Gandalf was gone far longer than either hobbit expected, and they found it easy to get lost in the goings on of the Shire and forget about the odd night of Bilbo's party and Gandalf's warnings.

Frodo asked Merry a few days after the wizard had left, curious despite himself and fearing little in the quiet peace of his own hole. "Did you find a safe place for it?"

Merry looked up form his slow and careful penning of his first letter back to his, to hear her talk, poor and utterly abandoned mother back in Buckland. He nodded without having to ask what Frodo meant. "As safe as anywhere I could think of."

And Frodo left it alone. He was curious, of course, mostly for the fact that whatever this ring was to grand wizards and dark lords, it was to have been part of his inheritance from Bilbo. He wasn't sure if he begrudged Merry the thing – what use was a ring that had to be hidden, anyway? Still, he longed at times to see Bilbo again and ask about it.

The spring melted into summer, but the talk of Bilbo's party and the arrival of a Brandybuck in Hobbiton had not died down. Pippin was spending most of his days with his favourite cousin, and so two of Bag End's many bedrooms were full almost every night. Frodo found he liked having them around. Bilbo had been morethan enough when he was there, enough company for a young hobbit, enough of a mentor for a curious lad like he'd been. But he was gone, and the silences were odd. Had Merry and Pippin not been there, Frodo could imagine he'd have gotten restless and bored.

Of course there was Sam as well. Loyal Sam, outside trimming the gardens and watering the hedges and all. He would come in now and then, invited as a guest but preferring to act as servant, cooking their meals and cleaning up a bit inside the hole when he was allowed.

"Now, Mr. Frodo," he'd say when Frodo objected, "my old gaffer has enough of a time dealing with all these goings on here. I can't have him thinking I've gone and stepped above my lot, if you follow me. You and Mr. Merry and Mr. Pippin are nice enough company, and I've had as much good talk and good times here as I did when Mr. Bilbo was master of the hole, but I'll not go forgetting myself and trying to grow into a flower when I was born a weed."

Since there was no talking to him, Frodo tolerated it. He made sure Pippin and Merry never took advantage, but to his relief they treated Sam more as a friend than a servant, and always bought him ales when they went to the Green Dragon.

It was on such a night that Frodo found himself watching his cousins, singing yet another song and dancing on yet another table, to the applause of all customers. Hobbiton was a small province of the Shire, and its folk were superstitious and a bit leery of those from other parts, but for all their gossip about the two newest residents at Bag End, they weren't proud enough to let themselves be entertained by them.

Silly hobbits, Frodo found himself thinking for not the first time. There was so much more to the world than they knew. Elves, and men, and dwarves. Gandalf, who to them was nothing more than a bringer of fireworks. History and lore and races come and gone who deserved to be known. But they couldn't bring themselves to read back no anything that wasn't familiar to them.

They'd do well with a bit of intrusion from the outside world, Frodo knew. Something to open their dulled eyes. But he loved them dearly, and the Shire.

Still, his thoughts bent to Bilbo, and where he was. He wanted dearly to see the old hobbit again, to talk to him.

"You alright, Mr. Frodo?"

Frodo looked over at Sam, who'd noticed the moment his absent smile in Merry and Pip's direction had faded. "Hmm? Oh, yes, Sam. Just thinking."

"About Mr. Bilbo?" Sam nodded. "I do that myself sometimes. Do you really suppose he'll never come back here? I can't imagine any hobbit wanting to leave for good and all."

"I don't know," Frodo answered honestly. "I don't think so. There's too much out there to keep him busy." He smiled to himself. "He'd never come back without having his book finished, but then he'd never finish the book until he had seen everything there is to see. And one lifetime's not enough for that."

"Do you suppose he's with the elves?"

Frodo laughed. "Now, Sam. He probably is, but if I tell you for certain you'll go running off after him before even I have a chance to."

Sam chuckled and lofted his mug of ale in salute. "Maybe someday I'll have cause to see an elf, but I can't imagine it'd be from running after Bilbo Baggins. My legs aren't near fast enough."

"Nobody's are." Frodo lifted his own mug and clinked glasses with his friend, drinking a quiet but cheerful toast to his uncle.

A cheer and laughter from the crowd around them drew their attention, and Frodo laughed at the sight of Merry nearly falling from the table as the two hobbits were trying to climb down. "Ho, Merry! You've overdrank yourself again, I think!"

Pip managed to get Merry back on his feet, and they headed over through the back-clapping hobbits around them.

Merry attempted to peer at him with dignity. "I have done no such thing, you impertinent Baggins. I've had the same to drink as Pippin, and the day he outdrinks me is the day Buckland falls to the rule of the Tooks." He grinned at them as they sat, squinting at Frodo. "Now, good sirs, which of you four is my cousin?"

