Thank you so much for your wonderful support! Here's the next chapter for you, I hope you enjoy it! Please forgive any of my typos!

Chapter Three: The Dance Before Dawn

Thorin stared at the young warriors before him, his hands clasped firmly beneath his back. Though he knew their character to be true and their minds sharp, he could not help but ask one final time; "You understand what it is you must do?"

They showed no sign of impatience.

"Yes, my lord," said Auden, son of Orvar. "Make haste to the Shire."

"Give the message to your family," added Austen, his twin, patting on the secured satchel with the missive inside. "We will not fail you, my lord."

"I hope not," said Thorin. "For no raven we have sent has returned, and they ought to have done. By now, my kin should have reached the Shire, but we have had no word."

"The riders?"

"Do not speak of them," said Thorin sharply. "It has been weeks since their last visit, yet their absence disturbs me more than their presence. The road will be dangerous, but be as swift as you may. Bilbo must be aware of the interest these foul folk have in him."

"We will suffer no delay," promised Auden. "The warning will be received, my lord. With whatever strength we have, we will deliver it."

"And wish Frodo a happy birthday from all of us here," Austen said, the flicker of a smile twitching over his face.

The king sighed, feeling older than ever before. "Ride hard now. Send word when you reach the Misty Mountains."

"We will," swore the twins, bowing low and mounting their ponies. Then they rode into the night, and were gone.

But the days passed, and the weeks waned, and the loyal sons of Orvar never kept their promise.

An hour before the sun began to light the horizon, a pair of deep blue eyes opened to the dark. A yawn broke the soft harmony of snores and slow sleep breaths, and a young hobbit stretched her arms up above her head. In one fluid movement she sat up, without so much as shifting the blankets for her little sister beside her. Letting her eyes adjust for a moment, she swung her legs out over the side of the bed and yawned again, drawing little circles in the air with her feet.

She stood up, slipping silently across the room and stepping over the bundle of blankets that was her older sister on the floor. In mere moments, she had dressed herself in dwarven leggings and a long tunic top, dragged her hair into a ponytail and closed the bedroom door behind her. An apple was swiped from the kitchen, and the front door unbolted.

The world wished Nelly 'Good morning' with a slap of cool damp air, and she smiled. It was so good to draw fresh, earth-soaked air into your lungs first thing in the morning. In Erebor she made frequent trips to the balconies, and the gardens and young forests on the mountain's slopes, but they had nothing on the Shire, especially in these early hours when only bakers and farmers were stirring.

She began to jog into the dark morning, out of her grandparent's house and towards the centre of Hobbiton. The first few days that she had spent here had seen her graze fence posts and stumble over mismatched flagstones, but she had adjusted to the lay of the land and now she could simply run. The dim light of the fading moon and stars were enough to see by, in any case.

She passed through the empty market and ran up towards Bag End, increasing her speed as she began to climb the hill. Her breath came faster, shorter, but she pushed herself until she burst past the Bagginses front door, and then came her reward.

With gravity on her side, racing down the other side of the hill felt like flying. Her hair streamed behind her, and the wind poured over her face. Her heart beat so fast it felt as though there was nothing there. She was weightless, her moves were effortless. And when she vaulted the fence into the Party Field, exhilaration flooded from her head to her toes.

Almost reluctantly, she slowed, checking her pace as she circled the field a few times. Everything was prepared – proud tents and gazebos stood, shimmering with morning dew, and a long table stretched across the whole field on the other side. There was also a stage that had been built, and above it, a banner that her own mother had embroidered herself.

Happy Birthday, Frodo!

Excitement curled in her stomach. After all their preparations, after a journey across the world, the day was finally here.

But while the sight was promising, she could not help but think of parties of old. When she was a child, celebrations were held in the meadow of the Old Party Tree.

The Battle of Hobbiton had ended that.

Nelly left the Party Field and slowed on her way down the lane. When she reached the gate of the Memorial Meadow, she stopped jogging altogether and slowed to a walk. It felt disrespectful to run.

