A/N: Okay, people who would ever read this, This is the third chapter, kay, and, um, There is an elf and a lot of confusion occured between me and my sister...yeah. I'll bet you can tell if you read it. kudos to you if you can name them all. Alright. Read and Review.

Bag end when they entered was in the same state of disarray as it had been when they had left it in search of Mer and Pip. The elf pushed all papers out of his way with a merciless boot, and scanned over the many rooms with only mild interest. It only took him several moments to "investigate" the area before he turned to Frodo and Sam, smiling.
"It seems your uncle is quite the sloppy hobbit," he said condescendingly through a smile, "I can't make heads or tails of what happened here. Perhaps he just left to go search for his little nephew?" The look he sent Frodo was kind enough, but the feeling behind it was disturbing.
Frodo frowned. "As sloppy as Bilbo can be, this was not how it was before we left. I need to find my uncle, Mr..." he paused and took a moment from his concern to chuckle. "I believe we have yet to learn your name, sir."
"Elemmírë," he spat out, "you may call me Elemmírë."
"That's a mighty pretty name," Sam said, muttering the name beneath his breath over and over so to memorize it. "Does it mean anything?"
"Star jewel," the elf muttered almost inaudibly, his back to them, apparently scanning the room over again.
"Well, Elemmírë...sir," Frodo started, watching as the elf toed through a pile of papers, mostly maps, that was piled up against the wall. "We really need to either find my uncle or my friends Merry and Pippin."
"Your friends are lost too?" he asked with a hint of knowing amusement in his voice. "My my, it seems our little hobbits have a problem with losing things. How did these two...Merry and Pippin happen to get lost, now?"
"Well...they were drunk and they passed out..." Sam started, thinking over the past events.
"Drunk!" the elf started laughing. "No wonder they're lost!"
"Well, then we dragged them back here and dumped them out on the grass..."
"The grass outside? Let me take a look!" Elemmírë ran out, Frodo and Sam following as fast as their hobbit legs could take them. When they finally reached the door outside, they were surprised to find the elf sitting on the fence staring at the stars.
"Um, sir," said Sam, staring at the elves slim back as he contented himself with the starlight sky, "what about Merry and Pippin?"
"No clues left," he said, indicating the area on which Merry and Pippin had rested without moving removing his eyes from the heavens. Indeed, the ground there was trampled by footprints of several hobbits and a dog or two.
Sam glanced at him with a curious expression, following his stare up at the sparkling stars above. "Are you looking at something, Mr. Elemmírë?"
"Eärendil is shining exceptionally bright tonight."
Sam stared at the skies as if he knew where the star Eärendil was. He searched through the dark ether for a bright star, but was unable to discern one from the rest.
He was about to ask which one it was, but stopped himself when he saw Elemmírë. The elf was silently viewing the skies and it was best not disturb him. After the incident at the tree this was the first time that the elf was relaxed and happy. Sam wasn't sure, but for the first time in a while, he also felt that glow emanating from the elf.
Though the pleasantness of the elves face seemed to last for so long a time, the happiness was soon cut short by a voice coming from the direction of the road opposite of which they have arrived. Elemmírë turned his head to the noise, that glow coming to an abrupt stop, the content look on his face replaced by another smile. Frodo frowned, shaking his head lightly. Compared to the look he had just moments before, the grin seemed too forced, horribly unnatural. It seemed nothing more than a mask now, hiding behind its gentle curve a face as stolid as the mountain stone.
A wagon drawn by two snow white horses came into view in the distance. It was laden with several covered packages and on the top of the pile was a single silver helmet. It reflected the yellow glow of the two lanterns hanging from posts on the sides of the wagon and the moonlight seemed to be pushed away from the buggy. On the front sat a figure, still too far to discern anything other than the fact that it wasn't a hobbit. It yelled, "Onward Ho!" and shooed the two horses on with a carrot dangling from a fishing pole he held in his left hand and a whip in his right.
