Chapter 11: The Elves' Visit & Midsummer

Of all the other races of Middle Earth, hobbits preferred elves the most. Dwarves were too rowdy, too barbaric; men were too uncivil and rude, and while elves tended to be among the tallest Big Folk, at least they were calm and civilised. Tweens would spend their days trying to find the elves who supposedly lived in the nearby forests or who travelled through the Shire to the Grey Havens in the west. Everyone knew of Lord Elrond too who had provided medicine to the hobbits on several occasions when famine, winter or illness had threatened to destroy their community.

However, having said this, it should be pointed out that the manner in which elves and dwarves were treated by the hobbits was not very different. And so, when a party of elves crossed the Brandywine Bridge and strolled down the Shire during mid-Rethe, they were viewed with suspicion and and a high degree of wariness. All along the route to the Stock, hobbits stopped tending their gardens and livestock, stopped their conversations and games to watch the progress of the group.

Glorfindel turned to Lord Elrond, trying to ignore the looks, "I thought they knew we were coming?" The group of six or so elves had left their horses on the otherwise of the Brandywine River and meandered across the bridge towards the Tookborough just after second breakfast.

The ancient half-elf smiled slightly, "They did, I sent a letter a few weeks ago with the Rangers. But our people have not outright visited the Shire in many years, except in times of great hardship. We cannot be surprised they stare so."

Erestor snorted elegantly, "I do wonder whether hobbits could ever get used to outsiders. Even Mithrandir is viewed with a great deal of suspicion."

"We view Mithrandir with a great deal of suspicion…" Glorfindel commented in an undertone, "And he has visited Rivendell many, many times. But I suppose that has more to do with the fact he tends to ask things of us. Case in point…we are standing in the Shire, surrounded by little halflings glaring at us."

If Elrond was of lesser character he would have rolled his eyes at his seneschal, instead however, he gestured them to a path heading off to the west, "The Tookborough is down here. Come, I would hate to disturb them all in the middle of their luncheon."

"Then why have we come at all?" Glorfindel asked Erestor with a smirk curling on his lips, "I thought they ate near constantly."

Erestor did finally resort to rolling his eyes at his old friend as he nudged his horse on. "Come Glorfindel, if I didn't know you better I would say you were scared of all the staring. Surely some glances can't phase the great Balrog slayer?"

The great warrior mock glared at the advisor, "Please Erestor!"


A couple of hours later, the advisor and the great warrior found themselves at a bit of a loose end as Old Took and Elrond had ensconced themselves behind the closed doors of the Thain's office to, on the face of it at least, discuss trade and the like.

Erestor and Glorfindel wandered around the Shire, unhampered by the inhabitants although many a wary glance or glare was shot in their direction. They accepted the looks, knowing full well that this was pretty standard for the race, however, when they saw what was clearly a building site and partially dug smial they had to stop for a few minutes to watch the activity.

"Master hobbit?" Erestor asked, seeing one emerge from the vague outline of a door in the construction.

As luck would have it for the pair of elves, the hobbit they had addressed was a Took and therefore more inclined to speak to them. "Yes, Master elves?"

"Forgive us, but we are intrigued by your building techniques, may you explain them to us?" Erestor asked, looking as a barrow of rubble was pushed by another hobbit from the smial and down the lane.

Fortinbras Took shrugged, if his grandfather was having to be polite to the elves then he would be too. "There isn't much too it but would you like to come in and see?"

The pair of elves looked at each other and nodded, "We would love to."

"Well, we build in either two ways." Fortinbras started, "We dig into the hill or we build an artificial hill on to a surface. We tend to build onto a hill when we are increasing the size of an existing smial and adding floors, like in the Brandy Hall but here we are digging into an untouched site. For some reason, the Shire earth has pockets of lighter stone that is very easy to hew and so building these types of buildings here is quite easy."

"So, you rarely build wood and stone structures?"

"They tend to be used for public buildings like the inns and the farm buildings."

Glorfindel looked intrigued as he ducked under the low door and stepped down a step to straighten up in a tall entrance hall area, "This is quite a tall space for hobbits, if we can stand up straight, no?"

Fortinbras tried not to act suspiciously and come up with a plausible explanation as to why a race that stood at under 4ft tall would need a room that was around 9ft tall at the moment, "It actually isn't too tall, by the time we add in the flooring, insulation and ceiling it becomes lower."

"That makes sense." Erestor said as he looked through the space trying to imagine the finished building. "How much is the plan of the home dictated by the physical geography of where it is built?"

"When planning the main concern is always about natural light so that is what dictates everything really. Here we are quite lucky that the hill is small enough we can basically dig out the whole core, excluding the area supporting the stone above in the very centre, and have rooms facing every direction which will allow light in at all times of the day. We then plan the arrangement of the rooms for instance the breakfast room will face east so it is lit when the sun rises, the study gets the light for most of the day. And, in the centre where there is no light, we can build stores as they will need to be the coolest rooms anyway. Where there is only one side that faces out to natural light then we can build the more important rooms on the outside and work back from there."

As he was speaking Fortinbras had led the two elves down the roughly hewen corridor that ran in a large loop around the smial, pointing out features like the stores and the chimneys.

"How long will it take to finish?"

The hobbit touched the wall and gestured for the elves to do so too, under their fingers the stone felt damp and almost soft. "When the rock here is newly hewed it still has moisture trapped in it and is quite soft, the moisture evaporates and a skin forms that hardens over time. We tend to dig the smial out and leave it for a few months to dry out and the walls to harden and the ground to settle before we decorate. Depending on the weather that may take a month or six. So, this smial could be finished by Mid Year's Day or by After Yule. But obviously the outside rooms dry quicker as they were cut first and are closer to the air so we will decorate them first and then move in. It works well as the outer rooms are more elaborate anyway so take more time."

"I thought it might be much longer." Erestor commented.

Fortinbras shrugged, unwilling to admit that they were putting so much time and effort into the smial for a reason.

"Who did you say this smial was for?" Erestor asked, as they emerged into the light having completed a loop around the inside of the building site.

The hobbit thought for a suitable answer and as he had no wish to lie replied, "The plan is for it to be a public building once it is finished. The stores will be for things like medicine and food in case we have another bad winter. The hill is central to the Shire so it is within easy reaching distance to all inhabitants. A custodian will live here to maintain them."

The elves seemed to accept that answer but Glorfindel added, "I was just wondering whether it was like Bag End where it was a marriage gift."

Fortinbras thought about the home his uncle made for his aunt, "Not quite, those are rare. Most hobbits live in their own family smials or burrows. Making smials is a very lengthy and expensive process, one that you hope pays off for you and future generations as you are able to live there for many years."

"So do you live with your family unit then?" Erestor asked

"I'm a Took, I could live anywhere in the Shire and be next door to my family." Fortinbras pointed out with a exasperated tone to his voice, "However, yes I do."

"I always thought it was quite romantic for the Thain to ask Bungo Baggins to build a home for Belladonna." Glorfindel mused.

The hobbit chuckled slightly, "To hobbits there is a vast difference between a house and a home. Grandpa asked Uncle Bungo to build a home; he asked for him to build somewhere Auntie Belladonna could be happy. He could have decorated a room in the Tookborough where they could live together and that would have fine. Building a house was fine but he succeeded in the challenge when he turned it into a home."

"He was showing off then?"

"Pretty much. But I don't think either of them regretted it at any point. Bag End is special." Fortinbras stated clearly as he looked over to Hobbiton and the hill that contained Bag End beyond it.


While Glorfindel and Erestor had disappeared to make their rounds of the Shire, Elrond had been busy trying to think of subtle ways to gain answers from the Thain.

"To business then?" The old hobbit asked.

"Indeed. I think we are both aware the trade routes have declined in the past few decades, mainly due to bad winters and the road conditions. As I stated in my letter, I believe it would help both the Shire and us if we considered how we can recover and renegotiate this relationship. May I ask, what do you need from us? I suppose I should clarify though, what materials and products can you offer for trade and what materials and products do you need?"

Old Took sat back in his seat, steepling his hands, he was well aware the elves were not just visiting to revisit neglected trade routes. If they were lacking materials there were many other communities who could easily provide goods to Rivendell and the elves. There was something further behind this meeting.

However, he was willing to play the game. "As you know, we are a mostly self-sufficient society, at least in regards to the basics of life. It tends to be the finer, more exotic things that we cannot grow of make that we lack. Spices, seasoned timber lengths, linens and cottons are things that, while we are not lacking, we would make use of and are gaps in our current imports. In terms of what we can offer in return, we grow far more grains than even we need, we currently send a great deal to Ered Luin but we are still left with extra. Wool is the other thing of course that we have an excess of, particularly the coarser weights for colder climes."

