A/N: Hello my darlings! Before you scroll down, BIG ANNOUNCEMENT! I know it's been sometime since I last updated. And I'm not going to whittle on with some excuse and just be blunt with this, I haven't had the time. It's as simple as that. I've already deleted a story because I've completely lost my faith, muse and interest in it and when I've broached the subject of continuing the story with what follows it has, no one has replied. Which in turn seems to be the route most of my stories will be taking from here on out.

Of course, I love the feedback and loyalty of my readers and follows, I check my e-mail inbox most mornings and take delight in that, even with most of my stories going without being updated for some time, I still have people reading my work, enjoying it enough and hoping that I will update soon, thus hitting that favourite and/or follow button on either myself or my stories.

It brings a smile to my face and brightens my day. Now, first things first, I've decided to change a little bit of the story, just a little, my muse has been teasing me and the change has been sitting on my mind for some time now. As it stands the three chapters that I have up, will evidently change but I am keeping it as close as possible to what it was. I'm keeping our beloved Aurora just the way her amazing self is. The best way that I can say what I can without giving too much away is that, this journey/quest is very much going to be hers. She's going to find out a lot about herself. It will follow the movie's storyline and I'm debating bringing in the extended versions of the movies as well.

But one step at a time. So, don't worry when you come across a notification for a new chapter and discover that there's only 1 instead of 4. I'm taking the other chapters down, one for the changes and two, for some major grammar and spell checking! Like seriously, did no-one want to clue me in on this! I'm appalled with myself!

But back to business, I will ask a little something from you, and some may think that I'm asking too much but would you's all be my little rays of sunshine and let me know what you all think please? Should I continue with the story or begrudgingly say farewell to Aurora? Of course, please give this feedback with this newly constructed chapter in mind.

I hope you enjoy this as much as I have.

The Unexpected journey of Aurora; The Wanderer.

Aurora's P.O.V

The Present.

A somewhat overdramatic sigh escapes from the lips of my travelling companion, bringing me back to the present from my idle observing of the rolling waves of the rich green hills that surround us.

I smile to myself at the sound of it. This sigh is more of a grumble, a sound my ears have become quite accustomed to over the years that we've spent together, it is a sound some would consider natural coming from the lips of this creature but as I'm on a more familiar basis with this fellow I've learnt the many meanings behind certain actions, movements and sounds he makes. You see, my travelling companion isn't someone of whom you could consider to be respectful, well-mannered or polite. He also eats the better half of our food supplies, never shares the bed rolls or the blankets for that matter and is probably the easiest creature to scare.

Literally. A butterfly will scare him into running for his life. However, saying that, his courage and bravery do show themselves every now and again.

And come to think of it he isn't the most fascinating chap to listen to during our adventures either, he complains for the majority of it, and on a few occasions, I've very much liked to have taken him by the throat and shook him hard enough until his teeth have rattled in his skull. Or at least rattled some sense into him. Wishful thinking, I must say. But then I remember the plus side to having him as my companion. Because to be fair I must admit he does do his fair share of heavy lifting, something of which I can do, to a certain extent. He carries all of our supplies; bedrolls, food, water, my weapons and not to mention myself included during our adventures, so I suppose he does hold the right to have a grumble at a few things every now and again, however I don't particularly appreciate the grumblings he is oh so humbly contributing to our situation at the present.

"I don't exactly take comfort in the current change of the weather either my dear friend but you don't hear me grumbling about it to you, do you?" His reply is another grumble, with an added snort to help argue his side.

"Well would you prefer it to be gale force winds? So strong that they knock you off your feet? To steal the very breath from your lungs?" His silence prompts me to continue. "Or better yet, do you wish it to be raining cats and dogs, so badly in fact that it would take us days to dry our belongings? How about that?" Nothing. "I didn't think so, at least then I could sympathize with your pathetic and somewhat annoying grumbles on the matter." I say as an afterthought to myself, losing myself back into the scenery that is slowly having its beautiful shades of green cast out by the shadows of the small storm that has worked its way over to us in the last couple of hours. "Be thankful that this is merely a drizzle, it will soon be over. Ah ha! Look! Over there!"

