It was a beautiful summer day: birds were singing, the sun was shining, but something else, some atmospheric change hung about. There was a party at my house. It was my birthday, and I had some friends over. I suppose I'd best tell you a little about myself. First off, (in case you didn't read the short introduction) my name is Melody Burrows; it has been changed since then, but you'll find out about that later. I have fairly short, curly, dark brown hair; I am around 2'6" (again you'll find out later), and I am sixty-six years old. Of course, back then I was quite different. I had long, straight brown hair, and I was about 5'5". I was also 100% obsessed with The Hobbit and Lord of the Rings, and still am. It was my sixteenth birthday and I was throwing a small party, the theme being Lord of the Rings.

Some friends and I were hanging around inside: Tina, a tall girl with short, blonde hair, was playing pool with Ginger, a young lady who had long, brown hair that went down to her mid-back; Erin, a short little girl about two or three years younger than me, and Katie, a girl with short, dark brown hair and was a little short herself, were playing a game of cards on the table (the never-ending game of War), and Angel, not quite what her name implies, but a nice girl nevertheless, and I were on a website called We were finding our names in rather fake-sounding "Japanese". At the party, we each had to dress up as our favorite character form Lord of the Rings. Tina was Saruman; Erin was Gandalf; Ginger was Legolas; Katie, Arwen; Angel, Frodo, and I was Pippin. Eventually, day became night, and we started our play with my dad recording.

"'If you don't let me in, Frodo, I shall blow your door right down your hole and out through the hill!'"Erin roared as she imitated Gandalf, which didn't suit her appearance at all. She was a small, sweet little girl, had dirty-blonde hair that went down to her shoulders, and a sweet little voice to go with it when not imitating Gandalf.

"'My dear Gandalf! Half a minute!'" Angel cried, playing the part of Frodo. The blondie had burst out laughing in the middle of saying "Half a minute". She had an interesting laugh: she would give a wail of sorts and then go into a fit of silent laughter with which she shook violently. We all began to laugh with her. We got to about the middle of The Fellowship of the Ring (with many outbursts of laughter) and had to stop there, for eleven PM had come sooner than we had anticipated, and no one was planning on spending the night. So everyone went home, and Mom and I went to bed.

Many things I see: a meadow, a forest, a swamp. I'm with a group of Hobbits, Dwarves, Elves, and other things I've never heard of before. We're all running. Whether to or from something I don't know. Nor do I know what it is we're running to or from. Something, an Orc maybe, grabs me from behind.

"Ahh!" I screamed myself awake and sit up in my bed. I looked over at my clock, 12:00. I looked around my room and spotted the silhouette of an elderly man, who was standing beside my bed. He had a tall, pointed hat, and a very long and bushy beard, and he seemed very familiar. With a wave of the staff he was holding, I was back asleep in an instant.

The next morning, I awoke but didn't open my eyes, for I felt I was no longer in my room. I lay there and listened to what was going on around me. Wind in the trees, birds chirping, and voices; lots of murmuring voices saying things like, "She appeared out of nowhere.", "Who is she?", and "Well, she's obviously not one of us." Every so often I would feel one of them stroking my hair or touching my face or holding up my hand or foot. They seemed especially interested in my ears and feet. The mattress and pillow I was laying on were soft and the covers were warm and comforting. I felt like I belonged here. Eventually, the voices died down and, I assumed, they had all left. I opened my eyes and was welcomed by a small bedroom with a window above the bed streaming sunlight into the room. The room, which seemed to be set in the side of a hill, was fairly small and cozy. There was a small, oval rug by the right side of the bed, and a book and candle on a bedside table by the head of the bed. Over in a corner there was a bookcase with many books of all shapes, sizes, and colour, and next to the bookcase was a small chair with and elderly man sleeping in it. But there was something different about this man: he was very short, and each of the many wrinkles in his face was kind. The curly, light-grey mop of hair on his head half-covered two fairly large, and pointed, ears. I looked down at his feet and noticed that they were not only unusually large, but that they were covered in hair, also. In the same instant that I laid eyes on him, a word flashed in my head: Hobbit. He was a hobbit and no one could tell me otherwise. He slowly opened his eyes and, seeing me looking at him, started.

"Good morning." He said in a kindly tone and a chuckled when he settled half an instant later, "My name is Everard Boffin, and you are?" I was rather astonished that this favorite fictional creature of mine was actually talking to me, let alone introducing himself.

"Oh! Melody, Melody Burrows." I answered, not sure whether to believe my eyes and ears, "Where . . . exactly . . . am I?"

"In Hobbiton, in the Shire, Middle-Earth." That was it, I was going crazy, but I decided to play along. Besides, it could just be a dream.

"Why am I here? How'd I get here?"

"I'm not sure; no one's sure, really." He answered with a slight chuckle, "We can't understand it: sometime during the night you just . . . appeared right outside the Green Dragon in Bywater, asleep on the ground. The Gaffer and me found you and brought you here."

"And where is here?" I inquired.

"In the Gamgee's home." I was truly astonished. My lifelong dream, to live with Hobbits, had come true, but I couldn't believe it.

We sat there in silence for a while, he looking at me, and I at him. Upon further inspection, I noticed things about him I hadn't before. I saw that his tangled, grey hair still had a few hints of light brown, and that his eyes were deep pools of green, netted with a web of blue. This seated silence, though, was not a regular silence. It might've been for Mr. Boffin, I'm not sure, but for me, it was an awkward silence. It felt like, even though he was a dear old man, his blue-netted eyes were boring hole into my head, and I started to get a little nervous (as always happened when I met someone), and just when I didn't think I could stand it much longer. . .

"Mr. Everard," said a sandy-haired hobbit who had just come through the door, with a friend of his following close behind. "I heard that you and Dad found a human girl who appeared out of nowhere and were letting her rest her; is this true?"

"Yes, young Gamgee," chuckled the elder, "Indeed, it is quite true." He indicated with his hand over to me, and the 'young Gamgee' (whom I suspected to be Sam from LotR) and his friend looked over, and the friend seemed to recognize me.

"Melilot! My dear friend!"