Premise: What would the Hobbits of the Shire do if they found an infant of the big people in their lands? And what if that infant was a reincarnated Harry Potter?

Credit: All translations come from my best interpretation of neverast . org 's Elvish dictionary and grammar. The Lord of the Rings belongs to the estate of J. R. R. Tolkien. Harry Potter belongs to J. K. Rowling. No credit or money has been taken by the author for these creations.

Hendgelain

Lost and Found

Harry closed his eyes for the last time, grateful for the darkness that was beginning to cover his senses. He was tired, far too tired to keep fighting a war which should have been ended long ago. When he had killed Voldemort, that should have been the end of it. But the Death Eaters had gone underground, and Harry had become an Auror, fighting to find them and protect the people that they would harm. He'd fought Voldemort from the age of eleven and killed him at seventeen. He'd been fighting Death Eaters from then to now, on the very edge of thirty-one. It was midnight, and it was now his birthday. His beeping watch said so. With his last breath, he said, "Make a wish, Harry." And then the darkness came, followed by blinding light.

Drogo Baggins was enjoying a pleasant afternoon fishing out of a small creek with is young son, Frodo. The boy was not interested in fishing, but was having a grand old time chasing a large frog that was hopping along the river bank. It was an adorable sight, and he found himself wishing dreadfully that Frodo's mother, Primula, had come with them to see it. He had inherited her face and her sweet disposition.

The creek was not a particularly shallow one, and eventually it fed into the Brandywine River, but Drogo had no fear that Frodo would come to harm from frolicking around the edges of it, so for a time, he paid strict attention to nothing but his pole and his pipe, enjoying pleasantness of the weather and the quiet. Therefore, he was quite startled when Frodo shouted in surprise that he had found something. He perched his fishing rod where it wouldn't be dragged into the water if a curious fish took the bait, and left to go and see what had gotten his son's attention.

Seeing him coming, Frodo said, "Father! It's a baby! But he's as big as me!"

Drogo looked and saw that it was, indeed, a newborn child of the big people, nearly as large as his four-year-old son and covered in nothing but creek mud. Where was his mother? "Did you see anyone else, Frodo?"

The boy shook his head. "No, father."

Drogo looked at the infant. "Well, youngster, it would seem you have been lost." Big eyes stared at him. "All right. Let's get you out of the mud. You'll need cleaning and drying, as well as some good clothing. We'll have to see what we can't come up with back at home."

In the following months, Drogo and Primula did what they could, both to care for the child and to find his own people and mother. But though he left many messages in Bree about him, there was never an answer. So, Drogo spoke to his cousin, Bilbo, who had only recently returned from his adventures in the outside world. Bilbo thought the lad was absolutely adorable, and Drogo couldn't help but agree. "But what are you to do with him?"

Drogo nodded. "That is precisely what I wanted your advice about. I've tried for months to find his family, and with no luck. I'm afraid they must be dead."

The youth began crying, and that was the first time he ever had in Drogo's presence. Thinking him hungry, Bilbo went to the kitchen to begin warming some milk and butter in a pot. "I suppose I could ask Gandalf what he thinks."

"No, no need to worry a great wizard about so small a thing as the disposition of a lost child." He sighed and pulled a feeding bottle out of his pack, in which he kept the various things needed to care for his unexpected charge.

"I doubt Gandalf would consider it a worry. Still, what else can you do about it?"

Drogo stared deeply into the child's eyes, which were a marvelous, startling green, made even more pronounced by his crying. There was something in those eyes, something that made Drogo want to weep himself, and which he wished nothing more than to erase. "I'm thinking of keeping him, raising him myself."

Neither of them spoke for a moment, and the still-nameless child stopped crying, staring wide-eyed at his rescuer. Bilbo looked at the boy and at his own brother. "Are you sure that's a good idea? After all, he's not even a year old, and he's almost as large as your three-year-old. He'd get a bit cramped after a few years, wouldn't he?"

"I've got enough land on my property that I could expand my Hobbit hole quite a bit. I could easily make a room that would fit him as he grows, and after all, doesn't Gandalf fit quite nicely in your own living room?"

Bilbo nodded. "Aye, and along side several dwarves. All right. You'll have to inform the Mayor, but I don't think he can stop you from keeping him. Making it official, even, adopt him for your son. He'll be Frodo's brother in every way that counts!" Bilbo paused. "But you must promise me not to do this lightly! If you adopt him, it must be with your whole heart. No child deserves less, no matter their origins."

Drogo snorted. "I'd never judge an infant based on his people of birth. But you're not wrong. He deserves a happy childhood. This should be given much thought before it is decided." He paused, thinking. "Yes, we'll have to think this through for a few weeks. There's no rush, of course."

But Bilbo knew his cousin. He could tell that this was an idea which had cemented itself in the younger Baggins's heart, as much as his wife's. Truthfully, the lad couldn't have fallen in with a better pair of Hobbits. He shook his head, a smile on his round face. "So, what shall we name him?"

Frodo chose that moment to pop his small head around the corner from where he had been evesdropping. "Are we keeping the baby, Father? Will he be my brother?"

Drogo looked first at Primula, then at is son. "Would you be alright with that?"

"I think it would be 'nnnderful." Frodo loved the word "wonderful," but had trouble actually saying it.

He grinned at his son's enthusiasm. "So do I. So what do you think we should name him?"

"Green?"

"Well, he does have marvelous green eyes, but I'm not sure he'd like me hollering it at him when I need him to come home for supper." Drogo scooped up his son and started tickling him. Frodo's childish laugh was infectious.

Bilbo thought it was a perfect name. It just needed some trimming. "Well, what about Gelin, then? That's elvish for green, and it doesn't sound so boring."

Primula smiled and nodded sharply. "That's perfect."

Drogo turned to the newly-named boy. "What do you think of that, hmm? Gelin Baggins!"

Gelin giggled and reached out to Drogo, asking to be picked up. It was plain that he liked the name. "Very well," Bilbo proclaimed. "Gelin Baggins it is!"

I fixed a couple of details. Now I'll go and get the second chapter ready to post.