AN: Hello everyone and welcome to my Inkling! I've been working on this story for close to two years now (it is almost done.) and I've finally decided to post it on a public site for all to flame. This story is slightly AU, although I tried to only change it in such a way as to allow for it's possibility to happen within the framework of the books. I've used both the books *and* movie in this story, so think of it as a healthy blend of both :)

I don't want to be too long-winded. just to say that the rating is there for some violence and implied sex, as well as some rather disturbing subject matter. This is also part one of a larger story that sort of grew from this on its own. The second part is titled 'Ancalim' and is already posted. The third will be posted in sequence in this same 'story', since it is a continuation of it. I'll let you know when to go and seek part two before continuing :)


Oh, as for the Elvish used in the story, I tried to make it so that you can tell what they're saying from the context. If you need help, ask, but most of it is in a short glossary on my web page. ( )

K, on with the story.

Chapter One: Partings and Meetings

The grey ship pushed off from the misty shore as the first stars began to appear in the western sky. As it faded into the fog, a young elf, small and barefoot raised a hand in silent parting, a tear falling from her clear brown eyes.

"Namari," she whispers hoarsely. Around her other elves busied themselves preparing for the long trip back to Imladris and the Last Homely House. This company would be small, for most who had come had taken the Grey Ship to Valinor. A tall elf bowed low to speak to the girl on the shore.

"We are leaving, Mélanyë," he says. Blinking away some distant memory she turns and follows her kin, not looking back, but knowing she will return some day.

As ghosts they passed through the woods of the Shire. In the deep dark of night the little halflings never dared to venture into the woods and so never saw them pass. This night, however, they waited for the one who would join them.

Mélanyë crept as close as she dared to the edge of the forest. Down below a great celebration was taking place; many hobbits singing and dancing and laughing. She looked down wistfully at the party under the Tree and wished in her heart she could join them. It was a wish she forever kept secret. A wondrous life she had with the elves, but she often craved a simple life among the hobbits.

"Today is my one-hundred-and-eleventh birthday!" One of the hobbits proclaimed rousing a great cheer and many 'happy birthdays' in return. Mélanyë smiled and inched closer.

"I don't know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve!" The Hobbit proclaimed to the confusion of the assembled guests. It seemed to her at that moment that she saw the beauty of mortals. It occurred to her that she had never seen an aged face, though she knew that such things existed outside of her realm. As Elves are immortal, she had never seen the slow decay of time, and the etching of years on a person's face. Now that she saw these things, instead of feeling pity or compassion, she admired the wisdom that lay in their eyes. It was altogether a different sort of wisdom than when she looked upon the other Elves, for this wisdom was borne of great joys, but also of great hardships.

Suddenly the hobbit who had been speaking vanished. Startled, she searched the faces of the other halflings gathered about the Tree and noted the shock on their faces. Soon it developed to an uproar. It was only then that she saw one whom she recognized.

"Mithrandir!" she exclaimed. Several other elves joined her in the grass to see the Grey Pilgrim seated at a table with four young hobbits. The expression he bore was that of one who knew a great secret. Amidst the clamor and confusion of the hobbits around him, the old wizard calmly rose and left the party. The four he had been sitting with remained seated in silent shock.

"It won't be long now," whispered Elrohir to his brother Elladan. "The halfling will come soon." They rose and left Mélanyë to watch the confusion below. She looked back at the small table where Mithrandir had been sitting. It was empty.

Scarcely an hour had passed as Mélanyë was preparing her pony to depart from the woods that they heard a cheerful song approaching. She heard the little voice and her heart rose; he had come at last.

"The road goes ever on and on

down from the door where it began

Now far ahead the Road has gone

and I must follow if I can...'

Just then The Hobbit popped up through the trees facing away from their company. Elrohir greeted the little man.

"Mae Govannen, Bilbo I Drann." Bilbo turned round and bowed low to the Elf.

"At your service and your family's, Elrohir, son of Elrond." he replied in the common tongue.

"We are ready to depart," Elrohir said. "Have you finished your task?"

"Yes," Bilbo answered, and Mélanyë thought he looked longingly back through the woods, "I have."

"Then let us go." And Elrohir was off to his grey horse

"You shall ride with me," Mélanyë said as the old Hobbit approached. When he saw her, she thought she saw recognition in his eyes, but then it was gone. She bowed to him. "Mélanyë, daughter of Ancalimë." He bowed to her in proper Hobbit fashion. "Bilbo Baggins of the Shire."

She helped him up onto her pony, and then climbed up herself and took the reigns. The company then departed the Shire, and if any had seen them pass they would have thought it merely a dream or a trick of the eye.

Bilbo, it seems, was a rather good storyteller, and told many of these to Mélanyë as they rode across the North Downs. She learned all about his family, which was quite extensive. He often spoke of his 'dear cousin Frodo' adding usually, 'how I'll miss that boy'.

"You know, his father and mother died while he was just a lad, the poor thing," he would say. "Granted I hadn't seen Drogo in many years, but-"

"What was his fathers name?"

"Drogo, son of Fosco. His mother was a Brandybuck, who as I hear was quite - "

"Drogo?" she asked again. Bilbo seemed a little taken aback at being interrupted twice in one thought. "Drogo was my father's name..." she trailed off. Bilbo, for once, was speechless. At last after several minutes, he composed himself.

"How could this be?" he asked, "Drogo is a Hobbit name."

"Well, my father was a hobbit, of course!" she replied to his surprise. "My mother often spoke of him. She said that she met him in the Western Woods years ago. He enchanted her with a song, and they fell in love." She smiled as she remembered the story. "She brought him to live with her in Rivendell, but he soon felt that he had to leave. He never felt at home there, and often spoke longingly of the Shire." Bilbo, of course was fascinated by all this. He was quiet and thoughtful as he listened. "When they parted, back in the Western Woods where they'd met, he gave her this." She held up a small pendant, which was a piece of unwrought silver strung upon a chain of mithril.

"That was indeed Drogo's!" he exclaimed. "He found it one day on a walk. He thought it lucky, and always kept it with him after that." He wondered about this for some time. "Well, this means you are a Baggins, if I am not mistaken!" he declared at last. "And that makes us family!" Suddenly, it seemed to her, that his whole being changed and he became more merry. He then proceeded to tell her all about Drogo, his cousin, and of her family, as he now put it.

"And Frodo, why," he paused. "Why, he would be your brother, wouldn't he? He is Drogo's son, after all!" She learned all about her Hobbit family that night, which as it turns out was just as large as his. And, she mused, the trip to Imladris is long indeed.