Several years had passed since Bilbo returned to the Shire, and Sting had not left his hip since he heard word from the other hobbits that Orcs had come to the Shire. After his second cousin's parents had been murdered on a boating trip he had taken it upon himself to guard the hobbits close to The Hill. Any who needed an escort at night would call upon him and his sword that glowed…No, Old Mister Baggins was no longer mad or respectable, not when he had saved many of them from orcs during dusk, night or dawn and they had to be about.

It was wearying, but knowing the other hobbits were safe was reward enough. The presents he received regularly helped, though. Samwise and Frodo had grown incredibly close, both of them taking up wooden swords and pretending to be dwarfs, guarding the hole along with their now fully grown house cats they had raised together. Ilaurënda was still very bothered that she was kept indoors, although she would quickly outgrow his meager hole soon enough. She was already the size of a very large dog, and she had to mind her tail very carefully or she would be mussing up the entirety of Bilbo's lovely home and all the things in it.

Bilbo Baggins was currently on his front bench, surveying what he could see of Hobbiton, the fields and the forests and everything in between. When he would normally be puffing away at his pipe and blowing fanciful smoke rings, he was now sitting sharpening Sting, watching it warily to see if it ever began to glow. The Shire as a whole now had systems in place if orcs were spotted, or if Bilbo's sword began to glow. They had a series of the talking ravens who flew over the hobbit holes of where the orcs and wargs were spotted, screaming at the tops of their lungs. When hobbits heard this, they were to run to the nearest hole no matter whose it was and get inside and shutter the windows and doors.

He rarely let the children play outside anymore, and Samwise even rarer came over this past year, despite the bond between the three younglings. Bilbo just didn't feel safe when he couldn't keep an eye on them, and he couldn't escort young Sam to and from home every day, or even every few days. The hobbits of the Shire were very afraid, and no one left their home unless they had to recently. Rangers had come, yes, but not nearly enough to guard all of the farthings. One ranger had a decent amount of territory and the orcs while not particularly smart, they did know to avoid the dangerous guardians, and tended to attack wherever the rangers weren't present.

Bilbo had befriended Aragorn, a young ranger, who was stationed closest to The Hill out of all the rangers. The young human did his job as well as one could expect for such a large range of ground to cover, and Bilbo helped where he could. The ravens were an immense relief to the hobbits, and the ravens were quickly building a large flock in the Shire. The dwarfs would send their own warriors, if they weren't still recovering from the aftermath of Smaug's destruction. Fili and Kili made sure to send as many ravens as they could spare, much to Bilbo's relief. Each hole had at least one raven to watch over it, although some ravens watched over several holes that were close to each other since there weren't enough ravens to pair one to one.

Aragorn was a rather friendly young ranger, and spent some of his mornings with Bilbo and Frodo before he went off to sleep. You see, these orcs were only bold enough to attack at night, so most of the rangers slept during the days and fought them during the night. So Aragorn would come over for a cup of tea or whatever else he fancied, Bilbo supplied him with a small meal, and he sent the young lad off for proper rest while he prepared to mind the Shire during the day. There had been one attack during the day so far, though luckily the ravens warned everyone else and a ranger had been close by, and no one was badly hurt or lost to the monsters.

They were becoming a serious problem, and day by day Bilbo grew more tired. He didn't know what would become of the Shire if the orcs didn't let up soon. Unless the orcs or the hobbits were wiped out, this would go on until the hobbits slowly disappeared. The peace-loving hobbits would slowly wither away under the sorrow and grief of being under constant threat and occasional death.

As he slid the whetstone across the perfect edge of Sting, he sighed, brows furrowed. He was becoming a wraith of himself. He barely cooked anymore, Frodo and Laurë did that. He didn't write to Fili and Kili nearly as often, he didn't read nor did he spend much time smoking his pipe at all either. He ate only three times a day rather than seven, and that was only because Frodo and Laurë forced him to eat. He didn't want to be occupied in case an attack occurred.