The Lord nodded, "Wool and grains are certainly things that we would be prepared to trade for, pipeweed too. We used to send your wool as far as Lothlorien on your behalf and I know that my kin beyond the Misty Mountains would be glad to receive these again. Regarding the items that you would want in return, I am sure we can organise something. Are there any priorities?"

"No, not really." The Thain replied before he thought, "Although, if you have any books that you could trade, we would be happy to make a trade for that, you can suggest a price. A number of my family have been asking for books and maps and there are only so many up-to date ones in the Shire."

Elrond nodded, "Any subjects in paticular?"

Thinking quickly of Lyra's voracious reading of all books she could find about Middle Earth he shook his head. "Books can always find a reader here."

Elrond smiled slightly before he gazed deeply at the old hobbit in front of him."The rangers told us that the river did not freeze and you all survived the winter unaffected."

Gerontious nodded as he tilted his head slightly to stared back at the elf unblinking, "Yes. We were lucky. We were more prepared too which helped, we have learned at least form past tragedies."

Eventually even the elf lord's patience was lost at the evasive and noncommittal answers he was receiving from everyone. "Is everything alright Thain Took?"

"Yes of course. Why wouldn't it be? Would you like refill of tea? Or perhaps another scone? They are a specialty of my dear wife."

Elrond raised a single eyebrow and surveyed the hobbit across his refilled teacup. There had been something wrong with the entire conversation he had just had and he had no idea what was wrong both with the Thain and the hobbits in general.


"If there is one thing I hate to say," Elrond started, "It is Gandalf was right."

Glorfindel and Erestor looked at each other and then to their lord. "What makes you so sure he was right?" The latter asked.

"The hobbits were not telling us something. I never thought I would say that hobbits were difficult to deal with but the Thain was about as easy to deal with as a dwarf." The lord paused for a moment, "Although, far politer. If he was rude I think I would have searched the entire Shire and not cared about the implications. None of the hobbits I have ever known stooped to rude behaviour outside of extremely drastic situations, remember the goblin?"

The three chuckled slightly, all three could remember Belladonna Took apologising the first time she had killed a goblin and then had proceeding to become very offended the creature had ruined her tunic with its life blood.

"Could it be the Fell Winter?" Erestor asked, "That amount of destruction would change any community, let alone the hobbits who are not made to endure that hardship."

Glorfindel started to untie the reins of his horse from the tree branch he had been tethered to. "I suppose. Did you see the halflings were watching us leave?"

Erestor nodded, "Indeed, hobbits when in large numbers are not particularly subtle. It was like they were waiting for us to leave. I think the last time I was regarded with that amount of suspicion was when I was envoy to King Thror of Erebor a century ago."

There were sounds of agreement from the party members. The advisor continued, "I mean, what could the hobbits do or have that would be so dangerous or special that they felt the need to hide it from Gandalf, the Rangers and us?"

"Mayhaps they adopted a cave troll and have it hidden in their pipeweed plantations." Glorfindel commented wryly as he mounted his horse.

"Or a Warg in their Party Tree?" Erestor returned.

"I am sure we can discount the hobbits making a treaty with the orcs too." Elrond added evenly, "But there is still something off and the hobbits have little experience of life outside the Shire. It would not take too much for an unscrupulous character to cause great harm."

"I could go back and check." Glorfindel offered. He was an elf, he would walk unheeded if he so chose and the Shire was a very easy place to traverse without being spotted.

"Nay." Elrond stated, "I fear we must trust our little friends. As much as we desire to we cannot interfere with every race and thing when we feel like that. I am sure that Thain Took would have found some way to inform us if they were in danger. If they do not want our help then we cannot impose."

Glorfindel and Erestor nodded, it was one of the problems with immortality. Due to their long lives they had learned from experience and could often see the problems that the younger races could not. It would be too easy to point out faults, or try to lord over the men, dwarves or hobbits but that was not why they were created or what they wanted to do. The elves had suffered for centuries and millennia, peace was what many of them needed and that could not be achieved through wars and vendettas.

"At least, if we manage to restart the trade routes, we shall have eyes and ears regularly in the Shire." Elrond sighed. "Although, from what the Thain said it seems they may drag out the details."

"Elladan and Elrohir could visit next year." Erestor proposed, "The relationship they had with Belladonna may make her father a little more open to our assistance or advise if it was needed."

"It makes sense, my lord. I believe Arador was planning on taking his son to visit next year to meet the Thain, perhaps the combined presence of the Rangers and the elves may have a greater impact."

"It is a good plan. The next time the Rangers come by Imladris we can broach the idea with them. I have no wish to terrify the hobbits into submission so maybe a gentler way may help."


When Lord Elrond and his party returned to Rivendell, he was to find a letter upon his desk from his mother-in-law.

My dear Elrond,

Something is changed in recent months, I know not what it is but I can say that the consequences of this change will spread far and wide throughout our world. As of yet I cannot say whether these ripples spread for better or worse. I have watched for hours at my basin and seen only the movement and yet no hint of a catalyst. I find myself disconcerted that I cannot point to a cause or location and I write to inquire whether you have seen or heard anything.

Arwen is well and has spoken of her desire to return to Rivendell for a few years in a few months. The paths of the Misty Mountains grow ever more treacherous so I dare not risk her safety by not sending a suitable guard. I shall write in the next few weeks of our plans and when to expect her.

May the blessings of Eru accompany you,

Galadriel

The elven lord sat back in his chair, brow furrowed as he considered the contents of the letter. His mother-in-law had a tendency to be rather nosy and interfering should the mood strike her yet in this he could not help but ponder her concerns. The Lady of Lothlorien was rarely unable to see the happenings of the world or glimpses of the future in her mirror. The last time he was aware of this was during the First Age and the atrocities of Sauron.

May the Valar help them if this was what she was foreseeing. With a heavy sigh, Elrond pulled a piece of blank parchment closer to him so he could inform the Lady of Gandalf's concerns about the inhabitants of the Shire and his recent visit. While it may not be anything, he should at least let Galadriel know.


Midsummer was the largest holiday that the hobbits had. As a race who thrived in the good weather and warm seasons, it was celebrated on a very large scale with events lasting an entire week and preparations starting months before even that.

At the centre of it though were two very important events, the first was a market so large that it had to happen in the large common grazing fields between Hobbiton and Michel Delving and the second a large party by the Tree to which every hobbit was invited. The market was such a fixture of their society that nearly every hobbit, from the youngest faunt to the oldest gaffer arrived and mingled, caught up and shopped. While the weekly markets were very good, they were nothing compared to the range available at the Midsummer Market where nearly everything the Shire produced could be found.

It was also one of the few times of the year when goods from the men and dwarrow were available. While the hobbits would not be too comfortable with a dwarf or man setting up a stall, there were a few enterprising hobbits who acted as buyers for the silks, foods, drinks, animals and trinkets from the other races. They would buy what they knew would sell to their fellow hobbits and then sell them on for profit. It was actually a system that worked well for all parties involved.

As Lyra wandered around the stalls she was amazed and delighted by the sights and smells that surrounded her. There were stalls dedicated to jams and jellys, others that purely had moonshine, several that had barrels and pouches of pipeweed. One entire row of stalls were dedicated to cheese while behind that was one with vegetables.

She had arrived with Dobby and Kreacher but after seeing the sight of the row upon row of stalls they had both almost vibrated with excitement and ran off, several bags trailing behind them. Around two hours later, Aldagar Bolger, who ran a stall covered with little silver trinkets from the dwarves, had commented that he'd seen Dobby carrying several wheels of cheese past him only ten minutes previously.

Lyra had laughed slightly as she picked up a dainty little silver belt buckle, "Well I am sure they are very happy then! I think they are busy buying things for the party tomorrow! How much for this Aldagar?"

" For you, ten silvers. I hope you know how much we are all very much looking forward to the party."

Lyra grinned happily as she handed over a handful of coins and pocketed the belt buckle that would work well as a fastener for her new cloak. "I shall pass that onto Kreacher and Dobby. They will be delighted to know everyone is excited. I must actually find them though before they clear every stall out! I will see you tomorrow, thank you!"


As could be expected, Dobby and Kreacher themselves were very excited by this event too and as soon as they had heard about it several months earlier, they had retreated to their shared bedroom for a planning meeting. From what Kreacher had informed her, they rather felt that as Queenie it was her job to host a feast for all her subjects and their jobs to prepare it. So used to the quirks of house elves and particularly hers, she had just nodded and agreed to their extensive plans and promised that she would turn up and be an erudite and entertaining Queenie.

