Glad to see theres already some interest in this! Hope you like this next chapter… i was worried it was going to be too short but low and behold, almost 8k words later…

enjoy!

"Is it secret?!" Gandalf asked, eyes wild, "Is it safe?!"

The questions hung in the silent air before Frodo let out the breath he had been holding as a sigh.

"What the fuck, Gandalf," Sorrel breathed angrily, employing the vast vocabulary she learned from her time with Men, "I could have stabbed you! Couldn't you have said anything? Or do wizards need to be bloody mysterious at all times?"

Frodo rolled his eyes at her swearing, saying, "yes, it's tucked away."

"Get it," Gandalf said, not wasting any words on explanations.

"Get what?" Sorrel sheathed her knife, following the two of them as they made their way to Fordo's living room storage trunk, "what's tucked away?"

They ignored her. She huffed and began to start a fire, to get some light, hoping to banish some of the eerie feeling of the night. Frodo rummaged to the bottom of the chest frantically. Gandalf didn't help her nerves by jumping at every sound, flinching and spinning to nearly brandish his staff at the window.

"Here!" Frodo called, holding up an envelope, before it was snatched from him, "hey!"

Gandalf grabbed the envelope from him, sweeping Sorrel away from the fire gently before throwing it in.

"What are you doing?" Frodo came to stand next to his cousin to watch the envelope burn. They could do nothing but wait; Gandalf probably had a reason for doing what he was doing and they knew he wouldn't tell them till he wanted to.

Sorrel watched in silent curiosity as the paper burned away to reveal a small, plain golden ring: Bilbo's ring. He would fiddle and play with it often. When she was younger, Bilbo would tell stories about the magics of the items he had collected on his trips; fantastical tales about that set of rubies given to him by dwarves or his elven sword or his ring being able to turn him invisible. She never saw it happen and, by the time she came of age, she had largely stopped believing his tales. This changed when he disappeared on his birthday and Sorrel began to believe again, just as much of her family wished to forget the old, flighty hobbit even existed.

Gandalf the ring picked up with the fire tongs, eyeing it as if it would bite him if given a chance, "hold out your hand, Frodo….it's quite cool."

He placed the ring in Frodo's hand and Sorrel nearly slapped it out again. Holding herself back, she tugged on her cousin's shirt instead, "Frodo! Set it down!" she shot a glare at Gandalf, "it was just in the fire!"

"No, it's ok." Frodo took her hand, giving it a squeeze, eyes still on the ring, "it is cool…somehow."

Singularly focused, Gandalf ignored the hot glare from Sorrel. "What can you see?" he said to Frodo, "Can you see anything?"

Frodo shook his head, "Nothing. There's nothing…."

To Sorrel, from where she watched over Frodo's shoulder, it looked like just a plain ring of gold, glowing in the firelight. Gandalf breathed a sigh of relief and got up to pace as well as he could in the small space. He looked far too large in the hobbit sized room and yet felt shrunken, as if the tension of fear was all that was holding him up and, now that it was gone, he would collapse in on himself like a mismade soufflé.

"Wait…"

Right before their eyes, the ring began to glow; letters that Sorrel knew from her time learning from Bilbo but the words they made were a jumble.

"There are markings." Frodo told Gandalf, who stopped and turned to look at them, the terrible understanding on his face a sharp contrast of his relief before, "It's some form of Elvish…I can't read it."

"There are few who can…" Gandalf said gravely, "the language is that of Mordor, which I will not utter here."

Sorrel gasped while Frodo yelled, "Mordor?!"

Mordor. Now that was a name most didn't say lightly, if they knew about it. Sorrel knew bits and pieces but most of her knowledge came third hand from Bilbo, who heard it from the elves, many of whom had lived through the history they spoke of.

"In the common tongue it says," Gandalf said, standing to as full a height as he could, hands on his hips, "One ring to rule them all, One ring to find them, One ring to bring them all, and in the darkness bind them." His tone got harsher with each word till they became sharp as a blade, cutting to their core, "this is the One Ring. Forged by the Dark Lord Sauron in the fires of Mount Doom. Taken by Isildur from the hand of Sauron himself."

"Bilbo…." Sorrel whispered, trying to remember what she had been told throughout the years, "his stories."

Frodo set the Ring down on the table as if it now burned. He unconsciously leaned toward Sorrel, seeking comfort from the realization they both had in that moment, "Bilbo found it in Gollum's cave…"

"Yes, for sixty years the Ring lay quiet in Bilbo's keeping, prolonging his life. Delaying old age." At what cost, Sorrel could hear between Gandalf's words, "But no longer Frodo."

Sorrel would protest being left out on normal nights but, there and then, she was glad to be forgotten by Gandalf's insistent gaze, her eyes finding the Ring on the table.

