It was not until morning before she finally forced herself to stand up. She was slightly dizzy, but managed to walk over to the mirror in the room and look at herself. Her hair was not as messy as she thought it would be. She thought she looked strange standing this short. As she turned around, her eyes noticed something. A bag laying on her bed with a note on it. She stared at it for a minute and then walked up to it, taking the note.

Thought you could use these.

She stared, trying to figure out what that meant and then went through the pack. She gasped with delight as she removed clothing that belonged to her. Many of her favorite pants and t-shirt with sarcastic remarks on them. Also there was a hair brush and other things that had not been invented yet that would come in handy, like makeup.

Picking out and outfit, she changed into a pair of baggy black pants with red stitching, a chocker that resembled a dog collar, a pair of wrist warmers and a black t-shirt that said, "Before you criticize someone, try walking a mile in their shoes. Because then you'll be a mile away and you'll have their shoes." There was a pair of sneakers right above the writing. She applied some makeup and fixed her hair in a tight ponytail. When she was done, there was a knock at her door and she opened it to find Smeagol standing there. He scanned her outfit briefly and shrugged.

"My Grandmother just wanted me to see if you were walking yet," he said softly.

"Oh," she said, smiling at him. "No, I just happened to float out of the bed." He smirked and she giggled.

"Well, if you're hungry or anything..."

"Nah," she lied. "I'm fine, thanks."

"All right," he said kindly. He watched as she threw the clothes she had worn the previous day into her pack. "May I ask you something?" he asked softly.

"What?" she asked, looking up at him.

"Why do you wear so much black? Are there no other colors, wherever you come from." She smiled and held back a laugh.

"There are other colors," she answered. "But this is my choice in style. I'm not the only one either. Black just happens to be my favorite color."

"A form of self expression then?"

"Exactly. Only with this style you can wear whatever you want and not care what anyone else thinks. It's all about being yourself."

"Is that some sort of belief system I've not heard of?

"In a way. It's called Gothic. But there's more than self expression in that. There's also a lot of depression and anger and numbness and embracing the darkness around us. At least, that's what the majority of them feel, including me." Smeagol's eyes widened at this response.

"Well," he said, picking his words carefully. "That sounds interesting."

"It's not bad." She smiled warmly at him and looked around. "I think I'll wander around the village, if that's all right."

"Of coarse," he said, his smile returning. She nodded and followed him out of the room.

While she walked around, Hope spent the time focusing on what she was going to do. She knew she couldn't stay here forever, her parents would miss her. Her nose crinkled as she remembered the way they had reacted over her boy friend. He would miss her too, she thought at least.

A small round disk hit her leg lightly and fell to the ground, throwing her out of thought. She looked down and picked it up curiously. A young hobbit child walked up to her, nervously and looked at the disk.

"May I please have that?" she asked sweetly. Hope smiled and knelt down, placing it into the little girl's hands.

"There you go," she said kindly. The little girl smiled and walked away after muttering a 'Thank you'. Hope watched as she went to a group of children and they continued playing with the disk. There was a snarl behind her and she turned to see a man who was struggling with an instrument which somewhat resembled a guitar.

"Are you okay?" she asked. The man looked at her and held up the 'guitar'.

"I can't get this confounded instrument to cooperate." Hope would have normally ignored, but being a guitar player herself, she decided to see what was wrong.

"What seems to be the problem?"

"Ach," he replied with a snarl. "What would a female know of these matters? I'll just go to my master for help..."

"Hey!" she interrupted. "I can help. Now show me the problem." He stared at her unsure and then shrugged.

"I can't string it," he said, pointing to the dangling strings. Hope took the instrument from him and looked at it. The structure was not much different from a guitar. She could figure it out. She took the strings from him and fiddled with it for a while. About five minutes later she handed the instrument back, fully strung.

"There," she said triumphantly. He smiled at her.

"I must apologize for my comments, before."

"Can I see it for one more minute?" she asked. He shrugged and handed it back. She tuned it and played it for a few minutes, causing herself attention. She strummed the only slow song she knew, not noticing the crowd forming.

"A girl who plays music?" cried one man. "It's unheard of!"

"Who taught her to play like that?" asked a woman. She stopped and handed the guitar back.

"It's a nice instrument," she said politely. "Thanks." The man smiled at her and nodded.

"You play beautifully," he complemented. "Where did you learn?"

"Self-taught. It's kind of hard to have someone teach it to you. You have to get the feel for it."

"Aye. I guess I understand. Do you play anything else?"

"No," she answered, though she could play the drums and piano but knew that probably neither existed yet.

"See here," said the man looking around. "I know you think that it's a self taught thing, but could you give my boy a few lessons?"

"Oh," she said, clearly not expecting to hear that. "I really don't know-"

"I'll pay you well if you do. I beg you. It'd be helpful if he were able to do at least one thing right besides fishing."

"Well, what's wrong with fishing?" she asked.

"Bah! Sitting in a boat all day, watching life pass you by. It's not right. The boy needs something worth-while to do." Hope thought about this for a while and then shrugged.