The evening of the party even Lyra, who had spent six years at Hogwarts, had been very impressed by the feast that had been spread out on large tables around the Party Tree. Stacks of pies and quiches; vats of soups and stews; pastas and salads; legs of meat marinaded and coated in spices and herbs; fruit tarts and pastries; marshmallows and little individuals glasses of possets and ice creams. So much food was there that you could barely find any hint of the tables beneath it, although she had actually surreptitiously cast a couple of strengthening charms on the legs just incase the occasional creaks she had heard were from the tables rather than the tree that rustled in the wind.

"Kreacher? Dobby? There are times when even I am amazed by your abilities."

Kreacher sniffed, "A good Queenie is judged by her household. We can't be letting you down. We are not some silly brownie or goblin."

"Well, all the same." Lyra replied with a slight chuckle, "I am very grateful, for everything. Not just today, but always."

"Dobby and Kreacher know that." Dobby exclaimed as he stared up to his mistress with adoration in his eyes, "Dobby and Kreacher stay with you always."

"Enough chatter." Kreacher croaked as he prodded Lyra to stand among the tables, "You stand here and greet guests. Kreacher and Dobby be getting the drinks served."

By serving the drinks, Dobby and Kreacher meant charming a few hundred glasses to fly in close formation under some open kegs of wine and ale and then arranging themselves on trays that floated gently around the green at a suitable height for the shorter guests.

Around half way through this parade of glasses filling, the first hobbits started arriving, it was a large party of Tooks who wandered over chattering happily. They exclaimed with glee over every little detail that Kreacher and Dobby had placed around the fields, from the little lanterns that crisscrossed everywhere to the repurposed metal milk churns that had been filled with huge bouquets of wild summer flowers which filled the space with their light scent.

As Lyra should probably have guessed, they were far more impressed by the huge piles of food. A few hobbit parents seemed to be pulling their fauntlings to heel to prevent them diving into the food without prior approval. Lyra was not one to stand on ceremony and so grabbed a piece of meat pie, placed it on a plate and, kneeling down, handed it to one of the small faunts that stood behind Old Took.

Grimbold looked between the plate his Queenie was offering and his grandfather and after receiving a roll of the eyes and a nod from the latter, he grabbed the plate and promptly dived in. This seemed to be the symbol for the every growing crowd behind Old Took and the hobbits descended on the tables like gannets into the seas.

Lyra, who was still on her knees, laughed outright, particularly when she saw Old Took's hand covering his eyes.

"I have tried to teach my family a little bit of decorum and as soon as there is food involved, it all goes out the window." He proclaimed, "I don't know why I bothered in the first place."

Lyra wiped the mirth from her eyes, "Come on Gerontius! Dobby and Kreacher opened some very nice wine if you are interested?"

"Very!"

As all hobbit parties did, the entire event was soon full of dancing, singing and music. At one point Lyra found herself sitting calmly with Bilbo on one side of her and Dobby and Kreacher on the other just surveying the party as the sun slowly went down below the White Downs. The few minutes of peace soon ended as a gaggle of her little fauntlings found her asking for a story before they were put to bed in one of the tents. And so she sat there regaling the little group with the story of the four Pensieve children who found themselves travelling through a wardrobe to a land of snow and ice.


Chapter 12: The Halls of Mandos

Although she had been welcome in the Halls of Mandos for well over six months Lyra had not yet seized the opportunity and had instead giving herself with reasons not to visit. Although she was now used to the idea of speaking to the dead, visiting the afterlife seemed a completely different thing. Lyra was not by any means scared of the possibility, after all she had the opportunity to speak to many of the greatest elves in the long history of Middle Earth. She could not, of course, be sure who had moved into Valinor but if she had the opportunity to talk to any of those great titans from the First and Second Age that she had read about then she would be happy.

Between the various libraries of the Shire she had learned a great deal about the history of the elves, unlike the dwarves they were much freer with their past and so she learned about Oropher who lived in Doriath until it was destroyed by the dwarves of the Blue Mountain; about the fall of Gondolin and the betrayal of Maeglin. The history of the elves was not peaceful, but she could only admire how they had managed to survive and build a culture and home despite it all.

And so, having informed Bilbo and the house elves that she would be absent for a few hours, she gripped the stone, closed her eyes and turned the stone thrice in her hands, thinking of Mandos and his halls.

"Hello Lyra." The familiar voice of Mandos intoned, "How lovely to have you visit!"

"Well, I thought I might pop by for a fleeing visit…" The woman replied, her eyes still closed.

This seemed to amuse Mandos, "You can open your eyes you know?"

"What should I be expecting…the fires of hell? A Cerberus in the corner chewing on some poor soul's femur? Some coffins in the corner..."

"Come now, I have a little more taste than that. No femurs, I promise."

He really did have more taste than that, Lyra thought as she opened her eyes. She stood facing into a large arcade of columns that supported a vast ceiling that had been decorated with images of the skies, they were so realistic that it almost looked as though the columns supported the very clouds themselves.

"It's amazing!" She said lowly.

Mandos smiled gently down at her, "I know." With that he gestured for her to walk with him further down the great arcades. "I am glad that you have come, I was beginning to worry that you would forever make up excuses not to come!"

Lyra sniffed, "I will have you know that the annual cheese competition of Hobbiton is a very serious event and as Queenie I found it my privilege and honour to be involved!" She kept up the facade for a few moments longer before she chuckled, "Now I am here I have no idea why I did not come. It is immensely calming."

"It's what they were designed for but what did you think my Halls were for, Lyra?" Mandos asked, sounding more interested that annoyed.

Lyra thought for a few beats as they continued to meander down the arcade. "It is a place of judgement and reflection. Where souls can recover and move on or stay."

"In many ways that is correct. Elves live such long lives that they see so much. They need time to recover from everything, not even always the bad things. An elf could live for a millennia and encounter no war, nor hurt or loss and they would still need to come. It gives them a chance to consider, reflect and reconcile the lives they lived and the lives they wanted to live I suppose. Because of this, even if they have done bad things in their lives, they can still change and improve enough here that they can move forward to the shores of Valinor."

Here Mandos paused slightly, "Would you like to meet one of my guests?"

"Yes." Lyra exclaimed, looking around the seemingly deserted space.

Mandos smiled slightly, "Come, I believe he is watching the tapestries."

"The tapestries?"

"My wife weaves the tapestries of life that show the comings and goings of Middle Earth. For some it is a great comfort to watch and know that their kin continue on."

"Who are we meeting?"

"Oropher." Mandos' words were both an answer and to hail a figure standing surveying the intricate tapestries that bedecked the walls.

Lyra gasped slightly at the sheer beauty of the man who stood in front of her. He was the first elf she had ever seen in the flesh and he seemed to glow with an ethereal light that shone from his very being and core. His hair was at first glance blonde but upon closer inspection it was almost white His deep blue eyes inspected her with a gaze that seemed to pierce her very soul itself. Perhaps most disconcertingly was the fact that he was obviously ageless, even a simple passing glance would have told you that he was different; that time would never be written across his face in wrinkles and creases. Only in his eyes could you see the weight of the years he had endured and lived.

"My Lord Mandos." Oropher said with a slight bow.

"Oropher, while I know you have seen my representative through the tapestries, may I introduce her to you in person. Lyra, Queenie of the Hobbits, may I introduce Oropher, Former Lord of Northern Mirkwood, King of the Silvan Elves and King of the Woodland Realm."

"Hi." Lyra said before slightly kicking herself for her awkward introduction, "It's nice to meet you."

"And you my Lady. You have done a great deal of good in the short time since your arrival and, I am sure, will continue to do so."

Lyra was certain that her answer was a half stuttered intelligible mess of words.

The king tilted his head slightly to the side as he glanced once more at the tapestry and then at her. "Do you know why I died?"

"You fell in with the Last Alliance didn't you?"

"I did. My people and I cared little for the affairs of the world beyond our borders. We had suffered enough at their hands and so decided to withdraw further and further from them. However, I knew that if we wanted any sort of peace we would have to answer the calls of the Last Alliance and so I summoned my generals, my armies and my kin and led them out of the safety of Amon Lanc. I joined Gil-galad and his force and we met the foe at the Battle of Dagorlad. Perhaps the battle lust had come upon me, perhaps I was arrogant but I made an early charge without the orders or support of Gil-galad."

Here Oropher paused and turned to look at an image of the tapestry of a throne of twisted roots and branches in a cavernous room. "My son was there with me. He was injured by the spawn of Morgoth but survived to return with only a third of that great army. Everyone else who fell with me in that ill-fated charge has moved out. Out into Valinor, yet I remain here."

Lyra looked at the tapestries and could only feel a deep empathy for the elf beside her, "You know I did the same? I led an army into battle and many I cared about died. Whether you die with them or outlive them, it still hurts."

"That is understandable."