Though Frodo and Sam could see little, the elf, who, as other elves, has a keenness of senses unmatched by many, was looking at the distance with a slight frown on his face. "What old man comes to this grassy place at such a time in the night? Look at him, with a beard long enough to match a dwarf and whiter than the spring clouds. What an unsightly person."
Sam and Frodo both smiled enthusiastically. "It might be Gandalf!!! I bet he can help us!!!" Elemmírë merely shook his head softly. The hobbits calmed down and once again looked worried.
"Gandalf..." the elf muttered. "Of the white council, Gandalf? Mithrandir...I'm afraid you're much mistaken my friend, unless your wizard friend has a helmet and wears a hood."
Frodo and Sam looked at each other in confusion. What would an old man... any old man besides Gandalf, be doing out here in the middle of the night? Both hobbits searched their minds for someone that might fit the description. None, save Gandalf. But perhaps Gandalf could be wearing a hood and have a helmet? That was a possibility... but it seemed unlike him. Then again, how well did they really know Gandalf? By the time they decided to just wait for the old man to come closer he was already near enough.
As Elemmírë had said, there was a very strong resemblance to a dwarf that the man had. He probably would've been mistaken for one, had he not been almost as tall as the elf beside them. He was wearing a long silver hood, with a cloak of shimmering blue that was caped over his broad shoulders. His long white beard was tucked into his silver-buckled belt, and his eyes glimmered a twilight blue from the shadow of his drawn cowl. He and his wagon stopped before Bag End.
"Well hello there my little friends. How fare thee tonight? Would you like to buy my wares? I have good armor!"
Frodo stared open eyed at the sight before him, thinking of a polite way to decline the offer. He, nor anyone of the hobbits in the Shire thought they had any need for armor. Besides, what idiot of a man would try to sell to hobbit folk in the middle of the night? Sam seemed bewildered as well and the elf didn't seem too amused, though that same fake smile still held his face.
"Well now," the man continues, seemingly oblivious to the reactions of his 'buyers'. "I have some really good strong chain mail. Nice and light, dwarfish metal, elvish make. Course, can't help that the elves had a take with it, but...Hey! An elf? What's an elf doing out in the middle of...here? Anyway, I got some really good swords too! This one," he pulled a short one blade sword from out of a box in his wagon, "is exceptionally well made. Very cheap too, one night sale. What do you say?"
"Well," Frodo started, scratching his chin, unsure of what to make of the whole thing, "well, I'm not to sure if I-"
"Come on, kiddo, my wares aren't so bad. And to prove it to you, I'll give you this free gift!" He handed Frodo a dagger made of a white metal and covered in dwarfish runes. "Try it out and then you can buy some more stuff from me when you realize how very well made my items are!!!"
Frodo took the gift without complaint, though he was rather flustered and did not want to inspire anymore sales attempts. He took a confused and tired glance at the dagger and put it in his belt, hoping not to damage anything. Already this man was a bit of an annoyance to him, and it was barely a minute since they had first met!
Elemmírë looked warily at the old man. Already he had insulted the elves! He kept that fake smile on his face but growled lowly at the man. If anyone noticed they didn't show it. All attention remained on the figure in the wagon.
"What dwarf raised you?" Elemmírë asked, his voice just a bit angry, his smile just barely maintained.
"If I told you, it wouldn't matter, now would it? It's not like you'd know her anyway. At least it's better then being raised by whatever you were raised by! With that attitude, you won't be getting any of MY wares!!! Hey there buddy!" He turned his attention towards Sam. "You can also get a free gift!" He pulled out another dagger, this time in yellow. "This here is one of my best selling items, and it's a specially made dagger! Take it, you can tell it's very good!"
Sam extended a quiet hand to receive the dagger and examined the hilt and blade of the weapon. It was very pretty, indeed it was, and polite hobbit that he was, Sam lacked the sense of Mr. Frodo. He liked the gift and he was careful when he placed it ceremoniously into his belt as his friend had done before him.