Pushing open the gate, she stepped onto the path, remembering how Bróin reacted when first she brought him here as she wandered to the tree.

The mud was cracking as it dried, forming crevices all over Bróin's face and neck. By his eyes, they formed laughter lines, broken into place by the smile that so rarely left him.

But it was not there now.

After the quiet of the river fight, the meadow was sombrely silent. Nelly knew that now, as whining children were dragged off to baths and the older 'fighters' headed for the ale, they were most likely to be granted some time alone.

For her, that was important. Bróin was her best friend, and they only spoke about serious matters when they were alone. It was an unspoken rule of theirs. And she had something serious that she had to talk about.

"This is where it happened," she said, walking slowly down the only path to wind through the field of flowers. "The battle."

Bróin gazed around, eyes drinking in the sea of colourful flowers, and the hedgerows around it, where finches darted in and out in search of berries and seeds. "Looks so peaceful."

"It never was before. It was where all the parties took place, and even when there was nothing to celebrate it was a great place to play. But afterwards, it wasn't a place for playing, anymore."

"Do you remember much of it?"

Nelly paused, cupping a daisy between her fingers. "Most of what I saw that day, though that's not much. They kept us away from the fighting, or tried to."

"Until the ruffians broke into the Old Mill."

"And found us, aye. That was the first time I ever stabbed a man, that day. Nori'd given me a knife, just in case, and the man was holding Merry in the air… had a knife to his throat – his throat, Bro! We were just kids…"

Bróin put a hand on her arm and squeezed it gently. She shook her head, indignation and anger rising to the surface as they always did, at such memories.

"Pippin was just a babe, really. And those, those bastards thought it just to hold knives to our throats, to threaten to kill us – but I had a knife and so did Frodo, and Pearl threw a handful of sand into another one's eyes."

"Pretty brave for a wee hobbit lass," teased Bróin gently, and she grinned, unable to conjure a mock scowl. Bróin knew this story, of course. He had known for years, but it felt right to tell it again. Here. Now. He also knew exactly how to make her feel better.

"Aye, it was. We were. We ran to our tree next. Frodo got caught, Fíli saved him. That was the first time I'd ever seen Kíli angry – I thought he'd kill the villain for sure, but he only struck him once. How he managed that, I'll never know…"

"Didn't want to scare you."

Nelly smiled sadly. "Aye. I reckon that's all there is to it."

Their slow wandering came to a stop before the Old Party tree, and Nelly ran her hands over the names carved there.

"These are the ones who didn't make it. The ones who gave us everything they had. There's Sam's mama – Bell Gamgee. She was beautiful, Bróin. And Merry's Uncle Barney – and cousin Everard and cousin Hazel…" she trailed off, running through the other names in her mind. They meant little to Bróin, and indeed did not mean much more to her, now. After two decades, those she had barely known had faded almost entirely from her memory, but she had memorised their names.

Dwarves liked to sing of their battles and build monuments to commemorate their dead, but hobbits were quieter in their grief. There was no great monument, and no long song dedicated to the Battle that was mentioned so scarcely, but it was not forgotten. Nelly and Bróin stood upon what had been red-stained dirt and scorch marks, scars that had long been swallowed by a sea of flowers.

Bróin cleared his throat, and broke the silence. "I thought you said this was a memorial… I understand that your people use flowers to say things, but how do they speak of the battle?"

"They don't," she said. "There is no mention of the battle here, other than the date. The flowers all represent memory, love, grief, that sort of thing."

"It's so strange that you wouldn't want to laud such sacrifice. Surely you wouldn't forget the battle?"

"No, but this isn't a memorial for the battle, it's for the victims," said Nelly gently. "We have a song, too, that tells of what happened, but even that is mainly about those who fell. Nobody wants to remember the fighting. They want to remember the people."

Bróin was quiet for a long moment, and then he grinned rather sadly. "Y'know, the world'd be a lot better place if everyone had the same outlook on life as hobbits do."