"I suppose that Middle Earth is my Valinor, a chance for me to recover and move on. Making peace with someone's death or your decision is not forgetting their sacrifice. But it is your decision and not something you can pretend so you know when you have achieved it. I will never get the opportunity to speak to those who died in the war but I will never forget them; if I could speak to them again, I would want to tell them that I suppose."

When she did not receive any reply from the king, Lyra backed away slowly and walked to Mandos who stood a few metres away.

As they turned to leave, Oropher called out. "Thank you". Lyra turned to look back and saw the blonde elf striding away from the tapestries between the columns and out of sight. She turned to a smiling Mandos.

"Where did he go?"

"He has done as you suggested and moved forward. He has been forcing himself to stay for nigh on a century. He needed someone to kick him out the door in Valinor."

Lyra turned back to look at the space where he had stood, "Will he be okay?"

"He is with his people now, he will be fine. Thank you. I know that his comrades in arms have longed to see him again for many years. When they first all arrived in my halls, Oropher locked himself away, punishing himself with his solitude and unable to face the people he believed himself to have failed. It was only when the last of them left that he came out to see the tapestries and punish himself by seeing the son he left and the grandson he never met. His people have waited a long time to speak to him and to support him and now I believe he will let them. Thank you, he needed to move out."

Lyra was still unsure but she trusted Mandos and, trying to raise the mood, asked, "So, did Lúthien really manage to get you to give her a second life by singing to you? Orpheus and Eurydice all over again, no?"

Mandos laughed as they walked. "I never thought of it like that. I know grief, I see it every minute of every hour but with Lúthien it was different. The elves are immortal, and their souls are too; they live knowing that they will always see their mates again whether it be in five years or a millennium. If they die in battle, then their souls come here until they pass onto Valinor, their mate will nearly always meet them here or in Valinor. With Lúthien it was different, her mate was a man and as mortal as they come; she knew that she would never see him again. She died from grief and would never have recovered, her soul tormented for years. I am not made of stone."

"Does it happen often that elves find their mate in a mortal?"

"No. But when they do then they must give up their immortality, so they may pass on together. When an elf chooses to give up their immortality their souls will join those of the other humans in the afterlife."

"That must be a difficult choice. Your family or your love."

Mandos hummed in consideration as he looked around his Halls. "Perhaps not, I believe it is both the most difficult choice and the easiest. Maybe that is why it is so hard, they know there is no contention between them despite the fact that you wish there were. And at any rate, the hardest part of it all and the part when you regret that decision is when the one you love passes and you are left alone until you too can join them. Then is when I suppose you reflect the most about your choice."

A few hours later, Lyra returned to the Shire. The bustle of life in Middle Earth, even just in the Shire seemed a racket after the harmony of Mandos' halls but she shook herself off. She loved the Shire, but it was still nice to know that she could have the peace she needed on occasion.


Chapter 13: A New Home and the Barrows

"Well." The Thain said one day at their weekly 'council' meeting with the Mayor and the Master of Buckland. "As the weather is so nice today, I thought it would be nice for us all to go for a walk. Does that sound like an acceptable idea?"

"Certainly does, old chap." The Mayor said, heaving himself from his chair and grabbing another one of the cinnamon danish whirls that Lyra had brought. "We can take the shortcut through the fields to Hobbiton. I have been meaning to see how the crop has taken there and there is a market in Hobbiton today we can go to."

The Master too rose from his chair and started stacking the tea tray back up, "Good plan. My wife has been craving some persimmons again."

A walk sounded a lovely idea to Lyra too and she moved to help the Master, "Has she craved persimmons the last four times she was pregnant too?"

The Brandybuck chucked slightly, "Indeed, every single pregnancy. At one point she added it to everything and let me tell you, persimmons do not go well with lamb!"

Nearly an hour later as the meandered out of the last of the wheat fields, Lyra was slightly baffled when instead of heading toward the bridge by the Bywater Pool they veered left.

"Are we not heading to Hobbiton?"

The Master nodded, "We are indeed but thought we would make a bit of a detour. It shouldn't take too long."

Lyra shrugged but frowned when started walking along the Great East Road towards the Brandywine Bridge. Her confusion only grew as around half a mile later she spotted a group of hobbits and two house elves standing by the new store they had been building for the past few months. At one of their councils months ago, Gerontius had raised that there was no communal store for medicines, foods and supplies should the worst happen and a bad winter return. They had therefore decided to construct one near to the Great East Road so it would be accessible for all. She had not been allowed to go into the site as the roofs were apparently too low for her and it was quite unsound for a few months after building.

Maybe they had finished and she was getting to see it for the first time? It was certainly a good idea to have such stores and she was glad the hobbits were preparing for the worst.

However, she couldn't think why all the hobbits, including her three walking companions were so nervous.

"Is everything alright?" She asked warily.

"Oh yes, we just have a surprise for you!"

"For me?"

"Yup!" Bilbo stated for they were now within earshot of the crowd of hobbits.

Gerontius smiled gently, leaning on his walking stick. "As you know, we promised you would always have a place in the Shire and we thought we would give you a permanent place of your own."

"A home?" Lyra exclaimed, "You built me a home?"

The hobbits smiled and she was gently ushered around the side of the hill to the door.

The round door was on the opposite of the hill from the road and was painted a Gryffindor red and had been framed with plants that had obviously been chosen for the scents. Lilacs, honeysuckles and lavender grew profusely around and looked for all the world as though they had lived there for the past decade. It was wonderful and utterly perfect. As Fortinbras Took and the other hobbits who had designed and built her smial opened the door and gestured her in, it was all she could do to nod numbly. Even in her dreams in her cupboard under the stairs when she imagined her perfect home, it was nothing compared to this. It was so different from the colossal grandeur of Hogwarts or the aged precision of Grimmauld Place yet it was better than them all.

As she stepped down into the hall, she realised with a happy grin that it was the perfect size for her, but still not too tall to make the hobbits feel overawed. Off the hall which had been painted a light ocher colour, there were three passages; her guides gently pushed her to the left one and into a comfortable sitting room already filled with her knick knacks. Central to the room was a fireplace around which were several chairs, a sofa and a low coffee table. Off to one side was a large table over which were spread several of the maps that she had been using to learn the geography of Middle Earth.

The next room was a library, filled from floor to ceiling with her books, both magical and otherwise and many other additions besides. In the centre was a large round table with several chairs around, and in the window, a desk already stocked with a letter rack and her ink pots and quills. The open window, which faced out towards the White Downs, allowed a pleasant breeze to carry the scent of climbing blush roses in.

She was shown the kitchen next although Dobby and Kreacher had been keen to highlight that it was their kitchen more than hers. It was probably for the best though as the majority of it had been made at hobbit (or house elf) height; she was slightly suspicious thought that this may be to deter her from cooking. Gleaming pots hung from the ceiling while in the first pantry just off the kitchen, there was shelf upon shelf of jars and boxes while, from the ceiling, were hung hams and meats. Beyond that pantry there were a further three empty pantries, although everyone had assured Lyra that these would be for general Shire use in winter.

Dobby and Kreacher had their own room beside the kitchen, with little hobbit or rather house elf sized bunk beds that had been decorated with roughly finished wood that fitted in perfectly with the smial. They had obviously taken the time to add their own things too as Dobby and Kreacher had both added the quilts Adamanta had made for them to their beds while, above Dobby's bed was hung his socks and above Kreacher's was the locket of Regulus Black. There were also two little chests which must contain their clothes.

Her own room was not something she ever could have imagined and she adored it. It was almost split into two section, at the back was the bed section. which seemed to be dug into the very wall like a little cave filled with a mattress and numerous blankets and pillows. She could already imagine crawling into it and curling up to rest; she had always loved the four posted beds of Gryffindor and this was the perfect hobbit equivalent. In the front section was a large fireplace beside which was the arm chair she so loved from Bilbo's house on one side and, on the other, her battered old school trunk had been placed in the window alcove as another seat with a couple of cushions propped up on it.

There was a little wardrobe room that had been already filled by her wonderful house elves and decorating the back wall were all the flower crowns that her fauntlings had given her, hung up on nails like a living wall of flowers.

By the time Lyra had completed the rest of the tour and had been led back outside to see the garden she was overcome by emotion and sat down on the doorstep and started sobbing, "It's perfect!"

"Is that not good?" One of the younger hobbits asked in concern.

"Yes."

"Then why are you crying?"

"I don't really know... Thank you. Thank you! It's wonderful!"

"You really like it?" Fortinbras asked nervously.

Lyra wiped her eyes, "Absolutely, can I have a hug?"

After she had given everyone a hug, ran back inside and around her house to see it all once more she reemerged from her home. "To the Party Tree then!" Lyra exclaimed, carefully closing the door so as not to chip the paint. She could come back and admire her home again later but now she had to celebrate with her wonderful hobbits.

