AN: Many thanks to those who reviewed and put the story on their alerts list. You've brightened my day considerably.

I hope this chapter won't be too boring for you as there is very little Frodo in it. It will take me a while to update for the next chapter is rather long and once I will be done rewriting it, it might end up being even longer. Don't be too surprised if it takes a week or maybe longer for me to update. Now on with the chapter.

edited 07/12/2013

Chapter 2: Níniël

Many years before the Ring War would roll over Middle Earth and eventually have its effects on the Shire, strange and rather frightening things had started to happen in the peaceful land of our ancestors. Even though most other peoples had chosen to remain ignorant of their sheer existence, dark forces had laid their eyes upon the peace loving Hobbits. In the year 2970 of the third age or 1370 Shire Reckoning everything started. This is the story of my mother as it was told to us by Gandalf the White, shortly before he took his last voyage over the seas to Valinor.

Murinel Flourish, the baker of the village (I'm afraid, Gandalf couldn't recall the name of the village) and Rosmertha Goodbody great grand daughter of Lily Goodbody, formerly Baggins were a newlywed couple and expecting the arrival of their first child. Their families had been against their union and so they had secretly left Hobbiton and their narrow-minded families behind to start their life together in the Barrow Downs. Murinel even managed to make a decent living for his wife, himself, and his future child as he soon found work in a bakery owned by an elderly widow that happened to be in desperate need of younger, faster hands to do the daily chores she could longer manage herself. The widow had provided them with a nice cozy hut between two old oaks with enough room for the growing family and many comforts that made living sorely depending on their own hands' work a lot easier.

Eventually their first child, a daughter, was born on the first day of Winterfilth in the year 1470. And as joyous as the day should have been for the both of them as tragically it ended. Neither Murinel nor Rosmertha had the faintest knowledge that a dark power somewhere in the far away land of Mordor had set their eyes upon them. Blissfully ignorant of the world around them as only parents can be with their new baby child in their arms, they never heard the thundering of mighty black hooves as nine black riders thrust their spurs into their horses' flanks to urge them into such a fast gallop that their appearance was cloaked by dark cloud of dust from the road they travelled on.

When the door to the small hut between the two oaks burst open the tips of large blades were the first things the two shocked Hobbits on the bed at the far end of the room saw and large hands, clad in dark iron gloves were the last before the Nazgûl blades extinguished their love and lives forever.

"Get the girl," their leader's faceless cold voice demanded and one of the other Nazgûl stepped forth to fulfill the Witchking's command. "Don't harm her. Our master still needs her." The six slaves that had accompanied the nine Nazgûl on their mission now joined their masters in the hut, their eyes darting around the room as if they were hoping to find something of value to them.

"Yes, my lord," the other Nazgûl said, his voice a ghostly whisper as he approached the now blood soaked bed and reached for the wriggling bundle in her dead mother's limp arms. Before he could as much as touch the blanket a dark voice that seemed to fill the entire room made stop dead in his movements.

"Touch her and this will be the day of your death," the voice growled. The Nazgûl turned around and when he saw, who had threatened him, he couldn't help but had to laugh out loud. What appeared to be an old man in gray robes was standing in the door way, in his hand he held a long stake, which he obviously used to lean on. His face was hidden by the rim of a huge equally gray hat and only a long gray beard could be seen that was resting on his chest.

"I don't think you are in any position to give me orders, old man," the Nazgûl's laugh transformed into a dangerous snarl as he slowly turned from the bed and rested his hand on the hilt of his sword.

"It is apparent that you obviously don't know who you are talking to," the gray figure replied to the weakly disguised threat. Slowly he eventually raised his head, so that he could look at them. Hatred was carved into the cold dark blue of his eyes that seemed as though they had seen eternity.

"Then, pray tell, who am I talking to?" asked the Nazgûl who was still by no means impressed.

"You're talking to Gandalf the Gray, if names are so important to you. And I came to take the girl. I cannot allow her to be taken to your master."

"Hear, hear! And what would a wizard like you want with a tiny Hobbit?"

