Wow! I am amazed at the response I've gotten! Thank you all so much for reading and favoriting this, but especially those of you who reviewed!

I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as the next one!

I am filling several people's requests this chapter in regard to Kenshin's age, just to prove how thankful I am you all reviewed!

I CHOSE TO MAKE HIM THIRTY! because Rurouni Kenshin started and Kenshin was 28. I feel that about two years passed by . . . . not that it matters because Kenshin still looks the same . . . If I had a choice, he could always look the same! (OVA where he gets old . . . rawr.)

I do in fact plan on deviating from the canon, or at least not make it quite so cliche.

Anonymous review who can't log in. You rock.

I OWN NOTHING!

Chapter Three:

Numbers MAN! . . . Meh, who needs 'em.

It had been about two months since Kenshin's unorthodox arrival, and, much to the amazement and delight to the hobbits, he was beginning to grasp the basics of the language. He could form small sentences, and his accent on some of the words was non-existent. The wounds had almost completely healed, and he was using his unrestricted mobility to familiarize himself with his surroundings.

Mostly, he searched for his Sakbatou, which had yet to resurface as far as he knew. He was terrified someone had found it and taken it for their own, and kept an eye, and ear open for any notice or mention of his beloved sword. It was that intense fear coupled with an instinct so buried within himself that made him so mortified of losing his sword. Here he was, stranded in an unknown land, away from all he knew without a weapon. He would practically hear his master berating him.

Then again, that may have just been the voice.

The voice was incessant, always insisting whenever there was a free moment that they search again. Kenshin obliged, if only to quiet the voice. At least once a day, often times more, he would take seemingly leisurely constitutionals through the woods. Frequently, Frodo took it upon himself to join him. The forrest was a large one, dense with trees but straight in the middle, after walking for a good forty minutes or so, one could stumble across a clearing.

The airy space, surrounded by nature had become the pairs new space for lessons, as the house was regularly filled with chatter and the business of Bilbo's highly unusual life, which was certainly not quiet or peaceful by any stretch of the imagination.

Kenshin found Frodo's eagerness to learn unquenchable, and the two, with their stuttering halting understanding of each other's languages would attempt to explain things to the other person. This was Kenshin's favorite way of passing the time here.

He knew the woods surrounding where he had fell so well, that he felt he could draw a map of it with his eyes closed. The familiarity he was beginning to feel with this new land both pleased him and disturbed him. He was beginning to get used to waking up here, which made him feel more and more panicked about getting home. He did not want to get used to being here. It took immense concentration and self-control to constantly remind himself that there wasn't anything he could do about it right this moment, so it would be better to just relax.

The good part of that though was that the more time he spent here had helped him to grasp the characters of the people around him, and they stopped being the strangers from this strange new world, and started to be people he felt minutely comfortable around. In fact he would call them his friends, though the voice disagreed gruffly at the idea.

Merry and Pippin were never-ending fountains of amusement. From their stories, which Kenshin was just beginning to understand, or their many antics which kept his mind feeling light and amiable, especially when he was lost in his thoughts about home.

Though his visits with Linda had, for the most part, stopped as he healed, he made it a point to visit her hole on the way to town. She was always delighted to see him, and urged him and who-ever he as with to come in and eat whatever confection she was whipping up. (Much to Kenshin's delight.) Linda was absolutely thrilled when she saw how good he was with her kids, and tried to persuade him to babysit sometime, to which he tried to politely decline. The thoughts of how much she had helped him and still showed him much kindness and acceptance quickly changed his mind and he took a few hours every other day or so to watch them while she went to town to have a little fun.

Within town he was becoming a regular. It was weird to him, that the hobbits seemed more or less to accept him as part of their tightly knit community. Then again, from what he had observed of their species it seemed to be a part of their natures. Of course he was still gossiped about heavily, despite the two months he'd been there. The more conservative parents warned their children away from him. Fat lot of good that did. Linda's children adored him, and when he would take them out to play, all the other children joined in. Apparently they had never played many of the games Kenshin knew and they were delighted when he taught them a new one. Kenshin was ridiculously popular around the children, something neither he nor their parents quite understood.

Whenever Kenshin was feeling confused or overwhelmed by this radically different world, Gandalf was a constant comforting presence. He was always hanging off to the side, watching things with those unwavering blue eyes of his. Many times in the evening, when Kenshin couldn't seem to quiet his thoughts, he would walk across the hall to the elder's room, whom was always the last to sleep. The old man would peer at him over whatever book he was reading, and invite Kenshin to sit and listen to him read. If not for the story itself, but for the comforting presence and soothing sound of his voice, it eased Kenshin's restless mind.