And so, while she did not make it to the Hobbiton markets that day, she did get to the Party Tree.


One of the first proper problems she encountered in the Shire was met around a year after she arrived. She had, of course, heard about the barrow wights that inhabited the Barrow-downs towards Bree. From what Lyra could glean from hobbit books and their own stories, the barrow wights were shape shifting spirits, not unlike the boggarts of her world, however, these spirits could reanimate the remains of whatever dead lifeforms they could find. Accompanying this terrible habit was the fact that they could hypnotise their victims, luring them to them; then they would chain them to an altar, cover them with ancient jewels and pale cloth before using a sacrificial knife to end their torture.

The first time Lyra had heard this she had almost been sick, these horrible creatures seemed to possess every negative quality a creature could have. What made it worse to her was that every few years, a hobbit would disappear overnight and likely their lives were ended by the spirits inhabiting the barrows. However, for all her research, one thing alluded her, how to get rid of the things.

She knew they only came out at night, and during one of her trips to Buckland she had seen the green glow amongst the huge standing stones on the Barrow-downs. In her mind, Lyra viewed them like dementors, they seemed to share enough qualities that she believed that between fire spells, light spells and her patronus she should be able to protect herself enough to find the root of the problem. As far as she knew, the barrow-wights were sent by the Witch-king of Angmar in an attempt to prevent the Dúnedain from visiting their dead and the site of their ancient city, the capital of Cardolan. The standing stones were once the great foundations of the settlement while the dead who lay beneath the monoliths were the same dead whose bodies the wights borrowed and whose jewels they wore.

And so, having explained to Dobby and Kreacher alone what she planned to do, Lyra headed out east one day in the autumn. While the two house elves had protested vehemently, they at least believed that there was little chance of the Mistress of Death dying at the hands of dead spirits. She did not take much with her, seeing no need to be burdened down with a heavy pack. Instead she carried only her sword, a small bag of food and water tied to her belt and the Hallows.

Standing on the edge of the Barrow-downs, Lyra could feel the malevolent presence that spread like a spider web throughout the area, it seemed to stick to everything, trapping anything that made the mistake of being too close. She was certain the closer she got to the middle of the standing stones, the more wights there would be and she had no desire to face several at the same time when she had little idea what she was exactly looking for or how to defeat them when she found them. Bearing this in mind, Lyra started trekking along an invisible diagonal line through the sporadically dotted stones towards the north east, with any luck, she may meet one spirit on her way.

By the time she hit the outer stones three quarters of an hour later, she had come across no wights and she was about to return along the way she came when she started to hear a low sound in the wind. It was already a terrifying place to be once the dark descended and the huge stones towered over her, casting eerie shadows that flickered and rippled in the light of her flaming torch. The stones themselves loomed over her by a good three foot and seemed to engulf her very presence. However, as she stopped and turned trying to work out what direction the sound was coming from, she mused that with the soft hissing and murmur of movement, it was a hundred times worse.

As she turned once more, she came face to face with a dark figure who gleaming eyes caused her to trip back a few steps. As she fell to the ground, the figure leaned down to her and grabbed her lower arm with a supernatural grip. Lyra could immediately feel her strength sap and feel the chilling imprint the hand caused, even through her layers of clothing and warming charms.

"Cold be hand and heart and bone
and cold be sleep under stone
never more to wake on stony bed
never, till the Sun fails and the Moon is dead
In the black wind the stars shall die
and still be gold here let them lie
till the Dark Lord lifts his hand over dead sea and withered land."

There could be no mistaking the thing for what it was. A barrow-wight. She could not loosen the grasp of the spirit who started to pull her towards two nearby stones which had fallen against each other over the years, providing a lair for the creature to shelter during the hours of light.

With her right arm in the grip of the wight, Lyra had no way of grabbing her wand from her holster and so instead, using her left hand, she awkwardly pulled the sword off her hip holding it more like a dagger than a sword. She brought the blade edge down onto her captor's arm which severed under the blade. Now that she was free, Lyra span out of reach of the wight and drew her wand and summoned her patronus.

The stag needed no encouragement and chased the weakened spirit down. No sooner did Prongs touch the thing then it disintegrated, fading into nothingness. Lyra collapsed to the earth, huffing out a few breaths, trying to calm her racing heart and gain some feeling back in her body. It was almost as bad as the first time she had seen a dementor, except thankfully without the fainting. She crawled to a nearby stone that faced the lair, and with Prongs standing guard, sat for a good half hour recovering. Pulling the bag of food from her belt, she dug around and while Middle Earth may not have the chocolate she craved, they did have sugar and so she sat and ate a large amount of the fudge that she had 'liberated' from Bilbo's store which seemed to have a similar effect.

"That wasn't fun." She muttered to herself, "How many more are there?" As she reached into her bag to pull out another square of sugar she added, "God I hope they can't reproduce! If they don't, I can just pick them off a few at a time until they are all gone."

When she was certain she had recovered, Lyra pulled a piece of ribbon out of her bag and tied it to the pair of stones that she had almost been dragged to. She needed to examine it during the day and she had no wish to traipse around every standing stone trying to find one she knew had been inhabited by the evil creatures. With a huff, she pulled herself together and sent Prongs away, there was little chance of getting anywhere near a spirit with a patronus in tow.

As she nervously clicked her fingers together in an effort to calm herself, she thought of a little shortcut, "Point me barrow-wight." Her wand span on the palm of her hand in a circle before stopping facing the east. "East, it is then!"

By dawn the following morning two other wrights had met their end and Lyra returned to the site of her first kill. She cautiously made her way to the pair of stones. The shadows the stone threw meant that she could not see what resided beneath easily but with a quick 'lumos' she could see the hole into the barrow below.

Like most people, Lyra was not fond of diving through a small hole into an unknown space possibly filled with unknown creatures and she hesitated at the entrance for a few moments before she slid down the hole feet first. The lit wand threw rather disconcerting shadows around the space, it was probably around six metres squared and at the centre was a low stone altar with gold chains to wrap around the poor souls who died upon it. There were no visible bodies but instead there was a rather large collection of gold that had been arranged around the edge of the space.

With a sigh, Lyra called, "Kreacher?"

With a crack, the house elf immediately appeared in the cavern, "Missie Lyra, is you okay?"

"I'm fine Kreacher, just in need of a good sleep soon. I need some help though." With that, Lyra started to recount the events of the previous night. Once Kreacher had heard the whole story he looked around the space, "Kreacher is thinking you should be removing the gold and destroying the altar."

"Are we not robbing the graves of the Dúnedain in doing that?"

The house elf thought for a moment, "Kreacher is not sure but he is thinking that they is preferring to have no gold than to have their graves being houses for bad wights."

"You are probably right." Lyra said with a sigh, "Can you remove this for me then? I need some fresh air, it isn't particularly nice in here. If we store all the gold in one place for now, then we can give it back to the Dúnedain at some point, preferably when we have destroyed the rest of these things and they can return to mourn their dead. Although, I fear they will not know where their dead are buried and who the grave goods belong to. Even great kings can be forgotten about as the centuries pass."

"Kreacher will be taking this away. Maybe we should be making a map of where the wights were killed and the treasure found?"

"That's a good plan Kreacher. I shall put a mark on the stone to mark this is the first we found. Anyway, if you take this back, I shall go and visit Old Took and tell him what happened last night, he deserves to know."

Kreacher smirked slightly, "Kreacher is sure that Mr Thain will be very happy to be knowing you out killing things without telling anyone."

Lyra groaned slightly, Kreacher was right of course. Her hobbits would not be very happy to know she was doing stupid things. "Come on Kreacher. Let's get moving here, there are still two more possible sites for altars so if you and Dobby start on this one I shall head to the next?"


Now that Lyra was firmly ensconced in her new home and winter had passed she had the time to inspect the contents of her trunk at her own leisure. After digging through boxes of small trinkets, almost an entire library of books and a few random items including a banner with her family crest on it, she pulled out the box Neville had given her for her birthday. After she had prised open the lid carefully, she found within it a rather bizarre mixture of plants all shrunk down and under individual stasis charms. With a bemused sigh, Lyra shuffled a few around before eventually finding, wedged between what looked suspiciously like a Whomping Willow and a small innocuous cactus, a box of seeds. Flicking the little brass catch, the witch opened the box and surveyed the contents which had all been separated into trays and stacked one on top of another.

