A gentle yet insistent shaking of his shoulder roused Pippin from slumber. At first, the sudden light of the burrow blurred his vision, and he blinked several times before he recognized Merry before him.

"Time to wake up, Pippin. Here, drink this," he offered him a mug, almost tempted to laugh at the sleep lines on his face.

He pushed himself up. "What is it?"

"Tea. It ought to perk you up right."

Too tired to protest, he sipped at the hot liquid, which flowed with the flavor of many different herbs. As soon as it slid down his throat, adrenaline shot through his nerves and he suddenly felt wide-awake. He stared at his mug, amazed. "What kind of concoction do you call this?"

"Galadriel's Gift."

He shot him a look. "Huh?"

Merry had another of Pippin's shirts in his hands. "A lot can happen in a few hours. You slept right through the morning and missed Sam's visit. He brought the tea specifically for her," he motioned to the girl, "but I figured you might need some as well."

"Sam...was here?"

"Bright and early. Don't worry, though; he'll be back soon enough."

"Is he able to help us?"

"He is doing so as we speak." He kneeled, tearing the shirt. "We need to change her bandages. Blood has soaked through the wrap on her shoulder."

They quickly washed and redressed the wound, draping it with clean scraps of material. Not once did she flinch or squirm, but great care was still taken, as if she were aware of everything. Merry took the time to explain Sam's finding of the Elvish script upon the sword, which rather fascinated the hobbit. He looked down, giving her a tired smile. A hint of color had returned to her cheeks. He touched her forehead; the fever had ebbed away.

"Did she say anything more while I was asleep?"

"Not a word."

He still stroked her skin lightly, and, without realizing, began to let a song pass through his lips.

"Light shines through the clouds of gray,
revealing heart and soul of day,
warmth and strength to all it gives,
to tell the world to laugh and live.
'Come to me,' Sun gently sighs,
'with hearts alight and sparkling eyes,
awake thy hearts for Night has passed,
rejoice and may thy rapture last.'
March forth and extend thy hand,
day shall lead thee o'er golden lands,
take a breath and start anew,
and day shall guide you through and through."

He smiled again as the song ended. Merry had listened quietly. "Very nice. You used to sing that often when we were children."

"I know. I still love to sing it when the sun rises--"

There was another round of pounding at the front door, almost causing Pippin to spill his tea.

"Hey now, what do they think they're doing making all that racket? She's trying to rest!"

Merry sighed. "The gossiping folk from Tookland and Buckland have come a-calling, and in great numbers. I wouldn't be surprised if the entire Shire knows by sunset. It's been this way all day, my friend. You've become quite famous since last night."

The thought did not please him. "I ought to brand them for making such noise. The poor girl didn't ask to be dropped in the middle of the Shire, didn't ask for attention from anyone, didn't do--"

Merry waved his hand. "There's not much you can do about it. Tend to your own matters, and care not what the others think."

Pippin shook his head. "I won't let her be put on display like some sort of savage animal; she is a life, and deserves better treatment."

Merry half-smiled. "You know what? I think she would have been glad to hear that."

******

"I said no. Go home, please." Pippin stated firmly. The sun had set, but loiterers remained on his step.

"Be reasonable, Peregrin!"

"I am being reasonable. What gives you the right to demand entrance into my home?"

"You are harboring a human and everyone knows it. We have a right to know what is going on."

"No. Not tonight."

"You saw her when she came last night: the blood, the dirt, the clothes. She could be luring danger here! We must send her away!"

He clenched his fists. "How dare you speak such words when she is in no condition to defend herself!" Most of the hobbits shifted uneasily, guilty looks crossing some of their faces. "No, there will be no visitors tonight. She's not even awake, so why can you not leave her in peace?"

"We need to know, Pippin."

"So do I. Now if you'll excuse me," he shut the door at last, not caring about the continuing protests on the other side of the thick oak barrier. He rubbed his face with one hand, letting himself rest against the door. The scent of Elvish tea hung heavy in the air, but brought him no comfort from the stressful accusations of visitors. "Tell me this won't last forever, Merry."

"It won't last forever."

"Then why don't I believe in that?"

"Because you are afraid of what might happen to her."

He could not argue with the statement. He jumped when there was another knock, but this time he refused to answer it. That is until he heard the voice behind it.

"Back, you vultures, get back! Oy, it's Sam! Open the door, will you?"

Pippin quickly wrenched the door open, enough to allow Sam into the burrow. Under one arm, he clutched the sheathed sword; the other held two leather books.

"Ah, glad to see you up and around, Pippin."

"Glad to be seen." He hesitated a moment, then embraced Sam in a grateful hug. Sam was taken aback, but then chuckled to himself. "I...uh, thank you for coming back, Sam Thank you for taking a look at her--"

"There'll be time for that later," he interrupted, setting the books on the dining table. From his pocket, he pulled a small cloth. "Pippin, put this over her forehead."

He accepted it, feeling the cloth was already damp. "How will this help? More Elvish remedies?"

He nodded. "I boiled water and added the healing leaves of Nysoth. If I researched it correctly, they ought to sharpen her senses; bring her mind into focus. I've never had a chance to use it, but it's worth trying."

Pippin immediately placed the cloth on her head.

"Has there been any change since this morning?"

Merry came close. "We've not heard any sounds from her, but she did turn her head a few times, perhaps to get comfortable."

"Good. At least it's progress."

"Were you able to find anything, Sam?"

Sam nodded. "Analol."

"What?" Merry and Pippin both responded.