We both move our heads to gaze up at the small breakage in the cloud bank and see the tiny rays of sunlight attempting to escape from the shadows.

"There's a breakage in the clouds, oh look, the sun is already peaking itself out from behind them. You see, nothing to worry about, it is just a passing shower." Patting him on the back for some added comfort and reassurance I turn my curious eyes back to the road in front of us. "It's a good thing too at least then we will reach the Shire in a somewhat dry condition, however if it had been raining like it was yesterday, well," I laugh ruefully. "Then I'm afraid we would've very much resembled drowned rats, at least then I would give you the right to grumble." There's no reply from him this time and I chuckle, knowing I have won this argument. I grin a toothy grin at my victory as we continue our ride in silence.

Which is peace to my ears.

Now, don't get me wrong, I love Catastros dearly but there is only so much complaining one can take from a pony! But he's one of my best friends. The other being the one of which who comes close to being the only family I have known, a certain Hobbit. By the name of Bilbo Baggins. He saved me, all those years ago, when I was still a youngling, lost, with no family, no hope and no memory.

30 years ago. . .

Third Person's P.O.V

The terrified cries of a child pierce the silence of the night, but they go unheard. A small figure huddles in on herself near the bank of the river as she shivers. She's confused, all she knows is that it is dark, she is cold and wet and most certainly alone. Her head hurts too and she doesn't recognise where she is, nor can she remember how she got to this strange place either. But she can only assume that she was brought here by the river and the reason as to why she can't remember is from the wound on her head, of which she irritates as she swipes a few fallen strands of wet golden hair from her face, forcing her to cry out in pain.

A noise, neither one of her cries or that of the river she'd woken up next to, emits into the night air, silencing her cries. Her heart stutters for a moment, panic and fright setting in as she waits for the sound again, hoping that who or whatever has made the unknown noise, happens to be friendly. Silence follows after a few minutes of her waiting, but she has enough sense in her to know that sitting out in the open probably isn't the best idea. Gathering her strength, she lifts herself to her feet and tries to find her bearings.

The same noise breaks the silence, rousing the child from her observations, she turns around, startled by the sound. It's closer this time. Her eyes squint into the night, aided by the light of the moon, she searches along both sides of the river and to the trees that run along them. The air around her turns deadly silent, not even the crickets make a noise and it brings her heart to her throat. Feeling it racing, she turns back around again and runs, she doesn't look back. Afraid of what might follow her, she struggles to stay on her feet, her clothes, still heavy with water, stick to her skin, the coldness of the night seeping quicker into her skin.

Her boots squelch under her feet against the grass as she staggers in her running, her eyes catch sight of a bridge and the grass begins to bank upwards, to a road she hopes for a moment but she realises she'll still be out in the open, so under the bridge is the best place to hide.

With her breath puffing out in a cloud in front of her as she runs, she heads straight for the underside of the bridge, lodging herself between the wall of bricks and a patch of shrubbery, she tries to calm herself, to calm her breathing, so that whoever it is that is following her, cannot hear her wavering breathes. She listens intently, shivering as she becomes aware of the bite of the cold against her skin, minutes pass and she hears nothing but she isn't convinced she is out of danger yet. And she is wise to think that.

She allows what she feels is a good enough length of time to pass before moving, her breathing and her nerves are calmer. She slowly and cautiously leaves her hiding place, but not before catching sight of a tree branch. Her gaze narrows as she assesses it, it looks sturdy and long enough to use as a weapon and so, she grabs it as she emerges. Holding it firmly in both hands, she raises it upwards keeping it parallel to her body, how she knows how to do this, she does not know, but thanks her stars either way. Suddenly is gone the young, scared child that woke up alone and confused, now, there's a young warrior facing down her foe with courage.

Her eyes critically scan her surroundings again, but nothing alerts her to whoever made the strange sound, so she creeps her way up the hill, both hands still firmly holding the branch.

The crisp night air closes in, and as she breathes, she sees her breath, and just as she peaks over the top of the hill, she sees another puff of air. That is certainly not hers. She flattens herself against the grass, her trusty branch still in her grasp. That same strange noise breaks the silence of the night and she jumps a little at the sound, thus making her lose her footing against the grass, making her fall completely against the grass.