With a finger Lyra prodded one in particular, trying to think of any reason why Neville thought that she would need seeds for Chinese Chomping Cabbages, it was an absolute menace in a garden as it had a habit taking bites out of surrounding plants. Beside these seeds were small sections of Bitterroot, again a really very ugly plant that was almost useless. With a shake of her head, Lyra saw the seeds for Dittany too. Actually, the only uses that these three plants had were in healing potions. Oh wait, Lyra thought. The cabbage was used in Skelegro; Bitterroot was often used in portions to heal minor cuts while the steeped leaves of Dittany were used to regrow skin.

Lyra chuckled slightly, she was going to have a very ugly garden, probably the only one in the Shire! But at least the plants would be useful.

The climate of the Shire was most similar to that of the Home Counties of England, discounting the occasional harsh and devastating winter. However, like any garden with some tender care, some magic and the advice of her little subjects, Lyra was sure she could create a little ecosystem to suit each of the plants. (Although heaven only knows what Neville intended her to do with a Whomping Willow). As Lyra looked out of the small window of the smial she sighed with contentment and just relaxed for a few minutes to exist in peace and harmony.

Eventually she shook the cobwebs of thoughts out of head and as she placed the seed box back into the larger one, spied a small folded piece of parchment tucked into the soil of one of the shrunken plants. Teasing it out and shaking it free of the soil that clung to it, Lyra unfolded it to see the very recognisable cursive of her godbrother.

Hey Lyra,

I have no idea where you are now, but I hope you are well and enjoying your life. I thought that between the books and your herbology lessons you could cope but I didn't think you would know what this plant was. Luna made me put it in, it's a Theobroma Cacao tree. It's used for making chocolate…! If I didn't know any better I would have thought you were related to Remus.

Always with all my love,

Neville

With a burst of laughter, Lyra refolded the paper and tucked it back into the pot, thinking how she couldn't wait to plant it and eventually harvest it. She only had a very limited idea how chocolate was made and the information she did have came from a trip to Hampton Court before she went to Hogwarts; the palace actually had an entire kitchen dedicated to the making of chocolate. The hobbits, Lyra was certain, would take to chocolate like ducks to water.

Luna had obviously been directing Neville to include the right plants and trees, her odd habit of knowing things had obviously been very useful in her own preparations.


Chapter 14: Mourning

Old Took was not called that without reason and it stood to reason that the Thain of the Shire would eventually succumb to his many years three years after Lyra arrived in the Shire. He had lived over 130 years, which was unheard of among hobbits and had lead a very good life, leading his people well and raising his many children. A sudden illness overtook him and within a week he had passed on peacefully. With the end of his seventy-two-year rule, Isengrim, his eldest son soon took the mantle of Thain, becoming Isengrim III. Many in the Shire mused that the poor hobbit's rule would not be long, after all he was now ninety and had no wife nor offspring.

Hobbit funerals were rather similar to what Lyra had expected. They happened almost immediately, probably one of the advantages of having a family who lived so close. Gerontius was buried near to the Tookborough and upon his grave, Isengrim planted a single elder tree. Unlike other races, hobbits saw no reason to leave headstones upon the graves of their dead, instead their death would provide life to something else, continuing the circle of life and allowing them entry into the Garden of Yavanna. If people wished to remember their dead, then they could visit the tree and enjoy the life that it was. Lyra found she liked the idea, she had always reflected that Dumbledore would have loathed his gleaming white tomb in Hogwarts; he would certainly have loved the idea of a lone tree as a memorial. While she now knew that her spirit would never die, the Mistress of Death decided that if her mortal shell was ever to fall, she would like to be buried in the same manner.

The months after Gerontius' death had been difficult for Lyra. The old hobbit had become a dear friend and she had enjoyed many conversations with him and he had offered much advice to her. While he had been the reason she had had to stay in the Shire, she was so grateful for him for allowing her to stay and helping her make a place for herself. While Isengrim was a good hobbit, he unfortunately did not have the force of personality as his father which seemed to put more pressure on Lyra as he found his feet in the role and recovered from the loss of his father.

And then only four months later Adamanta, who was twelve years her beloved husband's junior, would follow him to the grave. The hobbit had held on as long as she could, trying to ensure that her son was suitably installed as Thain and that her family was as content as she could make them but, eventually, the desire to be with her husband in the beyond was too much. Her daughter-in-law found her when she had gone to give her afternoon tea, Adamanta was seated in the garden she had lovingly tended to for so many years looking towards the sapling that stood over the grave of her husband. On the table, beside her was a large stack of envelopes, one to each of her children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, as well as one for Lyra.

It had taken Lyra a few days to pluck up the courage to open and read the letter. Spread between helping Isengrim, speaking with the many grieved friends and relatives as well as preparing for the coming winter, she had not much had the time either. When she finally decided she would read the letter, she had walked out onto the Green Hills and sat for several hours on one of the hillocks that dotted the Shire.

Dearest Lyra,

It is difficult to write a letter knowing that these will be the final words you ever have from me in this world. I seem to have drafted a hundred letters for each of you and yet I believe this one to be the hardest. There is so much I wish I could say to you but know will never fit in a letter or doesn't matter yet in your life and so is irrelevant. You have done more for us than you can imagine and while I know that you have never really let me say it when I was alive, I wanted to say thank you.

Thank you for everything you have done and thank you for the difference you have made in our lives. Even if you have only been with us for a few years, I can see the impact that you have every day and I am grateful for every part of it. And when Gerontius passed I know he was gladdened to know that even if you chose to move away from the Shire, you at least loved it as we do. Even if you were not born a hobbit, you are as much a hobbit as a Took or Brandybuck. You came to us without knowing peace and I believe and hope that you have found it here. But please, accept that there may well be something beyond the Shire for you.

What is beyond, I cannot say. But when it comes, and you have that chance to find happiness, take it and do not be selfless about it. As someone who had the joy of living a life beside someone, I know that you need that too and I feel that this may well be beyond the Shire. You may doubt that you will find someone but I promise you will. And they will love you as we do, for your spirit and the joy that you bring with you.

So remember, that why my, at times idiotic, husband, agreed to get you to sign that contract, it no longer binds you. You are free and while you will always have a place in the Shire and with the hobbits, I hope that you will not confine yourself to it. I love you, you are one of my children and I want you to love a life that you are happy with.

Love,

Adamanta

Lyra was used to death, she had seen it many times but there was something different when someone she loved died of old age, she had never experienced that before, every death she had seen had been because of war and hardship and cruelty.

"Mandos!" She cried, the letter still in her hands, "Mandos? Can I visit please?"

Within an instant she was standing in the great arches of the Halls of the Dead with Mandos standing before her, a gentle expression on his face and sympathy radiating from him.

"Does it get any easier?" Lyra begged "Knowing that you will live while everyone else around you pass on?"

"No. It just gets easier to cope." The Vala relied softly.

Lyra gasped slightly, the heavy sobs choking her. "What happens to hobbits? Please? I need to know now."

Mandos smiled gently, offering one hand to her but not moving to take her hand, "I can do one better and show you."

Lyra eagerly grasped it and closed her eyes as the Halls melted away. On her face the Mistress of Death could feel warmth skin and the flutter of a gentle breeze. Warily she opened her eyes and looked around the place where all the souls of her beloved hobbits would find their peace.

If she thought the Shire was beautiful, it had nothing on this place. From their position on top of a tall rise, the pair looked down into the valley beneath which sprawled into the distance. Rivers and streams meandered between gentle rolling hills that were covered with grass and flowers. In the far distance were golden fields of wheat and barley that were broken by colourful hedgerows and orchards. It was idyllic and looked picture postcard perfect, there were no signs of inhabitation aside from the distant fields and orchards.

"And they all come here?"

"Nearly all, there will be a few exceptions who will need even more peace than even the Pastures of Yavanna will be able to provide."

"Where are all the hobbits then?"

"The hobbits live further from here, beyond the fields in the distance. But we are here to meet someone in particular. Lyra, may I introduce you to Yavanna? Yavanna, you of course know of Lyra!"

In her study of the Pastures, she had missed the approach of the Vala. Yavanna was everything Lyra had wished she was, tall, willowy and utterly perfect. Her blonde hair was so long that it ran in gently curls down into the knee-high grass and her green dress made it seem as though she had grown out of the very hillside itself. In fact, she did not seem to walk but to float over the carpet of flowers and grass.

"Hello Lyra." She said, her voice sounding like the bubble of a brook or the wind through summer leaves. "It is an utter pleasure to meet you."

Lyra stuttered slightly in response and tried to curtsy as her eyes fell to the floor, unable to look at the beauty of the Vala for any longer. However, she was caught by the elbows by the very one she wished to kneel herself before. "My dear one." Yavanna stated pulling her into a hug, "You, of all people, will never bow to me. Never!"

"But…" Lyra started, trying to rearrange her thoughts.