But on one afternoon when Bilbo succumbed to his exhaustion, led to the bed by Frodo, his worst nightmare became real.

"Laurë, come on! It's safe. I promise I won't go into the water, I don't want to after what happened with my parents." Frodo called quietly, waving to the shy dragon insistently. Laurë's head was low and her tail dragged along the ground behind her. Her wings were tucked as close to her body as they could get, showing her fear. All her horns had grown in, along with all of her scales. She was a beautiful creature, with bright emerald eyes. She slunk forward slowly on silent paws towards Sam and Frodo. Sam at least had the sense to look nervous; Frodo was practically bouncing on his toes. He always had been the adventurous sort of the three of them. Laurë didn't like it when Frodo got like this, he always seemed to get them into some sort of trouble, and Bilbo got upset when they all got into trouble, especially her.

Over the past three years with Bilbo she grew extremely close with the older hobbit, who was now nearing his 54th year of life. She was bonded to him, had been ever since she was in the egg and had heard his voice. Bilbo told her of her sire, Smaug, but Smaug had never spoken to her. The only time she had heard Smaug's voice was when he spoke a battle of wits to Bilbo. When she had heard this encounter she found she preferred Bilbo's voice to Smaug's (not that she had known who was who at the time). Although Bilbo didn't seem to have aged a day since she hatched and saw him.

The only thing that had changed were the lines on his face from little sleep and stress. She and Frodo tried to get him to sleep as much as they could, but Bilbo was stubborn about what he considered his duty and often times they couldn't get him to come inside to rest, or eat. She and Frodo had to cook everything now, and the only way Bilbo would eat was if Frodo took it to him outside, and even then he often refused the smaller meals that hobbits swore by.

Laurë and Sam followed after Frodo slowly, looking around warily. They really shouldn't be out, orcs had been out in more force and there had even been an attack a week ago on a mother and her children! What could two young boy fauntlings and a young drake do if they were set upon?

And then they found out.

"Laurë!" Frodo cried, and Laurë found herself face to face with a large, snarling beast resembling a wolf, Sam and Frodo behind her facing the opposite direction and the three of them were surrounded by three orcs and the one warg, near the shore of the river. Laurë found herself crying out loudly, a piercing flute-like sound.

"D-don't worry, B-Bilbo will find us!" Sam tried to say, but he was stuttering much too badly. The orcs were chattering to each other in some foreign tongue, moving constantly and circling them like vultures. The warg however remained a constant presence, growling and saliva dripping from the fangs. Laurë heard a yelp and saw an orc take a swipe at Frodo from the corner of her eye.

Something snapped in her and before she could tell what was happening, she heard a roar and she was in front of Frodo with her teeth bared. Her eyes were focused, bright, and a growl ripped through her throat. Another orc moved and she was in front of Sam, her tail curled around both of her young hobbits protectively. Her wings flared open and wide to appear larger. An animalistic sense had overcome her and she wasn't in control of her actions as she paced around Frodo and Sam.

A growl came from the side and the warg took a step forward. Laurë gave a snarl of her own and leapt on the beast's face, biting down on its neck and back legs kicking out with claws extended. She was still small, and she couldn't deliver anything near to a killing blow to a beast this much bigger than her, but oh did she give it a try! The warg shook its head with a snarl and she was flung to the dirt, skidding along one wing, which stung painfully. Sam and Frodo had taken up big sticks from the ground and were attempting to fight back the orcs, who were scrawny and weak, more like goblins now than orcs. Laurë focused on the warg, who was much more dangerous to two young hobbits than thin orcs, using her flight as an advantage to pester and dive-bomb the nasty creature.

Time seemed to move so slowly, but she found herself much farther away from Frodo and Sam than she remembered, and much too close to the water. She couldn't swim, not with her wings. They were made to fly, not to swim! Maybe the warg was aware she was a creature of air, because it continued to pounce and snap at her, push her towards the river. Her tail touched the water and fear consumed her, a deep welling feeling in her throat.

