''Just let me sit quietly for a moment.'' Bryn said softly, clutching her cup of tea to her chest and glancing from the fireplace to Gandalf.

''You've been sitting quietly for far too long. I remember a young Hobbit, always seeking adventures with her brother, scouring the woods for elves, you'd come back home after dark trailing mud and fireflies. The adventures you sought are not in your maps or books,'' The wizard had spoken in a fierce whisper at first, but had begun to take on a rather gentle tone, ''It's out there, beyond the borders of the Shire, hat the real adventures lie.''

''But I have given up my adventures. I am a Baggins,'' She paused holding up a hand, ''Of Bagg End.''

''But you are also a Took.'' Gandalf replied. She sighed and looked up at her ceiling, wanting nothing more than peace. '' Did you know that your great-great-great-great-uncle, Bullroarer Took, was so large he could ride a real horse? He charged into one of the goblin battles, and took up his mace, and his swing was so strong, it ripped the goblin kings head clean off, and it flew a hundred yards before falling down a rabbit hole. And thus the battle was won, and the game of golf invented at the same time.'' Gandalf smiled at her, his bright eyes beaming.

''I do believe you made that up.'' Bryn smiled at her cup of tea. The wizards' stories had enthralled her when she was a child, her and Bilbo had stayed up all night, talking about them. And then when their mother had told them to go to sleep they would wait until she had gone back to her bedroom, and then they would sneak out of their bedroom, stuffing pillows under their sheets. And they would sit by the dying embers, talking. Voicing their desires for adventure.

''Well, not all of it. But every good tale deserves a little embellishment.'' Gandalf eyed her mysteriously, ''You'll have a tale to tell yourself when you get back.''

Bryn looked at the fire, then looked back up at Gandalf. ''Can you promise me I will come back?''

The wizard paused, then shook his head. ''No, and if you do, you won't be the same.''

Sighing she got to her feet, disappointment filling her heart. ''That's what I thought. I'm sorry Gandalf, I can't sign this.'' And with that she left the room, not meeting Thorin's piercing gaze as she hurried to her bedroom.

Settling herself into her bed, she buried her head into her pillows. ''Why can't I just be happy with what I have? I wish I could be as content with my life as Bilbo.'' No sooner had the words left her mouth then she heard singing coming from the parlor.

She crawled off the bed, hitting the floor without a noise. Quietly she crept into the hallway, listening to the tune the dwarves were singing. She felt her pulse beat faster. Their song was sad, and filled her with sorrow. Their words filled her mind, and she scooted closer to the parlor. Their voices poured out emotions with their song, and sorrow entered her.

She could see Thorin's face. He gazed into the fire, and Bryn was filled with a desire to have his eyes on her. But the dwarf continued on in his song, and one by one all of the dwarves joined in with him, their words filling the house with unexplainable sorrow.

Bryn shifted, and stood up, hearing them begin to talk among themselves once more. She peaked her head into the room, and saw that Thorin had left. Sighing she stepped into the room, whispering to Bofur that they could have any of the sleeping chambers they wanted. He thanked her briefly, before returning to his pipe.

She turned, and made her way back to her bedroom, before she entered she saw Thorin. He was emerging from her Father's room, and when he saw her looking an expression of surprise and frustration crossed his face. He turned away from her and headed down the hallway, his shadow receding as he left.

Brynna watched him go, and crept towards her father's open door. It smelled musty in the room, but nothing could disguise her father's warm scent of wood smoke and tea. Upon entering the bed chamber, she saw a clean pair of pants laid out on the bed, the last clothes her mother had set out for him before he died.

''I miss you.'' She whispered, stroking the wood on his four-poster bed. He had carved roses and bees onto the cherry wood. Her mother coming over it with paint and varnish.

A large journal in a leather case lay on the bedside table, the book opened to the middle of the book. A map of the shire was on the first page, and her brother's and her name were written neatly on the bottom of the page. A picture of her mother was on the other page. Tears filled her eyes, and Bryn silently took the book in her arms, closing her the door behind her as she left.

Entering her room she collapsed onto the bed, curling up on top of the covers, not bothering with her clothes. She shrugged the straps of her suspenders before relaxing. The book was still in her arms, and slowly she placed it onto her nightstand. The tune of the dwarves song lulled her to sleep.

Birds were chirping and the sun was shining. Bryn opened her eyes. The candle by her bedside was smoking, and sunlight streamed in her room through the open window.

She stretched and sprawled out across her bed, studying the ceiling. The events of the previous nights rushed back to her, and she stiffened. Quickly she got out of bed, pulling her suspenders back up before heading into the rest of the house.

Not a thing moved, but still she approached with caution. She wished with all of her lucky stars that they were gone. Taking a deep breath she peeked her head into the kitchen, calling a hesitant hello.

Nothing answered her, and the birds continued singing. Bryn relaxed, and strode into the parlor. The windows were open, and fresh air greeted her. A flash of white caught her eye, and her eyes were drawn to the innocent contract lying on the small table.

A decision lay before her. And the answer was obvious. She rushed into her brother's study, grabbing a quill and ink. She hastily packed up some necessary items, and signed the contract, feeling a surge of excitement fill her.

Quickly she bound her chest and pulled on some of her brother's clothes. A green vest and a maroon coat, the brown trousers she had worn the previous night were not dirty so she didn't bother to change them.

Bursting through the round green door of Bagg End was a hobbitess, running as fast as he legs could carry her, dressed in her brother's clothing. She pushed through the fence. Running through the green meadows of the Shire. Farmers called out to her, but she paid no attention.

''Nice day it is today?'' A young farmer called.

''Not now, I'm already late!'' She replied, the contract still clutched to her hand.

''Late for what?'' The farmer asked, his voice filled with amusement and intrigue.

''I'm going on an adventure!'' The words were ludicrous, but she didn't care. It was the complete truth.

Please review! I really would love encouragement, and even ''really good,'' and ''good start,'' Are wanted. ~.~