Chapter 2


It had been nearly three months since Sierra found herself in the world of Middle-Earth. It was either pure luck or pure convenience that Bilbo Baggins allowed her to stay so long in his home of Bag End, but she was thankful for it all the same. Sierra had taken the time to learn as much as she could to assist the old hobbit and meet the other hobbits of the Shire. She had even met the hobbits she had seen the first night she arrived: Bilbo's nephew Frodo Baggins, Peregrin "Pippin" Took, Meriadoc "Merry" Brandybuck, and lastly Samwise "Sam" Gamgee, the last was the most heavy-set of the four friends while Pippin better resembled a rake. In that time, Sierra learned how to cook, clean, and get around without her modern tools and conveniences, though she had also taken to learning how to use animal traps and knives for her newly required survival skill of hunting. She was no master, but she had skill and was perfecting it on every day she practiced.

But Sierra had also been terribly homesick and her only reminders were the clothes she'd worn when she'd appeared in Hobbiton and her apartment keys. Worried for her plants, her bills, her friends, and her belongings, she'd hoped her family had been contacted on her absence. She assumed her mom had the police sent out to track her down, but she knew there was no way the police would magically appear in Middle-Earth as she had and just magically take her back home. But Sierra had made a friend of Bilbo Baggins and the other hobbits, and their friendship helped to fill the void her online friends and coworkers once filled. Though she still greatly valued the time she had to read books and think to herself, she was starting to very much enjoy the lifestyle of a hobbit.

At the beginning of her stay in Bag End, Sierra got glares and sneers for being one of the "big people" hobbits were none too fond of, but as time passed, Sierra became liked for inventing stories for the little children and learning the hobbit habits and practices and doing her best to earn her way. She worked odd jobs around the Shire and took her pelts and excess meat to the market to acquire some coin and purchase fitting sets of clothing and hunting gear for herself. Seeing as she was not a hobbit, Sierra's feet were not naturally as tough as the small people's feet, thus her need for custom slippers, boots, and shoes for her jobs were an expensive investment. Except when she had to work in the mud, because then it was all the better to not ruin her shoes at all and instead cake her feet and shins in the muck.

'Well worth it all.' Sierra would think to herself often, for she liked the little hobbits quite a lot, even the grouchier ones. They all liked peace and quiet like she did, they grew a wide variety of flowers and foods like she did, and they took the time each day to take a moment and watch the clouds in the sky or read a book or enjoy a drink, just like she did. The only thing she hadn't partaken was the smoking of tobacco; though it was sweeter and more floral in Middle-Earth than back in her home town, smoking had never appealed to Sierra. They lived a life of regularity and none too much excitement, unless the troublemakers Merry and Pippin were involved, and in that notion, Sierra began to feel comfortable enough to call the Shire home.

One day, when she came back to the town from a trip to the forest for some rabbit or fox, she was surprised to see Bilbo out in his yard with an elderly man in gray clothing with long hair and a matching beard only a scant few shades lighter than his cloak. She had never seen him before, though the children often talked about and compared her to an elderly wizard who wore gray robes and carried a wooden staff where the end looked like it had been blown over in a wind storm. The man at Bilbo's side and his wooden staff fit the description to a tee.

"Ah, there she is!" Bilbo cheered as Sierra came up to the gate, "Gandalf, this is Sierra, the girl I've been telling you about."

"Well, that name sounds familiar," Sierra interjected as she entered the yard, "you wouldn't happen to be the Gandalf would you? The Gandalf who disturbs the peace in all of Hobbiton, carries fanciful fireworks that enchant children, and takes certain hobbits on wild adventures?"

"Indeed I am." Gandalf answered with a hearty chuckle, "I take it mister Baggins has told you much about me?"

"He has, and so have the children and grouchy older folk around town." Sierra nodded with a smile, "It is a pleasure to meet you in person." Gandalf nodded in greeting and Bilbo settled himself to smoking his long pipe, the old wizard doing the same. "Do excuse me sirs, but I have a couple rabbits that need skinning and cleaning. Oh and I must get dressed for tonight's party! I hear it will be the best birthday party the Shire has ever seen." Sierra remembered as she entered the hobbit hole and got to work preparing the small animals. Time sped by as she hung the skins and meat to dry and changed into a custom crafted and fitted maroon dress and matching slippers.

As Bilbo's birthday party commenced, people danced, ate, drank, and took in the amazing and incredible fireworks. Sierra still hated loud parties, but this was one bash she could stand to attend for a short while at least. She had new friends and so many carefree characters to smile and laugh with. Maybe that's why she never liked parties back home, she hardly knew even half the people that would be attending. In the party, Sierra had taken time to sit and rest in the quieter parts of the party and even helped Gandalf to set up some fireworks in between dancing with the children and men. The most fabulous of the party was the dragon firework, the one Pippin and Merry had set off. It was magnificent and terrifying and was the perfect end to Gandalf's many fireworks. The old wizard was quick to punish the boys and put them to work cleaning dishes and cups. Soon enough, Bilbo had gotten on a pedestal and started a birthday speech to his many friends and family, Sierra seated herself in the back near Gandalf to help keep the troublemakers in line.

