Chapter 1: Dreams are Awoken

Stock, The Shire, S.R. 317

'Laurel Brownlock, get ready this instant! We are leaving in ten minutes and if you're not absolutely ready we're leaving without you!' Mrs Dahlia Brownlock's voice rang through the large smial as she chastised her eldest daughter. The wagon taking them to their aunt and uncle's house in Rushey would be there soon, and Laurel was still only in her underclothes.

'Poppy, please help Laurel get ready. You know how important it is she looks her best…'

With a pointed glance at her middle daughter, who immediately went to help her sister dress, Dahlia was outside checking that all the bags were packed and ready to be loaded onto the cart when it arrived.

Laurel sat on the edge of her bed, staring moodily at the dresses before her. She looked up when Poppy walked in, and then resumed her silent glare. She didn't want to visit her aunt and uncle, who were as boring as dry toast, and she knew who else would be there. Her parents wanted her to look her best so that she would catch the eye of Wilcome Potts, the son of the wealthiest family in the area and a definite catch for a young lady. And he wasn't bad looking, she grudgingly conceded, but from what she could tell of him from the various times she'd met him at her aunt and uncle's, he was pompous and arrogant – everything Laurel hated.

'Laurel, you know Mama won't really leave you behind. She'd make you come along even if you were half-dressed,' Poppy's voice cut in to Laurel's musings.

Laurel sighed. Of course she knew that. She'd spent thirty-two years of life with her mother; if anyone was to know what her mother was like, it was her. She'd been on the receiving end of her mother's temper enough times!

'I know, Poppy. I still don't want to go, though.'

With a sigh Poppy sat down next to her sister. 'Just get ready, Laurel, and I promise I will do everything I can to make sure you don't have to talk to him any more than you have to.'

'You'd do that for me, Pops?' Laurel asked. When her sister nodded, Laurel threw her arms round her. 'I'll make it up to you somehow,' she said.

'But only if you get dressed!' Poppy ducked out of her sister's embrace and chose a dress at random, and threw it to her sister. With a mock sigh, Laurel put it on, while Poppy brushed her hair for her and tied a pretty coral ribbon which matched the dress into Laurel's dark chestnut curls.

Soon enough the two of them walked outside to join their mother and father and youngest sister Aspen who were waiting by the wagon, which had now arrived to take them to Rushey. Dahlia looked her eldest daughter over appraisingly and chivvied everyone into the wagon. Soon enough the Brownlocks were on their way, the wagon rolling and jolting on the uneven road south.

Laurel sat in the back seat of the wagon, staring out listlessly at the land they travelled through. They crossed the Stockbrook not long after beginning their journey and the bright sun overhead sparkled on the swiftly flowing water like so many gems. When she was younger Laurel had loved it when her family would bring a picnic to the banks of the little river and she would be allowed to paddle; but now she was nearly of age her mother had deemed it 'unsuitable' and 'improper' for her to be splashing around in the cool waters.

Aspen, the youngest of the three, had just turned twenty-one and was still as excitable as she had been when she was eighteen. She kept up a steady stream of chatter which Laurel barely listened to, except when Aspen addressed her directly.

As the day wore on, the heat of the sun made Laurel sleepy. Her eyes grew heavy and she must have fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew she was being woken up by her parents, as they had arrived at the little inn which marked the halfway point on their journey. They had snacked on the way, but now it was lunch time and Laurel was ravenous. She eagerly followed her family into the cheery inn, where they feasted on soft white bread, creamy cheese and cold meats, with sweet lemonade for herself and her sisters.

After eating Laurel felt very much refreshed, and as they started their journey again she almost felt cheerful. This feeling was short-lived, however, as her mother began lecturing her on how best to behave when in the company of Wilcome.

'Remember Laurel, modesty is essential; no one likes an out-spoken girl. Be modest and demure, but remember your honour! And make sure you don't forget to let him know about your many accomplishments, dear…'

And on and on and on, as the sun sank lower and lower into the sky, turning the horizon into a haze of fiery orange. She listened with half an ear, as her mother had said everything to her before on the numerous previous visits to her aunt and uncle's. It was with relief that she sat up when Aspen cried out that she could see Rushey; Dahlia was distracted and ceased her lecture, her attention turning to straightening her frock and smoothing her hair as they pulled up outside the large smial belonging to her sister and brother-in-law.

The bright yellow door was yanked open and Flora Greenhand was on the front doorstep.

'Dahlia, my dear!' she called, and rushed down the path to embrace her sister, kissing her warmly on the cheek. She turned to Laurel and her sisters, who were getting out of the cart.

'My dears, how lovely it is to see you all! My, how you've grown,' she exclaimed, and drew them each in for a hug as well. Finally they were all ushered inside, where their uncle Filibert was waiting by the tea table, which was spread with a tantalising display of delicious food. Soon after they had finished it grew dark, and while their mother hurried Aspen to bed, Laurel and Poppy stood outside in the back garden, watching as the sun finally sank over the far green hills.