"Well, little man, I best be on my way now. Bad vibes all around here, you know?" he whispered the last bit to Sam and gave him a wink, "but if you want to buy more weapons or armor, I am the best at it! You just buy from me, you know!" He started to laugh and again picked up the pole and whip and pushed his horses along. When he got further from them, he yelled back, "Buy from me, you know where to find me, don't you? Come buy from me!!" The last they heard of the man was his laughter as he rounded the bend and disappeared behind the hill.
"These are mighty nice gifts," Sam said, looking from his dagger to Frodo's, "but I don't know where to find that man again, if I ever need some again."
"Sam, why would we need some? You know that nothing bad ever happens in the Shi-"Frodo stopped himself short as he remembered the problem concerning Bilbo and the two younger hobbits. "I hope that they aren't in too much trouble..."
Elemmírë seemed to have read Frodo's mind and he chuckled. "Yes, that dwarf-spawn seemed to have made us forget for a few minutes there, hadn't he? Your missing friends, Merry and Pippin were they?"
"Yes, yes they were...what do you think we should do, Elemmírë?"
The elf tapped a slender finger against his chin in a thoughtful gesture, then suggested a search of the Shire, or the road surrounding. Both hobbits, though excited, were rather tired from their three earlier treks, the first being one when their burdens were much heavier. They weren't too happy about the idea of walking around through the whole Shire, let alone outside. Elemmírë, though the hobbits didn't voice their troubles, shook his head, understanding the looks on their faces.
"Perhaps a good night's rest will be better for the both of you." Both hobbits nodded their heads in happy agreement. "I shall keep guard for you." Elemmírë once again sat himself on the fence and the last sight the hobbits saw of him was Elemmírë staring up into the stars again, content.

Frodo had invited Sam to stay over the night, and Sam agreed to do so and was located in the guest room in the house. While the hobbits spent many contented hours asleep, it was cut short by a thud outside that forced Frodo awake from a very comfortable sleep.
He moaned softly, cursing to himself at whatever was out there that would dare disturb his precious sleep. He got out of bed and grabbed the dagger that the old man had given him. He left the room and headed towards the entranceway, not even caring to wake Sam.
When he slipped out of the front door, the first sight that greeted him was Elemmírë, sword drawn, standing before a cowering heap with curly, dirty-blonde hair...
"Aiya! Yé! Utúvienyes!" (Behold, I have found it!) Elemmírë said, smiling at Frodo. He pointed at the shaking pile at his feet happily and left Frodo to deal with it, his gaze once again on the now fading stars in the sky.
The person that was slumped in the grass lifted an eye toward the Bag End resident, trembling from head to toe. But, at the sight of Frodo stooping curiously above him, he jumped up in excitement and grabbed the hobbit's collar. It was Pippin.
Pippin realized that it was Frodo that pulled him up and gave the elder hobbit a hug of relief. He eyed the elf suspiciously, going so far as to give him the 'evil eye' but his quarry didn't notice. When Frodo didn't comment, Pippin sent a confused glance in Elemmír's direction and back at Frodo. He had that 'what-the-hell-is-happening-here' expression on his face.
"Pippin!" Frodo said, trying to push him away. "Where have you been? Sam and I have been searching for you and Merry-"Frodo paused and searched around. "Where is Merry anyway?"
"Well...Frodo...um...well, I don't know...I woke up there...and, well, Merry and I decided to go home and we were going to his house and we went into the woods on the way to his house, and then he just disappeared!!! And then...something hit me!"
"Something hit you?" Frodo asked in disbelief.
"Yes...well, I think something did...My head really hurts."
Pippin's fingers were holding the back of his head while his face contorted into a pained expression. Frodo lifted an eyebrow and made his way around to see what was wrong. Prying the younger hobbit's fingers from the spot, he gasped aloud at the sight that waited beyond.
"Pippin...do you know what this is?!?!" Frodo asked the frightened hobbit. Pippin shook his little head. "I've only seen this in one of Bilbo's books. I'll be right back Pippin!" he yelled back as he rushed into Bag End.
