The night was darkening when Acacia came to the Shire.
She had travelled far that day: miles of such a high number that she did not even know how to count them. Her fingers were raw with the constant grip on the reins of her horse, her face flushed by the wind that had beat against it all day. Her body was racked with aching, and she fell off her horse onto the ground as soon as she reached her destination. Fell onto the grass, soft and sprinkled with cool evening dew. She had not felt such a soft texture underfoot since she left Rivendell, she had not been so glad of rest before in her life.
But rest was not for her.
She had come for a reason.
Acacia murmured soft words in her native tongue to the horse, which seemed to nod in understanding that it should stay in this place until bidded by its young mistress. She then slowly walked on aching legs towards the edge of the high bank on which she stood. It was a breathtaking sight, this view of the green Shire, and what lay before her indeed was enticing, though there was little time to enjoy it. She watched as scores of little Hobbits danced and made merry under the first stars, marvelled at the expense and lengths they had gone to in order to hold such a party. She could barely make out the wording on a large banner which overhung much of the open-air venue, though she noticed one word over all.
*Baggins*
Baggins.
Baggins...where had she heard that name? It was a Hobbit name, no doubt, if her little knowledge of the Halfling race was true. Baggins...she closed her eyes...it had been whispered amongst the trees, carried across the wind.
Could this one name, these two simple syllables, be why she had come here?
Baggins...
*Shire...aaaagggghhh...Bagginssss...*
It all came to her, in a rush of realisation and confusion. She remembered the silent terror that she had felt, as she walked among her enemies under a cloak of invisibility on her recent journey to Mordor. The rasping voice that had screamed so few words in such agony that it had echoed all around...she had heard it.
*Shire...aaaagggghhh...Bagginssss...*
Where her doubts and questions as to the real meaning of her quest had once been, now she had an all too clear realisation.
Baggins of the Shire was right here, under her very nose, and this was the beginning of her quest.
She had travelled far that day: miles of such a high number that she did not even know how to count them. Her fingers were raw with the constant grip on the reins of her horse, her face flushed by the wind that had beat against it all day. Her body was racked with aching, and she fell off her horse onto the ground as soon as she reached her destination. Fell onto the grass, soft and sprinkled with cool evening dew. She had not felt such a soft texture underfoot since she left Rivendell, she had not been so glad of rest before in her life.
But rest was not for her.
She had come for a reason.
Acacia murmured soft words in her native tongue to the horse, which seemed to nod in understanding that it should stay in this place until bidded by its young mistress. She then slowly walked on aching legs towards the edge of the high bank on which she stood. It was a breathtaking sight, this view of the green Shire, and what lay before her indeed was enticing, though there was little time to enjoy it. She watched as scores of little Hobbits danced and made merry under the first stars, marvelled at the expense and lengths they had gone to in order to hold such a party. She could barely make out the wording on a large banner which overhung much of the open-air venue, though she noticed one word over all.
*Baggins*
Baggins.
Baggins...where had she heard that name? It was a Hobbit name, no doubt, if her little knowledge of the Halfling race was true. Baggins...she closed her eyes...it had been whispered amongst the trees, carried across the wind.
Could this one name, these two simple syllables, be why she had come here?
Baggins...
*Shire...aaaagggghhh...Bagginssss...*
It all came to her, in a rush of realisation and confusion. She remembered the silent terror that she had felt, as she walked among her enemies under a cloak of invisibility on her recent journey to Mordor. The rasping voice that had screamed so few words in such agony that it had echoed all around...she had heard it.
*Shire...aaaagggghhh...Bagginssss...*
Where her doubts and questions as to the real meaning of her quest had once been, now she had an all too clear realisation.
Baggins of the Shire was right here, under her very nose, and this was the beginning of her quest.