"Oh, she has lost her parents and needs people who know how to take proper care. I doubt your master's capability to accomplish such a task."

"Is that so. Well, I'm afraid, that her future has already been decided and it is not with whomever you consider worthy." Now the Nazgûl no longer hesitated. His huge hand went towards the bed and grabbed the little girl. Holding her upside down by her feet like a recently slain piece of prey he reached for his sword with his free hand. "My master wants this child and he shall have it."

"Not if I can help it," Gandalf said calmly.

"I'm just afraid you can't" the Nazgûl said. Now his companions started to approach Gandalf, all of them with their swords in hands, ready for a fight they thought, they had already won. But Gandalf was quite a bit faster than they had anticipated. In an instant he raised his long stake, murmuring an ancient spell in a tongue, none of them understood and when a flash of green light erupted from the staff's tip the six slaves were thrown across the room and each of them greeted the ground with a sickening thud. Gandalf, obviously pleased with himself, smiled. For a while the Nazgûl stood fixed to the spot.

"Are you now willing to hand me the child? Or do you perhaps wish to join your servants' fate? And do not doubt that I don't have the power to deal with you in an equally deadly way."

"You'll never get the girl!" the Witchking screamed furiously. "The Dark Lord wants the baby and he shall have her."

"As you wish," Gandalf said grimly and the expression on his face darkened even more. Again he murmured ancient spells and now the same thing happened to the Nazgûl. However, Gandalf's words were not as powerful as to take the lives of the Ringwraiths. His spell was merely potent enough to leave them unconscious for but a little while and when the Witchking fell to his knees, the wizard had to make haste. Silence had claimed the room and frightened the Istari. The child had hit the ground along with her captor and Gandalf feared for the worst when his eyes found the unmoving all too quiet bundle that was half buried underneath the Nazgûl's iron glove.

"Oh my, what have they done to you, my precious little thing," he muttered as he carefully removed the tiny being from underneath the cold heavy fist. He couldn't stop a sigh of relief to disturb the uncomfortable quiet when he felt the child's breath against the skin of his hand. "I shall bring you to the elves. All though even they cannot give you back what was taken from you today, they will know of a way to help you." In the very moment Gandalf turned on his heels and proceeded to walk out of the hut the tiny girl in his arms stirred and looked at him with big blue eyes. For a second she seemed to consider whether he meant harm or not but was it thirst, fear, or sheer exhaustion – Gandalf couldn't tell which – she began to cry. The old wizard sighed. He knew that it would turn out to be a long seven days trip to Rivendell if he didn't find a way to calm the baby Hobbit.

Seven exhausting days of riding on horseback later, Gandalf and the ever weeping baby girl arrived in Rivendell, the home of Elrond and his daughter Arwen. The house of the elves was one of the most beautiful and oldest buildings on the surface of Middle Earth. It was not the first time Gandalf visited this astounding example of elven architecture for he often sought Elrond's advice concerning the twisting fates of Middle Earth. This time it would be no different for even though the Istari knew that saving this tiny Hobbit from the hands of the greatest evil ever known to any kind was nearly as crucial as keeping the one ring hidden from the forces lurking in Mordor, he did not have the faintest idea as to what was to become of the still nameless child. He was welcomed by the wise elf and his daughter Arwen Undómiel with words that were true to their mostly gentle nature but in a way also reserved, for they knew that the wizard came to their home with great worries and trouble lying heavily on his shoulders.

"Mae govannen," Elrond said and bowed his head slightly. "It is good to see you in good health, Mithrandir."

"Greetings to you, friend, and may your day be bright and blessed," Gandalf smiled at the mentioning of his elven name. Elrond gestured for him to follow him inside to his study where they sat down while Arwen stood next to her father, her eyes fixed on something the wizard held in his arms.

"Word of your disruption of the dark lord's evil plan precedes you, my friend," Elrond eventually spoke and gestured towards the wriggling bundle and for the first time Gandalf noticed that the desperate weeping throughout his journey to Rivendell that his ears had grown accustomed to while every fiber of his heart had been aching for that little one had finally ceased. "You came looking for help, I presume," Elrond stated and looked at the wizard expectantly.

