A little introspection of Bramblerose's heritage. I thought I needed to define what it is I'm trying to introduce into the world of Tolkien. It was partially inspired by Goldberry, a 'river-maiden'. And also, the Japanese fable of the kitsune. A mischievous spirit who could shape-shift. Its short, but I was inspired (for once).

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The sound of the wind, wailing softly through the trees, roused the young hobbit from sleep. She was for once, warm and safe, in a bed. Pale eyes gazed up at the small window, which cast a shaft of moonlight into the room.

The moon…

Covers slipping to the floor, Bramblerose silently walked over to the window and pressed one pale hand to the cool glass. Out there, in the vast world, struggled a certain hobbit and his friends. And here she was, in the home of an unusual man who was called Tom Bombadil. A pang of helplessness was felt as she thought of Frodo, and Sam.

Her luminous gaze traveled to the tight bundle in the opposite bed. Dark curls flowed over the white pillow, as Dolly slept fitfully, after a horrible ordeal. Her skin was cleansed of dirt, but she still smelled of the earth.

She'd been buried alive, by the trees. Bramblerose still felt the sharp sting around her neck from the branches.

Deciding she needed to get out and move, the hobbit padded to the door and gazed out into the darkened corridor. They'd been ushered here by the man, after being fed honey, cream and other goods. She could still taste the honey on her lips. A woman, as beautiful as a glittering waterfall, had sat with them. Bramblerose had been fascinated, while Dolly slowly managed to come to and eat. They were both exhausted however and were shown a room.

Silent as a shadow, dressed in a loose fitting nightshirt, her tail glimmering in the torch light, Bramblerose made her way to the main door. She encountered no-one, as she carefully pushed the door open and stepped out into the darkness.

What greeted her was a delicious billow of night air, and the vast liquid night sky, dotted with stars and the beautiful moon. Several silvery clouds meandered across the sky, as she wandered, feeling the soft grass between her toes.

"Ah, the wild one." came a rich rumbling voice. Blinking, the hobbit turned to see Tom, half-hidden in shadows, smoking a long pipe.

"Wild one sir?" she inquired, voice high.

He puffed a little before stepping out into the light, blue eyes impossibly bright on this night.

"The one with the wildness inside." He smiled, as she grew defensive.

"I don't know what you're talking about" she retorted, before realizing her tail was twitching. The irritation drained out of her as she turned to face the moon again.

"You are of the fox kin." came his observation. Her heart stopped beating, as pale eyes fixed on his stout form. He joined her side, still smoking.

"You…you know of them?" she whispered, hope quivering. He nodded once, smacking his lips as he exhaled a cloud of smoke.

"You'd be surprised what I know, young fox-ling."

Bramblerose remained silent, curiosity piqued.

"Who are you? ..your…presence is unusual" She blushed at his amused look and tried to explain.

"When I am with people, I get a certain scent from them, a…" she struggled with the right word

"An aura." he interjected, knowingly. Startled, the maiden nodded

"Aye. An aura. But you…your presence is familiar, here and now…but also vast…timeless. You carry the scent of things long gone. Things I have never seen yet seem to reconise."

Frowning, she looked down,

"I just don't understand what I'm meant to be…"

The pipe weed smoke drifted on the wind, mixing with the night air, and giving it a rather surreal taste.

"You are as old as the trees…the mountains, and the seas." Tom spoke softly, his brown face solomn for once.

"We are different from others, young Bramblerose. Your kind are part of this world…and the next. The fox-kin drift through the ages, lending help and mischief to countless generations."

Bramblerose remained silent, drinking in every word. She was that old?

But…she didn't feel it.

Those blue eyes locked with hers

"You were born as a gift. You are kin to the halflings in flesh…but your spirit…is linked to this world, to your ancestors."

"Are there others?"

He smiled, tapping his pipe, empting the ash.

"Oh yes. There are. But they are fading." at her gasp, he patted her shoulder

"Do not fear for them. They will always live on…unseen but there."