Bilbo, was an unstoppable force, and a whirlwind of energy. Something always seemed to be going on with the hobbit. Though, Kenshin observed that perhaps, his restlessness wasn't as normal as it always was. If Frodo's worried brow, and Gandalf's curious glances were anything to go by.

Sam was, at first, more than a little stiff in the presence of Kenshin, but he had eased up after the first week and had gone about teaching him the names of all the plants he tended to. Sam was a natural with the earth and Kenshin was internally amused that behind his slightly bristly exterior, he was naught more than a simple gardener who wanted to care for his greenery.

Kenshin soaked up anything, and everything they threw at him. He was nowhere near close to being entirely competent, but things were becoming clearer every day. Frodo had picked up immediately on the simple system of writing Gandalf taught to the hobbits in case there was an emergency and they needed to communicate with Kenshin immediately.

The old man looked positively fascinated when Kenshin went through the characters showing the elder how they were pronounced.

The grammar points seemed to be what was most difficult for everyone to grasp, but once they learned the basic rules they generally had the gist of things. Amusingly enough, Bilbo seemed to be struggling most with the unusual characters, a point which seemed to fluster and annoy him in equal measure. Frodo's natural gift with it seemed to irk him even further.

Frodo was his favorite person to actively be around. The younger hobbit had made great strides to meet him halfway through the exchanging of languages, and the younger seemed to possess patience beyond his years when it came to Kenshin. They often walked though the town and explored the forests together, simply enjoying each other's company. They would sit on the forest floor and Frodo would ask every kind of question he could imagine about Kenshin's home world. What the food was like, how the weather was, did they have alcohol, what were the people like, etc. Etc.

Kenshin was glad for the exercise; being this inactive for so long left him feeling disconcerted. The voice was pressing on him to work out more when he had extra time on his hand. (This was often, as not much needed doing, except to go shopping on occasion, and to learn more of the common tongue.) He complied, but only because the voice was disturbed by an aura it sensed, something unnatural. Something twistedly out of the ordinary, in this otherwise peaceful place.

Kenshin began to notice an undercurrent as well, and was certain it was coming from Bilbo. There were moments where his eyes seemed to slant with the intent of something darker than norm. Unsure how to confront the hobbit, he was resigned to let Bilbo be. The voice agreed supported this with fever. The voice didn't want to be wrapped up in something so unnerving, especially when it was none of their business.

At the current time, Kenshin was sitting idly on a rock in Sam's immaculate garden listening to the hobbit talk about his beloved plants.

"The Chrysanthemum's can be temperamental if you don't place 'em in loose enough soil, but that also means you have to be more careful with the amount of water you give 'em," Sam said as Kenshin nodded and repeated the unusual word to himself.

"Ku-ri-san-de-mum."

Sam shook his head.

"The, not de"

Kenshin tried again, but it was hard to get used to using sounds that weren't even in his language, while he was getting used to the 'r's bit by bit, the 'th' sound was still a struggle.

"Right there we have the tulips, the baby's breath and the sunflowers. The sunflowers are Mr. Bilbo's favorite flower so I have to plant them right by the window so he can see them when he is working on his book."

Kenshin nodded, a few words still flying over his head at the pace Sam was talking.

"They sit over by the iris's which are wilting from the heat, I have to remember to water them more, . . ." Sam's voice faded from his notice as he stared at the wilting flowers. The petals drooped towards the earth and he couldn't help but think of her bleeding form, limp and wilting as the flowers as she lay dying in his arms. Tomoe . . .

"Tomoe . . ." The voice yearned.

"Mr. Kenshin, are you okay?" Sam asked, realizing his audience had stopped paying attention to him. Kenshin rose suddenly, startling the gardener.

"Yes I am fine. I dinku I will take a rest dough." Sam nodded a little uncertain at his behavior but calmed as Kenshin shot him a rare smile and thanked him before heading inside.

When Kenshin reached his temporary room, he flopped himself on the bed, not even caring to remove his shoes. (Which he almost always insistently took off before entering.)

"Why are all these thoughts coming back to haunt me now? I thought I had dealt with my past. . ." He thought despondently thinking about the tragedy of Enishii.