Wait… that wasn't right, fear made her stomach queasy not her throat…

She opened her mouth to snap at the warg and gain more ground but from her mouth spewed liquid fire, coating the fur of the warg.

She was stunned with confusion, then the fire stopped and the warg was screeching in pain, running away from her. Flames roiled on the fur, sticking to it like a sort of gel. Its howls of pain echoed as it ran, forgetting its masters and the battle it had been fighting. Ilaurënda blinked slowly, closing her mouth with a small grin.

"I can spit fire…" she whispered slowly to herself. She gave a small, excited giggle, then shook her head and looked over at Frodo and Sam, who were crying out fearfully. Sam was on the ground, being drug away by one org while Frodo yelled out after him, trying to pull away from two orcs that held onto his arms. Laurë gave a cry and ran towards them – only to skid to a stop when a man appeared from nowhere, a gleaming sword in hand as the heads came off the three orcs that had been in the party.

- 'You can't be seen by men, my dear. You know why?' Bilbo asked gently, sitting in his armchair before the fire, a daffodil in one of his hands. Laurë was curled up at his feet, sulking. She wanted to go outside!

'Because men are greedy and cruel… and would want to kill me or use me. I know, Bilbo, but I want to go outside! I want to really fly, and I want to see the world! Your garden is so beautiful on its own, so what must the rest of the world look like? I want to know…' she replied, sniffling with unshed tears. Frodo sat next to her, eating a roll slowly. He had gotten the both of them into trouble today, trying to let Laurë and him play outside. They weren't punished, but they both felt really bad about disobeying Bilbo.

'Yes, Laurë, I know. The world is a beautiful place, and one day you will see all of it. You will live much longer than I could ever hope, longer than the elves probably. You're immortal my darling, you have an infinitesimal amount of time to see the world. You must be patient, though. Dragons are not kindly seen in this age, no matter how sweet and intelligent they may be.' Bilbo spoke softly, stroking the petals of the daffodil. She had picked it for him in apology, from his garden. They were her favorite flowers, and Bilbo loved them too.

'So for now, you must not be seen by man, or they will try to kill you, more likely. And I would be very sad indeed to see you dead. I'm sure Frodo wouldn't like to see you gone either.' Bilbo hinted, and Frodo looked at her, tears streaking down his face. That broke her, and the tears began to fall down her scaled face.

'I'm sorry, da…I'll listen to you. I won't go outside, I won't get seen by men…I don't wanna die…' she sobbed, and both Bilbo and Frodo heard her ancient Quenyan voice in their minds speaking rapidly. Bilbo settled himself onto the floor in between the two of them and pulled them close.

'I know, Laurë…And by all the power I have, you won't.'

Laurë shook herself from the flashback as the man turned to Frodo and Sam, checking on them to make sure they were alright. Fear gripped her heart and that queasy feeling filled her stomach (not the fire this time, she'd have to practice with that later). Basic instinct and Bilbo's words in mind, she dove into the nearest bush she could find, curling into a tight ball and practically hyperventilating. She didn't come out, even when Frodo and Sam started calling her name. The man's voice called out her name as well, and she cringed, somehow curling even tighter as she began to shake.

"Laurë!"

She gave a high pitched yelp as she was yanked by the tail from the bush, drug out into plain sight. The man's hand was on her tail, gripping firmly but not tightly. His sword was held in the other hand, and he looked at her warily. After staring at him for a moment she shut her eyes tight and whimpered. Just like Bilbo said, men wanted to kill her! This man was going to kill her!

"This is her, mister! Please, don't hurt her! She's as nice as they come, she's just scared!" Sam pleaded, and she risked a peak. She found Sam holding onto the man's sword arm tightly. The man hesitated, but nodded and slowly sheathed his sword.

"Laurë you're hurt!" Frodo gasped, flopping onto his knees at her side, hand hovering over a particularly nasty bite wound on her back right leg. Huh, she hadn't noticed that before. Wait… was that blood?

