A/N: Hey again y'all!  I just came back from being in Savannah for three days, so that's why I haven't updated in a while.  Roswell's chorus and orchestra were performing in the SEMEA (I think) Convention thingy.  The chorus did really good, and the Chamber orchestra did okay (I was kinda out of tune the whole time though cause my 'cello was so cold!!).  Especially Maggie and Chris, with their solo thing and all.  (Notice how I'm not saying that Joseph did well...)  Well anyway, back to the whole fan fiction thing.  I wanna shout out to tenshiamanda, Black-as-Knight14, and Alynna Lis Eachann for reviewing chapter 3.  Oh, and Alynna Lis Eachann brought up a good point in her review.  This story is following the movie, not the book.  I've seen FOTR more times than I'd care to count, and the book just bores me.  Sorry for any confusion that might have caused anyone.

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Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings or anything affiliated with it, but I do own the plot, the ponies, and, um, well I guess that's it.

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Once again, this is dedicated to Kristy, my buddy for ever!!!  Thanks so much for all you do!!

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            Bilbo's long-awaited party had finally begun.  After his awkward talk with his uncle, Frodo had gone to the grounds and put the finishing touches on the banners and tents.  Gandalf had, however, been too busy setting up his fireworks to talk with Frodo, so the Hobbit was left to mull over his thoughts alone.  This left his mood nothing less than dismal when the party began, but it was nothing that a few ales with friends couldn't fix.

            "Go on, Sam.  Ask Rosie for a dance," Frodo laughed as he left the dance floor.  Not taking the chubby hobbit's 'no' for an answer, he took his friend's arms and swung him around, right into the beautiful hobbitlass.  "There you go, Sam!" he called out, glad for the shy hobbit.

            Suddenly craving another ale, Frodo got up from the bench and made his way to the table where the kegs were kept.  As he shouldered a path through the crowd of hobbits, he caught sight of his uncle telling his famous story to the hobbit children.  The dark-haired hobbit could tell by Bilbo's gestures that he was telling his listeners about the trolls.  Knowing that his uncle always took a break after the trolls, Frodo changed direction and approached him, wanting to apologize for the way he had acted earlier.

            "There I was, at the mercy of three monstrous trolls," Bilbo was saying as Frodo approached. "and they were all arguing amongst themselves about how they were going to cook us, whether it be turned on a spit or whether they should sit on us one by one and squash us into jelly.  They spent so much time arguing the whether to's and why-fore's that when the sun's first light cracked over the top of the trees and poof!  It turned them all to stone!"  Bilbo paused to let the children get over their excitement before he continued.  "Now then, I think this is a good place to stop for a moment to let old Mr. Bilbo take a rest.  Run along now." 

            It wasn't until all the hobbit children had gone that Frodo approached his uncle.  "Bilbo..."

            His uncle turned.  "Frodo, my boy!  How are you enjoying the party?"

            "It's absolutely wonderful, Bilbo," the younger hobbit answered truthfully.  "It will surely be talked about for generations to come.  But what I came here to say was..."

            But Frodo never got to finish the sentence.  For at that moment, Merry and Pippin's scheme had gone underway, and the great firework shot into the sky.  It erupted, taking the shape of a gigantic flaming dragon.  At first stunned by its sudden appearance and great beauty, the hobbits then panicked when it turned to swoop over the party.

            All apologies forgotten, Frodo turned to his uncle, who alone didn't seem worried by the firework.  "Bilbo?" he asked worriedly.  "Bilbo, look out for the dragon!"

            "Dragon?" Bilbo responded skeptically as Frodo pushed him to the ground.  "Nonsense!  There hasn't been a dragon in these parts for a thousand years!"

            Nevertheless, the dragon skimmed the ground, barely missing the cowering hobbits.  It then turned upward and shot high into the sky, where it exploded, showering the Shire with color and light.  The hobbits clapped and cheered, fully over their fright.  They all then made their way to the party tree, all except Merry and Pippin, who were sentenced to dish washing under the watch of Gandalf.

            Once all the hobbits were gathered, Bilbo climbed onto a table and stood before them.  In response to an overwhelming request, the hobbit began his speech.  "My dear Bagginses and Boffins, Tooks and Brandybucks, Grubbs, Chubbs, Hornblowers, Bolgers, Bracegirdles, and Proudfoots: Today is my 111 birthday!"

            At this announcement, the crowd erupted, with Frodo cheering the loudest of all.