"Probably because you can never escape your past," The voice suggested idly. Kenshin rolled his eyes.

"I understand that. I would never try to forget what atrocities I have committed with these hands." He stared at his hands, remembering the red that he thought would never come off.

He ignored the voice as it started saying in a sing-songy way, how melodramatic he was being.

"Look, all I'm trying to say, is that I usually have better control than this." The voice stopped it's taunts to consider this.

"You may be right. But what can we do about it, unless there is some direct trigger for it, there is no way to stop it, or prevent this stuff."

"I think I may try to start meditating again, If only to quell the feelings of unease I get from Bilbo,"Kenshin pondered, and the voice nodded a little carelessly. Finding he had time on his hands, (and with no desire to go out in the garden again with the wilting irises,) Kenshin decided to start right then and now.

He shut his eyes and closed his ears from the sounds of the house and its occupants, he focused on the feeling of air as he inhaled and exhaled, and he began to sort through the occurrences of his days here.

Still no sign of the Sakbatou.

On the positive side, there had been no signs of any form of violence or war in this world. It was a seemingly peaceful place. Despite how much Kenshin was overjoyed by this, he felt tense and on edge.

It was just too good to be true.

The very fact he felt that way made him feel bitter.

He was finally in a place where there seemingly was no conflict and his heart and mind could not accept that fact. Despite how desperately he wished they could.

In truth, he was in such conflict with himself, he had yet to directly ask Gandalf as to weather there was war here.

He didn't want to know.

He was shaken out of his angsty thoughts by the slightly impatient sounding tapping on the door. He rose to his feet and cracked it a few inches to see whom it was. Innocuous blue eyes stared back.

"Good evening Kenshin. I was wondering if you wanted to go for a stroll with me."

Kenshin stared for a moment while his lethargic brain computed what was being said.

"Yesu. That sounds nice," He agreed and Frodo smiled and they walked out of the house.

Kenshin blinked as he realized what Frodo had said earlier, and stared at the darkened evening. He had lost track of time, the people around had already begun to light their lamps. It was not pitch dark yet, more like a muted blue of a summer evening, comfortably warm.

The silence was a comfortable one, each of them just enjoying the nature surrounding them, along with the peaceful air that came only at night to the shire, once all the busy and energetic people returned home and all activities put on hold until the coming morn. This of course, excluding the bar, which only grew more rancorous as the night wore on.

It was as they were passing by said bar, that they heard familiar voices singing. Exchanging a look they silently and unanimously entered the building.

Standing and swaying atop the bar much to the annoyance and amusement of the other patrons, were Merry and Pippin, each with a mug in their hand, and folky tunes on their lips.

Kenshin failed to understand most of what they were saying, as their beat was a lively one, but he caught a few words which left him more confused than before.

"Why would they be singing about a green dragon?" The voice asked, and Kenshin shrugged inwardly.

Being in such a cloistered and full room made him uneasy. It sent warning bells off on his instincts. He was relieved when Sam called to them from a table neatly settled in the corner. With his back against the wall, he was able unwind a slight bit.

There was an elderly man, whom Kenshin assumed was related to Sam based on the similar features. They were having a conversation that was too quick for Kenshin to follow, so he contented himself to watching the duo atop the bar. They seemed to be thoroughly enjoying themselves to say the least, many of the other people there too, sans those whose drinks were the unfortunate victims of the pairs impromptu dancing.

Nest to him, Frodo lightly tapped his shoulde to bring his attention back to him.

"Kenshin,du yuuuan tone tyuu?"

He blinked at Frodo, before using perhaps the most important word he'd learned so far.

"Slower, pleasu."

Apologizing, Frodo repeated, this time taking time to enunciate and clearly say his words.

"Kenshin, do you want one too?" He asked, lifting Gaffers mug so he could see.

Ah, he was asking if Kenshin wanted some of their alcohol. Though Kenshin did enjoy good sake now and again, his experience with the food and drink of this land had taught him to be wary. Gently he picked up the mug, watching the brow liquid swirl around.

"Why is everything edible here brown? What is with their obsession with the color?" The voice asked rolling its figurative eyes.

Kenshin silently agreed with the voice, but he leaned forward a little and sniffed it delicately. The bitterness immediately rose and assaulted his nose, and it wrinkled in distaste. Frodo and Sam laughed at his expression. Composing himself, he answered with tact, despite the others' smirks.