Aragorn had been out on a stroll, it was still several hours until his patrol, but he wanted to take a walk along the river nearest to The Hill to relax some. Well, that wasn't true, he was really scouting out the area but if any hobbits happened to be around, he was going on a walk. He heard some odd noises coming from far ahead, sounding like a mountain cat fighting its prey. He nearly shrugged it off until he heard the howl of a warg from the same direction. Drawing his sword, and suddenly very thankful he had chosen to go on this walk today as he hurried towards the commotion ready for a fight.

It had been simple, three orcs attacking two young hobbits, although there was no warg to be found. One was dragging the older boy off, while the other two had been trying to do the same to the second. His sword found the neck of the lone orc first, the young boy clawing at the ground desperately, not knowing he was being saved. The other boy noticed, as well as the orcs, and Aragorn moved fluidly to them, hesitating when they seemed to use the black haired hobbit as a shield. One of the orcs squealed and ran forward, brandishing its rusty dagger, and Aragorn deflected it easily, parrying and his sword went in a wide arc through its neck. The last gave a strangled scream and tried to run, but the hobbit boy dropped to the ground and Aragorn's sword quickly severed head from body. Regrettably both hobbits had blood all over their clothes, but they were alive.

"What in Eru's name were you doing out on your own!" he shouted angrily, his face stern as he stared down the two fauntlings. The older one gave a scared whimper before the black haired one pulled at his arm desperately.

"We weren't on our own! Our friend is around here somewhere, she was fighting a huge warg! Please, you've got to find Enda!" the boy cried, pulling his arm and trying to lead him further along the river. Anger forgotten, Aragorn nodded and beckoned the other boy, following the black-haired one easily because of his longer legs.

Both boys began calling out names – there seemed to be three that their friend went by. Enda, Laurë, and Ilaurënda were the names they called her. Aragorn began to call out the names as well, observing the signs of a battle of beasts on the ground. There had definitely been a warg around here, but where was it now?

"Sam! There she is!" the younger one cried, pointing to a lithe, scaly golden tail with an earth brown spade at the end. Aragorn's eyes narrowed as the tail flinched. With his sword still drawn, he stepped forward quietly and grasped the tail firmly before giving it a – well not so nice yank. Of all the things he could have expected to be at the end of that tail, a young dragon was definitely not one of them. He nearly raised his sword to threaten it, dragons of any age were dangerous, and if a dragon was in the Shire the lush fields would soon be doomed. It was his duty to protect the shire, and no matter how big those emerald eyes got and how pathetic the whimpers were… It looked at him for a moment before clenching its eyes shut pitifully. He hesitated; this was not how a dragon acted. Dragons were fierce and ruthless, unforgiving and devastating. They killed without mercy and definitely didn't show fear, even at a young age.

Before he could sheathe his sword the older hobbit was latched onto his arm tightly.

"This is her, mister! Please, don't hurt her! She's as nice as they come, she's just scared!" he pleaded, and Aragorn hesitated from shock. He wasn't going to hurt it – her – but the boy hadn't known his innermost thoughts, so he could understand the misunderstanding. He nodded slowly, eyes softening as the boy let his arm go and he slowly sheathed his sword. Aragorn inspected her for a moment, and spied several wounds over her body typical of a warg attack, including scratches and a very mean looking bite on her right thigh.

"Laurë you're hurt!" the younger one cried, falling to his knees at her side. The dragon looked at him and then to her leg, and then fainted.

Frodo wrung his hands nervously as he walked next to the ranger, who called himself Aragorn. He was carrying Laurë in his arms with his cloak wrapped around her and keeping her out of sight. He couldn't get the image of her looking so terrified out of his head. They had already stopped by the Gamgee's hole and dropped Sam off to a very perturbed Gaffer. Bilbo was sure to be much more perturbed than Sam's parents. She had fainted after she'd seen the blood on her leg, and she was too heavy for Frodo to carry so Aragorn had to. As they walked he hadn't asked Frodo anything about her, just where they lived. He seemed very surprised to hear that Frodo lived with Bilbo. Frodo hadn't seen Aragorn at all, but Aragorn seemed to know Bilbo's name.