However, seeing as she's still water drenched, her clothes have transferred some of the water they have absorbed, to the grass, making the soil beneath dampen to the point she cannot right herself and with a gasp, she barrel rolls back down the hill, both hands still holding her branch, her momentum sends her back into the water. Spluttering in shock she quickly finds her footing again, but she's not quick enough, just as she swings herself back around, a puff of warm air hits her straight in the face and she freezes in terror.

Disorientated from the suddenly fall and roll, her already wounded head makes her vision swim and she can't quite process what the creature is behind said puff of air, before it has its muzzle at the back of her neck. Her body goes rigid, anticipating what could be a very painful bite but the creature doesn't attack, it simply grasps the back of her collar with its teeth and lifts her from the water.

She falls into a further state of shock and her body goes limp as it is carried away from the water and up the hill. The creature then sets her down gently against the pebbled road and it is only then does she come to her senses. She looks up, quickly grasping her branch between both hands, ready to face down; a pony?

Her face portrays her confusion and the pony, more intelligent than its kin, notices and snorts. Shaking his head, he slowly moves to take the branch between his jaws and further removes it from the child's grasp, the child still in her bought of confusion, lets the pony do this and further watches in confusion as he trots over and onto the bridge before swinging his head around close to his body and then back around releasing the branch, thus launching it into the river. The pony peaks over the wall of the bridge, satisfied with his throw, he then nods his head before turning and trotting back to her. She watches as he circles around her slowly, almost as if he's analysing her, he stops and sniffs near the wound on her head. His muzzle comes close enough that his whiskers tickle her forehead a little and a small giggle escapes her, as she shies away from the offending whiskers. Looking up in wonder and a little relieved, she gazes at the pony, her head falling to one side, and he copies her.

"You're not going to hurt me, are you?" She croaks, her throat sore from her previous crying. He snorts before shaking his head at her. "Wait, can you understand me?" Her eyes widen as she considers her own words for a moment, could it be possible? His reply is to nod his head. She splutters a laugh in her shock before she composes herself. "Wow." She murmurs to herself. She then jumps a little as the pony rounds the back of her and feels his muzzle against the back of her neck, his whiskers tickle her again and she grins as she's lifted up again, this time to her feet.

"Thank you." She says as he comes back to stand in front of her, she assesses him, taking in his pure white mane and fur coat. With the moon's light gazing down on them, she feels as if she is looking at a star that has fallen from the heavens. "Do you know where we are?" She asks, it couldn't hurt could it? He snorts before moving his head, he lifts a leg and points with his hoof to the right, she follows the direction and sees a tree, or at least what is left of a tree.

Turning the rest of her body in the direction of it, she approaches, further coming to the conclusion that it is the carcass of a tree, hallowed out. The several branches that hadn't broken or worn away with time, had planks of wood nailed to it:

"Brandywine River?" She says out loud as she roads the biggest plank, of which she now realises is a sign. She looks back over to the rushing water before her eyes fall on the pony. "Is that the river?" She nods her head in its direction to which the pony nods his head. He then trots up beside her and further encourages her to read the rest of the road signs.

"Bree." He shakes his head. "Stock?" Another shake and she realises he wants her to read out a certain one. "Frogmorton. Bywater. Hobbiton." He neighs and nods his head enthusiastically at the name. "Hobbiton?" Another nod from him and he nudges her arm with his head. "You want to go to Hobbiton?" He walks around her, in the direction of Hobbiton, he stops a few meters in front of her before looking back, at her, expectantly.

"You want me to go too?" She questions and he nods his head again. So, she does as she's told. "Do you know someone there?" She asks and he nods his head again. "Do, do you think, maybe they could help me?" He stops for a moment to look at her. "I, I don't really know where I am, or how I got here. Or what happened to me." She motions to the wound on her forehead, a shallow cut no bigger than the length of her pinkie finger. It had stopped bleeding by this point, and she is lucky to be still standing on her feet. The pony, stares at her, but she notes that he is not necessarily looking at her but more so at the wound. The skin around the area had swollen and had begun to bruise already, q small spot that has appeared on the skin in colours of purple and dark blue.