"Ah, I do noto think so, dank you tho-"

"Of course he'll have one! Samwise! Go and get him a mug, what kind of age do we live in with this kind of hospitality," the old Gaffer said, urging Sam with his crotchety behavior, whom quickly scrambled out of his seat to go grab him an ale. Apparently he had missed his reaction to the smell.

"Againe, no dank y-"

"You're welcome my lad," He said heartily slapping Kenshin on the back on the back. Totally invading his boundaries, making him feel very uncomfortable.

He was rescued from the discomfort by Merry and Pippin who had finished their song and swung down from the bar to greet their friends.

"Frodo, Kenshin! How are you this fine evening?" Merry asked boisterously, arm still around Pippins shoulder, the alcohol in his glass sloshing around.

"I amu good. Dank you. How about you?" He asked, and Pippin let out a low whistle.

"You understood that? You're getting better all the time!" he exalted. Kenshin slightly bowed his head as a sign of modest thanks.

"He really has picked it up, it's quite amazing!" Frodo complimented.

"Soon he'll be even better than you, Pip," Merry teased, enjoying poking fun at his friend's deep accent.

"Hey!" Pippin complained offended, making the others chuckle.

"I liked your songo about de gureen dooragon," Kenshin said with a smile, and the two hobbits bowed with fake modesty.

"We do the best we can to contribute to society in our own way," Merry replied with false bravado.

It was then that Sam elbowed his way back to the table from the dense bar, three ceramic mugs in his hand, golden liquid spilling over the rims as he moved. Setting them down with a loud clank, he addressed Frodo and Kenshin.

"Three ales, one for each of u- Hey!"

Pippin plucked one mug cleanly from Sam's hand, making the blond rear on him.

"You've had enough! Give it back you little imp!" He demanded, as Pippin quickly moved out of his reach, using his smaller size to elude the gardener, laughing all the way. The others watched the duo with mirth.

"Here you are, lad," Gaffer said, pushing one of the glasses at Kenshin. Uncertainly, Kenshin took the drink in his hand, swirling it before taking a small sip. He attempted to reign in his reaction, but some of his dislike must have eked out, because Frodo and Merry were snickering. Bitter, just like he thought. It really did make him miss sake that much more. Gaffer looked at him contemplatively.

"Do you know how old he is? I don't know much about humans, but I am pretty sure he seems young," Gaffer squinted at him some more."I mean, he is allowed to drink I'm sure," Gaffer continued.

Hobbit drinking rules were more lax than most places. They did not like their children drinking but when they entered their terrible tweens, any rules were generally thrown in the wind. This left them just a step above Dwarves drinking rules, but below humans by means of strictness.

"Gandalf said he looked about sixteen," Merry answered, noting how Kenshin looked back and forth, not following the conversation very well.

"Have you asked him yet?"

The surrounding hobbits looked at each other blankly, Pippin and Sam coming to a halt, before realizing not one of them had ever asked.

"Kenshin, how old are you?" Frodo asked slowly. Kenshin's brow furrowed, and Frodo quickly rephrased his question.

"How many years have you been alive?" He asked, and understanding slipped over his friends face, but that was followed by frustration.

The hobbits looked at him puzzled, as he gestured not so clearly with his hands, before etching a series of lines on a napkin with his nail, trying to show the others the indentations, despite the fact they did not share the same numeral system.

Realization overcame the hobbits slowly, and it was Pippin who put voice to the thought.

"Has anyone taught him his numbers yet?"

There was silence.

"I think that is a definitive answer if I ever heard one," Sam replied, as Frodo quickly went to the barkeep to beg a quill and parchment off of him.

Once back, he began to explain, using his fingers to show him what he meant, before writing the corresponding figure on the paper.

"How is it he knows about dragons, but he doesn't even know his figures!" Merry asked.

"Well he is living with Bilbo," Sam replied and understanding took root.

"He probably knows all about dragons then," Merry replied.

"And Elves," Sam put forth.

"And Dwarves," Pippin piped up.

"And Gollums," Frodo added, as he carefully watched Kenshin studying the figures.

There was another silence.

"If it wasn't for Frodo, I doubt Kenshin would have learned very much vocabulary at all," Merry said, sweat-dropping a little at the antics of the older hobbit.

"A true a statement as I've ever heard," Gaffer nodded.

"So, what number is your age?" Frodo asked.

Kenshin nodded in understanding, before circling the number, not feeling familiar enough with them to try speaking them yet.

