Flying
Frodo stepped out onto the water. As he placed one foot down and picked up the other, the waves hardened beneath him like concrete; it was one of the strangest feelings he had ever come across.
It was effortless.
Frodo decided to pick up the pace and broke into a jog as he still had a kilometre or so of sea yet to cross. All he had to do now was be patient and let his legs do the work. The sun rose in the sky as he walked, shedding light on the Homeland. It was a very beautiful place; there were lush rainforests to the north and deserts to the south. Between them was a vast savannah-like land with tall grass and scatterings of waterholes. The horizon stretched far; beyond the savannahs were low hills, beyond that, on the plateaus, there were the glittering smudges of cities, and beyond that were high snow-capped mountains.
Frodo reflected what he would do once he had passed the ancient barriers on the beaches.
He started in surprise, how did he know there were ancient barriers on the beaches? Ah, the winds had carried the scent of strong fire-magic. There was a fire ward lying on the dunes, ready to consume all who dared cross it. That was why such a beautiful beach was deserted! mused Frodo. Personally, he would have loved such a white sandy beach! It was far nicer than the sharp pebble beaches of Middle Earth, and it wasn't as cold. Fancy a hobbit planning to spend time paddling in the sea! Frodo had certainly changed.
The shore was fast approaching, and with a sigh Frodo created a water bubble around himself. He was enjoying his morning jog, and felt a little put off that work was inevitable. As he stepped onto the beach, he could feel the sand going soggy between his feet. In a couple of seconds Frodo had made most of his water bubble ice, and now felt confident enough to walk through the fire ward.
It was actually a pleasant feeling. Frodo almost laughed as he realised that the ice was by no means necessary. It seemed to him that the "strong" fire was put out with a mild gust of wind. He didn't even need the water! Chuckling, Frodo continued his way through the scrub feeling invincible. What else could he accomplish with his new-found power?
He started thinking over all the other things he could do with wind; uproot trees, gather information, change the weather. Thousands of thoughts came flooding in. At last Frodo came across one that was truly unique; why not fly?
Frowning, he concentrated on which winds he would require to travel the appropriate direction, and began to call them in. With a sudden WHOOSH, Frodo was flung extremely high in the air, and he almost fell back down again to a sudden death. He caught himself in time, just, and began to methodically pull the wind; much like one pulls a rope. When he had gained enough wind for his journey, he let it loose like a coiled spring and soared towards the largest city on the plateaus. It was fantastic! Yet, ridiculous. It was the most ungraceful method of travel one could think up, including crawling on one's knees. None of the papers had mentioned flying as a skill, and Frodo supposed that they didn't recommend it because it was hard to control for weaker hobbits, and they didn't want people killing themselves by falling from a great height, or causing cyclones.
This was a wrong assumption. The reason the papers hadn't mentioned flying was because it was not possible. Well, it hadn't been possible. With Frodo's arrival, the Homeland was in for a big surprise.