"And I think." She pauses as she tries to search her memories of what had happened to her before this night but she couldn't. "I think I hit my head hard enough to forget everything, I don't remember anything." A hiccup of a sob escapes her lips as reality dawns on her. She wipes away her tears, using the cuffs of her sleeves, that are still damp from her time in the river and she shivers. The pony moves forward, bending his head a little so that the whiskers of his muzzle tickles her cheeks and she giggles a little, her hands reaching up to gently grasp his mane, he moves his head over her shoulder and digs his chin slightly into her back, bringing her to him and pulling her into a hug, or at least one as close to a hug given that he is a pony.

She sighs before burying her head into his shoulder, seeking his comfort and warmth. They stay like this for what seems like hours but in fact it is only minutes, before the pony pulls back, he looks at her thoughtfully for a moment before ducking his head under her arm, he then gently swats at her legs before moving his head from under her arm and then motioning to his back and then looking back at her.

"You, you want me to get on your back?" She questions confused, he nods at her before moving a little, to a tree stump she hadn't noticed before. "Are you sure? I can walk." She says quietly. He shakes his head with a snort before motioning to his back. Sighing to herself she moves around him and jumps a little to get onto the stump. She sways a little bit for a moment before she rights herself. Gently grasping a section of his mane, she lifts a leg and moves to swing over him, but she is too short, lifting further onto her toes, she begins to struggle, sensing this he crouches slightly, enough for her to fully swing her leg over and pulls herself onto him.

He grunts as his mane is yanked a little too hard and she quickly apologies. "I'm sorry!" She squeaks before letting go, frightful she'll hurt him again. But he snorts and flicks his mane in the air at her. "You want me keep a hold of it? Won't I hurt you?" He looks back at her and his expressions makes her gently pick up a section of his hair in each hand and settles herself against him. "Okay. I'm ready." He gives another snort and begins to move forward, careful not to jostle her too much, for he is aware of her current state and injuries and just hopes he can get her to his friend in time.

Barely an hour later and the poor child has slumped against him, but her grip is still firm, and he quickens his pace, hope filling his heart, beating away the worry of the health of his new friend.

...

She doesn't remember falling asleep, but she does remember feeling tired, cold, hungry and wet. The ache behind her eyes makes her believe that she must've closed them to starve off the pain and fallen asleep that way. Her body is sore but for one thing, she is no longer riding the pony, the one that can understand her. And terror seeps into her bones. Opening her eyes, a small cry leaves her lips as a searing flash of pains spreads around her head.

"Shh, there, there now little one, it's alright." She feels a warm cloth against her face, against the wound on her head and she flinches, her eyes springing open and she wrenches herself away from the voice that had spoken. She's met with an unfamiliar face, of course. Who quickly shows her, her hands, one holding the damp cloth, stained a little with her blood and the other is empty. Showing the child that she means no harm. "It's okay little one, you're safe now." The child, hones in on the softly spoken person speaking to her. "My name is Belladonna, and this is my son Bilbo." This Belladonna person, motions with her empty hand to the doorway, where her son, Bilbo stood with a cup in one hand and a bowl in the other, both steaming. "My good friend found you and brought you here."

The child looks back in surprise. "You know the pony?" She questions to which Belladonna laughs gently at. "I don't know the pony, but the pony knows Gandalf and Gandalf knows me." She motions to the child to sit back properly, the child then realises that she is in a bed, a warm soft bed. With dry clothes on too! "Gandalf brought you here, for some reason, he thought that we would be able to care for you the best." Belladonna says, cupping the child's face gently, a small sad smile on her own face. "It seems even in our darkest hour, there is always a little ray of light that seeks us out."

"Here mother, let's see if she can stomach something to eat, she looks like she could use a good meal or two." Bilbo murmurs and moves further into the room, placing the steaming bowl on the bedside table before handing her the cup. "Careful now, it's still hot but it'll make you feel better." He says gently and the child looks at him dubiously, making both mother and son chuckle. "It's an herbal tea, to bring back your strength, tastes better with honey though." He gives her a little wink before gently placing the cup in both of her hands and lifting it to her mouth. Her nose is filled with the amazing plethora of smells; earthy, fruity and sweet. She takes a sip after blowing against the liquid first, her tongue, dry from lack of water, is hit with wave load of flavour before she can decipher them.