The half-lings peered over the table, to see a neat circle around the numeral for thirty.

"What?!" That was about twice as much as Gandalf had guessed!

"There's no way! That means he's almost as old as I am!" Sam exclaimed, staring at the youthful figure before him.

"You musta taught him wrong, Frodo," Merry explained with a furrowed brow.

"I don't think I did. Perhaps he misunderstood though," Frowning slightly, Frodo went over the lesson agan, this time taking a longer time to go through all the information thoroughly, even going over the meaning of years again, before he queried again, after the red-head's age.

This time Kenshin replied verbally.

"Thirty."

The hobbits were stumped.

"Maybe he's like an elf," Sam put forward.

"Pshh, does he look like an elf to you?" Merry replied skeptically.

"What if this is just how people are where he lives," Pippin asked. The others mulled it over. It seemed possible.

"I think that Gandalf just jumped to conclusions. That man spends more time among the elves and hobbits than he does humans. Perhaps his memory isn't as sharp as it once was," Gaffer added gruffly.

The other hobbits exchanged looks. Not one was willing to question Gandalf's memory. They had lost enough money on bets with the wizard to know better.

"I certainly hope not, that would be most inconvenient."

The party was startled by the sudden appearance of the towering grey figure.

"Gandalf! When did you get here?" Frodo asked, always pleasantly surprised to see his old friend.

"Just a few moments ago. Kenshin my lad, you are much older than you appear," he said, and Kenshin seemed to grasp what he was trying to say and shrugged his shoulders as if to say,

'I get that a lot.'

Gandalf smiled mirthfully, before sudden he halted, expression blank, and eyes far-seeing. The air quickly became tense, as his face screwed into a displeased expression.

"Gandalf?" Frodo asked, waving his hands in front of the elderly man's face, which seemed to draw him out of his trance.

"Are you okay?" The blue-eyed hobbit asked concernedly, the other hobbits were shifting anxiously.

"Yes, absolutely. I just recalled that I left the tea-kettle boiling," he answered, and the hobbits all relaxed with somewhat accusing looks.

"Gah, we all thought there was something serious going on!" Merry said with a disappointed sigh.

"On the contrary, I take tea making very seriously young master Merry," Gandalf said with a humorous light in his eyes.

"Kenshin, would you like to join me? I have the feeling you may find tea more to your tastes?" Gandalf asked, gesturing to the mug of alcohal and Kenshin gladly took him up on his offer.

"Well then, I had better go and grab the kettle before it boils over, would you meet me back at the house?" Gandalf asked, and Kenshin only had time to nod before, the Wizard disappeared.

"How does he do that!?" Pippin asked in awe.

"Sold his soul," Gaffer said assuredly, and the other rolled their eyes at the stubborn and somewhat close-minded hobbit.

"I had bettor reave then," Kenshin announced, and the friends exchanged their goodbyes, before the Japanese man stepped into the night air.

The air was refreshing and the silence was welcome after being in the rowdy bar. He took his time, his sandals the only sounds in the night besides the insects which chirped, unseen in the dark. After being around such hectic friends all day, he enjoyed his time alone.

Well, alone with the voice.

"Don't be getting too comfortable here Rurouni," It warned, "It will only make it that much harder to say goodbye."

"That's assuming we find a way to get home of course," Kenshin replied, feeling a mixture of dismay and acceptance that he may be here for quite sometime. . . maybe even forev-

"I refuse to accept that," The voice informed him firmly.

"You may not have much of a say in the matter," Kenshin replied wistfully.

And the voice fell silent.

He arrived at the house, his mood considerably diminished, but if anyone could pull him out f his funk it most certainly would be Gandalf. Swinging the rounded door open, he was greeted with a fairly unusual sight of Gandalf staring intently at Bilbo, whose attentions were solely held by a thin glimmer on the floor.

He took a step into the house curiously, before he was bowled over by a whirlpool of dark swirling energy. The heavy force of it gripped his chest, and the voice was screaming at him to get out, to move, to jump, to crawl, to run, to do anything; so long as he got away from it.

Bent over, he was panting heavily, much to the surprise and concern of the two elderly men.

"Kenshin my lad, are you okay?" Bilbo asked, though his gaze hardly flitted from what Kenshin now realized was a ring. A simple gold band, lying innocently on the tile.

"Come, let us talk outside," Gandalf decided, hastily ushering Kenshin and carefully watching Bilbo.