"Evil is stirring in Mordor." Gandalf continued, "The Ring has awoken. It has heard its master's call."

"But he was destroyed," Frodo insisted, "Sauron was destroyed."

Frodo and Gandalf's heads snapped to look at the Ring as it seemed to whisper in response, but Sorrel hadn't taken her eyes off it. It was such a small thing, hobbit sized and everything; it seemed far too small for any type of Dark Lord. It was perfect for her hand, her finger. If it truly was as powerful as Gandalf seemed to think, then it must be kept out of the hands of those who would use it for evil.

She could take it.

Yes, yes! That was the answer! She could take it and run, keeping one step ahead of any pursuers in the wilds. With the Ring, she would never have to listen to her mother nag about her wanderings again. She could be free of obligation and propriety forever.

"Alright, we put it away,"

A hand came down to grab the Ring and, with it out of sight, the thoughts Sorrel now realized weren't her own ceased. She sat there in a daze as Frodo gripped the Ring tight, as if it might escape, pacing the room. Sorrel could still hear the Ring, muffled and separate from her own mind this time, tempting her with that same freedom; its voice, soundless and cloying, muddled her own thoughts. Shaking her head, she pulled her eyes from Frodo's hand to his face, focusing as he looked around the room for a good hiding spot.

"We keep it hidden. We never speak of it again. No one knows it's here, do they?" Frodo paused mid step, turning to Gandalf, "Do they Gandalf?

"There is one other who knew that Bilbo had the Ring," Gandalf sat heavily, "I looked everywhere for the creature Gollum. But the enemy found him first. I don't know how long they tortured him. Amidst the endless screams and inane babble, they discerned two words: Shire and Baggins.

"Shire. Baggins," Frodo's eyes grew to dinner plates, his voice turning shrill, "But that would lead them here! Take it Gandalf!" He held out the golden Ring, its shine almost brighter than the fire it reflected, "Take it!"

It took everything in Sorrel to not snatch it herself. Freedom and adventure it promised her but at the cost of so much. It asked no price but she could feel it in every word it didn't say. She couldn't take it….oh but that didn't mean she didn't want to.

"No Frodo, no," Gandalf shrank back and Sorrel moved to do the same, pushed back by their need to get closer.

"You must take it!"

"You cannot offer me this Ring!" Gandalf's voice was near panic and Frodo matched him.

The whisper's grew louder.

Take it. You know he would give it to you. No. I don't want it. That is a lie. You want power, power to live your life how you want. You want freedom…you want the world. I want to see the world, not take it.

"I'm giving it to you!"

Take it.

NO!

"Don't tempt me Frodo!"

It was this short demand from Gandalf that broke the Ring's spell over Sorrel. Tempting… that's what it was doing….and she wouldn't give in. She already had the freedom she wanted and the only way to quiet her parents' gripes would be to kill them, which she did Not want.

"I dare not take it." Gandalf's panic turned to quiet insistence, "Not even to keep it safe. Understand Frodo, I would use this Ring from the desire to do good. But through me, it would wield a power to great and terrible to imagine."

"But it cannot stay in the Shire!" Frodo yelled.

"No!" Gandalf agreed, "No it can't."

Frodo met Sorrel's eye as she stood in the corner of the room. She hadn't even realized she had retreated that far from his side. She knew her eye's reflected the fear and resignation she saw in his. She gave him a small nod, ignoring the thought of the Ring now tight in his hand again.

Frodo, calm once more, turned to Gandalf, "What must I do?"

"You must leave and leave quickly," Gandalf said, pushing Frodo towards his room. He followed Frodo around Bagend, telling him the route they should take, while Sorrel peeled off from them to gather her things.

"Where?" She heard Frodo ask, "Where do I go?"

"Get out of the Shire. Make for the village Bree."

Bree.

Sorrel had been to Bree a few times but for the most part she had gone around the town. It was a rather interesting mix of Men and Hobbits —there were even some dwarves who lived in or traded there frequently— and the architecture of the buildings showed that mixing. There were smaller tables and beds available at all the taverns, door handles were placed lower on the doors, and every tall person watched their underfoot a bit more than usual. There were sections where the architecture was purely hobbit in nature but even the parts made for Men were touched by their presence in some way. Sorrel had always wanted to explore the town a bit more but the rangers she spent time with rarely went there; whether that was because they weren't allowed or by personal preference, she never knew.

Gandalf followed Frodo around Bagend, telling him the route they should take, while Sorrel peeled off from them to gather her things. She could deal with the Ring —or whatever that voice truly was— later.