They came within sight of The Hill, and as ever Bilbo was on his bench. He seemed to look refreshed, looking out to the other end of the shire, away from them at the moment. Frodo wondered how long they had been gone, and how long Bilbo had napped. He would have to find out later, because when Bilbo caught sight of him with Aragorn, he was on his feet in an instant and shouting worriedly.

"Frodo! Oh good heavens what are you doing outside! Aragorn, please tell me he and Sam didn't get into trouble!" Bilbo sputtered frantically, opening the gate ahead of them. When they were just a bit away he seemed to notice that Aragorn was carrying something. He had just been about to rush to their side, but he froze with a hand still lingering on the gate.

"Wait, what are you carrying – Oh… Oh no.." Bilbo moaned, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes as a bit of wind swept open Aragorn's cloak. Laurë's head was laid against Aragorn's chest and her tail dragged limply on the ground. Frodo hadn't noticed this before and quickly snatched her tail up from the cobblestones. He ushered them in and Aragorn hurried up the steps, and the gate was left forgotten open.

Ilaurënda had been laid out on Bilbo's bed on her blanket from years ago. Bilbo and Aragorn tended to her injuries, cleaning out the bite wounds and wrapping them accordingly. She was still fast asleep. When Bilbo inquired as to her unconscious state, Aragorn had told him she fainted at the sight of her own blood. Frodo confirmed it. While Bilbo was not happy at all with his charges he could not bring himself to be mad at either of them or even begin to think of a punishment. This was punishment enough – for him as well.

He was still in shock that it had been Aragorn to bring her back home, a ranger and a man no less!

"Why didn't you kill her, Aragorn? What stayed your blade?" Bilbo asked quietly, sitting on the bed next to her with Frodo in his lap. He had one hand on her neck, feeling the pulse there faintly under the thick scales. Aragorn sat in a chair at the end of the bed, ducking low to avoid hitting the ceiling.

"Her eyes, Bilbo. She showed fear, and from what I know of dragons no matter their age they do not show fear." He replied simply, a worried look on his face. Frodo lay asleep on Bilbo's lap, tear stains on his cheeks.

"Yes, she does have very expressive eyes doesn't she? My dear heart…I should have been there to protect her." Bilbo whispered guiltily, stroking her neck softly.

"Frodo said that she had fought off a full grown warg by herself in order to protect them. If she had been larger the rogue pack wouldn't have had a chance against her. I found traces of dragon-fire ashes on the shore of The Water. She learned to spit fire, which explains why there was no warg when I found them." Aragorn spoke quietly, eyes looking over the gold and green drake slowly.

Bilbo closed his eyes for a moment, wishing that he hadn't let Frodo convince him to take a nap earlier this afternoon. Anything to get rid of this image of Laurë lying on his bed covered in wounds and bandages.

"…S…Sorry…D…da…"

Bilbo's eyes shot open and met green eyes half open looking at him sleepily. He quickly shook Frodo awake and the young boy sputtered awake, murmuring tiredly before realizing Laurë was awake once again.

"Enda, you're okay!" the young lad cried, crawling onto the bed and throwing his arms around her neck. She let her head rest on his back, exhaustion evident. She continued to look at Bilbo pointedly however.

"We were just going to play by the river…we didn't think orcs would come out in the light." She continued quietly, shame clear in her tone. Bilbo let a hand fall over her cheek, tracing one of the scratches over her right eye. She would have a scar or two there. The scales of her eyes weren't completely solid yet, they were the last to harden of her scales. She would forever bear the marks of this encounter.