"The name of the sword is Analol." Sam placed the sword across the table, retrieving a loose piece of paper from the larger book. He smoothed it upon the tabletop, showing numerous scrawlings, evidence of his long hours of investigation into the mystery weapon. Merry scanned his copying of the Elvish inscription; below were letters translated into Common Tongue.

"Could I take a look at the blade?" Asked Pippin, who had pulled the girl's head into his lap again.

Merry brought it over, unsheathing the blade for Pippin to see the writing at last.

"Can't believe we missed it the first time," he said.

But Sam sighed. "I'm afraid it's not much, though. I don't know what Analol means, whether it refers to a place or some sort of name, or if it has anything to do with the Elves. There was no mention of such a word anywhere in my books, nor in Frodo's journals. I looked through them for hours, but all I could come up with was this translation."

Pippin traced the letters on the blade. "Sam," he said, "you've already done more for her than any of us could have."

Sam blushed. "You two are responsible for stopping her bleeding, so you have done a great deal for her health. Oh, before I forget, at some point, Rosie would like to see her."

He shot him a look. "What? How'd she find out?"

He sat in a chair. "It's rather difficult to keep quiet to your wife when your nose is buried in books and papers."

"Good answer."

"Anyway, she pestered me with questions most of the day, wondering what I was up to this time. There are no secrets between Rose and me, and these events will be no exception. When I explained in full detail what had occurred, she had an overwhelming desire to see your charge. I told her she could accompany me soon, but now was not the best day for it. She would like to lend her hand, too."

"A true lady she is indeed, Sam," said Merry. "Her help would be much appreciated."

"Yes," came Pippin's voice as he set the sword aside. "I would like that as well. Your Rose is an angel."

Sam smiled. "Yes," he muttered dreamily.

"After almost twelve years as husband and wife, you and her are still as much in love as the first moment you laid eyes on her," Merry commented, changing the subject. "The rest of us can only hope to ever know such happiness."

"And to be blessed with two beautiful daughters," Sam continued. "They both have their mother's eyes. I've never felt such joy in all my life; such a completion of self..."

"Mmmm..." The burrow grew quite silent when the moan reached their ears. Merry and Sam turned slowly to look at the girl, whose eyes were scrunching as she turned her head in Pippin's lap. "Hmm."

The fumes from the tea and the Nysoth cloth must have finally taken effect. Pippin had gone stiff with deep-buried excitement, but forced himself to remain calm. He removed the cloth from her head, and waited as she pulled herself from the darkness of sleep.

"Come back to us, little one; we have been waiting for you."

Her eyebrows raised a bit as she heard his voice. After what seemed like an eternity, she took in a sharp breath and her eyes fluttered open. Her vision was unfocused, but she was staring at Pippin, who gave her a shaky smile.

She blinked, and his face became clearer, confusion reflecting in the depths of her dark blue eyes. "Who are you?" Her voice was a hoarse whisper.

Who am I? Pippin thought. Then he shook himself back to his senses. "I, um...Pippin. Ah, my name is Peregrin Took, but my friends call me Pippin."

"Pippin," she echoed.

"And these are my friends," the girl turned to look, "Merry--"

"Hello, young one."

"--and Sam."

"Good evening to you."

"Hello." Oh, how lost she sounded! "Where am I?"

"You're in the Shire," Merry answered.

Her brow furrowed. "The Shire?"

"Yes. What is your name?"

She ignored the question. "How-how did I get here?"

"You fell off your horse last night; we brought you in to take care of you."

Her breathing became a touch heavy, and she attempted to sit up, but her eyes widened in pain when her shoulder burned in protest. "Ohh..."

"That's the other part," Merry winced, "you arrived wounded. An arrow to the shoulder."

"An arrow...an arrow?"

Pippin slipped an arm beneath her neck. "Here; let me help you up." He carefully lifted her up.

She gasped when the blanket fell away, revealing her torn and cut dress. She pulled the blanket tight around herself. "Thank you," she muttered, placing a hand over the bandaged shoulder.

"My pleasure."

Now that she was sitting up and aware, she looked Pippin over with interest, noticing how short he was, a miniature version of a human. Actually, they all were. "You're all so...small."

They chuckled. "We're supposed to be," Sam chimed in. "We're hobbits."

"What?"

"Yes. Halflings of the Shire. Have you never seen one?"

Her face was blank. "Do I know any of you?"

The question caught them off guard. "No, child. We have never seen you before. You came to us only last night."

Sam tried something. "Mani naa essa en lle?" {What is your name?} She only stared, dumbfounded. "Lle quena i'lambe tel' Eldalie?" {Do you speak Elvish?}

She swallowed. The words were strangely beautiful, like music on the wind. It made her heart swell, but..."I don't understand. W-what happened to me?"

Merry tilted his head. "You mean you don't know? You don't know how or why you were shot with an arrow?"

"N-no."

"You don't know anything that happened to you that night? Where your parents are, your village?"

"No." Her voice was getting scarcer.

Pippin brushed her cheek. "What can you tell us? How about your name? Will you tell us your name?"

Her jaw worked open and shut, their questions filling her stomach with an uneasiness she could not define. "I...I don't know." She cast her eyes to the ground, avoiding any of their stares.

The hobbits looked at one another, uncertainty and concern crossing their faces like pale masks. Sam crouched down. "Look me in the eye. Look at me," using two fingers, he tilted her chin up. "Do you have any recollection of who you are or where you come from?"

He could sense her withdrawing into herself, searching her mind frantically for any fragment of memory. Her brow furrowed in concentration; her eyes became troubled as her mind raced to think of something. Anything. It went on like this for several minutes before she locked eyes with him again. "No."