Luckily she had all but moved in at this point, her parents' demands becoming more and more unbearable as she got older. Her most precious things, the ones she couldn't afford her mother getting in a mood and getting her hands on, were all there; her bow, given to her by her ranger friends and a quiverfull of self made arrows, her travel pack and bedroll, both well used and lovingly patched, and camp kitchen set. She also packed essentials such as rations, her small sewing kit, and several sets of pants, blouses, and underthings. She eyed the dutch oven Tirdir, one of the Dunedain, had given her as a joke. It made wonderful breads in camp, but she left it where it sat in her closet; it was far too heavy, even if it was very useful.

Looking around the room she had claimed decades ago, Sorrel had a sinking feeling this would be the last night she would spend in what she considered her home. She knew the dangers of the road and some of the dangers that hunted her cousin. They very well could die before they got the ring to safety. Sorrel knew she would die before her cousin. Not from lack of skill or luck but because she refused to let him fall; if there was one thing she was, it was stubborn and their hunters would find her a hard wall to go through.

With a sigh at her dark thoughts, Sorrel went to wait by the door for her cousin, who wasn't as ready for a jaunt into the woods as she was. She wasn't there long before he and Gandalf returned to the living room.

"Travel by day and stay off the roads," Gandalf said, finishing a thought.

"I can cut across the country easily enough," Frodo said.

That was true; fences in the Shire were more of a suggestion than a stopping force. As long as you didn't trample anything and the hobbits who's land it was didn't dislike you specifically, there was no reason to fear retribution. It was only in personal gardens and houses that people truly frowned upon others trespassing without permission, though the rules of politeness could circumvent that, with enough confidence and lack of shame. That was how Sorrel's family had operated for generations; it was charming when the Tooks did it, if a bit exacerbating, but snooty when the Sackville-Baggins tried their hand at being unwelcome dinner guests.

Gandalf sighed fondly and smiled, "my dear Frodo. Hobbits really are amazing creatures. You can learn all that there is to know about them in a month and yet after a hundred years, they can still surprise you."

"You should expect it from us Bagginses by now," Sorrel huffed, stepping into the fire light once more, "one would think you would have learned your lesson with Bilbo."

There was a twinkle in Gandalf's eye that told her he expected her inclination to follow her cousin, "you will have to leave that name behind as well. I doubt those that hunt you will care about the difference between a Baggins and a Sackville-Baggins. "

Frodo spun on his heel, eyes wide as if he had forgotten her in his panicked packing, "you're coming with me?"

"If you say no, I'll just follow behind you," Sorrel moved to stand next to him, "I know the lands around the Shire better than you. You wouldn't be able to shake me."

"No, I believe Frodo will need a guide in this matter, Miss Sorrel," Gandalf said, twinkle in his eye still very present, "and you are just the right hobbit for the job."

"Quite right," she sniffed in a very Lobelia manner, "Someone has to keep him out of trouble."

A branch snapped outside the open window and Sorrel dragged Frodo down before Gandalf could tell them to hide. They watched as the wizard stalked to the window, staff at the ready, and struck with a speed Sorrel did not expect from him and lower than she would expect to hit a servant of a Dark Lord. When he pulled Sam through by his collar, she nearly laughed in relief.

"Confound you, Samwise Gamgee!" Gandalf roared, slamming Sam on a table none too gently, scattering its contents across the living room floor, "have you been eavesdropping?"

"I haven't been dropping no eaves!" Sam said, his panic sending him tripping over his words, making no move to get up, "sir, honest! I was just cutting the grass under the window there. If you follow me."

"A bit late to be trimming the verge don't you think?" Gandalf straightened as well as he could, hands on his hips.

Sorrel shook her head as Gandalf frightened their friend further with a disappointed air. She tugged Frodo to his feet once more.

"I heard raised voices!"

At Sam's words, the air turned sour; secrecy was their mission and they had already cocked that up, it would seem.

"What did you hear?" Gandalf insisted, "Speak!"

At the command, Sam nearly jumped out of his skin, "N-nothing important. That is, I heard a good deal about a ring, and a dark lord, and something about the end of the world, but please, Mr. Gandalf, sir, don't hurt me. Don't turn me into anything…" he gulped, his eyes locked on Gandalf, "unnatural."

"No, perhaps not," to Sorrel's relief, Gandalf's voice regained much of its normal mischief, dismissing much of the tension that had built up in Bagend. He shot the pair of cousins a playful look before leaning over the splayed Sam, "I have thought of a better use for you…"

Just as quickly as he pulled Sam in, Gandalf backed off, gathering his hat —which Sorrel finally noticed on one of the overstuffed lounging chairs— and staff in a huff, "Samwise, go gather a bag for an adventure."

"Adventure?" Sam squeaked.

"Indeed." Gandalf said with gravitas, "You will accompany Frodo and Sorrel to Bree, then wherever they go beyond their stop there."

Sam paled at the thought of leaving the Shire.

"Come now, Sam," Sorrel bustled forward, "I'll help you pack. I can tell you what you will need."