"My dear Bagginses and Boffins," a loud cheer erupted, "Tooks and Brandybucks," more cheers, "Brubs," a section cheered, "Jubs," another. At this point, Sierra could not hear her friend over the loud and raucous cheers of the partygoers. "Today is my one hundredth and eleventh birthday!" again more cheers. Sierra briefly wondered if she would need an ear horn after this party. "Alas, eleventy-one years is far too short a time to live among such excellent and admirable hobbits." He sent a silent nod to Gandalf and Sierra in the back and they raised their cups in regard. "I don't know half of you half as well as I should like and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve." That one fell flat with the crowd, but Sierra chuckled at the comment. "I, uh…" Then Bilbo's hand drifted towards his right vest pocket and Sierra felt a strange tension at this act, "I, uh…have things to do…" he was mumbling now, his hand entirely in his pocket now as he gripped something. With a tight fist, he removed his hand from his vest and moved both hands behind his back. Sierra glanced at the old wizard next to her; he had sensed something was amiss too. Sierra saw him whisper something as he stared blankly out at the quiet and now questioning crowd. "I regret to announce this is the end…I am going now. I bid you all a very fond farewell." Something was indeed very wrong, and Sierra stood and sent a questioning look at Bilbo. Before everyone's eyes, Bilbo Baggins vanished into thin air.


It was some time later when Sierra returned to the hobbit hole. It had taken a long while for the crowd to be calmed, the crockery and utensils cleaned up, and everyone sent back home or to the pub. When she opened the door, she found Gandalf rushing out the door and out the front gate, bidding her a hurried 'good evening' on his way. He moved far too fast for her to catch up. So she moved into the hobbit hole and found Frodo standing at the door holding a sealed envelope.

"There you are Frodo. Is Bilbo here? Why was Gandalf…" but she stopped, seeing the dumbstruck expression on the young hobbit's face.

"My uncle is gone, Sierra." He muttered, "He'd been talking about travelling for ages now. You know, you've been here long enough." Suddenly he glanced up and turned to her, "Do you know where he is? Where he might have gone? Did Bilbo tell you anything at all?" When Frodo had grabbed her arms to ask her this, she gripped his shoulders just a little firmer and guided him to a chair in the sitting room near the entryway.

"Easy, Frodo Baggins. Calm yourself." Sierra said as she forced him into the chair and he released her arms. When he had taken time to breathe, she took a neighboring chair and spoke to him calmly. "You know as much as I where Bilbo has gone. And you said it yourself, he had been talking about it for ages. I am sure that wherever he is, Bilbo is safe." Frodo nodded and fingered the envelope thoughtfully, the sealing wax still warm and soft.

"He left it all to me." Frodo said softly, "The whole of Bag End and its contents." Sierra kept a calm eye levelled at the hobbit and watched his composed, gentle demeanor return. "Of course, you're welcome to stay as long as you like, Sierra. It should be a while before I can figure out how everything should be tended to on my own." Frodo said quickly, "And…to be honest, I'd like a friend's company in my uncle's absence." This brought a smile to Sierra's face. All too soon, time passed to a late hour and both retired to their respective beds, planning to sort out what Frodo wanted to keep, distribute, and dispose of in the coming days.

Sierra rolled around in her small bed, finding sleep hard to come by. After almost an hour, she gave up and sat up on the edge of the bed, rubbing her eyes and staring into the dark of her bedroom. She looked towards the small writing desk that occupied a corner of her room; on top were quills, papers, vials of ink, and a small red box that was barely bigger than a grown man's fist. Sierra got up, grabbed the box from the desk, and sat back down on her bed with it. She opened the box and pulled out her apartment keys, three of them attached by a single key ring. She fingered the three silvery metallic pieces: one for her apartment, one for her mailbox, and the last a spare key for when she visited her parents on holidays. Suddenly feeling tired again, Sierra returned to her bed, her keys gently contained in her hand, and drifted to a dreamless sleep.


Nearly two weeks had passed since Bilbo and Gandalf's sudden disappearances that night. Frodo was out having a grand time at the tavern with his friends when he and Sam heard rumors from the older hobbit men of strangers riding around and through the Shire. On his return home, he staggered a little from the ale and stepped on a note left on the floor of the entryway. It read:

Gone to deliver furs to Farmer Proudfoot.

Will be home tomorrow.

