A/N: First of all, thank you,Narylfiel! You seriously just made my day. :) I didn't think anyone would see this before I posted at least this chapter, and only had the prologue up to get it out of the way. (Anyone else think it should be spelled prolouge, like before-louge? The louge before the actual one?) I just looked this up, and the suffix logue means discourse. But still.

Disclaimer A): This is, in fact, my own creation. The plot and any OC's I see fit to make are mine. If someone wuold like to to make to use it, just ask me please.

Disclaimer B): *Examines arm closely and starts mumbling* "Very pale, pale enough to see veins. Irish, most likely, when combined with hair color. Bend at elbow- female. Thorns native to New England in arm- Yankee. Wait, how didn't I notice these?" *Removes them* "I conclude therefore, that I am not, infact, a british man from Birmingham."

A shadow slipped through the wood. He could see two figures walking around his camp. He peered through the trees. The one with a long beard and bushy eyebrows might be Gandalf and the other was an elf- Elrond, maybe? Well, no point in standing there. If he came out first, he'd have the upper hand.

"Excuse me, gentlemen?" The red-haired tween put his hands on his hips and raised an eyebrow, making it clear he thought gentlemen most certainly did NOT wander about other people's camps without permission.

"Ah," Gandalf said, "do you live here?" He did not sound startled or ashamed, merely serious and slightly grim.

"Yes. I'm sorry, do you find it lacking?" Why did they care? Where they just asking to be annoying? Well, Gandalf might send him on a quest. That would be nice. But right now, he just wanted to know why the Maia was investigating his camp with maybe-Elrond. It was a lean-to, a cookfire, a patch where he slept unless it was raining or snowing so much he would freeze. Hardly anything special.

"What's your name?" Gandalf demanded, ignoring the hobbit's rhetorical question.

"I go by Thorn." Maybe-Elrond tilted his head at that, as if remembering something.

"NO. Your name." The hobbit hesitated, loath to mention the name he had dropped so many years ago.

"I…. I was once Samwise of the Shire. But," he swiftly added, "I became Thorn the second I stepped out of my doorway." He prayed the wizard wouldn't make him go back. He would love to see his family again, but not at the cost of his freedom.

Gandalf looked the child over. Red hair, brown eyes, sturdy build, the temper of a fire- this certainly seemed like the Sam he knew. Except for one thing.

"Do you know Frodo Baggins?"

"Frodo son of Drogo?" Thorn looked surprised. "I have the barest knowledge of his existence. Overheard his name in a conversation. What about him?"

Gandalf looked at Elrond (as he was, in fact, the elven lord). They both knew Sam was supposed to be Frodo's loyal and ever-loving friend. What had gone wrong?

"Sam?" Elrond said. The hobbit raised an eyebrow. "Thorn," The elf corrected. "Did you come here about 4 years ago, by the elven calendar?" Looking him up and down, he did match the odd adventurer he had heard some elves speak of.

"Yes, or at least I came here around then. I believe I left a year earlier."

"But," Gandalf cut in, "You're sure you've never met Frodo?"

"How would I? He's in Buckland. Bilbo was considering adopting him when I left." Okay, this was getting strait up weird. Why was Frodo important? And why were they asking him?

Gandalf looked at Definitely-Elrond worriedly. He started speaking in Quenya to him.

"This is not what I saw. Sam was supposed to meet Frodo before five years ago, but he didn't."

"What would have caused Bilbo not to adopt Frodo? He seemed almost immortal, because of the ring, so it couldn't be age."

"I believe you're onto something my friend." Gandalf stroked his beard. "He did look older."

Elrond knew what Gandalf meant. "What stopped him from getting the ring?"

"Hopefully, time shall-"

Thorn coughed and crossed his arms. Maia and Elf-Lord or no Maia and Elf-Lord, talking in other languages in front of people who don't know them is simply rude. Of course, knowing just enough elvish to catch his name was hardly helping matters.

"Thorn, we must be going." Elrond looked at the hobbit.

T he red haired halfling sighed under his breath. Like as not, manners are manners.. "Would you two gentlemen like to stay a night? I don't have much, but if you have bedrolls, it would make do."

"No. We must be away. Fa-"

"NO."

Gandalf raised a bushy eyebrow. "Do you plan on kidnapping us? If so, you may need a bigger area. Or a fence."

Thorn rolled his eyes at the eternal stubborness of wizards. "No. You aren't staying- neither am I." He riased a hand, just in case. "There's a mess, and I'm tangled in it. I didn't come hear to stay safe and wiat for people to return with news. I'm coming or following you like a hound." He ran to the edge of his little patch (for he had, during the conversastion, advanced almost entirely across his meadow), next to the lean-to, and swung the deer-hide bag on to his shoulder.

Gandalf looked up and down the tween, whose eyes narrowed when he noticed the scrutiny. He was younger than he should have been on the quest, but he did seem to have that same spirit- if a little more openly rebellious. He had taken care of himself for maybe five years, and didn't look to worse for wear. And he had a pike-staff, leaning against the tree.

"Very well. You may come. It's been a good while since I had a hobbit on a trip, and you always are amusing."

Thorn did his best to glower at the light-hearted tease, but it wavered and broke after a second and split into the widest beam that was vaugley possible and a little more. He had done it! He was finaly on a real adventure! Nay- a QUEST!