"You can gather a pack here," Frodo said as he gathered food from the pantry, packing some for himself, Sam, and Sorrel and some for Gandalf, "so you don't wake the rest of the Gamgees."

Sorrel nodded, "I'm sure some of Bilbo's clothes will fit you. Do you have anything you need from your home?"

Standing in the middle of the living room as the three of them moved about, getting ready, Sam shook his head.

Gandalf ducked into the kitchen to take his bundle of food, before he leveled a glare at Sam, "tell no one you are leaving."

And Sam nodded vigorously, no doubt still terrified.

Sorrel took pity on him and took him to Frodo's room to gather some clothes from a chest of Bilbo's things. He paused at the door, eyes wide and cheeks red, while Sorrel walked about as if it was her room, throwing things onto Frodo's bed for Sam to gather. She kept up a chatter, both to relieve his stress and hide her own.

"You will need pants and shirts and— oh I remember this waistcoat! Some of my first work, you can see the stitching is rather uneven. I can see why he left it behind. Though I suppose it IS rather delicate now. But it does warm the heart to see he kept it. I was only 20 when I made it… You of course will need a belt or suspenders. Do you have a preference?"

Sam seemed stunned at her sudden changed of topic and the speed at which she talked and fluttered around the room. His mouth opened and closed several times before he uttered a single, confused, "um…"

"Oh Sam…" she hurried to his side, leading him to sit on the bed, "breathe…in…out…"

"It's just so sudden…"

Sorrel rubbed his back as he took deep breaths, "it wasn't much less sudden for us. Gandalf jumped us with the information as soon as we got home."

He cleared his throat, bashful, "I noticed your pause outside the door and saw it was open." at her raised brow, he stammered, "beggin' your pardon, Miss Sorrel. I just wanted to make sure Frodo– I mean Mister Frodo and you got home alright. I was worried. I didn't mean to spy."

"I know, Sam, I know," Sorrel began folding the clothes she had thrown on the bed, "you are a good friend, Sam."

He smiled shyly before helping her fold and put them in one of Bilbo's old bags. Sam protested when she pulled it out but she insisted.

"Oh I couldn't possibly use one of Mister Bilbo adventuring bags!"

"Well, you're already using his clothes."

"Well…um…"

"Its fine, Sam, you're like family; Bilbo would be quite offended if you didn't help yourself."

He quickly relented and they got him packed. He quickly made his way to kitchen, somehow avoiding Gandalf's path, which amused Sorrel greatly. There he collected pans and spices and more rations for the three of them. Once packed, Sorrel hustled Sam into one of the bedrooms to sleep a few hours before they left. She did the same to Frodo when she found him staring into the fire, lost in thought.

"Off with you! Who knows when we will sleep in a bed next!"

"Most likely Bree," Frodo said, amused by her fussing, "you know, the town we are heading to?"

"Oh none of your smart mouthing. Off to bed!"

Sorrel stood there in the quiet living room alone for the first time that night. She hugged herself tight, a sudden chill running up her spine. She sat next to the fire, thinking about the Ring, no matter how much she didn't want to…and, in the back of her mind, how much she really wanted to. Now, here in the quiet night, in the warm chair Bilbo had relinquished to her when he left —they had fought halfheartedly about it constantly— in this moment of loneliness, Sorrel felt fear at what lay ahead. She could not deny the pull the Ring had on her, nor could she deny she wanted what it offered, but she couldn't let it ensnare her again. She would be aware of it always and it will always be a temptation but its presence wouldn't catch her off guard again.

More than anything, she was glad for the presence of Sam; she may want freedom to live how she wanted —freedom she barely had at that moment— but Sam wanted nothing more than to stay in the Shire, gardening and helping Frodo in anything he would need. He had everything he ever wanted, what could the Ring give him? Sorrel knew she could trust him to be a check on her, should she need one.

She sighed and then jumped when a voice sounded behind her, "you send them both to bed, but who will send you to bed?"

Gandalf stood in the doorway, about to leave. His hat was on his head and he frowned at her in a very grandfatherly way. Or so Sorrel would assume; her grandfather, Otho Sackville-Baggins, was rarely grandfatherly.

"I suppose that would be you, Gandalf."

Gandalf knelt to gather her in a hug. She let him, needing the comfort.

"It will be me tonight, but I will not be with you every step of the way." He pulled back, hand on her shoulder, that grandfatherly look still present, "you must take care of yourself, even as you care for them."

"I...I will try."

The morning came far too quickly and Frodo, Sam, and Sorrel gathered their packs. The sun wasn't even up when they all shouldered their bags and grabbed their walking sticks. Before long, the three of them were ready to leave, standing at the door of Bagend. Inside, the fire was extinguished, all the candles were snuffed; they locked all the windows tight and stood in the open door. There was an unspoken feeling that this all would be real once the door closed.

