Disclaimer: I do not claim to own any part of The Hobbit, or indeed a lot of the mythos from which this story is going to be yanked kicking and screaming.

(Sob.)

Thanks to chrisfardell for the first review on this story!

I regret to inform you that this story will be taking place in three different time frames, with an inevitable fourth one showing up soon. These present three time frames shall hereafter be known as:

In Elder Days: aka a really, really long time ago. As in, before the world used to exist and moving ever forwards from that point, albeit with a narrative jumping all over the place, choronologically. Will be intentionally spacey and vague since, hey, they're dreams/memories and since when have either of those made any sense? Keep your wits about you.

Back Then: aka not nearly as long ago as The Elder Days. More like twenty eight years ago and moving ever forwards in a far more chronological order, albeit with some snippets taken from all over the timeline to shove at the end of the dream segments.

Here and Now: aka the ever present...present. In which Bella is angsty and conflicted but still manages to have a wonderful time.

Fret not; all segments shall be sign posted accordingly!

She lightly fled on dancing feet

In Elder Days

This night you dream of Olórin again, or really you remember; in the end it's the same thing, so much of Olórin is…

…no, not lost but still he is denied to you, he might as well be just a dream,

but who you are isn't bound to what you can do, you are yourself in this form or any other,

still Olórin's so long ago, at times he's like

a person in a song you heard that sometimes you forget…

tonight though, you remember when he watched the dance

of Nessa on the glowing lawns, when Tulkas sprang

to join her in that wedding waltz;

Olórin laughed with so much joy it hurts now,

thinking of the times before the falls

(so many falls)

and all those that deserved that blessed time,

that joy, that light, that dance

and never had a chance.

And, when he's woken up in some time a bit before the now:

"Good morning, Mister Gandalf, you sleep well?"

"Oh, tolerably well, Miss Took."

"Did you dream? What you dream about? I dreamed about a rabbit, it had a hat and waistcoat on!"

"Ah. Well, I dreamed of dancing deer, in the light of a lamp."

Here and now

Gandalf waits for her to get her breath quite back before he slows the cart down a tad and speaks again, and then only to say, "You should sit up here, Bella." When Gandalf uses that tone of voice it is best to hop to it, so Belladonna scrambles over the parcels and boxes and clambers up to huddle on the seat beside him.

"Thank you, Gandalf," she tries at length.

"Never mind that, Bella. You had better tell me what happened, and whether I should expect to be greeted with pitchforks the next time I happen to come by this corner of the world." The eye she can see has a twinkle in it, there's that at least. "And…I will admit, I am curious. What exactly was it that Bungo Baggins did, to make you of all Hobbits run screaming in fear from a proposal?"

She huffs and thrusts back her shoulders, trying to ignore the growing fire in her cheeks and the sick feeling starting up again in her belly. "I was not screaming, in fear or in anything else-"

"Indeed."

"-and he hasn't actually asked me. Yet. He hasn't asked me yet, so at least they, uh, can't say I turned him down." She realises she's cracking her knuckles and stops. "Er. I was, after you left this morning I'd sort of gotten myself dressed up on Mama's say so. As. As you can see."

She fumbles at the dress and tries to carry on. "And then she told me to sit in the parlour. Which was rather silly, I could look out and see everyone coming up the path and, and Bungo was with them. In his best. And I got suspicious, and I got even more suspicious when he started looking scared and wouldn't come in straight away, he must have seen me looking. He walked a way away and I realised, he was trying to get up the courage to…"

Gandalf turns to give her another look, one eyebrow raised. He says nothing and the silence is oh so awkward and big, and growing ever bigger.

"Oh, noooo," she moans at last, and starts cracking her knuckles again in sheer horror. "I'm an idiot. I'm such an idiot, oh why did I do that?"

"It is not within the realm of my power to say," Gandalf mutters.

"I had all of Tuckborough running after me. They'll never be able to cover this up."

"It is unlikely."

"Mama will never forgive me."

"Quite probably, knowing Adamanta."

"Papa may forgive me? In time?" She's grasping at straws and threads by now.

"Gerontius is, I do not doubt, laughing himself sick; I can assure you of that."

"Bungo…" She stops cracking knuckles only so she can tug and worry her hair. "What must he think of me?"

"Ah. I cannot answer that, my dear Bella." He squeezes her shoulder, the reaches up to pull her hand away from her curls with an "And stop doing that."

What can she do? She's burned her bridges, good and proper. He might not even have been going to propose anyway. She'd just made yet another bloody assumption and hurt him horribly, in his heart and pride. And now he'll go back to Hobbiton and marry someone else and she'll never see him again, or at least not in the way she's grown used to and enjoyed and loved so much. If only…

Her eyes hurt and start leaking; she has to sniff to keep back the tide. If only, if only, if only pulses in her throat and temples.

"I'll get off here," she says at last, as they're passing through the woods where she buried her special box with the extra clothes and the rations and whatnot, in case she ever felt like slipping off. She jumps down and is halfway to where she remembers the spot is before realising she can't hear the cart moving anymore.

She turns around to meet Gandalf's steady gaze from where he's stopped the vehicle. The urge takes her. What's one more leap before she thinks?

"Gandalf? I am going on an adventure, d'you want to come with me?"