"You have done so much for my people,

Lyra's lack of reply did not seem to deter the Vala who tucked the girl's arm under her own as she turned to Mandos who had been standing to one side, a small smile playing on his lips. "We don't need you anymore Mandos. You can collect Lyra in a few hours, go and find someone to irritate."

Mandos merely smirked, "Your husband then?"

"Oh, please? He has been a bore recently!"

"With pleasure then." With that the male vanished, leaving behind a rather confused Lyra.

When Lyra was spirited back to the Shire several hours later, her head rang with information but she felt far more at peace than before. Perhaps to set her at ease, Yavanna had explained to her a great deal about the Pastures and her own history. Like the Halls of Mandos, the pastures were located in Valinor and were shaped completely by her desires.

As the pair wandered through the Pastures, Lyra had found herself calming and while she saw neither hide nor hair of any hobbits, she sat least was content they were happy and at peace. She eventually found herself talking to Yavanna in a way she would have spoken to Luna or Hermione back on Earth, telling her of the grief she experienced, the insecurities that plagued her and the dreams she had. Through it all, the Vala had only smiled and asked gentle questions; as Lyra looked around the Shire she mused that it was the best therapy she could have imagined.

The Queenie of the Hobbits slowly meandered back to her home, relieved she had the blessings of the creator of the hobbits and happy she knew her friends would be happy when they finally moved on. As she spied the smoke coming from the kitchen chimney of her home, she sent a little prayer for to all the Valar for the souls of the departed and mused whether Dobby had made the treacle tart he had been promising.


Chapter 15: The Unexpected Journey & Dinner with the Elves

Bilbo Baggins was a very content hobbit, sitting in front of his house enjoying the Thrimidge spring sun and a pipe. His garden was all finished for now, his pantries were full, his house clean, there was very little to be disturbed by. As he exhaled another lungful of Old Toby and closed his eyes, he mused on the fact that Lyra should be back soon, it was her second quarterly travels and she had been gone seven days and was due back in four. He had just seen Dobby and Kreacher yesterday at the markets where they had been busy buying food for a supper party the day she arrived back. Bilbo was, of course, invited and he was very much looking forward to the delicious beef wellington and fruit roulade they were going to have.

His contented contemplations of food were disturbed by the warmth of the sun disappearing off his face. Eyes still shut, he wrinkled his nose slightly, only deigning to look at whoever was disturbing his lovely morning when he heard a slight cough. Once he saw the Tall Person bedecked in grey robes he slightly wished he hadn't opened his eyes and he shuffled slightly uncomfortably at the gaze on him.

However, he was not called Baggins for nothing and so greeted the man with a curt, "Good morning."

"What do you mean? Do you mean to wish me a good morning or do you mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not? Or perhaps you meant to say that you feel good on this particular morning or are you simply stating this this is a morning to be good on?"

Bilbo blinked a couple of times, trying to work out what on earth the man was saying, "All of them at once I suppose."

The man hummed unimpressed and Bilbo found he had to break the silence, "Can I help you?"

"That remains to be seen. I am looking for someone to share in an adventure."

Bilbo raised his eyebrows, "I don't imagine anyone west of Bree would have much interest in adventures…. Nasty disturbing, uncomfortable things. Make you late for dinner." He stated, putting his pipe in his mouth and picking the post out of his post-box. "Good morning!" He proclaimed again, heading up the steps towards his green door.


Looking back at that moment, Bilbo was certain that he should had gone out to the Green Dragon that evening so no dwarf could have barged into his house, eaten his food and thrown his West Farthing pottery around like it was a toy. Indeed, to Bilbo, it seemed that every single moment of his first few weeks with the Company could be summarised in one single phrase, 'Everything would be much better if Lyra was here'. Lyra could make fires with the flick of her wrist, cast warming charms without a thought, clean clothes without even deigning to look at them and she could certainly pull a handkerchief out of thin air for him.

As he pulled himself off Bungo, his entire body stiff and unresponsive from the long hours in the damp climes along the East Road, he staggered towards the campfire with his bag.

"Halfling!" Thorin called, "See to your pony before you laze around by the fire."

Bilbo groaned and muttered unintelligibly under his breath that he was going to drop his bags off before he saw to his pony. Continuing his grumbles, he dropped his bags on the ground and then turned to Bungo.

Actually, he knew without a doubt that if Lyra was there everything would have been better. In fact, the only remotely fun thing that had happened were the occasional times when he could wind Gandalf up, while he may be a very powerful and respected wizard, he was still not doing very well looking after them all. They hadn't even reached the Last Bridge and already Fili and Kili had almost drowned.

It did not bode well for the future Bilbo mused as he grabbed a twist of dried hay to rub Bungo down after he had removed the saddle and bridle. Even if they actually made it to the Lonely Mountain, there was a dragon waiting at the end, a dragon that Bilbo had to burgle. As Bilbo started to sniff from the hay, he considered that Lyra would kill him anyway if he returned to the Shire anyway.


Lyra arrived back in her smial, rather pleased with how her trip went. The Halls of Mandos were always a very interesting place to spend a few days and she had been able to spend some time with several very interesting elves.

As she set her cloak on the hook, she was disturbed by the frantic calls of her two house elves. "Oh, Missie Lyra!" Dobby cried, "Mr Bilbo has left!"

Lyra turned quickly and dumped her bag on the ground beside her, "Left? Why would he do that?"

When even Kreacher looked perturbed, Lyra knew something was very wrong. "Mr Bilbo had a man visit and then a party of dwarves appeared for supper. The next morning Mr Gamgee said he saw Bilbo running out of Bag End with a bag saying he was going on an adventure!"

"An adventure? But Bilbo doesn't like adventures. When was this exactly?"

"Four days ago." Kreacher answered quickly.

Lyra ran to her room, "Kreacher? Can you pack me a fresh travelling bag? Dobby, I'm going to need some food and water. I'm going to find the Thain and let him know that I'm off to rescue Bilbo and I will be back as soon as I can. I will get the horse tacked up on my way back!"

With that, Lyra ran back out of the door and down towards the Tookborough.

Kreacher looked at Dobby and croaked "You heard the Queenie. Let's make sure to pack a few potions, I am sure this not end without injury. I will set out her travelling clothes too"

An hour later, just after midday Lyra rode out of the Shire along the East Road towards Bree in the hope of catching her errant hobbit and his dwarfish companions.


"Thirteen dwarves and a Halfling, Gandalf. These are strange travelling companions." Elrond said as he lead the old wizard up the steps to the balcony to dine. From the states of the dwarves who seemed to be more tightly wound than a spring he was deeply suspicious of the motives of the visit. He had already had to ride out to cull a pack of wargs and Glorfindel was still out there with a few others scouring the surrounding areas for any strays.

"These are the descendants of Durin, they are noble ancient folk." Gandalf answered "They are surprisingly cultured, they have a deep love of the arts."

The elf lord raised an eyebrow as he surveyed the eclectic group in front of him. "Indeed Gandalf. However, we shall eat and then discuss the real reason you are here."

Elrond was just inspecting the last of the pilfered swords when an elven guard entered the dining area and head towards the high table. Leaning down he whispered to Elrond, "My Lord. There is someone at the gates."

The elven lord looked up, wine glass half way to his mouth, with confusion and interest, "Who is it?"

"She would not say, the only thing she has said is that she will not give us her name until she has seen the Halfling?"

"The Halfling? She is one herself then?"

"No, a human. But she did request the Halfling by name."

Gandalf and Elrond exchanged a look, "Bring her here, but post a couple more guards first. We shall see what this is all about." When the guard left the lord of Rivendell leaned closer to the wizard but kept his eyes on the hobbit still seated among the dwarves, "Can you think of any woman who would need to see Master Baggins?"

The wizard was baffled, "I have no clue, I suppose we must wait and see their reactions to each other."

They did not have to wait long for as a couple of minutes, but within that time, four more elven guards appeared on the balcony. Then an enraged voice called from within the halls.

"BILBO BAGGINS!"

While those around the tables in the setting sun could not see into the darker interior, it was obvious whoever was inside could see them, or at least one hobbit sitting at the near table.

"Uh oh." Bilbo stated before he stood and tried to hide behind one of the dwarves, it must be noted that this was without much success as had been trying to hide behind Ori.

The dwarves in turn jumped up and turned to defend themselves and their companion, dragging their burglar behind them as they reached for their weapons. Whatever they were expecting to see climbing up the steps to the balcony, it was certainly not a rather short woman with long dark hair that ran loose over one shoulder. Her clothes were clearly for travelling but were very well made and suited her beautifully; a blue undershirt with a boiled leather jerkin to protect the trunk of her body and a warg fur draped over her shoulders. On her hip sat a sword that anyone could see was a piece by some virtuoso smith, the huge ruby in the pommel glinting teasingly in the orange sun.