            "Alas," Bilbo went on.  "Eleventy-one years is far too short a time to live among such excellent and admirable hobbits.  I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."  The crowd went silent as the hobbits tried to comprehend what Bilbo had just said.  Frodo, who understood it perfectly, chuckled softly to himself, but stopped when his uncle's voice rang out again.  It had a different tone to it this time, a sort of anxious edge to it.

            "I, uh, I have things to do.  I regret to announce that this is the end.  I am going now.  I bid you all a very fond farewell.  Goodbye."  And with that, Bilbo vanished, to the surprise and horror of his guests. 

            There was a brief moment of silence, after which the hobbits began talking loudly and moving around, looking for where the hobbit that had been there but a moment before had gone.  Frodo was the only member of the crowd who stayed where he was.  After thinking for a moment, the hobbit realized where his uncle had gone, and got up to leave.

            Suddenly, Frodo felt a hand on his shoulder.  Turning, he saw Sam behind him, a worried look on his face.  "Where did he go, Mr. Frodo?"

            Glad that his friend was so concerned, Frodo smiled.  "I'm not entirely sure, but I think I know.  Come along, let's see if I'm right."

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            The two hobbits reached Bad End minutes after Bilbo left.  Exhausted from running, Frodo opened the door and entered, Sam bringing up the rear. 

            "Bilbo?" Frodo called out.  "Bilbo, are you here?"  He was answered by the silence of the empty house, the dark rooms and hallways suddenly seeming more threatening. 

            After a few moments, Sam whispered, "What now, Mr. Frodo?  Where do we look now?"

            Frodo turned to Sam, his eyes determined.  "Follow me."

            The dark-haired hobbit led his friend through the dark hallways and into a small room.  After turning a light on, the hobbits were presented with a modified tack room.  Small saddles rested on racks on the walls, and tiny bridles hung from hooks underneath them. 

            Sam stood in awe and confusion as Frodo rushed forward.  He grabbed a bridle, which he shoved into Sam's hands, and took one for himself.  Quickly turning off the light, he led his friend back through Bag End and into the night.

            As they rushed down the main road, Sam pressed Frodo for information on their destination and the strange bridles in their hands.  Frodo wouldn't say anything, though, so Sam was forced to wonder in silence.

            The gardener's confusion only grew when Frodo turned at the Westbranch estate.  Running through the grass was easier on the hobbits' feet than the road, and they made good time getting to the hill that Frodo had led Gandalf to earlier that day. 

            When they reached the hill, Sam was glad to stop.  He wasn't used to running great lengths, and he was certainly in no great shape to do so either.  Panting, he turned to Frodo, who was staring off into the quickly darkening night.  "Frodo, what are we doing here?" 

Frodo had been surveying the pasture, looking for any sign that Bilbo had been there before them.  He found it in what he didn't find: Smaug was not among the ponies in the pasture.  "Bilbo's been here," the hobbit muttered to himself.  He then turned to Sam.  "There's no time to explain, not if we want to catch Bilbo.  Just trust me, and don't ask questions."

Frodo started down the hill toward the herd, Sam following closely behind.  When they reached the bottom, Frodo motioned for quiet, and the two hobbits crept silently toward the grazing ponies. 

The dark-haired hobbit reached Rovirdil and stroked his neck.  "Sam," he said softly.  "Hand me your bridle."  Sam, not believing his eyes, mutely handed the piece of tack to his friend.  Frodo slipped the bit into the rust-colored pony's mouth and fastened the bridle around his head.  The hobbit then gave the reins to Sam.  "This is Rovirdil.  Get on him while I get Escandil."

The gardener looked at Frodo incredulously, but did as he was told.  With little effort, he swung his leg over and found himself seated on the pony.  Frodo left him little time to savor the moment; he had bridled and mounted his pony quickly and rode up beside his friend.  "Bilbo has gone, but to where I don't know.  He has taken Smaug, his pony, and this is the only way that we can hope to catch him.  Ride hard, Sam.  Rovirdil will take care of you."  Before Sam could protest, the blue-eyed hobbit kicked Escandil with his heels, driving him into a quick-strided gallop.  Not wanting to be left behind, Rovirdil followed suit.

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            Frodo guided his pony northeast through the stream and toward the Old Forest.  He sat confidently on Escandil, using both his legs and his hands to steer the pony through the terrain.  Behind him, Sam bounced and slammed onto Rovirdil's back, not at all comfortable on top of a horse.  They traveled at a pace that was surprisingly fast for such little horses; their strides seemed to eat up the ground. 