"It tastes yummy." Bilbo smiles at that. "But I'm too thirsty to drink this, it's too hot still." And it is then, that both mother and son hear the rasp in her voice, dry with thirst. Belladonna drops the cloth into a bowl and takes the steaming cup from the child as Bilbo moves to pour some fresh, clean water from a jug that had been sitting on the bedside table into a spare cup before placing the cup into the child's grasp and she greedily drinks from it.

"Careful now little one, not too fast, you'll get stomach ache." Belladonna murmurs as she brushes some wayward strands of wavy, golden hair away from the child's face. "Small sips." She says and the child follows what she says. "There now, better?" The child nods before giving back the empty cup to Bilbo.

"Thank you, Mister Bilbo." The child murmurs shyly as she is then handed back the cup of tea and is encouraged to drink it by Belladonna.

"Hey, none of that now little one, you can call me Bilbo." He smiles gently as she takes sips of her tea, now that her thirst has been quenched. Belladonna smiles at him gently. "Now, finish your tea and we'll see how you feel after, maybe you can try some of the stew. I'll send Gandalf in, he's wondering how you are." He nods to his mother before leaving, the child then looks to Belladonna in confusion.

"Who is this Gandalf?" She says quietly just as the person in question, enters the room, not without having to duck under the doorframe first.

"I am Gandalf my dear child. Gandalf the Grey. I am a wizard." The child's eyes widen at the sheer tallness of the man, who in turn ducks down as he seats himself on the edge of the bed, she lay in. "You and I seem to know a certain pony, who brought you to me. And just in time too, we feared the worst for you little one. You've made a great friend in Catastros. He has not left your side since we brought you here and into Belladonna's care, he even awaits outside the garden gates as we speak." Gandalf's eyes narrow a little as he gazes at the child, critically and analytically. "Do you know what he is?"

The child's face scrunches up in confusion before she blurts out: "A pony?" Gandalf chuckles a little.

"Yes, but do you know his heritage, what type of pony he is, I mean?" She pouts as she thinks before shrugging. "He is of the Mearas. The first breed of wild horses of Middle-Earth. They are known for their intelligence, speed and strength."

"That's how he can understand me, when he found me!" She gasps. "I asked if he was going to hurt me and he shook his head."

"He is a very intelligent fellow yes, but very rarely shows himself to strangers let alone long enough to help one and further worry after them, those of the Mearas are very hard to tame and even then, only pledge themselves they deem worthy, such as Kings. Which baffles me. Tell me dear child, what is your name?"

"I don't remember." She says quietly, sinking further into the bed and covers.

"What about your family? Mother and father?" She shakes her head a little.

"Do you remember where you came from? Your home?" Another shake from her and Gandalf sighs again before looking at Belladonna. "Her clothes?" Belladonna motions behind him to the chest of drawers, and there perched on top are her clothes, cleaned, dried and folded neatly. He leans over and picks them up before dropping them on the bed, he picks up her coat. Humming every now and then as he criticizes the item. He drops it to his lap before picking up a set of leggings and proceeds to do the same, he does this with her small clothes, tunic and even her socks.

"What of her shoes? Did she have any jewellery? Where there any braids or beads in her hair before you cleaned her up? What else was on her person?" Belladonna, who hadn't said a word since Gandalf's arrival, stood and moved around the room, collecting the rest of the child's belongings.

"She had a small clasp, that had been place at the top of her head, her hair had been pulled back and then braided into a bun and finished with the clasp firmly in place." Belladonna hands the clasp to Gandalf. "She also had this necklace, these earing's and then this ring." She hands those over as well before reaching under empty space under the chest of drawers to retrieve the child's boots. "This is everything that she had on her." She says before taking her place back beside the child next to the bed.

Gandalf observed the items with the same critical and analytical eyes as before, he pauses of the ring and then the necklace, his gaze furrowing, as he looked back and forth. "It's not possible." The child perked up a little." It would seem the child is of both dwarvish and elvish decent. If I understand the meaning behind the ring and necklace correctly that is. The clothes are also of dwarvish materials but sewn in the way of which an elf would stitch. I have never known of such a thing, of a child being born from two different races such as them, let alone surviving."