"You are quite right as always, my dear Elrond. However it is not help for myself I seek but rather for this innocent little soul that everything taken away from her only hours after her birth," Gandalf nodded and with tired fingers he removed the small part of the blanket that had been hiding the child's face. When Arwen saw the red puffy eyes of the baby and the look of utter distress in them, she stepped towards the Istari and took the tiny bundle from him. Gandalf happily obliged. The girl however started to weep again and even Arwen's soothing Elfish lullabies couldn't calm her down. "Níniël," Arwen whispered and softly kissed the child on the forehead. "Child of tears," she continued in the common tongue, finally giving the child a name and thus existence. Elrond nodded his agreement to his daughter's choice of the name. Arwen smiled a little at her father and without another word she disappeared to somewhere in the halls of what was Rivendell so that the child could be attended to.

"We shall take care of her," Elrond said toward Gandalf. "But for now you may rest and have something to eat. You are exhausted, I think."

"Indeed, I am. Níniël and the urgency of my journey forced me to ignore my desires for rest. She cried most of the time, and I cannot blame her. An old wizard can hardly compensate such a fragile life for the loss of its parents," Gandalf replied, fighting back the need to let out a huge yawn.

"Have you yet decided what will happen with the girl," Gandalf asked as he and Elrond dined in the large hall of Rivendell later that evening.

"She will be taken to Tol Sîdh. She will be safe there and will be brought up by Elves," Elrond said.

"Wouldn't it be better for her to be brought up among her own kin? I have a friend in Hobbiton. He certainly would agree to take her in."

"No. It is too dangerous, Gandalf. The Ring Wraths have found her before and they certainly wouldn't hesitate to destroy a small hobbit village in order to fulfill their master's command. Tol Sîdh is out of their reach. No harm can come upon Níniël there," Elrond declined the wizard's request.

"But she'll have to stay there for the rest of her life, won't she."

"Not necessarily. If she wants to return to her roots, she will be allowed to do so. Serunam will take her to the isle first thing in the morning. He is quite good with children and the only one willing to go on the trip. Times are getting more dangerous for our kin."

"As they are for the rest of the world," Gandalf said, suddenly in deep thought. "The day will come soon, I suppose."

"Yes. The first age is long over and Sauron will reclaim his property."

"This mustn't happen."

"No, never. Is the ring safe?"

"Yes, it is where it has always been. I was on my way to visit the bearer when I was informed about the girl's fate. And still I wonder why Sauron wanted her."

"It is quite likely that he wanted to use her as his spy in the Shire – so that she could keep an eye on his most prized possession until the time for him to strike would come. I think he knows where the Ring is hidden and has known for quite a while and presumed that a Hobbit would be perfect to suit his need. But let's drop this topic for now, since the day, the final ring bearer will be chosen is still far and many times the earth will circle around the sun. For now, Níniël will leave for Tol Sîdh and so we are safe for the time being. But I am sure that this is not the last time that a Halfling will pass over the threshold of Rivendell." Elrond got up from his seat and bid Gandalf a good night. The old wizard spent some more time in the hall and then left for his quarters. He could only hope that Elrond was not mistaken.

It was still early in the next morning, when Serunam bid his farewell and left with Níniël. Somehow Arwen had managed to calm the girl and so the elf had quite an easy time with her. But it was a long way to the Gray Havens where an elven ship would finally take them to the isle. Serunam was a fast rider and so the distance that would take a mere man more than three weeks was covered by the lone rider in less than two. For the entire length of their ride towards Mithlond Níniël had stayed calm in his arms and would only cry to make one of her basic needs known to the elf.

Their brief days and hours of peace only lasted until the moment they set foot on the ship that was to take them beyond the borders of Middle Earth. Níniël started crying once again as soon as the last rope that bound the elven ship to the land of her birth was removed from it. There was nothing with Serunam's might to make the constant flow of tears cease and so he settled for whispering sweet and calming nothings into her tiny, pointy ears.