- Sierra

Frodo was glad for Sierra's friendship. It made the ache caused by his missing uncle less painful, though he still worried every day for the elderly hobbit's wellbeing. Perhaps though, on this night, he could afford to be more worried of other things. Bag End was pitch dark, except for the low lights of dying candles, and there seemed to be a creak pervading through the whole of the home. Frodo discovered a window had been left open, or had been opened, and the whole place sounded of a whispering wind. Suddenly a hand gripped his shoulder and Frodo whirled around in fright to come face to face with the tired, terrified face of the wizard Gandalf.

"Is it secret? Is it safe?" And indeed, the envelope that had been left to Frodo was safe, buried in a chest. Gandalf was gripped by a strange fear Frodo had never seen, and when he procured the envelope, the old wizard snatched it up and threw it into a freshly lit fire. As the envelope burned, the ring was revealed. On that night, Frodo learned the true depth of the meaning behind the golden ring, and how dangerous it truly was created to be.


Sierra was taking a short path through the brush the next day, excited to get back to Bag End and wash up and finish one of Bilbo's old story books, when she spotted two hobbits with large bags some distance off. Squinting and trying to look harder, she recognized the two hobbits and chased them down, calling to them when she was a few yards away. They paused and regarded their human friend.

"Hello Sam…Frodo…where…are you two…headed?" Sierra huffed and puffed when she'd caught up to them.

"I…we…we're headed nowhere." Sam said shiftily, "Just out for a walk is all."

"Oh no…you aren't. Frodo…you're not…chasing after your uncle…are you?" Sierra was slowly catching her breath and Frodo sent Sam a pleading look. The two seemed to have a silent conversation just by looking at each other and Sierra's playful attitude instantly dissipated. It was quiet for a few seconds longer when Sierra asked, "This is about something else…isn't it?"

"It is," Frodo admitted, "and it's more dangerous than you could imagine, Sierra." He took a deep breath and quietly asked her to go home and watch Bag End for him until his return. Sierra's brows knit together and a frown came to her face.

"No." Sierra said stubbornly, "If this trek is so dangerous, I should go with you. I can use knives and traps far better than either of you." Suddenly she had a thought, "Wait…do you even have any weaponry? Anything at all?" Sheepishly, they admitted they had but knives for meat and dining, nothing else. Finding that having settled it, Sierra went with the two hobbits, promising she would do her best to help them when they need her.

She wished she'd had the chance to return to Bag End and collect more supplies, but she was thankful to have all her travel gear, even though it could have done with a good washing. In this first day of travel, Frodo had told Sierra the roughest description of the story behind their quest, giving her a last chance to back out. She didn't. The trio passed through wood, grass, and farmland, finally taking the time to rest as the sun was setting and prepared dinner for themselves. It seemed only a short rest when they all heard a soft, musical sound of in the distance.

"Sam, Sierra." Frodo whispered, drawing the attention of his companions to listen. With a smile, Frodo proclaimed the source, "Wood Elves." Quickly, the three lowered the fire and abandoned their dinner, choosing instead to run up the hill and see the elves. Sierra had heard of Wood Elves from Bilbo's stories and from the books he kept in Bag End, but to see them was something she could never have imagined. The three hid behind a log and watched the procession of elves before them. Sierra held in a gasp. They were beautiful, far more than the books and stories could describe, and they seemed to have an ethereal glow all their own as they travelled. Some walked, others rode on horseback, and some carried fluttering banners, but all seemed to sing the melodic elvish tongue into the quiet night.

"They're going to the harbor beyond the white towers…" Frodo stated. Sierra didn't know of the white towers or what exactly Frodo implied, but the beautiful march seemed to suddenly become sad. "…to the Gray Havens." The black-haired hobbit finished.

"What does that mean?" Sierra asked quietly.

"They're leavin' Middle-Earth." Sam answered.

"Never to return." Frodo finished. So that was why it was such a sad procession.

"I don' know why." Sam said softly, "It makes me sad."

"It's a song of goodbye." Sierra muttered. Sierra remembered every text and every story of elves saying they were an immortal people, dying only in battle and of heartbreak. She read also the sad tales of elves that would travel to the undying lands of elves and never return. Sierra's throat seemed to close on itself and her eyes pricked with threatened tears. The song of the elves while beautiful was also a song of tragedy, resembling a funeral. Soon, the three couldn't bear watching the procession any longer and quietly made their way back to camp.

Dinner was eaten, the fire settled down to be safe through the night, and bedrolls were set up. Sierra took the first watch and would wake Sam when she could stay awake no longer, then Sam would wake Frodo to take the pre-dawn watch. While Sierra knew the elven procession was long over, she imagined she could still hear the echoes of their mournful song throughout her peaceful and lonesome watch, her beloved keys clanked together softly as she handled them in her pocket. It was a small comfort, but a treasured one.

Sierra was glad for their cold comfort.


Remember, I plan to have this story updated on a weekly basis: a new chapter every Wednesday.

Feel free to leave comments. Constructive criticism is most appreciated.