Author's Note: These updates will slow down once I've caught up with myself, but I don't want to overlook something.

Questions in Hobbiton

Hobbiton – Narquelië 3018 of the Third Age

Rosie Cotton gave an exasperated sigh as she found yet another mug tucked into one of the wall carvings. Why her fellow Hobbits could not use the tables or benches that she placed in various intervals along that selfsame wall escaped her. Then again – drunk Hobbits…she supposed she should be glad they did not walk out of the tavern with mugs firmly in hand. And then there were the Hobbits who got caught up in discussing this or that bit of gossip or family history. An Oliphant could wander through and go unnoticed. It made her clean up a bit of a scavenger hunt every single night.

She enjoyed a good scavenger hunt, but only when the prize made the effort worthwhile.

The inventory took her just as long as she had expected, and Rosie did not leave the Green Dragon until almost dawn. She didn't mind. It was her day off and she could be as lazy as she liked. Even her parents would not bother her for help around the smial, knowing good and well how difficult inventory could be on a good day. Inventory turned into a bit of a nightmare on busy nights – and last night the tavern filled to capacity. Though that should have been expected the second Pippin Took and Merry Brandybuck stepped into the room. The folks of Hobbiton would crowd in whenever those two troublemakers came to town. They could be guaranteed a show of some kind – and last night's singing escapades lived up to their reputation. She gave a brief laugh as she stepped outside, locking the door behind her. Her life was almost full – family, friends, work, and a variety of entertainments around every corner.

Now if only she could get Samwise Gamgee to do more than just look at her! Would a simple conversation be too much to ask?

The air outside felt colder than she expected. September bought cooler temperatures, but something about this night felt deeper than that. She could swear she heard a voice on the wind, a fell voice seeking for something lost, something precious…something secret.

"Oh, for goodness' sake," Rosie huffed, giving herself a good shake. Her chin went up and she began the walk to her family's smial. "What foolishness!"

And if her footsteps hurried along at a faster clip than normal? Well…there was no one about to see or take note.

Then movement caught her eye and she came to a stop. Three shadowy figures moved in the pre-dawn light. A tall figure with a hat led two Hobbits into the woods. Although the shadows hid their faces, Rosie knew every Hobbit in Hobbiton and Bywater thanks to her work. If that wasn't Frodo Baggins and Sam Gamgee, she'd eat her Aunt Petunia's daisy hat.

Now why were they following that fellow out of town? And who was that…? Her eyes narrowed as she considered the hat once more. She rolled her eyes. Oh, of course – who else could it be? Gandalf the Gray – disturber of the peace – seemed to be up to his old tricks again. It had been almost eighty years since he drew old Bilbo Baggins off on a crazy adventure, but now Frodo? Was it the Took blood?

Unlike many, Rosie adored Bilbo Baggins and never begrudged the elder Baggins his eccentricities. After all – had not those very oddities been the saving of herself and several other Hobbit children twenty-seven years ago when the second Fell Winter held the Shire in its deadly thrall? While she might have been practically a babe in arms at the time, Rosie could still remember the long ride, the tall mountain, and the Dwarves who called it home. In all of the conversations she shared with Mr. Bilbo, he promised her – Gandalf only moved people when necessary, that he only did it to make things better in the end.

Even if it got darker before the dawn.

Watching the three figures disappear into the tree line, she could only wonder and worry.

What now?

That thought came back to haunt her over the next few days as rumors began to fly throughout town. Some people claimed Frodo and Sam decided to go find Frodo's uncle for some inheritance question while others joked about Frodo cracking like Mr. Bilbo and running off with Sam chasing after him for his own good. The discussion and arguments began to get quite ludicrous, only to grow worse when people learned that both Pippin and Merry were missing as well.

Ted Sandyman finally spouted off with his opinion. "Makes perfect sense to me," he pontificated to his fellows one night in the tavern. "Frodo is cracked, just like Old Mad Baggins. Merry and Pippin? Those little thieves are just trying to avoid Farmer Maggot and Gamgee's probably chasing off after Elves or something."