Once outside, the trio sat at a little iron table with matching chairs. Bilbo seemed to relax much more, though his hands were trembling slightly. Gandalf pulled a rolled paper from his robes, and kindly lit it before handing it to his friend.

"Thank you," Bilbo replied unsteadily as he puffed on the tobacco, his nerves calming at the flush of toxins.

"I think I will take a short stroll in the woods to clear my head a bit," Bilbo said after a minute. Gandalf gave him a searching glance before he inclined his head in assent.

"Nani desu ka?" Kenshin asked in a panicked tone, once the hobbit had departed, his breathing still erratic. He's never felt such a strong prescence of evil before in his life, not even from Shishio or Eniishi.

Whatever it was, it was not human.

"This is the darkness we sensed from Bilbo," Kenshin realized.

"Yeah, multiplied by a few hundred!"

"English, my young friend," Gandalf reminded him gently, and the wandering samurai took a deep breath, trying to settle the blood rushing through his body.

"What wazu that?" He asked calmer, though still thoroughly unsettled.

"I cannot say for sure, but I can make a guess . . ."

Kenshin motioned for him to continue, but the elder paused.

"I find it immensely curious that you were affected as strongly as you were," Gandalf murmured. Kenshin had no idea why either.

When Gandalf had first sensed the evil of the ring in the bar, he knew immediately what Bilbo had planned. He frowned. Without solid facts this all was guess work, though Kesnhin's reaction certainly was interesting.

'If it is the ring I suspect, then it naturally searches out that which is powerful and those who have such power. Those individuals feel the pressure set by the ring more poignantly. Why would it choose Kenshin? Does it have to do with the strange sword and the callouses upon his hands, which so clearly betray his history of violence.' Gandalf's thoughts faltered for a moment.

'If that were true though, why is it I sense a peaceful soul, one with much pain, but certainly one good in spirit. Unless I have been deceived, he seems pure of heart. Then again, perhaps his darkness lies further within himself, berried deep within the depths of his soul . . .'

"Gandalf?" Kenshin queried, reminding the old wizard the boy was still waiting for an answer.

Stirring himself out of his thoughts, he pushed those theories to the side for the moment, focusing on the present. He debated a little about telling Kenshin the whole truth of his suspicions, before deciding that as the boy was travelling with Bilbo, who possibly had been under the influence of the Ring for some time, it would be wisest to share.

"I will have research it to confirm, but I suspect it to be a manifestation of power and evil," Was Gandalf's initial answer, as he pulled his pipe out, and packed the tobacco in carefully. Kenshin waited as patiently as he could for the old man to get settled.

After the first deep inhale and long exhale, he began to tell the story of the one ring and the war for middle earth. He stopped several times to elaborate on certain words that made Kenshin absolutely lost, but by the end of it Kenshin had certainly gotten the gist of it.

"There goes any thoughts that this world is a peaceful place," The voice snorted, "From what I heard they may well be more violent than even those back home. It makes sense, they have far larger numbers in population. More canon fodder for war."

Feeling mild frustration, he struggled to formulate the correct words to convey his thoughts correctly, so he resorted to scratching his question in the dirt in somewhat shaky hiragana. Peering on the ground, Gandalf's eyes grew soft and sad.

"This is probably the only place in middle earth that has peace. No violence, no wars, this is the last haven, but even that . . . I fear darkness shall creep once more into the world, and even the Shire will be lost."

Kenshin felt the bite of bitterness. He couldn't pretend to be surprised. His gut instinct was right all along. A world without war was impossible. And yet . . . And yet . . . .

And yet. . .

He had so wished himself to be wrong.

Seeing the lads expression, Gandalf strode forward.

"I am sorry Kenshin, but please, do not concern yourself with the violence of this world, instead focus on trying to get home," Gandalf tried to assuage his sadness. Kenshin perked up, and stared inquisitively, unhappiness momentarily forgotten, as a small light of hope entered his eyes.

"I do not know if this is for sure, but if anyone could get you home, it is the elves of Rivendale. There are some there who have studied your language, and perhaps they will have something more to offer you," The wizard explained, unsure to what was ahead for the red-haired man, but hopeful that it would be good.

"Of course, there may be nothing, and the journey might lead you down paths unseen for which you are ill-prepared. In fact you may never return to the Shire. Can you accept that a fate such as this may befall you?" Gandalf asked, intense blue eyes focused straight on what Kenshin felt was his heart. The red-haired man closed his eyes.