            Along the way, Frodo would often stop and look for signs of Bilbo's passing.  After about ten minutes of riding, the signs became fresher and closer together.  "Smaug is tiring," Frodo announced happily.  "He is older than our ponies.  We may catch them, Sam!"  Sam smiled weakly; the effects of the ale were catching up to him, and all he wanted to do at the moment was go to sleep.  Frodo remounted, and they set out once more.

            They slowed their pace to a quick trot now that Frodo was confident of the trail.  They hadn't been going for long before Sam heard a noise coming from somewhere beside them.  "Mr. Frodo!" he called out, but his voice was lost to the wind.  He was about to call out again when a great horse jumped in front of the ponies. 

Startled, both Tibboh Seinop shied, then bolted.  Frodo kept his seat and urged Escandil forward, past the horse and rider.  Sam, however, was unseated by a buck from Rovirdil, and landed rather unceremoniously in the dirt. 

The hobbit gasped for breath, the wind having been knocked out of him.  His right side ached, but he struggled to sit up.  He was met with the chocolate horse towering over him, its rider cloaked in grey so that his face couldn't seen.  Sam couldn't find the breath to call out, and could only wait until the horse was upon him.

Frodo, noticing that Sam was no longer behind him, turned in the saddle and saw the scene playing out.  "Sam!" he called out as he turned Escandil sharply to the left.  Spurring the dark pony on, the hobbit raced toward the larger horse, determined to save his friend.

As he reached the side of the chocolate horse, Frodo leaned left, preparing to grab its reins.  But then, the grey-cloaked rider's hand shot out the grabbed the bridle of the hobbit pony, causing him to stop abruptly while turning almost 90 degrees to the left.  Taken by surprise and being off balance, Frodo couldn't stay on, and fell to the ground beside the giant horse.

Frodo recovered more quickly than Sam, and was on his feet just in time to see Escandil trotting over to the patch of green grass where Rovirdil was busy grazing.  Realizing that they were now completely unable to escape, the dark-haired hobbit hurried to Sam's side, prepared to fight to the end.

            The two hobbits stood before the rider and his horse for some time, neither party making the first move.  After a few moments, the rider relaxed somewhat and spoke.  "You had best retrieve your ponies before they decide to move on to a place that they like better than the Shire."

            As soon as the hobbits heard the voice, they knew exactly who the rider was.  "Gandalf?" Sam asked incredulously.

            The rider nodded and took off his hat, revealing the wrinkled face and bright blue eyes that everyone knew as Gandalf's.  "It is indeed I, Samwise.  And now that you are no longer facing an enemy, would one of you care to tell me what prompted you two to embark on a ride so late in the night?"

            "We must find Bilbo!" Frodo exclaimed.  "There is something I must tell him."

            "Ah," Gandalf said with a smile.  "There is something that you must tell him.  If Sam has no business with Bilbo, why bring him along and involve him so closely in something that he does not understand?"

            "Please, sir," Sam spoke up nervously.  "I asked to come along with Frodo.  It's true that I don't understand these ponies or why Frodo has them, but..."

            "And you have no reason to understand them, Sam." Frodo broke in.  He suddenly seemed ashamed and looked down at the ground.  "I broke my promise to Bilbo and to you, Gandalf.  In the confusion that followed Bilbo's disappearance, I forgot to tell the hobbits of the Tibboh Seinop.  That is what I must tell Bilbo.  Where is he, Gandalf?"

            The wizard sighed.  "Your uncle has gone to stay with the Elves, Frodo.  Smaug has taken him partway to Rivendell by now.  He is beyond the reach of you and your ponies."

            Frodo would not accept this fact.  "But I must speak with Bilbo!"

            "Whatever you had to say will have to wait," Gandalf said sternly.  "There is a bigger problem at hand.  I can not tell you here; his spies are everywhere.  Retrieve your ponies and come with me back to Bag End.  Hurry!  There is no time."

            Confused, the hobbits let their trust of Gandalf take over as they approached the patch of grass and remounted their ponies.  Then, with Gandalf and his mare in the lead, they traveled through the night back to the Shire.

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Okay, there's another chapter.  If you must know, Frodo and Sam leave the Shire in the next chapter and meet up with Merry and Pippin.  Once again, if anyone has a problem with the ponies' name (Tibboh Seinop) and thinks that they have a better name, please put it in your review!!  I'm always open to suggestions about anything, not just the names of the ponies.  And, as always, read the stories of Black-as-Knight14.