As Frodo rummaged through the many scattered books in Bag End, Sam awoke, coaxed from sleep by the noise. He walked out, yawning and rubbing his eyes, into the hall, where Frodo sat, thumbing through pages in one very large book.
"Mr. Frodo, what're you doing up so late...so early?" Sam asked, noticing the growing light filtering through the half-opened window. He took a glance down at the pages of the book and jumped back in surprise when Frodo suddenly stood up and rushed out the front door carrying the book with him as best as he could.
"There it is, Pip," Frodo said, pointing to a picture in the book, which he supported on his knee. "It's a curse sign. It says here that curse signs are left like a scar to evidence the casting of an unfriendly spell on the subject. It appears you've been cursed."
"A curse sign? Oh no! Does that mean I'm going to die, Frodo? I don't want to die!" Elemmírë looked at the hobbit with mild amusement. Then at Frodo with his usual mask. He hopped off the fence and looked at the frantic hobbit's head and laughed.
"It isn't too serious, little hobbit," Elemmírë said, an amused look on his face. "It is a curse, yes, but not life threatening."
Pippin seemed relieved. He smiled at the elf and, taking a closer look, recognized him as the one from Bilbo's study. "Hey Mr. Elf, it's nice to see you again!" Elemmírë seemed confused for a second, but he smiled once again.
"The same to you, little one," he said.
Frodo looked curiously at Elemmírë. "What does the curse do? Is it bad?"
"It seems a little more like a suffer curse," he replied. Pippin began shaking again beside him, and he chuckled. "Not like that, child. If it were so, you would experience the painful effects by now."
"Then what is it like, Mr. elf?"
"Examine the markings," Elemmírë said, running a gentle finger over Pippin's nape. "What do they look like to you?"
"Excuse me, mister elf...but I really can't see the back of my head!"
"I wasn't directing my question to you, child," the elf spat out, "but to Mr. Frodo here at my side. Mr. Frodo, would you care to answer?"
"Well, um, I'm not really too good at stuff like this... what does it mean Elemmírë?"
"Doesn't it resemble a bird?" Elemmírë said, pointing at the beak and wings. "None of it is a solid shape, all are line segments, which means that it is temporary. What do birds stand for in your culture?"
Frodo examined the markings. "It looks like a chicken to me. What do chickens stand for?"
"Um...food?" Pippin asked, not wanting to be left out of the conversation of which he...or his curse, was the subject.
"Do you like food?" Elemmírë asked, his tone a bit irked.
"Oh yes, I like food...do you happen to have any? I haven't had first breakfast yet."
"Let's keep to one subject, shall we?" Elemmírë said, holding back the urge to slap the little hobbit straight across the back of the head. "If you like food, chances have, that that's not what the curse brings."
"...um... OH NO!" Pippin paled, "What if it means that I become food...or even worse, I can't eat food anymore!?!?" Pippin started to panic.
Elemmírë rolled his eyes, very un-elf-like for sure, but wholly appropriate for the situation. "The curse sign is shaped like a chicken young bastar- I mean master. Food altogether would be perhaps signaled by something else."

"If chicken were to signify food, I'd suspect it to shape a dead chicken, or roasted or..." Frodo stopped when he noticed Pippin's tongue lolling hungrily from his mouth.
"So... maybe I'm cursed with having to eat roasted chicken every meal for the rest of my life?" Pippin looked up at the elf hopefully.

"NO!" Elemmírë exclaimed, looking up to the skies as if he could draw some solace from the stars. But, when he looked, he noticed nothing. No stars were in the sky, for the sun was rising ever higher from the distant horizon. Elemmírë sighed. "Perhaps, if it actually was a chicken, it would signify fear. Sometimes fearful ones are acknowledged as 'chickens' are they not?" Elemmírë asked, his voice tinged with sadness. He was looking now downward, searching no more for unseen stars. The sun had chased them away.
"Fear...fear isn't so bad, is it?" He looked to Elemmírë then to Frodo for a response, but both avoided his gaze. "It...it's only temporary, isn't it?"