However, he was grateful when a few days later they docked on the shores of Tol Sîdh. Their welcome party consisted of a few elves that had been sent to the shores by the queen of the island and they insisted on instantly taking Serunam and the Perian child to see the ruler. Serunam followed them obediently but was quite reluctant to hand Níniël over into their caring and well meaning hands.

After they had walked for a mere thirty minutes they eventually arrived in front of a building as Serunam had never seen one before. Elves had been its architects there was no doubt in his mind about that as it in a way resembled the splendors of Rivendell, but it was at least twice its size and its beauty was almost overwhelming. With Níniël still in his arms he was led into a great hall where a single female elf seemed to eagerly await their arrival.

"Greetings, dear Serunam and welcome to the home of Nessea where you shall find peace and rest. I was informed that you are not travelling alone, but the true nature of your voyage remains a mystery. Tell, what fortune has taken you to the shores of Tol Sîdh?"

"Greetings to thee too, my Lady Nessea. Bad fortune has been with this young being and Elrond and Gandalf the Gray ask for thy help."

"As I see, she is not of our kin," Nessea said looking down at the now quiet bundle in Serunam's arms.

"Indeed she's not, my lady. The Lady Arwen has named her Níniël. She's of the people of the Periannath. Her parents were killed by the Wraths of the Dark Lord. Masters Elrond and Gandalf think her to be safe only within thy care and ask thee to be her guardian on her way into life."

"And that I shall be," Nessea said and smiled. "Níniël does justice to her character. She's weeping."

"Indeed and she has been doing so constantly for the length of our voyage on the sea and for even a longer time before that." Serunam walked up to Nessea and handed her the bundle. "I shall give her to the peace and safety of thy arms, my lady."

"So be released from this burden and go your ways in peace, my young friend. We shall remember you as the messenger of new life. Good fortune and blessings may be with you on your way. Greetings to Masters Elrond and Gandalf may be with you on your way home."

"I thank thee, my Lady Nessea. I shall tell them, that Níniël is now in the safety of thy hands. Blessings and good fortune." Serunam turned and left Níniël back to begin her life among a kind that was so much unlike her.

~* 33 YEARS LATER *~

"Naneth? Naneth!" Níniël was running through the halls of Adab Calen (the green house), looking for her stepmother. She found her in the library, deep in thought. Now almost ashamed of being so loud before, she sneaked into the large room. "Naneth, am I disturbing you?" she carefully asked. The Elf looked up.

"Of course not, my child. What brings you here?" she asked softly, her indescribable fondness of the Perian that she considered her daughter evident in her eyes.

"Why am I not like everybody else? Look at me! Except for my tiny pointed ears, we have nothing in common! I am so small and my feet are so large and hairy. What has happened to me? Why am I not like the other Elves?" Níniël looked up at the Lady Nessea, asking for the hundredth time throughout the years the very same questions.

"Because you are no Elf. You are a Perian, a Hobbit," Nessea smiled as she offered the same answer to the young Hobbit as she had offered her so many times before and softly caressed Níniël's cheek.

"I know that, Naneth. But it is not an answer to my questions. Why do you always refuse to tell me why I am here? After all I cannot be the only Perian out there. And yet there is no one like me on this isle," Níniël sighed heavily, all the while desperately trying to hold back her tears. "I've read all the books you gave me recently and I think I'm beginning to understand about my own kind. But they're so different from anything I've grown up with and I suddenly feel as though I don't belong anywhere anymore." She was no longer able to hold back her tears and sat down heavily on one of the chairs in the large library. "I just want to understand."

"I know," Nessea nodded and kneeled in front of the young Hobbit. "I was waiting for the right time to tell you everything, my child. And it would seem to me, that the right moment in time may finally have come today." Gently the elf wiped some of the tears from Níniël's cheeks and smiled at her. "You are so beautiful and yet Arwen could not have given you a more fitting name, my child of tears," Nessea said in a soft voice and Níniël finally met the queen's eyes with her own.

