the kitchen. I've got my eye on both of you."

"Okay then," Merry and Pippin said, before moving over to the dining table. Frodo joined them a moment later, only to find the two hobbits resting their feet on the table. That didn't stop the Head of Authors from spotting them.

"Boys, if you put your feet on the table, you'll have to clean the table." The Head of Authors suggested, before commanding them, "Now, take your hairy feet off the table this instant." Frodo stifled a laugh. Really? They have to have order now in this place.

"Yes sir," Merry and Pippin said, moving their feet off the table with disdainful looks in their eyes.

"This head of authors is pretty strict," Merry said.

"Yeah, I wonder what he's had for breakfast," Pippin whispered.

"I heard that!" The Head of Authors said, handing to the two hobbits wet, soapy dishcloths. "Now, clean up your spots."

"Yes sir," Merry and Pippin said, moving to clean the tables.

"Is this necessary?" Frodo asked, confused.

"You can clean up to, if you'd like," the Head of Authors said.

"Well, you heard him," Pippin said. Frodo nodded, deciding to take a seat on the comfy, cushioned couch. To his surprise, Aria joined him on the couch.

"What?" Aria asked him.

"Nothing," Frodo said, giggling a little. It had been a trying morning. But then, what was he trying?

o-o-o

Frodo returned to the tent with his souvenirs. Like Aria, he chose the Prydain team. They seemed less vampiric than the hobbits on the Lystot team. But then, as the hour drew nearer, there was more activity going on inside the tent.

"Prydain has to win, and we'll see to that," Merry said, chipper.

"No bets!" The Head of Authors said. "We're trying to be modest here, and you both might lose your winnings if you do bet."

Merry and Pippin shrugged. "Sounds fair." They said at the exact same time. Frodo chuckled. He couldn't help himself.

"Is everyone ready?" The Head of Authoresses asked.

"Yes," the group said in unison.

"Then come on." The Head of Authoresses said. "Let's go."