"I guess I could then, if you feel so strongly about it. But only he'll be able to decide if he's going to learn or not. Not me. But I'll try." The man smiled and shook her hand.

"Thank you, miss. You can meet him now, if you wish."

"all right," she said kindly. The man turned and shouted.

"Deagol! Come 'ere, boy!" Hope gasped, knowing who Deagol was. Smeagol's best friend whom he would murder soon. She began to re-think her decision. She didn't want to get attached to someone she would lose. Deagol came up to his father's side and looked at her for a moment.

"You!" he muttered. "I was about to see Smeagol about you. How's your head?"

"Much better," she answered, stroking the bruise on her forehead.

"You know her?" asked his father, confused.

"Smeagol and I found her laying by the well with a nasty bump on her head."

"I tripped," she muttered, blushing slightly embarrassed.

"Ah. Well, Deagol m' boy. Miss... er...?"

"Hope," she said quickly.

"Hope, has agreed to teach you guitar." Deagol looked at her surprised and she simply shrugged, looking like this had just suddenly come up for her as well.

"But, father," he started to say.

"No buts. Now," he handed Hope the guitar. "Why don't the two of you go out back and get started. I'll pay you ten pieces of silver at the end of the day, Hope." Hope nodded and walked off with Deagol to the back of the yard. They both took seats in the grass and she positioned the guitar in her hands.

"Well," she said, feeling rather awkward. "I guess the first thing you should know is that this isn't easy to learn. It takes a lot of practice and commitment." He nodded and watched as she got her fingers in place.

"Now, I'm going to show you a chord and you try it until you have it memorized. Okay?"

He nodded and watched.

"Let's start with a G-chord." She positioned her fingers and strummed down. She let go and handed the guitar to him. "You try." He took it, not looking very certain, and then tried to place his fingers in the right place. Hope reached over and touched his fingers. "Switch those two." He obeyed and she took one final glance before nodding. He carefully strummed down, as though he were afraid he'd break it. She smiled and nodded.

"Perfect," she said kindly. "Keep strumming it." He strummed down a few more times, occasionally stopping so she could tell him to go softer or try it a little faster. Soon he let go from sore finger tips.

"My fingers," he muttered. She looked at them and saw the small indents from the strings.

"I know, it hurts the first few weeks. But after it calluses over it'll be fine. Give your fingers a rest and then we'll try another chord." He nodded and handed her the guitar. She started playing and softly singing along.

Once I met a walking man

Who told me of his crazy plan

He'd been walking there for twenty days

He was gonna walk on for twenty more

I said, "How 'bout a drink or a bite to eat,"

He said, "No, my faith is all I need"

I said then, "Save me, save me

Mr. Walking man if you can

You don't need to prove a thing to me

Just give me faith, make me believe

Save me, save me

Said stranger, if ya please

Save me, save me

Stranger if you please

Or am I too far gone to get back home?

(song "Save Me" by Dave Matthew's Band)

Deagol smiled and she stopped looking at him.

"How's your fingers?" she asked.

"They're better," he said softly.

"Good. We'll try one more chord and then call it quits." He nodded and took the guitar from her. About twenty minutes later they stopped and she was thoroughly pleased. The two of them had gotten along great and gotten to know each other a little better. Hope had soon forgotten her fear of getting attached to him because it was too late. He was very kind and friendly and she couldn't help but have a good time with him. Every so often he would throw a jest or make a silly comment that made her laugh. It wasn't till after they had finished that they saw Smeagol. He had come over, completely surprised to see her there.

"Hope," he said with a smile. "I was beginning to wonder where you were."

"Sorry," she said softly. "I didn't mean to be gone so long. I was just showing Deagol a few chords for guitar." Smeagol gave her a look similar to Deagol's father's.

"You play guitar?" he asked. "I've never met a girl who could do that. Most of them spend their time reading and learning how to raise a family."

"Well, I'm not your average girl," she said, giggling.

"Smeagol can play too," said Deagol with a smile. "He often causes the windows to shatter and birds to fall from the sky, stunned though." They both started laughing and Smeagol smirked and rolled his eyes.

"Thanks, Dea."

"Smeag, you should hear her play. She's good." Hope shook her head.

"Nah. That's all right..."

"No, please? One more song?" She sighed and took the guitar.

"Only if he plays when I'm done," she laughed. Smeagol nodded and Hope quickly thought of what to play.

I took my love and I took it down

I climbed a mountain and I turned around

And I saw my reflection in a snow covered hill

Where a landslide brought me down

Oh mirror in the sky, what is love?

Can the child within my heart rise above?
Can I sail through the changing ocean tides?

Can I handle the seasons of my life?

Well I've been afraid of changing cuz I

Build my life around you

And time makes bolder children get older

And I'm getting older too

(song by Dixie Chicks).

Smeagol smiled at her and Deagol applauded her.

"She sings good too, Deagol," said Smeagol with a smile.

"I know she does."

Hope smiled and handed the guitar back.

"Keep practicing. Right now, I need to eat or I'm going to faint." Smeagol chuckled and they both left back to his house.