Frodo eventually sighed, squared his shoulders, and stepped forward to close the front door of Bagend and start their adventure. It clicked ominously loud in the crisp morning air; Sorrel could feel Sam flinch at the click of the lock and Sorrel took a deep breath.

This was it.

Gandalf stood waiting for them on the road next to a beautiful white horse. Sorrel hoped she wouldn't be asked to ride during their adventure; she never could quite get the hang of it, the few times she had tried. Gandalf led their quiet procession into the barely light morning. They pondered down the road before turning into a field. Frodo and Sorrel hopped the fence behind the wizard but Sam took a moment to steel his nerves.

"Come along Samwise," Gandalf called back, "keep up!"

Sorrel could hear the clatter of pans as he did just that.

The wizard kept a quick pace, sometimes too fast for the hobbits to keep up. Frodo dropped back to walk with Sam, leaving Sorrel with Gandalf.

"The…" Gandalf's gaze flickered to her when she spoke but he didn't slow his pace, "the um item…you said it would temp you."

"Yes. It will promise you your greatest desire," Gandalf said, understanding in his voice, "and, in getting you to take the…item, you leave behind your ability to say no to the power it promises. It would use you to get what it wants, which is to return to its master."

"I thought so."

"My dear Sorrel," Gandalf glanced back to the other hobbits and lowered his voice, "did it speak to you last night?"

Knowing there was no use in lying —he no doubt already knew— Sorrel sniffed in defiance, "yes, and I told it where it could stuff its promises."

"Good," Gandalf chucked but seemed genuinely pleased, "that's good."

The two of them walked in silence, listening to Frodo and Sam talking quietly behind them, till Gandalf stopped them for lunch. Sam lamented the decision to skip second breakfast and elevenses, but made sure they all ate enough to make up for the lack.

Back on their feet, they walked for a few more hours. Gandalf eventually stopped them in a forest.

"Be careful, all of you," he said once they all gathered around him, "the enemy has many spies in his service: birds, beasts." he crouched before Frodo, taking his shoulder, "Is it safe?" Frodo patted his waistcoat pocket and Gandalf drew him close, "never put it on, for the agents of the Dark Lord will be drawn to its power. Always remember, Frodo, the Ring is trying to get back to its master. It wants to be found."

These words, said to Frodo, were a warning to Sam and Sorrel as well; they must make sure Frodo listened to Gandalf until they could get the Ring to safety.

At their assent, Gandalf swung himself onto his horse and, without a look back at them, he sped off, leaving the three hobbits alone for the first time since he surprised Frodo and Sorrel the night before.

The three of them exchanged worried looks but quickly began walking westward once more. The rest of their first day was quiet. Sorrel had taken a route similar to the one they followed several times over the years; she ranged ahead to scout out the path and watch for hunters, leaving Sam and Frodo to follow behind her. She would pop back to check on them before jogging off once more to scout around them.

The three of them trekked through several leagues of farmland and rolling prairie, stopping only once for a short meal. Many hobbits who recognized Sorrel from her own small adventures called out to her, inviting her to dinner; she declined but accepted some fresh bread from Miss Magnolia Fallohide and a lemon cake from Meleric Fairebairn and his brood of younglings.

All seemed well by the time Frodo called for them to stop for the night a few hours after Gandalf left them.

Sorrel could have gone further but then she saw the tired look on Sam's face and took pity. She didn't say anything and Sam perked up when she brought out her collected baked goods to accompany dinner. They slept fitfully around a small fire. Sorrel taking watch as well as she could alone; she would have to teach the other two how to keep watch later, but for now they could rest.

Waking with the sun, they had the last of the lemon cake with some tea. It wasn't till an hour after they woke up that they started moving. Sorrel chafed under the slow pace that was set but she would not be an added stress on Frodo. She was here to help, nothing more.

Today they made their way in and out of deep valleys as the terrain became small foothills for the distant peaks. At the base of many of the valleys ran brooks, streams, and creeks; easy to traverse and a good place to refill waterskins and cool off sore feet. At the crest of the hills, Sorrel took a moment to breathe the crisp air blowing from the south, looking out over the land. Beyond the hills and forests, the mountains hemmed the horizon, giving it color and depth. She had never been so far as to the base of the mountains, but Bree stood somewhere between them and the adventuring hobbits.

Hopefully, she would be able to see the mountains up close, someday.

A few hours later, Sorrel was popping back after scouting ahead for the fourth time when Sam stopped in his tracks, right at the edge of a corn field.

He looked around, almost resigned, as if fate had finally caught up with him, "This is it."

Behind him, three crows sat on a scarecrow defiantly as their perch watched the hobbits in silence.

Frodo turned back from where he and Sorrel were walking, "This is what?"

Sam shuffled his feet, embarrassed, "If I take one more step, it'll be the farthest away from home I've ever been."