"Bilbo Baggins!" She said, her voice sounding rather harsh, "You get here right now!"

Thorin stopped the hobbit from walking forward with his left while with his right he pointed his sword at the girl, "He isn't going anywhere. Who are you?"

Gandalf approached the group alongside Elrond, both eying the girl warily, "I must echo the question. What business do you have with my hobbit?"

"Your hobbit?" The girl asked in a surprised tone, "I think you will find he is my hobbit. Now give me my subject and I shall be on my way?"

Gandalf's aura darkened visibly and he gripped his staff closer and snuck a hand onto the hilt of Glamdring, "Your subject? Now anyone could tell you that hobbits don't have queens or even kings."

The girl groaned and started to reply but her answer was interrupted by Bilbo, "We actually do. This is Lyra Potter, Queenie of the Hobbits."

Gandalf looked at the girl in disgust, "You proclaimed yourself ruler of the hobbits?"

"No actually." Bilbo stated, still slightly recovering from the fierce expression that had just graced the wizard's normally genial face. He finally managing to extricate himself from the dwarves to stand between his queenie and the irate wizard and elves. "We proclaimed her queenie, she didn't want to be."

Elrond sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, "I think we need to sit and discuss this like the adults we are and hear the full story before we judge."

It took a couple of minutes to arrange everyone and for a few more of Elrond's councillors, including Erestor, to arrive. As Bilbo felt that anything Lyra said would not yet be trusted by those gathered and so took the lead.

"Just before the winter of TA2917, I found Lyra lying unconscious on Bag Shot road, I took her into Bag End. About four weeks later the Brandywine River froze over again and we were at risk of attack. Lyra, who had been trained in combat situations, chose to go to the river and try to ensure our safety. She fought off attacks for two days, including orcs, wolves and wargs."

Many elves closed their eyes, trying not to think about the possibilities that attack may have had on the hobbits. The dwarves looked at each other before studying the girl, trying to decide how on earth the slip of a girl could fend off a puppy, let alone a warg or orc.

The hobbit continued, "When the fighting was over, she returned to Bag End to recover. My grandfather, the Mayor of Michel Delving and the Master of Buckland called a meeting in the Great Smials. I was not present at the meeting but it was decided that we, as a race, wanted Lyra to stay. It could not be decided how best to achieve this so one of my cousins suggested that we draw up a contract stating that Lyra would stay with us and in return we would crown her Queenie and look after her I suppose. Now, for some idiotic reason, instead of approaching my house guest to see whether she would sign it, they decided a more circular route was needed. So, they got her to sign it by getting her drunk from moonshine and putting a pen in one hand and the contract in the other."

"There was no need to say the bit about me signing it drunk; you could have left it at the fact I signed it." Lyra griped, trying not to blush at the memory.

Gandalf made an exasperated noise, "Let me get this straight Bilbo, because I am hearing you say something but cannot quite believe it. Your grandfather, who was a very clever, respected hobbit, along with the rest of your kinsmen, got a young girl, who you barely knew, drunk and made her sign a contract to become your queen?"

"Queenie." Bilbo corrected, "And yes."

Elrond raised an eyebrow as he surveyed the hobbit who was studiously avoiding meeting anyone's eyes, "And I take it this is why the inhabitants of the Shire have been acting so peculiarly for the past twenty-three years."

The hobbit blushed, he did not really want to lie to the elves about exactly why they had sought to keep "Yes. We felt that everyone may overreact to the change."

"Bilbo?" Lyra said, her voice quiet, "We may as well tell them."

"Really?" Bilbo asked, looking up to her face.

Lyra sighed and stood from her chair to walk around the balcony in an effort to clear her head. "Bilbo, like all the other hobbits, is trying to protect me. There is a reason why they wanted to keep my presence quiet. Gandalf?" She asked, "You came here at the behest of the Valar. How did that come about?"

The wizard seemed surprised at the turn of conversation, "Manwë asked and I came."

Lyra smiled self-deprecatingly, "I suppose that is, in some ways, similar to my experience."

Shock rippled through the assembled and Elrond's eyes hardened as he surveyed the woman, he knew the Valar sent representatives when Middle Earth was in dire straits. "You were sent by the Valar? What was your purpose?"

"I was not sent by the Valar but by one of them acting alone but with the permission of Eru. And my purpose? I have little idea, unlike Gandalf I have no mission to protect the free peoples of Middle Earth. I was sent by my patron to recover."

"Which Vala sent you?" Erestor asked.

Lyra looked to the man and tilted her head as she surveyed the dark headed elf, "I do not feel I can say just yet."

"And do you possess magic?" Gandalf asked, "I see no staff."

"I do indeed possess magic; however, I am not a Maiar spirit and do not use a staff."

The wizard turned to Bilbo, "And the fact she is Vala sent is why you chose not to reveal her presence."

The hobbit nodded, stubbornly stating, "We feared she would be taken from us. She is ours."

"My dear Bilbo, I have visited the Shire several times in the past twenty-three years and have visited many many times since the Shire was founded. Do you all think so low of me and Lord Elrond?"

Bilbo snorted, "Don't try to make me feel bad Gandalf. You haven't seen her magic. You would have dragged her around Middle Earth if you had."

"Can we see it then?" A young blonde dwarf asked pleadingly looking at the rather surprised girl.

"Erm…. I suppose so. What would you like to see?"

"What can you do?" Gandalf asked.

Lyra bit her lip, before drawing the Elder Wand from her sleeve. "Let me see…." With a flick of her wand, the decorative fruit bowl shaped like a swan that sat on one of the dwarves' tables became animated, stretching its neck up and flapping its wings. Ignoring the sounds of awe and disbelief around her, Lyra sent another spell at the dish, whereupon it rose up into the air, she then vanished the fruit. A final flick of the wand later and, instead of a crystal dish, there was a living and breathing swan that Lyra carefully brought down to ground level. When she did look up from the swan a moment later it was to see the open mouths of nearly everyone around her, including Gandalf and Elrond.

"So…" She started, "That's a little of what I can do. Sorry, I will get rid of the swan before it makes a mess."

"Get rid of it?" Elrond asked, "Can I not examine it first?"

"Oh, would you like to? Of course, feel free if you want to but it isn't very interesting. Just a normal swan."

"And it is like this forever?" Gandalf asked, approaching the rather baffled looking bird.

"Oh no, I can turn it back into a dish now but otherwise the spell will wear off after a while. Don't worry, you'll get your dish back."

"Of the two at the moment I think I would rather prefer a swan created by magic to a dish." Elrond murmured before he shook his head and turned back to the hobbit and his Queenie. "Am I to take it that this is the least of your abilities?

Lyra blushed slightly, "I suppose so, but temporary transfiguration is really quite simple. The key to it is imagination."

"Imagination?" Gandalf questioned.

"Oh yes, the basic theory of transfiguration is being able to imagine an object or creature into another. Which is why, if I thought hard enough I could transfigure the swan into an Oliphant but it would take a lot of energy as it is such a large change but if I were to change the swan into a… goose then it would be easy."

"Please don't make an Oliphant again Lyra." Bilbo begged.

A dark haired dwarf who was rather lacking in the beard department turned to the blonde, "Why ever not? I think an Oliphant would be fun. We would certainly shorten the journey to Ere..." Here he was promptly elbowed by the two dwarves on either side of him.

Lyra raised an eyebrow and then rolled her eyes, "Now." Lyra stated, "Would someone care to explain why Bilbo needs to go traipsing half a world away?"

The dark-haired, grumpy dwarf growled, "There is no reason for you to know."

The Queenie of the hobbits rolled her eyes again at the haughty behaviour of the dwarf and looked over to the Istari, "Gandalf? Care to explain?"

"Have you, by chance, had any experience with dragons?"

"Of course. What type? Horntails? Ridgebacks?"

"There are different types of dragons?" One of the small red-haired dwarves gasped.

"Naturally. It's sort of important to know what type you are approaching because they all have different strengths and weaknesses. I actually got to ride a Ironbelly dragon once. That was pretty cool... except for the whole riding a dragon thing."

Elrond looked over in astonishment and disbelief, "You rode a dragon?"

"Yup." Lyra replied dismissively, "We were staging an escape and it was either that or be caught be goblins."

"…Right. Did it not complain? Try to eat you?"

"Complain? Your dragons talk? Our dragons certainly couldn't. How bizarre." She mused. "Two ticks, I need some books."

"If you wish, you are welcome to use our library." Elrond said, slightly confused by her proclamation.

Lyra waved a hand, "Maybe later, I was actually meaning my books."

The dwarves and elves cast dubious glances at her light travelling pack and clothing.

"Dobby? Kreacher?" The witch called.