"Ah," Nelly painted a smile on her own face. "You'd get bored."

"Not at all," Bróin slung an arm around her shoulders. "I'd just throw myself into organised wrestling."

She shook her head slowly, and leant into his side to thank him. Were they anywhere else, he would have probably poked her face in response, a sure-fire way to start a great wrestling match and get her laughing, but this was not the place, and they both knew it. Instead, when he unwound his arm from her shoulders it was to trace the names as she had, and run his hand gently through the flowers.

"Do you… do you ever wish you'd stayed here?" he asked, without looking at her.

She needed no time to answer. "No. Mama and Papa did the right thing, and I've never regretted it. Not when I have this life, this family to show for it. Why? Do you wish we'd stayed here?"

"Aye. Wouldn't have to put up with you, would I?"

"Careful," she sang. "It's been a long time since you beat me sparring."

He laughed. "I humour you." But then the smile faded from his face and he turned back to the tree. He stood for a long moment, staring at the names, and then he bowed so low that his hair dusted the floor. "Thank you for your sacrifice."

Face to face with the tree, Nelly stared at the carven names, and bowed her head.

"Thank you," she murmured, running her own fingers over the names again. She had done so every day since they arrived back. "For fighting. Thank you for protecting my family. I'm so sorry that it cost you your lives."

The boughs of the tree swayed serenely above her, and she bowed once more. Then, she moved on.

As soon as she was out of the meadow, she began to run again. The sky was beginning to grow lighter now, and she could see enough to run through the forest now. She took her usual path, and entered the trees without a single scrape. Grinning, she sped into a sprint, dodging the low branches and reaching brambles that stretched towards her.

She had run all sorts of obstacle courses with Nori throughout the years, and suffered more bruises and scrapes than her siblings put together, but now there were few in Erebor who could run a course with more skill than she could. It was a nice challenge to run in a place where your environment could change with a guest of wind or a passing animal, especially where it was barely light enough to see.

Faster and faster, she wove her way to the large tree that formed the setting for her nightmares and her daydreams. Her parents, uncle and Kíli referred to it as 'their' tree, and in her early years she had grown up in its branches. They all had.

Nelly climbed easily, making her way to the strong boughs halfway up, and then sat still for a few moments in the early morning breeze. She let her eyes close and her mind empty. It was a trick that she had learnt from Elladan and Elrohir, the cheery sons of Elrond, over several visits to Rivendell, and a couple of their visits to New Dale and Erebor.

This had been her routine for more than a decade, no matter where she was, who she was with, or how spontaneous she was during the day. In the hours before sunlight she would train her body – running and simplistic exercises – and her mind with meditation. She would do it alone, and return to her family or companions just as the sun came up. Then, as the day grew older, she would let it take her where it would.

Nelly had begun her little ritual as an effort to prove to her parents that she was more than capable of joining Nori's 'Watchers' – a group of skilled, spy-like dwarves who aided the guards in maintaining peace and safety in Erebor. It had since become so much more than that. She found that without her mornings running alone she would become rather irritable, and with them she could deal with her chaotic family all day long, without a trace of weariness. Her brother thought she was mad – Pippin could not understand how waking up hours earlier than you need to could make one less tired. Nelly, on the other hand, could not understand how one could live life without a waking moment of solitude.

The quiet bird song around her began to grow a little louder. When Nelly opened her eyes, it was light enough to see her surroundings with little difficulty. She stood up, pausing but a moment to adjust her balance. Then, she bent over and grabbed a hold of the branch, kicking her legs up into the air. She walked along the branch on her hands, her stomach swooping as the bough swayed a little. The balance beams and swinging poles at Erebor never shifted.

It was a thrilling feeling.

She walked back to the base of the tree and then rested her legs against the trunk, before kicking them backwards over her head to make a wobbly landing on the bough. Controlling her breathing with care, she ran through several other drills and exercises, choreographing as she went. Nori always said that it was foolish to repeat the same techniques day after day, as your body would simply get used to them.