Old Gaffer Gamgee began to puff up, his face turning a worrisome shade of red, and Rosie decided enough was enough. She hauled an old step-stool around and used it to climb on top of the bar. One thick wooden spoon beat against the side of a large soup tureen lid drew everyone's attention to her. If she had not been quite so irritated, it might have amused her to watch their jaws drop open in shock and their eyes grow wide in consternation. She put the spoon and lid down before staring her neighbors down.

"Now that I've got your attention?" Her eyes snapped with a blaze of fury as they swept through the room and met as many people's gaze as she could manage. "I have had more than enough of the gossip and the innuendoes being tossed through the air about a couple of perfectly respectable Hobbits. Mr. Baggins and young Mr. Gamgee have never been one whit less than polite, affable, and hard-working. I will have you know, here and now, anyone speaking out against either Hobbit will be asked to vacate the premises immediately. This is your only warning." Her hands moved to plant themselves on her hips. "Once I send you off, you can rest assured that neither yourself nor your business will be welcome to return to the Green Dragon until I am satisfied you have learned your lesson and gotten your head back on straight." She gave the room one more disdainful look. "Am I clear?"

Mumbles and murmurs of stunned agreement filled the air. She gave a nod before climbing down. Her father appeared next to her and wiped the counter with a damp cloth. A broad smile graced his face as he gave her a wink. "That's my good, strong girl. You tell them, Rosie-lass."

"Thanks, Da."

A couple more days passed and new rumors appeared, drawing people's attention away from the four missing Hobbits. More Elves than ever were spotted making their way through the Shire, all of them moving towards the West. Dwarves and Rangers grew more cautious, going armed even among peaceful folk, and they gave warnings to the Bounders about growing numbers of wolves and other less savory types. The families living on the borders start locking their doors by night and keeping their children close by day. The air grows a little heavier.

"I would swear another fell one was coming if the heat wasn't clinging so," claimed more than one of the elders.

Then a new story began to darken their days. Black riders had been spotted in the Shire, even in Hobbiton. Rosie would have written the entire thing off as a nightmare brought about by the rest except for Farmer Maggot's story. He'd seen one, conversed with it even, though he threatened to set his dogs on the rider. His description drew shivers – a man-shape cloaked all in black, no face to be seen, with a hissing voice – but Rosie's blood froze when he told them what the stranger wanted.

Or rather, who the stranger seemed to want.

Baggins.

She spent the rest of the night working in a haze. Her actions and comments became absent-minded as she focused on turning over the information in her mind. Gandalf leads Frodo and Sam out of town just before the warnings from the borders start to grow and then they get a visit from such a dark stranger? Rosie never believed in coincidences anyway, and this only strengthened that opinion.

"Something's wrong, Da," she told her father the next morning. "Something bad is happening outside the Shire."

"True enough, lass," he agreed, but lifted one bushy eyebrow. "But is it our nevermind? We shouldn't go sticking our noses into other people's business."

"We're not," she pointed out. "The dark rider came here. The Elves are passing through here. If the Dwarves and the Rangers are giving us warning, then it's because they expect more potential trouble to come here." She lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "If there's going to be trouble, then I'd rather have some warning than be hit over the head like a Bracegirdle who's three sheets to the wind."

"Listen to you," her mother scolded. "Talking like some Brandybuck with their oddness about boating."

"One of the Rangers used it, Mam," Rosie explained, a small flush coming to her cheeks. "I liked the way it sounded." Her mother let the subject go, but Rosie could hear her grumbling under her breath.

"Are you wanting to try and get more news then?" her father asked.

"Yes," Rosie nodded. "If Mam can keep the Dragon, then I thought maybe Bree? It's not so far, and we need a few more supplies anyway. While we're there, perhaps we could do some asking?"

Her father sighed. "You're a good girl," he allowed, "and you've got a good head on your shoulders. If you think there might be trouble, then we'll do some looking into it. If we're lucky it will blow over in a few weeks' time."

"Maybe it will," Rosie agreed, and that seemed to be the end of that. Later that day, however, as she sought to take a nap before opening for the evening, she sat and looked out her window at the sunlit fields and wondered to herself.

What dangers are lurking in the shadows?

And how long have we been blind to them?