Hey everyone who doesn't read my stuff! (And the rare few who do.  Kristy, thank you...)  This is my first attempt at a Lord of the Rings fic.  After seeing The Two Towers twice in 24 hours, you really wanna get out some of the things that you get to thinking about while you're watching Gandolf fall into Shadow for about the 12th time.  Well, I have some good ideas on how this is gonna work, and all I have to say is that I really hope it works out the way I've thought it out to be.  Now, read, and enjoy! 

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Disclaimer: I don't own Gandalf or Frodo, or hobbits, or the Shire for that matter.  But I do own the plot, and the ponies!  (I get the cute things....)

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This story goes out to you, Kristy.  You're the only one who's really consistently read any of my stories, and for that I am truly grateful.  I can always count on you to help me out and listen to my problems.  I hope that this story does a good job of combining two of your favorite things: Lord of the Rings and horses.  In case you don't know, Kristy's an awesome writer.  Read her stories!  Her pen name is Black-as-Knight14.

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         "The road goes ever on and on down from the door where it began..."

         The lonely line floated down the dusty dirt road and away toward whoever or whatever happened to have its ears open.  Grown hobbits heard it and groaned; this song could only mean that he was back.  Hobbit children heard it and grew excited; this song could only mean that he was back!  Driven by some unseen force, they all departed from their chores and, ignoring the calls of their parents, ran across the hillside to gather in a large mass before setting out to find out where the great wizard and his fireworks were hiding.

         They were, in fact, hiding nowhere.  The grey-cloaked wizard guided his cart slowly down the road, taking care not to miss the one whom he was to meet.  Finally the old man caught sight of the unruly brown curls, and with a small word, drew his horse to a halt. 

         Suddenly, a small hobbit burst out of the woods and into sight.  Drawing himself up into an important stature, he crossed his arms and spoke to the wizard.  "You're late, Gandalf!  You were expected to be here days ago!  Bilbo is almost beside himself in worry over what became of you!"

         The wizard Gandalf tried to suppress a small laugh, though his efforts were in vain.  "A wizard is never late, Frodo Baggins.  Nor is he early; he arrives precisely when he means to."

         Unable to hold in his delight any longer, Frodo uncrossed his arms and leaped into the wizard's arms, which were quite a long way away for a person of such short stature.  After a moment, the embrance ended and the hobbit took a seat next to the grey-cloaked man.  With another small word to his horse, the cart started up again, off farther into the rolling green hills.

         After a short distance had passed, Frodo spoke up.  "So, Gandalf, what news of the outside world?  Tell me everything."

         So the wizard proceeded to tell the hobbit about the troubles of the city of Gondor, the city of men, which was falling apart as they spoke.  He also told tales of the Elves in Rivendell, and of Elrond, their leader.  With a brief pause for shooting off fireworks, Gandalf ended with a simple, "Must appease the hobbit children.  I have traveled all over the world, yet the place that I love coming back to over and over again is the Shire.  Nothing here seems to change."

         A grin broke over Frodo's face.  "Now, that's where you're wrong, Gandalf."

         The wizard turned to the hobbit with a look of fake surprise.  The hobbits consider change to be learning that they are indeed related to their best friend, the old man thought.  This is not the first I've heard of it, nor will it be the last.  But Frodo's different, Gandalf thought. Let's just hear what he has to say.  To the eagerly waiting hobbit he said, "Pray tell, Frodo."

         "I'd much rather show you," he said, eyes shining.  They were such an icy blue, very peculiar for a hobbit.  "Just take a right up near Brandy Westbranch's house.  There, that small path there."

         Gandalf chuckled; it was indeed a small path.  Unless one was meaning to find it, he would disregard it all together.  Indeed a line of bent blades of grass was all it was.  The wizard looked at Frodo questioningly, wondering if he meant to take the next right.  But the curly-haired hobbit insisted, and so the wizard, without touching the reins at all, turned the cart onto the grass.

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         For a moment they seemed to be traveling to the back of the Westbranch estate, but the path soon veered to the left, away from the house and into a large field.  Growing more and more confused, Gandalf glanced uncertainly over to Frodo, wondering if this was perhaps some kind of joke that Meriadoc and Peregrin had put him up to.  But the hobbit was looking around eagerly, seeming to be searching for something in the vast plains before him.

         After five more minutes of steering his mare in what seemed an aimless manner, Gandalf turned to the hobbit.  Feeling somewhat uneasy at questioning his actions, the wizard almost didn't say anything.  After Bilbo, Frodo had always been his favorite among the halflings, and he trusted him with his life.  He knew that the hobbit, though known to participate willingly in the schemes of the troublemakers Merry and Pippin, also had a sensible, down-to-earth quality that ruled out any possibility of this being a joke.  But what could be out here that was a change to the Shire?

         Gandalf cleared his throat softly and went out a limb.  "Frodo?  What exactly are we..."

         "Aha!" Frodo's sudden outburst cut off the remainder of the wizard's question.  The grey-clad wizard stopped the cart and turned in his seat, looking to where the hobbit's outstretched finger was pointed.  "Look, Gandalf!  Can't you see?"

         "Er," the wizard fumbled with his words.  How was he to tell Frodo that he didn't see?  Uttering a small word to his mare, the cart moved slowly forward once more, toward the hill opposite the hobbit's finger. 

         When the cart was beginning to climb the base of the hill, Gandalf dropped the reins, causing the forward movement to stop.  For at that moment, the wizard no longer needed to be closer; he could see perfectly. 

         At the top of the hill stood a small pony.  Its long black coat was curly, like the hair of a hobbit, and its dark mane and tail were wavy and tangled with burrs and leaves.  The pony's short, stocky legs were thin, yet his joints were somewhat large, as if to carry a load.  Its head was appropriately sized, except for the eyes, which, like those of hobbits, were quite large, and seemed to bulge a little out of the face.  This particular pony's eyes were black and looking right at the wizard, as were its tiny pointed ears. 

         Suddenly, the pony gave a shrill, high-pitched squeal and plunged down the opposite side of the hill.  Gandalf, wondering why there would be horses in the Shire, looked at Frodo for answers.  But the hobbit's eyes were intent on where the pony had stood but moments before. 

         After a few seconds of silence, Frodo turned to the wizard.  "Come on, Gandalf!  The herd must be on the other side of that hill!  You must see!"

         Still confused, Gandalf urged the mare on once more, and they set off again up the hill.

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Okay, I know this is a crappy place to stop, but I have to go to sleep!  I'm so tired....  I want to keep writing this SO BAD, but I can't for another 3 days, I guess.  You see, my friends are coming and sleeping over tomorrow, and we're gonna go see The Two Towers again!  This will be the third time in a week!  Oh well, I'll have more time to doze off the think about Frodo and the ponies!  I promise to explain all about them in Chapter 2, don't worry.  By the way, read my other stories too.  Thanks, and Pippin day after Christmas!