"It's almost impossible to think and yet it confirms my suspicions. Her wounds, whether they were superficial or not, were already healing before I had attended to them, her clothes were damp and I was surprised that she hadn't come down with a fever."

"Dwarves are stronger, are extremely durable and are incredibly fast healers, which is why Dwarves always come across as so fiercesome. But for the child to have survived that and a head wound that has left her with some amnesia, she must've taken a heavy blow. Wherever she was at the time, must've landed her in the river and she was carried all the way down the Brandywine River and then fished out near the bridge."

"But that's just one of the many rivers that run through and around the Shire, she could've come as far from Lake Evendim for all we know. Does any of her jewellery indicate which clan of dwarves she descends from or even the make of the elven jewellery?"

"I can't fathom much from the symbols, I cannot tell with clan she descends from for I do not recognised the crest. However-" He pauses, looking at the necklace, which in turn happened to be a locket.

On the front plate of the locket, is a beautifully crafted rose, forming in the centre as if frozen mid bloom, several leaves border the rose in a circle, the gaps between the rose and leaves are cut out only connected with strategically placed small diamonds. The edge of the plate is encrusted with a border of small sapphires. It looks so delicate and yet sturdy and durable, just like its bearer. Flicking the small clasp, Gandalf opens the locket and gazes inside.

"There is writing inside, written in Khuzdul I believe, the Dwarven language. And if I remember it correctly, it translates to say: For our darling Aurora, you are our beautiful Rose, our guiding Light, our greatest Love." Gandalf pauses for a moment. "Very clever. It would seem that your parents, weaved both of their ancestry through this necklace. You see the delicate craft of the silver, no dwarf could've done that, it would've been an elf. The diamonds and sapphires, are dwarven cut from stone, and the inscription. The play on the words, it says guiding light, this hints at you Elvin side for elves walk under starlight and are born with that light within them. Greatest love, well that is the Dwarven side, as so many dwarves will dedicate their lives to their craft, and this becomes there only love should they not find there One."

"And the ring?" Belladonna asks, after a moment of thinking on what Gandalf has said. "Rings, as far as I'm aware of, in both dwarven and elvish culture, have special meaning."

"Quite right Bella, Dwarves bare a crest, for everything clan they belong to, as well as their own family. Rings are usually passed down from one generation to another to show the strength and prosperity of each family along with pride."

"Does that mean that whoever gave me that ring, is dead?" A small voice pulls Gandalf from his thoughts.

"I'm afraid my dear, that I cannot truly answer that for I do not know the facts. Normally, a son will inherit the ring from the head of the house, usually the father, if the head of the house passes away or is in no condition to be able to carry on his duties. For the females, a mother will pass down her ring to her daughter as a gift on her wedding day. Or if the mother is near to her own passing. If no sons have been born in the family, the ring will then be passed to the eldest child or surviving child, to carry on the line. This may just be the case for you my dear. However, looking at this ring, it looks very small, as if smithed purposely for a child. Not a ring passed down from tradition. I believe you were given this for a reason, that reason, I do not know."

"But even then, Gandalf, if she has been given a ring, ahead of her time to inherit, then this could mean something, its almost as if her parents wanted her to know who she is. To be proud of herself, and who she belongs to. You're summarising that she has parents from different races, maybe they wanted to prove who she is, because sometimes a name is never enough in some case. Her ring holds significance." Bilbo speaks up.

"You're right Bilbo, there's something about her ring that baffles me, I know there's something important about this ring, it holds something about it that will be important for not just her but for all of us later on in time, there is also something about you my dear too. Aurora, it would seem. There's something about you, I can't explain it, but I feel it. I anticipate such amazing things from you my dear, in the future, for this I am sure. But for now, how about you rest some more and then, then maybe we can see if we can jog that memory of yours."

Not realising just how exhausted she was, Aurora, felt her eyelids droop a little, but before she could fall asleep, she persuaded into attempting some of the stew by Belladonna.