"They can dance on the very wind you know…" His eyes grew distant.

"Across the waves, through the trees." he paused, " I haven't seen one in years. You're the first I've met who was sired by one."

Bramblerose bit her lip, and looked away, heart sick.

"I am nothing more than a freak. An abomination. I feel so…" her voice grew fragile

"so…trapped. Restless. Like I want run…forever."

Tom smiled warmly, tucking his pipe away, and regarding the hobbit kindly.

"One day you shall chose…who you want to be, lass."

And he left there, nightshirt tugging in the night breeze, rich red hair tangling about her slender face.

"Who I want to be…" Bramblerose echoed, remaining there a bit longer. Trying to feel closer to those distant kin, who Tom said danced on the very clouds.

She had no idea, that fox-sprites (he called them fox-kin) were more of an essence than an actual being. From what Gandalf had told her, they could assume the form of any being, but their true nature, true form was that of a flickering fox.

Maybe she'd meet one, one day. To chose what she could be…

Having much food for thought, Bramblerose eventually returned to their chamber and observed Dolly's slumbering form. Sitting down on the bed, with a creak, the hobbit tenderly brushed some damp curls from her young cousin's brow. Could she ever leave the path she'd always known?

Her family? The simply life of a hobbit? No-body had the answer save herself. And even that was hidden from her.

Suddenly, Dolly's dark eyes flickered open, and focused blearily on Bramblerose's face.

"S'dark."

"Aye, its still night."

"My very breath hurts"

Bramblerose felt a stab of remorse, at letting her cousin go on this journey.

"I'm sure you'll be alright. Just sleep Dolly."

One more brush across the brow, and Dolly faded into sleep again.

Rising, Bramblerose slid into her own bed, and lay still. When they'd arrived, she'd hastily stuffed the letter into Tom's rough hands, and there'd been no mention of it since.

'I guess its over. Tomorrow we'll head home…to the Shire. And perhaps Frodo is waiting." This brought a soft smile to her lips, as she fell asleep.

'I need to tell him, sometime. Tell him…' but she was deep in slumber.

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At the table, Tom sat in his chair, the letter at his elbow. A poem in white flitted into the room, the sweet Goldberry.

"What is wrong, Tom?" she murmured, her voice like that of a bubbling stream, musical and sweet.

He roused, as though from a dream, and smiled at the River-maiden. Goldberry was in a way, of the same kin as Bramblerose. Part of Middle-earth, fair and enchanting.

"It is nothing, my fair Goldberry. Come, it is late." He stood and escorted her from the room, leaving the letter on the table.

Its contents were only known to him, and it troubled him. He needed to speak with the hobbit-maidens in the morning.

'What destiny carves for us…' he thought, with a wry smile.

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Rivendell was an enchanting place, the perfume of roses heavy in the air. The warm glow of lights, bathed the Ring Bearer, as he walked through intricate gardens and over ornate bridges. The ring lay in his pocket, cool and silent for once.

His wound still burned, but the herbs given to him by Lord Elrond stopped the fiery pain from causing him too much discomfort.

Tomorrow, they were to be summoned to a meeting, in regards to the ring.

Stopping at a small, dark river, he looked around at the watching trees and caught sight of two figures.

It was Strider, walking with the fair Arwen. Words could not describe her beauty. She was surrounded in a pale, ethereal light, her gown whispering about her feet.

They looked at each other with a powerful love, as they disappeared from view. Frodo tucked his hands in his pockets, and wondered how young Bramblerose was doing. He hoped she was happy, and…maybe thought of him.

When they parted, he had been tempted…to …

A blush stole across the hobbit's cheeks, as he looked at the scarf he carried in his hand. Tomorrow, the ring would be out of his hands, and he could return home, with Sam, Merry and Pippin.

He smiled, folding the scarf against his heart. Yes, he would see her soon.

How destiny carves its path…taking loved ones on journeys to unknown fates.

If only either had known what would happen next….