"Oh Sam…" Sorrel muttered fondly, while Frodo went to pat Sam on the shoulder with a smile.

"Come on, Sam."

Sam gulped, slowly taking that oh so far step. A weight lifted from him as he took the next. Sorrel waited with a fond smile as Frodo walked him down the path. They passed her as Frodo hesitantly looped an arm around Sam's shoulder, pulling him close. Sorrel let them be alone.

"Remember what Bilbo used to say," Frodo said, lowering his voice and making it gravely as he could to match Bilbo's, "it's a dangerous business…going out your door ... you step onto the road, and if you don't keep your feet, there's no knowing where you might be swept off to."

Sorrel breathed around the heavy feeling in her chest.

It had been years and yet the sting of Bilbo's sudden departure didn't go away. He used to recite that very saying of his to her whenever she announced she was leaving for an adventure. The fact that he wasn't there to do that for this one —likely her most important adventure ever— was a tragic realization. It was him who instilled the interest in the world beyond the Shire in her and he would always be there when she got home to ask "well? Where were you swept off to this time?" before making some tea to hear her tale.

Her father never even acknowledged she had left.

So much of her love of Bilbo was his ability to listen…no opinions, no disgust. Only questions he ever asked were to get more information out of her, as if he was interviewing her for one of his books. He would fawn over every detail, give every trinket she brought back the gravitas of a king's prized jewels. Sure, Sorrel loved how weird he was and his stories and his lack of interest in fitting in with the rest of the hobbits but, more than anything, she loved how he made her feel heard.

Sorrel spent the day walking behind the other two, not feeling like being alone but not wanting company; she settled for listening to their quiet conversations as fields turned into forest. Sam reacted to everything with such fear and wonder. Someone's first adventure was something special, each experience new and precious. She was just sad that Sam's first had such dire consequences, every shadow coloring the moments with fear.

While not physically tired, Sorrel's emotions were exhausted when Frodo looked back, telling her that they would go no further that day. Sam set about getting cooking supplies out as Sorrel and Frodo collected downed twigs and branches for their fire. She lamented the damp of the forest floor but warm food was worth a smoky camp. Back at the camp, Sorrel started the fire before Sam could try his hand. She was used to doing everything herself. Even when she traveled with others, the labor was divided evenly. Sorrel knew Sam would want to take care of them —more specifically Frodo— but she wouldn't let him do it alone.

Frodo lounged in a tree smoking a pipe with Sorrel sitting grumpily at the base of it, finally muscled out of dinner preparations by Sam. The blond hobbit was making some sort of stew with dried mushrooms and spices in a small pot he had packed. Sorrel had offered to hunt but Sam also pulled out some salt pork to add to the mix, leaving her feeling slightly useless.

"What would we do without you, Sam?" she asked, genuinely appreciative but with an edge of sullen temper.

"I'm sure you would make do, Miss Sorrel," Sam said, not looking up from the pot, "you have been out here much more than I, I'm sure you know all the best foraging places."

Feeling better at that, Sorrel settled in to wait for dinner to be done.

"Sam!" Frodo whispered excitedly, looking around, "Sorrel!"

Sorrel jumped to her feet, listening for what he could possibly be excited about. In the quiet of the forest, above the cracking fire, she could hear high, beautiful voices lifted in song.

"Wood elves…" Frodo said, hopping down from his perch.

The three of them skittered quietly through the underbrush, never leaving sight of their fire, till they reached a downed log that sat at the crest a small hill. There Sorrel saw elves for the first time.

Below them glided a procession of elves, taller than belief, resplendent and silver. Some were mounted on glorious white horses but most walked in slow, floating steps. They seemed to glow with an internal light and their glory both amplified and dulled their surroundings, giving the world the feeling of a dream. Above them streamed banners of gray and white held by some of the walking elves, fluttering gently on their own wind. The silken cloth of their gowns reflected the light from their beautiful faces as they continued to sing.

Sorrel didn't recognize the tune but she knew most of the words, only missing one or two every so often. They sang of Elbereth, the valar of the stars. They sang of her beauty and the joy of her creations. And they sang of leaving to find her once more

"They're going to the harbor beyond the White Towers," Frodo breathed as they watched, "to the Grey Havens.

"They're leaving Middle-earth," Sam said in reverence.

"Never to return," Frodo finished Sam's thought.

"I don't know why…" Sam said, "It makes me sad."

And it was sad. Here were beings who had seen millennia of this world and now there would be no chance to meet them, to talk, to know all they had seen. Their words held so much weight, so much joy and sadness, that Sorrel knew they must have seen so much and yet she could not ask. The elves switched songs. They sang of longing for distant shores and homes long sought, but also of the sorrow they left behind, both made by the darkening of the world and made by leaving it all behind. Sorrel could hear the love they felt for the world and the heartbreak they endured by withdrawing, but also the pain they suffered by staying.