Soon Poppy too was yawning and the two of them went and got ready for bed, after saying goodnight to their parents and aunt and uncle. They had to share with Aspen, who being the youngest got her own bed while the other two shared the large, richly quilted double bed. They crawled under the thick quilts and lay there, staring up at the ceiling. Laurel knew Poppy was still awake, as her breathing hadn't settled into the rhythmic and even pattern of sleep.

Turning to her sister, Poppy whispered into the darkness.

'Are you happy, Laurel? And I don't just mean about tomorrow.'

Laurel turned, and she could see the glint of her sister's eyes as they reflected the light that crept in under the doorframe.

'Yes, I suppose so. Why wouldn't I be?'

Poppy rolled back over so that she was looking at the ceiling again.

'No reason. I just feel like… I don't know, Laurel. I can't explain it.'

'Don't worry about it, Pops. I'm happy. You're probably just tired… I certainly am. Let's sleep…' Laurel breathed, curling in on herself as she settled to sleep. Poppy followed suit, and by the next morning remembered nothing of her earlier unsettlement.

But Poppy's words rang in Laurel's mind, and she couldn't shake the bad feeling that hovered over her now. She knew she was being irrational and silly, but as she listened to her sisters' soft sleepy breathing, Laurel suddenly felt hot and bothered, and decided to go and get a glass of milk from the kitchen. She had heard the adults going to bed a little earlier so she wouldn't be caught.

Softly she padded along the silent corridors of the large smial. She had visited her aunt and uncle so many times she knew the way even without a guiding light to help her. But suddenly she stopped short.

There was a light on in Uncle Filibert's study. She had heard him and her aunt go to bed; why was there a lamp on in his study? Forgetting all about previous thoughts of a glass of milk, Laurel gently peered through the gap between the door frame and the door, which had not been closed properly.

As she leant closer she could hear the sound of breathing and papers being shuffled. Intrigued, Laurel pushed the door open and stood in the doorway. Her uncle was leaning over the desk, which was itself covered in papers and books lying open. He was busy poring over the documents, studying them closely. Now more intrigued, Laurel stepped inside the study and crossed over to join her uncle.

He started slightly at her sudden appearance but when he saw her he smiled.

'Can't sleep, eh?' he asked, and Laurel shook her head. She motioned to the papers strewn over the desk.

'What are these?'

'It's my family papers. Look, here's our family tree,' he said, pulling one sheet of paper covered in tiny printed handwriting and lots of names out from behind a very boring looking document.

She looked at it for a while, tracing the names she knew. Then she saw a map lying on the table. She knew the land it showed.

Placing the family tree back down she picked up the map. Her eyes wandered the familiar contours of the Shire, following the Brandywine and traversing along the East Road, to places she'd never been but seemed so familiar to her, having seen maps so often at home. Any self-respecting hobbit had a map of the Shire in their smial.

Her uncle's eyes sparkled at her interest.

'You're fond of maps, Laurel? Tell me, have you seen a map of this fair world of Middle-earth? Do you know where the Shire is in relation to other places?'

Laurel shook her head. In that respect, she was hideously ignorant.

With a grin, her uncle opened a desk draw and pulled out an old map, the paper brown and mottled and the ink fading, but to Laurel it was beautiful. She stared in wonder at the mountain ranges, the forests, the cities she never even knew existed. There was the sea, and their own little Brandywine flowing into it!

Her finger traced the new names, names she had never heard of but seemed so beautiful in their strangeness.

Rivendell, Greenwood, Erebor, Anduin, Osgiliath…

Laurel felt something within her stir as she looked upon her world, about which she knew nothing. Moments ago she had been lamenting the fact that she had never been further west than Whitfurrows; now here was a whole world which she had never heard of, let alone seen…

Laurel wanted to see it. She wanted to see further than the borders of the Shire, perhaps follow the path of the Brandywine on its path to the sea. She laughed softly. She knew her hopes were futile; she would never get a chance to see outside of the Shire. Her life was here, not out there.

'Have you ever been, uncle Fil? Have you ever seen outside of the Shire?' she asked, looking up at him.

'Me? Oh no. I've been to the eastern border but never crossed it. I like my creature comforts too much, my dear! It wouldn't do if there wasn't any food, or ale, or comfy beds, now, would it?' he laughed.

Laurel looked back down at the map, and gently handed it back to her uncle. She slipped back to bed and covered herself with the quilt once more, pressing her cold feet up to Poppy's warm legs.

Even though Laurel knew she would never see outside the borders of the Shire, even as she fell asleep she felt restless; a part of her now would not rest easy until she satisfied the curiosity that began to gnaw at her, eager to see more than just her home. As her dreams were full of browning paper and strange names, her heart was filled with longing.

A/N: Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Please review :)