Finally, the sky was light enough to tell her that the sun had almost broken over the horizon, so she hopped out of the tree and began to run once again.

She skidded to a halt outside her grandparents' door just in time to see the sun peeking over the hills. It would be another half hour or so before her family woke, even on a day like today, so she had no contest for the bathroom – that was the other plus of getting up early.

One cold shower later, she snuck into the kitchen and made herself some toast, gazing out of the window as she ate. The grass glittered beneath the rising sun, and she could not see a single cloud.

Yawning, Pippin shuffled into the room. "Morning."

"Morning," Nelly sang. "You've got drool on your chin."

Pippin rubbed at his chin and sat down. "You're in that old dressing gown again."

"My, you're very observant this morning," Nelly replied lightly. "And up earlier than usual."

Pippin just yawned. "You ought to go and get dressed. Papa won't be impressed if you're still strolling around like that when he wakes."

Nelly rolled her eyes. "I'm going now. Don't worry yourself, laddie."

"I'm not worried about you; I'm worried about my ears. It's too early to hear all the yelling."

"Aw, wee lamb," Nelly drawled, putting her plate in the sink and returning to the bedroom she shared with her sleeping sisters. Pippin had a point – it was not particularly proper for a girl to flounce around the house in a naught but a knee-length dressing gown, in the Shire or Erebor, but no one was usually up this early anyway.

Shaking her head, she opened the wardrobe, mindful of the squeaking door, and pulled out the outfit her grandmother had made her. Even at the age of ninety-three, her Grandma Daisy was an incredible seamstress.

Nelly began to get dressed, starting with her undergarments and then the ivory coloured undershirt and underskirt, both embroidered with flowers. Next came the dusty blue bodice, embroidered at the front and tied with ribbons at the back, then finally the matching skirt, split down the front to show off the embroidery of the underskirt. The outfit came halfway down her shins – a fashionable hobbit choice that was unseen in Erebor. It had been years since she had worn such an outfit, and she had to admit that she was enjoying dressing up.

By the time she got out her combs and beads, Vinca and Pearl were up and arguing vehemently with Merry over who got to use the bathroom first. Nelly snickered. Careful to keep her hair as hobbitish as possible, she gathered the top half up and braided into a little bun, letting the rest hang loose. In with a decorative comb and – there. She was done.

It felt strange dressing up without the nakhdu id'ubd, the traditional dwarven face paint, but there was something about seeing her naked face in the mirror that she liked. It felt very natural.

When her grandfather called out that food was ready, Nelly ate rather slowly, savouring every bite of Adalgrim Took's famous full Shire breakfast, while her siblings, parents, aunts and cousins wolfed down their food in various states of dress. Once upon a time she would have been the last to get ready, but she had learnt that it was far easier to sort yourself first out and watch the rest run around like headless chickens. She got reprimanded far less for that.

She was playing cards when her grandmother walked into the room. "Cup of tea, my dear?"

"Oh, I'd love one, thank you," Nelly smiled, taking the steaming cup happily.

"Perfect! I made one for your Grandfather, but he had made his own." Daisy sat down beside her. "I must say, I do love it when you come back to visit us."

"Me too," Nelly squeezed her grandmother's hand.

"Are you happy in that big old city, lass?"

"Oh, yes," Nelly enthused, unable to help her grin. "You should come back with us for a visit! It's really a sight to see. And there's so much to do, all the time! Take Pearl, for example, she teaches dancing to little dwarflings and choreographs all these huge shows with professional dancers. Then on her off days she runs around like a hooligan with the rest of us, doing whatever we want to do! Tea parties, pranking people, dances, concerts, painting, singing – just, anything you can think of. Oh, you would love it Grandma!"

Daisy chuckled. "I'm a bit old for such a journey, Nell."

"You're only as old as you want to be," Nelly winked, and her grandmother laughed again. "No, I do love it. I am very happy there."

"With that Bróin lad?"

"Grandma!" Nelly groaned. "Not you, too! We're friends, that is all."