Pippin laughed as he sat beside Merry. "I must say, despite the odd looks we still get around here, I think this change in scenery has been good for us. It seems to have lightened all our spirits, and in a time it might have been most needed," he added with a nod at Frodo.

Frodo smiled. "If you ask these good and responsible hobbits around us, they'd tell you your spirits were far too light already. You and Merry both."

Pippin scowled, though it lasted an instant only and then softened to a smile. "Not Merry here. Trapped with his father, suffering long lectures about his future responsibilities as Master of Buckland. He was getting almost serious, if you can imagine."

"I can't," Sam answered in a mumble, earning a laugh from the other three.

"I suppose my own lectures about being a proper Hobbiton hobbit are much easier to ignore," Frodo put in.

Merry grinned. "Much."

"You two are lucky you don't have someone like my old gaffer after you," Sam put in, nodding at the back table where the Gaffer, no doubt telling one of his Baggins tales, was talking quietly to a rapt crowd.

"I'll say." Merry laughed. "In fact, that's another reason this move has been well-timed. I think even you, Master Samwise Gamgee, have grown more lighthearted since we came."

"Agreed! To Sam!" Pippin lofted his mug.

Merry echoed the toast, and then a grinning Frodo. Sam blushed and drank from his cup and pretended (badly) that he hadn't heard.

Bag End was too large for any one hobbit to manage, Frodo thought to himself not for the first time as he opened the door and moved into the house. The hall beyond the door was too large, dark and hollowed. Shadows jumped this way and that in the light that came in in from outside.

He looked around, and something in his stomach gave a jump. Something was odd here. Something was wrong. He shut the door slowly behind him and looked round carefully, trying to sort out what felt different.

He moved down the dim hall towards the kitchen, having a mind for one of the blackberry tarts that had come up from Buckland in the day's post. He moved slowly, though, wary for a reason he couldn't quite name. There were papers, maps of Bilbo's fluttering in the breeze, and his frown deepened when he saw the large round window in the front study was half-open.

Frodo's thoughts went to Merry instantly. His cousin was trailing behind, he and Pip having a mug to finish before they came back to the hole. But it was silly to be worried about them taking the path from the Green Dragon back to Bag End.

The heavy hand that feel on his shoulder was enough to make him jump and gasp.

It was Gandalf's face that loomed down from the shadows, looking strangely wild and disheveled. "Is it secret? Is it safe?"

Frodo caught his breath, staring at the wizard with round, shocked eyes. "I…I assume so. What are you-"

"You assume?" Gandalf repeated, and his voice was a growl, deep and grinding in Frodo's ears. "Where is it?"

"I don't know," Frodo answered, thoroughly baffled.

"You don't know?" It was a roar suddenly, and the walls of the hole seemed to shudder with the pressure of containing it.

Frodo took a step back, for the first time in his life afraid of the wizard. "You told Merry not to tell me where he put it! You told him to hide it."

Gandalf straightened, and whether the answer satisfied or he noticed Frodo's fright, his face softened. His glower faded to a deep frown. "Where is Meriadoc now?"

"I left him with Pippin down at the Dragon."

Gandalf's sternness returned, his brow furrowed dangerously. "You mean to tell me he is out getting drunk at a time like this?"

Frodo moved back on stumbling feet, both to get a lamp to light the shadows out of this dark room and to get a few feet between him and this strange version of Gandalf. "A time like this? I don't understand."

"You do not have to understand, Frodo Baggins. Find him at once and bring him back here."

Frodo nodded instantly, wide-eyed.

"Frodo." Gandalf's voice was suddenly quieter, more like his old self. "I would not demand it if it weren't important."

Frodo nodded, accepting it as some form of apology. He could recognize his old friend in there after all, and he felt more certain as he took the lantern from beside the door and moved out of the hole into the fresh air outside.

The night was cool and quiet, and he had only been on the path for a minute or so before he heard voices approaching. Laughter and singing, a familiar sound now that Merry – and through him Pippin – were now staying at Bag End.

He moved forwards hurriedly, Gandalf's urgency having made its impression. He felt suddenly that he'd been foolish to ever stop being frightened and wary. The lazy days between the wizard's visits had been easy to get lost in, but now it felt as if he'd made a mistake somehow, and he owed it to Gandalf to be more responsible now.

The moment two curly-topped heads were in sight, he called out. "Merry?" He made his voice casual, in case there were other stragglers heading towards Bagshot Row that might be within hearing. "Come on, I need your help inside."

"Frodo!" Merry picked up his pace, dragging Pippin alongside. "You left exactly two minutes too early! You missed Sandyman making an absolute ass out of himself in front of Rosie Cotton. Sam missed it to, which is the real shame. We want to go to Number Three and tell him all about it!"

Frodo laughed nervously and put an arm around Merry's shoulder when he was close enough, leading him firmly. "You'll have to wait until morning, unless you want to do battle with his Gaffer tonight."

