Standard disclaimer goes here.
And we start the introduction of canon characters, and we learn a bit more about Vasha...
Gandalf the Grey enjoyed the Shire more than any other place in Middle Earth. The land was always lush and verdant, the inhabitants always jolly. It was a calm, sensible place that valued cheer, good food, good drink, and good people (the term applying almost strictly to hobbits, of course) more than anything else.
And, as magic was severely frowned upon in the Shire (it was to be considered dangerous and suspicious unless it was such harmless things as fireworks) he was, needless to say, quite surprised when he watched a door form and appear before his very eyes in what had been a bare hillside. He was even more surprised when he saw who stepped out of the doorway.
She was a tiny mite of a child, appearing to be all sharp, knobby bones. No more than a walking skeleton with a tightly drawn covering of skin, really. Her ash blonde hair was all in tangles and was quite dirty, her soiled red dress nearly rags and far too large for such a small girl. Yet what pained him the most on seeing this obviously unloved child was her face. Fine, fragile, almost elvish features, bruised and bloody from a recent beating. Her eyes were blackened, a deep wound under one still oozed blood, and there was a crust of dried blood around her nostrils. She had obviously been rubbing at her face, for the blood had all been smeared about a bit. The tears she had shed had cut stark tracks through the gore.
Gandalf loved children almost more than anything in all of Middle Earth. He loved them for they were all that was pure and good in the world, and that they held the bright futures of all races. The abuse of one so young and defenseless shocked, horrified, and angered him beyond all measure.
"Hello." He said in his kindest voice, trying to show her that he would not hurt her. She had been looking at him with some interest, taking in his long grey robes, tall pointed hat, large staff... And more than anything, she had been staring at his beard. She jumped, body tensing, posture turning wary as he spoke, appearing as though she expected a blow. His heart went out to her. "Where did you come from, little one?"
"Home." Came the soft reply.
No child should have such a home... Was his silent thought, before he pondered his next question. He wanted to know about the door, how she had made it appear so, or if it had even been her at all. "And where might your home be?" He finally asked. The only response he received was a shrug as the girl turned, picking up a clump of dirt to rub on the door she had walked through. Slowly, the door disappeared.
So it was she... Else, how would the door have vanished so? He decided to try a different question. "How did you get here?"
"Through my door." The whisper soft voice held both a child's lisp and a child's honesty. And, thank the Valar, her fear of him seemed to be subsiding.
"Your door?" Her words intrigued the aging wizard. "Did you conjure it then, little one?"
"No. I drew it on the wall with my colors." She looked at him again, the door gone now, her head tilted to one side. "What's a conjoor?"
He chuckled. "A conjure. It means to summon something." He knew better than to avoid answering the questions of children. He held out a hand, smiling benignly. "Would you like to come with me? I am off to visit a friend for afternoon tea, perhaps supper and breakfast besides. He lives just down the road a bit, and always serves the most delicious food."
She looked torn. Obviously, she was hungry and the mention of food, good food, drew her like a moth to a flame. But there was something holding her back... Something strong enough to overcome her desire for food, which had to be strong, with her in such a state. She looked like a famine victim brought back from the dead.
"Mother said I'm not supposed to go with strangers." She finally said, "And I'm not supposed to take food from strangers either. Mother said that the strangers would hurt me and poison me and kill me, and that if they didn't, she would. And Mother says I'm not good enough to eat anything today. If I do she'll kill me. Mother said she would." The terror of her mother was great. And the honesty that filled her words, not to mention her very appearance, led Gandalf to believe that her mother would kill her. No, there would be no going back to such a woman, such a home, for this child. He would see to it.
"Then I had best introduce myself so that I am no longer a stranger. I am Gandalf the Grey." He extended a hand to her, keeping his kind smile.
"I'm Vasha. But Mother calls me a horrible monster. Or a terrible beastie. Or an abobnation." She had trouble getting her mouth around the last word. She looked up at him, sorrow in her eyes. "Does that mean I'm Vasha the terrible monsters beastie girl?"
Gandalf wanted to send her mother to the abyss for saying such things. "No. Here you can be just Vasha, a little girl who has no Mother to hurt her. For, you see, you do not seem to be either a monster or a beastie or an abomination to me, and I can see farther than most. For I am a wizard. Do you know what a wizard is?"
He saw hope enter her eyes. "You mean you can do magic and make doors too?"
"I can do magic, yes," He smiled, "But I cannot make doors as you can. Leastways, I have never tried. Still, now that we have been properly introduced, we cannot be strangers, hm?"
She thought a moment, looking confused. "No... I guess you're right..." She paused before asking her next question carefully, her four-year-old brain pondering the consequences of some of his previous words.
"What did you mean by not having a Mother to hurt me?"
"You will not have to go back there, little one. There are many places here to keep you safe from harm. But we will talk of that later. We have a bit of a walk before us, a long walk for one with such short legs. Over a mile. We should start now, ere we are late."
"Okay." She took his hand, trusting him, as they started to walk down the smooth dirt road.
Bilbo hurried out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a tea towel, swinging open the door. He was expecting Gandalf for tea, but with his relatives... Well, one never knew. Belatedly, he hoped it was only the wizard, and not one of the Sackville-Bagginses. He broke into a smile when he saw that it was indeed, his old friend, and not his horrible relations.
"Gandalf!" Bilbo cried, about to embrace the old wizard tightly, but something serious in the man's demeanor stopped him.
"Bilbo, it is good to see you, and I apologize for being late, but we have no time for pleasantries at the moment." Gandalf hurried to say, holding a bundle in red rags in his arms, "Set the large kettle to boil and fill the washtub." The wizard pushed past Bilbo with ease and stepped into the hobbit hole, ducking so he would not hit his head on the ceiling as he had often done before.
"In need of a bath so- oh my!" It was then that Bilbo saw that the bundle Gandalf held was really a little girl, face smeared with blood, hair matted with it. Bilbo's hands flew to his mouth, his eyes widening in alarm even as he paled. "Is that-?"
"A girl. A human girl, yes. I found her on my way here, and she is in sore need of care. Please, my friend. Before she wakes. I do not know how long the sleep spell will hold her, for she fights it."
"I shall go to fetch Gammer Ama-"
"She can wait a few moments longer." Gandalf shook his head. "Hurry, see to the kettle. Even Gammer Amaryllis would go into a faint at seeing the child like this. When you are done filling the kettle you must go fetch Gammer Amaryllis, and ask her to bring her satchel of healing herbs as well as a change of clothes that would fit a hobbit lad or lass of about seven, I should think. And a sewing kit, just in case. Hurry now!"
"Yes, yes... Er... You can put her into the second best guest room-"
"I know where it is. Send for Gammer Amaryllis as soon as you are done heating the water." Gandalf bore his small charge through the hobbit hole; ever cautious so as not to hit his head while Bilbo hurried to fill the large kettle and the tub as Gandalf had ordered.
Review, please.
Authors Note: If I were any person from Middle Earth... would probably be a hobbit. And I'm sorry about what has been done to Vasha... But it's going to get worse, I'm afraid.