Sorrel felt tears seize her chest and she was the first to turn away from the procession. She made her way back to their little fire, the world made vibrant and dark by the loss of the elves' glory. There she waited for the others to return, stirring the stew and breathing away the tears.

Eventually they did return and they ate dinner quietly before turning in for the night. Sorrel slept in the tree where Frodo had relaxed, able to wedge herself in the nook of a branch, curled up in her bed roll. She could hear Sam complaining and Frodo attempting to comfort him as she drifted off, assured of their safety by the proximity of the elves.

The next day came early and bright.

The three hobbits woke and began their day quietly; some were too tired after a night of restless sleep and others were grumpy at it being morning at all. They trekked their way out of the forest, finding sprawling farmland once more. After the elves, Frodo had a new spring in his step and nearly bounded ahead.

Sorrel walked alongside Sam through the cornfield they found themselves in as he attempted to stretch a night on the ground out of his back.

"So Sam," he gave a grunt of acknowledgement, "why are you here?"

"What do you mean, Miss Sorrel?" Sam looked as perplexed as he sounded, "I'm here to help deal with the…the thing, same as you."

"I'm here to help Frodo." Sorrel stopped and Sam did as well a few steps away. She continued, hands on her hips, "If my cousin is going to dive head first into danger, I'm going to be right there next to him."

"It's the same for me!" Sam implored, "I would be here, even if Gandalf hadn't threatened to turn me into a toad."

"He wouldn't turn you into a toad," Sam didn't look reassured and Sorrel frowned, "so, you're here because of care, no obligation?"

"Of course!"

Her frown gave way to a smile, "good, then we understand each other."

Sam didn't look like he understood.

"Sam, if you were just here because of threats, I would have sent you back home."

"Oh…"

Sorrel began walking again, "but you're here because you care about Frodo, so I welcome you with open arms. I know Frodo is glad for your company."

Sam blushed and Sorrel clapped a hand on his shoulder good naturedly as she walked past him.

Speaking of Frodo…where was he? Sorrel had kept them in one place for too long and the younger Baggins had scampered off.

"Mister Frodo?" Sam said, realizing the same thing. His voice grew panicked as he hurried down the path, "Frodo! Frodo!"

Frodo jogged back down the trail, in one piece and not harmed at all, but looking puzzled.

Sam sagged with relief, "I thought I'd lost you.

Frodo walked back to the two of them, "What are you talking about?"

"It's just something Gandalf said," Sam said, out of breath.

"What did he say?" Frodo said, his eyes narrowing.

"'Don't you lose him Samwise Gamgee!'" Sam's eyes found her's over Frodo's shoulder, heavy with honesty, "And I don't mean to."

Frodo chuckled, "Sam, we're still in the Shire. What could possibly happen?"

As if summoned, Pippin burst from the cornfield and knocked into Frodo, tipping them both over. Merry, close behind, not to be outdone, barreled out as well, knocking over Sam. All four of them sprawled at Sorrel's feet with the multitude of vegetables they were carrying.

"Frodo?" Pippin pushed himself onto his hands above a shocked Frodo, "Merry! It's Frodo Baggins."

Sorrel flinched at the use of Baggins as Merry jumped to his feet, unperturbed by his fall, "Hello, Frodo!"

"Oh sure," Sorrel watched them amused, arms crossed, "no hello for me."

"Hello, Rellie!" Merry said with the same tone as Frodo and without an ounce of shame.

"Why hello, Merry," she said back pleasantly, satisfied with her greeting.

Sam struggled to his feet amongst the produce. He pushed Pippin off the still stunned Frodo. "Get off him!" he helped Frodo to his feet, "Frodo? Are you all right?"

Sorrel shook her head as Sam went as far as brush the dirt of her cousin before turning to her other, much more rowdy cousins, "what's all this then?"

Instead of answering, Merry shoved an armful of carrots and cabbage into Sam's arms, "Hold this."

Sam held it all, confused, for a moment before yelling, "You've been into Farmer Maggot's crop!"

Now there was a name that struck fear into any hobbit child's heart. Everyone knew you didn't mess with Maggot and, more specifically, his dogs. On cue, Sorrel could hear dogs in the distance, getting closer.

Pippin grabbed Frodo by the shoulder, turning him to push him into the field and run. Merry followed quickly. Sam, still confused by this turn of events, stood there before realizing he held all the evidence of Merry and Pippin's crimes; he dropped it in a panic, turning into the fields as well. Sorrel was already a few steps ahead of him.

Behind them, Maggot's approach was heralded by a scythe poking out the top of the crop, "Wait till I get this through you!…Stay out of my fields! You ruffians I'll catch up with you!"

"Dunno why he is so upset," Merry yelled to the retreating hobbits, "It's only a couple of carrots!"