"Please, I want to know all about me. Would you tell me?" Níniël begged and still somewhat reluctant Nessea told her the story of how she had come to the isle, what had happened to her parents and answered all the questions, Níniël had.

"But this is terrible. I mean, I was a burden for everyone ever since I was born. And there's no way for me to pay all those people back for what they have done for me," Níniël whispered hoarsely, trying hard to swallow the ever growing lump in her throat.

"They don't expect you to, my child. You have the most innocent part in all of this and everyone knows that you are without guilt," Nessea tried to console her.

"That doesn't make me feel better. You have taught me everything you know about your healing powers and I own them now too, but still I've only been a burden for everyone."

"My child, you are now one of our most powerful healers and that could only happen because you are different. You have the blood of the Periannath running through your veins and the knowledge of Elves. That is a gift you might not yet be able to appreciate but the day will come when you will. You understand about both worlds, even though you do not yet know it. Elves of course can heal people of another kind, but they lack the ability to look into their souls and see the damages and illnesses there. You however have this ability."

"But there are no other Halflings around."

"Not now. But there probably will be one day. You can never know that."

"I wish I could."

"Alas, you can't, not now. Be patient and use your skills and talents wisely, for your sake and the sake of others." Nessea now saw, that Níniël was once again crying. She lowered her head and kissed the young Hobbit on her forehead. "Don't cry my child, though your name says that you are a child of tears. There are so many things that should bring you joy and happiness. Cherish them, for there will be rough days, when you will think back to them and you will be happy to have such memories. I love you, my child." Níniël looked up to the Elf who had always been like a mother to her and a smile appeared through her tears.

"Thank you Naneth, my mother. I love you too."

"Now go and do some good. I guess there's plenty of work in the houses of healing."

"Oh, indeed there is for we got visitors from Minas Tirith the other day and I was asked to teach them some abilities, they don't have."

"Then go, and don't cry anymore my child. You can do so much good. And when you come back, I'll have a little surprise for you for it is your birthday."

"I can't wait. I'll come back as soon as I am done."

"Hurry and go now and do what they ask you to do." With a smile on her lips, Níniël left Nessea alone in the library and was on her way to teach those, who did not yet know, that their teacher's lessons would prove to be of immeasurable value in a war that had not yet come to pass.

The same evening Níniël was called to the private quarters of the Lady Nessea and she immediately set out to find the Elf she thought of as her mother. Too overwhelming was her curiosity what Nessea had prepared for her day of honor. She found Nessea waiting for her all dressed in warm clothes and there were some for her, too. "Are we going for a walk?" Níniël said as she discovered the preparations.

"In a way, we are. Dress quickly and you shall find out." Nessea said smiling at the young Hobbit. Soon they were on their way out of Adab Calen and they went for a long walk through the forests and fields of Tol Sîdh. Eventually they approached an area with lovely green hills. It was already dark outside and Níniël couldn't see much. But Nessea's steps had become faster and they obviously were close to where Nessea wanted to go. Eventually between two hills the queen stopped. Níniël didn't say a word, even though she was extremely curious, what Nessea wanted to show her out there in the middle of the night.

"Níniël, do you remember, what was written in one of Bilbo Baggins's books – concerning Hobbits?" Nessea asked.

"Yes, I do," Níniël was quick to reply, the sound of her voice urging the elf to go on.

"So you've read about their homes and especially how and where they're built."

"Yes."

"You're celebrating a very special birthday today, my child, because you turn thirty-three. For a Hobbit that means, that he or she is becoming of age. And on this special day I want to give you something that will bring you closer to your kind – that will help you become one of them," Nessea explained, but Níniël didn't answer. "I want to show you your new home."

"My new home?" Níniël repeated, suddenly feeling frightened and excited at the same time.