Pippin grimaced in distaste. "No, no, the mood is far too cheerful to deal with him tonight."

Frodo listened to their idle chatter about the Gaffer, and how sly and slick they'd be in dealing with him – in the morning, of course. He steered them into Bag End, leading Merry firmly and letting Pippin come in behind before he shut the door. The moment they were safely inside and alone he turned to his cousins. "Quiet your laughter. Gandalf has returned."

Fortunately the two hobbits' exuberance was only half-drink, and they both managed to look surprised but more serious. "Gandalf?" Merry asked. "I hadn't heard of his returning to the Shire."

"And if you value your lives and this Shire, no one will hear about it from you." Gandalf's voice was a stern rumble as he stepped through the door into the parlor. His eyes went to Pippin immediately. "Peregrin Took."

Pippni shook his head instantly. "This is the part where you tell me to leave and I put up a fight. Well, we can jump right past that and assume you told and I fought, because I'm not leaving."

"Confound you, stubborn Took! Understand that there is more at stake here than your foolish pride." Gandalf straightened, top of his white head nearly scraping the ceiling of the high-domed parlor. He glowered down at them, and his voice was full and low, rich with a thrill of promise. This was a wizard, they were all suddenly reminded. Fireworks were the least of his talents. "Leave at once or I will have you removed."

Merry and Pippin stared at the wizard in shock, and even Frodo's usual reverence for the old man was dimmed with alarm.

Gandalf glowered right back at them. "I will not argue, nor will I delay my already delayed purposes another instant arguing about it or listening to you debate amongst yourselves. You will leave us. Now."

Pippin straightened, his hands balled into fists and his mouth pursed in youthful outrage. Stiffly he turned on his heel and marched to the door, slamming it shut behind him.

Frodo and Merry exchanged a look, and obviously both had the same thought – if Pippin was going home than Gandalf was a harmless old man.

Gandalf gestured, drawing their eyes. "Into the study, both of you." He ushered them when they didn't appear to be moving fast enough. "Come, come. Now. Merry. Where is it?"

Merry hesitated, then shrugged and reached under his collar, pulling out a thin chain of silver Frodo had never noticed before. Dangling at the bottom was a familiar golden ring. "I know you said to hide it, but being in Hobbiton the safest place I could think of was just keeping it with me."

Gandalf ignored him, reaching out instantly, slipping a finger beneath the chain and snapping it easily, taking the ring from Merry but careful not to touch the thing himself. He turned and with one long stride tossed the chain and ring into the fireplace.

Merry cried out strangely. "What are you doing?" He jumped after Gandalf as if to dive in after the ring.

Frodo grabbed his arm, surprised, and held him back.

Gandalf continued to ignore them. He sat down before the fireplace and stared at the flames for a few long, silent moments. Finally he took hold of the tongs from the side of the fireplace and reached in carefully. The ring emerged gripped by the tongs, and he turned and held them out towards Merry. "Let him go, Frodo. Come, take it."

Merry pulled out of Frodo's grasp and moved forwards, his eyes locked on the ring but his hand hesitating. He glanced at the fire.

"Go on." Gandalf motioned with the tongs. "It's quite cool."

Merry frowned, but his eyes locked on the ring again and his hand came up as if drawn. The tongs open and the ring dropped into his palm, and his arm dipped as if the little thing was heavy somehow. Instantly Merry's fingers curled over it, and he relaxed. The odd look in his eyes faded.

Gandalf turned away, setting the tongs down and peering at the fire. "Tell me what you see. Do you see anything?"

Frodo gave a start, looking at Gandalf's back. This wasn't the grim, dangerous wizard of before. This was an almost frightened old man, waiting as if for the fate of the world.

Merry looked at the ring, holding it close to him and prying his protective fingers off to look down at it. His same beautiful golden ring, flawless and unmarked. He opened his mouth to say so when he noticed a change. A light, burning gold in the dim room, appeared like a crack so thin it couldn't be measured. It sliced a pattern quickly until it seemed to cover the ring, inside and out. He frowned at the pattern and realized it looked like some of the books he'd been reading lately. "There are markings," he said softly as he studied them. "Writing, I think, an engraving sort of glowing like the fire was rtapped inside of it. But I can't make any sense of it."

Frodo had come up to him as he talked, his eyes on the ring in interest. His eyebrows rose when he saw close enough to identify. "It's Elvish," he said. "But I can't read it." He leaned it, reaching for Merry's hand to guide it closer.

To his shock Merry jumped, pushing at his arm and moving out of reach defensively. His fist closed around the ring and he stared at his cousin almost in challenge.

Frodo blinked at him, astonished.

Gandalf's voice stopped them from speaking. "The language is that or Mordor. I will not speak it here."

Their attention was caught and the last moments forgotten as both turned to the wizard. "Mordor?" Frodo was hushed.

Gandalf turned back, grim.