"And some cabbages." Pippin said in a rush, "And those few bags of potatoes that we lifted last week and, and the mushrooms the week before!

"Not helping your case!" Sorrel yelled as she tripped on a bent corn stock.

"My point is," Merry yelled back, "he is clearly overreactin'. Run!"

Sorrel tripped again, losing ground, and the others broke out of the corn before her. When she finally got into the open field, she saw them far ahead of her, running into a wooded area… she knew the road wasn't far beyond there. They seemed to realize this as first Pippin, then Merry, then Frodo came to a stop at the edge of what Sorrel knew was a steep drop onto the road. Sam, looking back at her, ran straight into all three, sending them down the hill.

She watched as the four of them went ass over tea kettle out of her sight. Fearing the worst, she sprinted the rest of the way to the cliff edge, already looking for a better way down than they had taken. What she found was four hobbits groaning in a pile, struggling to push each other off.

"You alright down there?" Sorrel called, amused now that she could see they weren't dead and nothing seemed broken. She ducked behind a tree to hide from Maggot, who stopped at the edge of his cornfield, having lost his query.

"Do we look alright?" yelled back Merry before he groaned again, "I think I broke something…"

He pulled a carrot out from under his back and ignored Sorrel's bark of laughter from above.

Sam was the first to his feet, pulling Frodo along with him, "trust a Brandybuck and a Took…"

"At least it seems you took the quick way down," Sorrel said, laughter still evident in her voice. She on the other hand was having trouble finding a path down from where she stood. Maybe further down the road?

"What? It was a detour!" Merry declared, brushing himself off proudly, "A shortcut."

Sam rounded on him, "a shortcut to what?"

"Mushrooms!"

At Pippin's yell, there was a mad dash between Merry, Pippin, and Sam for the mushrooms at the side of the road. They sat there, parsing through them, as Frodo's met Sorrel exasperated look with a fond smile before looking down the path worried.

"We should get off the road," he said to their foraging companions but the lure of mushrooms led them to ignore him. His eyes returned to the road and something he saw made him gasp, "get off the road!"

At the panic in Frodo's voice, Sorrel instinctively flattened herself to the ground, peering over the cliff edge. She saw the other four hobbits hiding under an overhang of roots. Merry and Pippin were silently bickering over their bag of mushrooms. Unsure why she was hiding, Sorrel stayed flat on the ground; Frodo sounded so scared that she listened to him without question. He didn't scare easily, so it could only mean one thing: a hunter. She knew she shouldn't look but she couldn't help her curiosity; she had to see what their hunter was. She wished she hadn't.

She heard it before she saw it. Deliberate steps of hoofs on the road drew a horror in sight. Walking up next to the root system, slow and ponderously on a great black horse, its mane matted and its mouth frothing, was a black cloaked figure; swathed in cloth so as to obscure any defining features, it was the very picture of quiet terror. Even from where she was, up about the others, she could feel the wrongness of it all. Even its horse was utterly unnatural; its eyes wide in panic, its breathing labored as if sick, yet it stood at the ready as its rider dismounted with a heavy thud.

Their hunter –for that's the only thing this horror could be— turned her way, towards Frodo, and she held back a gasp. Where its face should be was a void; black as midnight but lacking the pinpricks of stars that made darkness beautiful. This was just empty, vacuous…gaping; like a wound in the world wrapped in ragged cloth and metal.

Sorrel's skin crawled as she watched it move its head side to side, like a dog sniffing for a treat. Below, Sorrel could see the others cowering beneath the root system. Merry and Pippin finally felt the gravity of the situation and sat, wide eyed, waiting for something to happen. Frodo looked sicker and sicker as the wraith moved closer. Eventually it crouched above her cousins, head still looking for them but missing the hobbits below. Bugs began to scatter from their safe burrows, seemingly trying to out run the wrongness of this servant of darkness.

The world went silent in its presence.

Sorrel very slowly drew an arrow, keeping low to the ground, making no sudden moves to draw the attention of the focused horror. She would only have one shot at this, but maybe she could draw the wraith away, leaving Frodo and the others to run for Bree while the sun was still up. It wasn't something she relished doing but if it was looking for a Baggins, it could chase one through the countryside all it liked, as long as it left her cousin alone. She knew the best short cuts, she could give it a run for its money, that's for sure.

She notched the arrow, her eyes on the hooded figure before they darted down to Frodo, to try and catch his eye, to signal that she would draw the creature off.

He had the ring out.

"Oh no…" she whispered to herself.

It was too late.

Frodo was going to put on the ring.

And there we go, we meet the ringwraiths!

Please! let me know what you think so far!

See yall next chapter!

Review time!

Jonathan11197, MissLynn11, and Super Squashman: thank you for your reviews on such a young fic. I hope you continue to read as I post more!