"Yes. Follow me." Nessea went towards one of the hills and only now Níniël saw, that there actually was a round door in it between two round windows. A path through a beautiful garden with all sorts of flowers and herbs led towards it and as Nessea approached it, the door swung open all on its own accord. "Come in," she said and entered. She had to bend down, since the door was way too small for her. Níniël followed close behind her. She kind of liked the idea of having her own home. The inside revealed a welcoming entrance hall. The walls were painted in a bright white with a drawing on the walls every here and there. The floor was laid out with some sort of a dark wood. To her left there was a door that led into a cozy living room with a fireplace and comfortable looking armchairs. A small desk and chair were standing on the other side of the room and a bookshelf stood next to it. And everything seemed to be made for people of her size. Nessea sat down in one of the armchairs and watched Níniël discovering the room. A couple of minutes later she was joined by the hobbit, who sat down in the arm chair next to her.

"What do you think?" Nessea asked.

"It is wonderful," Níniël whispered and a single tear ran down her cheek. "You really want to give me all this?"

"Of course. It is yours. I'm glad that you like it."

"Oh I do. Thank you, Naneth."

"You're most welcome. I'm going to leave you alone now, so that you can get used to your new home. Good night, my child."

"Good night - mother. I'll be coming to see you very often."

"I know." Nessea got up and after she and Níniël had embraced each other for the longest time, she left the hobbit home. The very moment that she passed over the threshold, a tear ran down the Elf's cheek and she left her 'daughter' back to live her life on her own - and without her.

"Not long after that Níniël was known as the healer of the hills and many people came to seek for her help. Níniël lived a good life, even though she sometimes felt very lonely. But she got used to it and ever since, she is one of the most respected persons here on the isle. She's helped many," Gandalf finished.

"So this is how she came here," Frodo said quietly his eyes resting on the dancing flames of the fire in the living room's fireplace. "That's the most wondrous story, I've ever heard. So, Sauron wanted her to be his spy in Hobbiton?"

"Yes, he did, but as you can see, we destroyed his plan."

"And a good thing it is, that you did. She's gone through a lot. Now I do not only know why her name is Child of Tears, but understand. Compared to her I was really lucky, even though my parents have died and made me an orphan. After all I still had Bilbo to take care of me – one of my own kind."

"Don't you think, that she was lucky too?"

"I don't know. It must have been hard for her to be different from everyone else around her all life long."

"Perhaps. But everything possible was done in order to let her know where she came from and what she really is. As I recall even some of your Uncle Bilbo's writing was brought her so that she could learn about life in the Shire and about another quite astounding Hobbit. Of course that could never replace being with her own kin; however, she now is no longer the only Hobbit here."

"Certainly not." Frodo paused and smiled at his old friend. Then his smile faded and he fell back into deep thought.

"What troubles you?" Gandalf asked, worry evident in his aged features.

"It's nothing, old friend." Again Frodo paused, but the smile never returned to his face. "Gandalf, I beg your forgiveness, but I am rather tired. It is quite late."

"Indeed," Gandalf smiled back at him, slowly getting up from his chair and attempting to stretch his tired limbs – not quite an easy undertaking being a grown Istari in a smial. "Good night, Frodo. I will be gone for a few days as I wish to pay a visit to Galadriel and Elrond."

"Then go with the brightest blessings and good fortune," Frodo said and got up from his chair to accompany Gandalf on his way to the door. He had already set a foot over the threshold, when he turned around once more.

"Are you feeling any better, Frodo?"

"A little. But I still feel the burden of dark days long lost in the past weighing heavily upon my soul and body."

"I see. Good night, my friend," Gandalf smiled and then left the Hobbit.

Frodo closed the door behind him. Slowly his tired feet carried his weary body back into the living room and it was with severe moans of pain that he let himself drop into his armchair. The pain in his shoulder and hand had returned earlier that evening and all the time he had been trying to hide it from the wizard. Frodo's thoughts wandered back to the Shire, to Hobbiton, Bag End, Sam and his family. He missed his old life - his life before the Ring War, the time before the Ring Wraths had started to hunt him. But on the other hand he knew, that this was the past and at the same time he knew, that Tol Sîdh was his present and future and that thought was most unsettling.