"Ah, I can't help myself. I'd like to see my grandchildren married before I go on."

Nelly rolled her eyes.

"Speaking of marriage, I'd have thought that young Bilbo and Dís might've had a babe or two by now. Goodness knows they have enough practise raising children."

Nelly's heart fell, and she sighed. "Grandma, I'm not sure that they can."

Daisy's smile collapsed. "What do you mean?"

Looking around, Nelly leant closer and lowered her voice. "Dís has fallen pregnant four times in the past two decades. She lost two before they were much of a bump, and the others were stillborn a little later. It was awful, Grandma, they were crushed. We all were."

"Oh, Nelly, I'm so sorry for poking in," Daisy put her hand on her heart. "That's just dreadful."

Nelly sighed sadly. "I know. I think they're trying not to, now."

"Poor souls," Daisy shook her head. "I lost a son you know, before your father was born. Peregrin, was his name. He was such a tiny little thing, and he only lived a few hours. It is not something that you ever forget."

"I didn't know that," Nelly murmured. "Is that why Pippin…"

"Indeed," Daisy smiled sadly. "We told Paladin and Esme of their brother, but it is still a sad subject today."

"And that's why Papa and Aunt Esme are called your youngest children by some of the old folk?"

"Aye, it's their way of remembering. My, this is no subject to dwell on when it is the day of such a big party. We should be celebrating!"

"Yes," Nelly took a deep breath and smiled, raising her tea cup like a tankard. "Yes, we should. Despite all bets, Frodo Baggins actually made it to adulthood!"

Daisy laughed. "Pimpernel Took!"

"Oh, but we did such stupid things, Grandma," Nelly insisted, and then laughed. "It's a wonder any of us are still alive, really!"

"And you don't do stupid things anymore?" Daisy raised an eyebrow.

"That depends on your definition of stupid," Nelly said lightly.

Daisy laughed again. "Well, just you be careful, lass. I – oh, there's the doorbell. Be a dear and grab that for me, lass."

"Of course," Nelly jumped up and skipped over to the door. She opened it, and her jaw dropped.

"Am I hobbitish enough for you?" asked Bróin, gesturing to his three-quarter length trousers, braces, light shirt, waistcoat, scarf and jacket. His feet were bare and his hair – his hair had curls in it, and hung just above his shoulders!

She laughed brightly. "Nice! How did you do your hair? You did not cut it?"

Bróin stared at her as if she had grown a second head, and stuffed his hands into his curls as if to protect them from harm. "No, I didn't cut it! I let my sisters at it and slept with knots in my hair all night. Now I have about fifteen thousand pins digging into my scalp to make it look shorter, and I look like a poodle."

"Nelly, who is it?" her grandmother called from the kitchen.

"Just Bróin."

There was a thud from the adjoining room, and Uncle Saradoc poked his head out of the door. "Good heavens, is that the time?"

"Midday is in five minutes and counting," Bróin nodded.

Saradoc went pale and yelled. "Five-minute warning, let's go, let's go, let's go! Esme, now is not the time to start your hair again, let's go! This is not a drill; I repeat not a drill – Vinca are you not even dressed!"

Ignoring the mayhem behind her, Nelly turned back to Bróin. "You don't look like a poodle."

"You didn't see it loose," Bróin muttered, though he was grinning. "It's alright now that it's pinned up and isn't falling in long, flowing ringlets down my back."

Nelly snorted. "I can imagine. But yes, in answer to your first question. You do look hobbitish enough."

"Good," Bróin leant against the doorframe with a grin. "You should see Gimli. It's hilarious."

"Oh, please tell me there are curls in his hair!"

"Of course," Bróin said proudly. "And he's in full hobbit dress. Red shorts, white top, green waistcoat, red jacket. Wasn't sure we'd find anything that could fit him, to be honest, but we did. Ori's drawing a picture of it as we speak, so we can frame it and keep it forever."

"Wonderful!" Nelly clapped her hands together and looked over her shoulder. "Are we ready to go?"