"My golden heart… I am just glad the three of you are alive." Bilbo replied faintly, tears welling up, and he didn't stop them from falling. His pride be damned, he had nearly lost both of his children and his gardener's child today! Her voice echoed in his mind, a mixture of Westron and Quenya. The words were so jumbled he couldn't make heads or tails of what she was trying to say, but he knew she was apologizing. By the way Frodo tightened his hug on her she was telling Frodo as well.

"I don't want to hurt, Da. I don't want to hide, and I don't want to be killed because I'm a dragon. I want to be like you, Frodo and Sam! I want to be a hobbit!" She sobbed suddenly, and the sounds in his head suddenly made more sense. She hadn't been apologizing, she had been crying and pleading. She tore herself away from the both of them and to the end of the bed, head hanging low.

"None of this would happen if I was a hobbit! I'd be your daughter and Frodo would be my brother and no one would care!" She choked, voice turning harsh.

"I will be a hobbit!" she yelled, looking at Bilbo sternly. He hadn't seen that determination in her eyes ever before, but then again he hadn't ever seen her attacked by a warg before either.

And just as he had seen those mythical green tendrils on the day she hatched, he saw them today. Her wounds disappeared (the two lines on her eye remained), and the tendrils began to change color. Instead of turning red like they had three years ago, they turned blue and surrounded her completely. Her form seemed to shift and warp underneath the mask of the tendril surrounding her.

Bilbo and Frodo watched on worriedly, and Aragorn had a hand on his sword apprehensively. The blue began to fade, and from behind the wisps showed not a young dragon, but a honey-haired little hobbit girl. She fell onto the blanket, and Bilbo hurried to toss the sheet over her with a bright flush to his cheeks. She was naked. Stark naked, and there were two boys in this room that should not see her anywhere near so! Bilbo snapped at Frodo and Aragorn and they were more than happy to leave the room, slamming the door.

When Bilbo turned back to Laurë, She was sitting up, the blanket held up hesitantly. Her eyes were still the same bright emerald green, and her right eye still bore the two delicate looking lines over it. Her hair was thick and curly, down to her lower back practically. She smiled at him slowly.

"I told you, Da…I will be a hobbit." She said quietly, her voice small and sweet just as it always had been. She looked to be about Frodo's age in this form, and what a perfect age to look. He could pass her off as a very distant cousin; she looked just like Bilbo, just smaller and female!

"My darling, you could have been more patient. I have no clothes for a little girl. You'll have to wear boy's clothing until we can get you in to the tailor." Bilbo chuckled, rubbing his forehead with a sigh of relief. She giggled, and oh, what a bell-like sound!

"Sorry Da, I didn't know it would work. I think I can turn into anything I want!" she exclaimed, nearly dropping her blanket. Bilbo's hand clasped her shoulders, holding the blanket up securely. She blushed faintly.

"If you can be anything then why don't you become a human or perhaps a dwarf or maybe even an elf? I know you adored Legolas." Bilbo asked, wrapping her up tightly.

"Because, I don't want to be anything else, I just want to be a hobbit or a dragon! I just can't be a dragon for a while, I guess." She replied softly.

"Well, I will go fetch some of Frodo's clothes for you to wear until we can take you to get fitted. You stay here, and cuddle up with Dwalin." Bilbo chuckled, a smirk on his face. The kittens they had rescued so long ago had all grown up to be very good house cats and mousers. Frodo had insisted on calling his gray and black tom Kili, after the dark-haired prince. To match Kili, Sam named the brown girl cat Fili. Laurë wanted to name hers after the cat's personality. The tortoise-shell was rather rough around the edges and mean, except to Laurë of course. The cat tolerated everyone but her. So what did she decide to name the little girl kitten? After the grumbly and rough Dwalin the dwarf of course!

Oh Dwalin would have a fit if he ever found out a girl cat had been named after him! Bilbo smiled as the aforementioned cat jumped up onto the bed, curling into Laurë's now hobbit lap. Dwalin was more than pleased with this form, nice and warm and soft!

Bilbo laughed quietly to himself as he left her and the cat in his room to fetch her some clothes.