"Fear can be a horrible thing, young master," Elemmírë said, an odd sparkle in his blue eyes. "Fear during inappropriate times can be the greatest obstacle."
Pippin looked downhearted. His nervous fingers started to search his pockets... When he realized that, he remembered something. "Hey Frodo...do you know where I might have put that recipe? I think I lost it..."
Elemmírë raised an eyebrow. "Recipe?" He looked at Frodo. "What is he talking about, Master Frodo?"
"A recipe for the best ever mushroom stew!!" Pippin declared, raising a hand in the air to show its greatness. "Too bad I lost it." He muttered quietly.
"Good thing I found it," came Sam's voice from behind, where he stood, smiling from the entryway of Bag End.
"You found it?!" Pippin asked excitedly. "Then let's make some, right away! Frodo won't mind lending us some food, will you Frodo?"
"He doesn't need to lend it," Sam said. "It's Mister Frodo who needs it anyway. Like I told you afore when you were drunk, he's ailing."
"Drunk? I was never drunk! I bet you had me confused with Mer...ry." Pippin saddened at the thought of his absent companion.
"Where is the little blighter anyway?" Sam asked, glancing from person to person.
"Well, Sam, Merry is... well, Merry is..." Frodo didn't know how to tell Sam. Elemmírë once again looked to the sky, though what he was now looking at, nobody knew. Pippin coughed in the background.
"So none of you knows where Mer is?" Sam asked, a slightly worried tone now edging his voice.
"Well...no."
"Well, what're we all waiting for?" Sam asked, rushing out. "We better go find him, if even Pip don't know where he is!"
Elemmírë looked at Sam with mild amusement. Then he started to laugh. Long and hard. Sam stared at him indignantly.
"What's got him at it?" He whispered to Frodo, pointing as inconspicuously as possible at the elf before them.
"I don't know...he's been acting a bit strange, hasn't he?"
"I swear," Sam said, "after he killed that big cat last night he's been acting weird."
"Well, weirder than usual," Frodo corrected him.
"Got a point."
When Elemmírë stopped, he looked towards Pippin and bent down, looking him straight in the eye. "Do you remember exactly where you lost your friend, little one?"
"Somewhere in the forest, I think," Pippin said, an odd fear in his eyes. The curse was beginning to take effect. "What if he got eaten, or something?"
"Well, then we'd be searching forever," Elemmírë said, laughing. Pippin paled.
"But, but poor Mer!"
"Pippin, ignore him. Do you think you can remember exactly where?" Frodo said.
"Well, it was on the way to his house, because I was locked out of mine..." Pippin said, his expression strained, "...Lost my key. Wasn't very smart of me, was it? I think it happened..."
"Can you take us there?" Sam asked quickly, hoping to stop any story Pippin might find himself starting.
"Sure, I guess," Pippin said. He scratched the back of his head. "Do you think we'll find Mer?"
"Yes, and stop scratching that, Pip, you might get it infected!" Frodo admonished. Pippin quickly pulled his hand back, Sam watched in bewilderment.
"Did you know you had a chicken on your neck, Pippin?" Sam asked, coming behind Pippin and peering at his nape.
"Sam, I think it's best if we not talk about it." Frodo whispered, moving next to him. "I think it's upsetting him."
"I can't see the chicken!" Pippin exclaimed.
"It's very lovely," Elemmírë started, "it has a bluish tinge to it, makes it look exotic."
"Please, can you stop it, sir!" Frodo said, just a little annoyed. "I'm sure we don't want Pippin trying to twist his head around before we find where Merry is."
"Oh yes, and then I can continue?" the elf asked with curiosity, "because it really does look like a really intriguing chicken!"
And so, there continued an odd little sight. Pippin was doing as Frodo had suspected and began twisting his head as best he could, the elf was laughing and continuing his descriptive narrative of the scar, joined with Frodo's head shaking and Sam's wondering look.

A/N: Okay, that's it for now, friends. Don't have much to say right now, so bye. Review.