"No!"

Nelly sighed. "Well I am, so we're going to go ahead, alright?" She sauntered out of the door, raising her eyebrows at Bróin. "Well, are you coming?"

He offered her his arm. "Of course."

They were barely halfway down the lane when the sound of music met their ears, and a young blonde tween ran towards them, her blonde hair flying behind her and her blue eyes sparkling.

"Nelly!"

"Who's this?" Bróin murmured.

"Estella!" Nelly ignored him, hugging her young friend tightly. "Where have you been? I haven't seen you since the last trip!"

"I've been down in Deep Hollow, with my mother's family for the last few months, my grandma wasn't too well," Estella explained cheerfully. "But she was well enough to travel up for Frodo's birthday today, we got here late last night."

"That's wonderful – though I'm sorry your grandmother was sick. This is Bróin, by the way. Bróin, this is Estella Bolger, Fatty's little sister."

"Ah," Bróin nodded, grinning at the tween. "It's lovely to meet you, your brother's a riot."

"He starts a riot every time Merry, Frodo and Pippin leave, but if you dare suggest he leave the Shire, no, that's out of the question," Estella rolled her eyes.

"There's nothing wrong with loving your homeland," Bróin said, but then he added with a wink, "there's nothing wrong with a bit of wanderlust either."

Nelly rolled her eyes with a wry smile. "Vinca's still inside, I think, if you're looking for her, Stella."

"Thanks, Nelly," Estella beamed, waving goodbye and running off the way that Nelly and Bróin had just come.

Nelly snickered. "Could you perhaps not flirt with every pretty lass that you ever meet? It's just embarrassing."

"I wasn't flirting," Bróin protested. "I was just being friendly! She's Vinca's friend, is she not?"

"Estella and Vinca were best friends, close as you and I, back when we lived in Hobbiton, and they're still really close now."

"I've heard Vinca talk about her before. I have to say though, Fatty is very odd nickname."

"Oh, he's been called Fatty since we were toddling." Nelly waved her hand. "I can't remember who started it. The boys and Fatty were always really close, but like Estella said I can't imagine him ever leaving the Shire. He's only got more attached to home the more that we leave."

As if summoned by their very voices, Fatty Bolger appeared. "Oh, hello Nelly, Bróin. You haven't seen my sister, have you?"

"Yep," Nelly smiled. "She's just gone back to grandma and grandpa's to see Vinca."

Fatty sighed and rolled his eyes. "Pa told me to escort her to the party and within five seconds she's disappeared."

"Escort us instead," Nelly offered Fatty her other arm and he grinned at took it.

"Alright, don't mind if I do. Do you have this much trouble keeping track of your brothers and sisters, Bróin? I can't imagine having four of them, one is stressful enough."

"Seven. I have seven siblings. The youngest three are still in Erebor," Bróin explained. "Bolin was going to come with us, but he broke his leg a couple of days before we left. Poor kid. Bowin and Olin weren't going to come anyway – our parents thought they were too young for so long a journey. Bowin is five and Olin, well she's just a baby! But yeah, it's hard to keep track of them sometimes."

"I didn't know that." Fatty sounded surprised. "I thought dwarves didn't have so many children?"

"Well, my father never does anything by halves," Bróin said cheerfully. "Luckily, I have a reputation for getting into an awful lot of trouble, so I'm not usually put in charge of the little ones."

"This music sounds pretty good," Nelly commented as they drew closer to the meadow.

"It's the Howling Hornblowers, a band who came up all the way from Longbottom," said Fatty. "I saw them perform a while ago now, they're very good."

"Wow," Bróin murmured as they strode, arm in arm, into the meadow. "I didn't realise that there was so much going on! Games, shows, food – this is more like a festival than a party!"

"Oh, look!" Nelly gasped. "Darts! Let's go play!"

And with that they bounded towards the nearest stall, into a party that they would never forget.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! The Valar willing, I'll see you again tomorrow! Please review if you can/would like to. Until next time, take care.