He thought about Kaoru and he thought about Tomoe. He thought about the wilting irises, dripping towards the ground in death.

"We can only move forward. You know this. We could not survive in this peaceful land, even if we wanted to. It is just our disposition . . . and our fate," The voice commented darkly before rescinding to the back of his mind.

He opened his violet eyes.

"Where is dis pulace?" He asked, determinedly.

Gandalf nodded in acceptance of his decision.

"It is a fair bit away, though Bilbo happens to heading in the same direction and has kindly agreed to be your guide,"Gandalf explained, though Kenshin sensed that there was something far more than what he had said about Bilbo's "kind act." Then again, blackmail or no, Kenshin would accept a guide gladly.

"I must warn you, if that is the ring I theorize, then Bilbo has been held captive by its powers for decades now. Very soon his body will begin to go through withdrawals. Irritability and craftiness will surface along with manipulation, and many times he will suggest to you that we ought to return to the Shire. You must not let him convince you. Placate him as best you can, and talk to him in an attempt to draw the true Bilbo from the surrounding darkness. There is a slight possibility he will attack you if the darkness catches on to what you are doing. Subjugate him as best you can. If my hypothesis is correct, after a few days, there will be a rapid onset of aging, after which he will be harmless. It is a sign that much of the darkness has been excreted. Some will remain always, but he will no longer be in the rings total control." Gandalf explained it all as clearly and thoroughly as he could. Kenshin nodded slowly, having the eerie deja-vu of being briefed for a mission or something like it.

"Ah! Perfect timing! I was just telling Kenshin how you kindly volunteered to be his guide to Rivendale,"He called to the hobbit who was just returning, looking far more relaxed and at peace.

"Yes, 'volunteered' is certainly the words for that . . ." The elderly hobbit muttered under his breath, and Kenshin just scratched his head awkwardly and looked away, before a thought struck him.

"Will I have time to say goodbye to Frodo and our friends?" Kenshin asked, when Bilbo winced but shook his head. The samurai frowned, sensing something odd afoot.

"Surely you are going to say good-bye, Bilbo?" There was a sharp note in his tone which surprised the hobbit a bit, whereas Gandalf just raised and eye-brow.

"I-I'm afraid Frodo does not know quite that I'm leaving, if he were to, I am certain he would ask to go along. But I know his spirit is still in the Shire."

Kenshin's initial disapproval in Bilbo's choice to leave his nephew in the dark faded a little after hearing the explanation. It was plain to see the brunette's love of the land. In fact, it was as though he was a part of it. He could hardly imagine Frodo without the Shire.

"You still should reave him a note," Kenshin commented, with his arms crossed.

"I will act as a note," Gandalf informed him, before turning to Bilbo, "and I will also inform him of his new inheritance."

Kenshin looked incredulously at the eldest man. Surely he did not mean to leave the ring with Frodo?

As though reading his thoughts, Gandalf gave him a comforting look.

"I promise to keep an eye on him and to keep him safe, so long as i lies within my power," he vowed.

Kenshin nodded slowly, trusting in the strange old man who had caught him falling from the heavens and become his friend.

It was a strange world.

"Well then, I took the liberty of packing you some things," The Wizard said, proceeding to pull a rucksack from the folds of his cloak.

"Where was he keeping that?!" The voice asked shocked. The grey cloth fell back at looked just the same.

Gandalf smiled.

"I believe Linda took it upon herself to repair your original clothes. You should find them inside along with some food and more changes of clothes."

Kenshin was struck by the kindness shown to him, and he bowed low, feeling regret that he could not thank her personally, nor say goodbye to her children whom he had grown fairly attached to.

"Pulease thank her for me, she is most kind."

Gandalf nodded, as Kenshin slung the pack over his shoulder.

The wizard turned and engulfed his hobbit friend in a hug, whispering words of friendship and care.

They separated after some time, and after staring at each other for some time, Kenshin and Bilbo departed on the dark and dusty road.

Kenshin made one last look back at the grey figure standing on the precipice of light, before he and Bilbo walked into the dark and unknown land.

Thank you very much for reading! I would really appriciate any feedback.

I'd also like to know if you should like me to narrate his journey with Bilbo or skip right to Rivendale, like I intended?

Btw's . . . Inuyasha is the shit!

Anyways, thank you very much, I hope you like how the story is going.

REview?