Setting: Hobbiton; 1423, by Shire-Reckoning. 

Arwen (4 years old) birth date, said to be October 24, 1419;

Elanor (2 years old) March 25, 1421;

Frodo-lad (5 months) 1423

A/N:  The opening scene in this chapter may sound familiar, and should.  I’ve taken the opening scenes of LOTR and messed with them a little bit.

Disclaimer: I don’t own anything in this story, it all belongs to Tolkien, brilliant man.  Really, I mean, who else do you know who can create different languages, cultures and thousands of years of history with them?  The only thing I might possibly own is Arwen Baggins (no relation to me, lol).  I own the girl, but not the name- that’s straight from Tolkien.  Confusing, I know.  Enjoy.

*          *          *

Title: His Little Evenstar

Chapter One: Many Meetings 

            Gandalf the White smoked his pipe, not bothering to care about getting his white robes dirty, as they were covered in a long, grey tunic.  He had thought it better to appear as unchanged as possible while visiting the Shire.  In fact, he’d had a pointy-grey hat fashioned in Gondor just for the occasion, much to the King’s amusement.  As he approached Bagshot Row (or New Row as it was now called) he began singing one of the last stanzas of a very ridiculous song.

“With a ping and a pong the fiddle-strings broke

the cow jumped over the moon,

and the little dog laughed, to see such fun…”

            Gandalf smoked his pipe as he sang the song that had given a certain Frodo Baggins an infamous reputation in Bree some five years prior.  He was lost in thought over the story that his friend Barliman Butterbur had related over a good cup of ale a few days back.  Even after all of those years, he still didn’t know that Frodo had in fact disappeared that fateful night.  He was brought back to reality by a young voice finishing up the song for him.

“ ‘And  the Saturday dish went off at a run

with the silver Sunday spoon

The round Moon rolled behind the hill

As the Sun raised her head.

She hardly believed her fiery eyes;

For though it was day, to her surprise

They all went back to bed.’  You’re late!”

            Gandalf looked up to see a little Hobbit girl, pushing strands of sandy –light brown curls out her face, and holding a piece of slate and chalk with her free hand.  This last bit of information was all he needed to identify the little scamp.  There was only one little girl who would be learning to write in the Shire.  “A wizard is never late, Arwen Baggins –”

            “— nor is he early, he arrives precisely when he means to,” the child finished for him. 

            Good gracious!  He knew that Hobbits were amazing creatures, but he had never known them to be able to read minds!  But then again, the child had no doubt memorized the whole song.  Her “uncles” would have told her the story about how her father had been doing a crazy dance on a table and fallen into a waiter with a tray of mugs.  They also, undoubtedly would have omitted the little bit about her father disappearing underneath the table, a trick he had pulled courtesy of the One Ring.  And one that, consequently, was still being discussed to that day.  “You didn’t think I’d miss your Uncle Pippin’s Coming of Age party, did you?  Your father also accused me of being late to his uncle’s party.”

            “I know.  Dad said you’d say that.  How did you know my name?  I was hoping to surprise you.  And what do you mean you’re not late?!  Your letter said you’d be here last week!”

            Gandalf laughed.  “Are you sure you’re not a Took?  So many questions, really.  The Frodo Baggins that I know would not have taught his daughter to interrupt her elders.”  The scolding had the desired effect.  The child shrank back, ashamed of her manners, or her lack thereof.  Gandalf gave her a reprimanding stare, but he couldn’t hold it, not against the tears the threatened to invade those beautiful blue eyes.  A teasing smile crept over his face and Arwen saw it.  The scolding forgotten, the child giggled and launched herself into Gandalf’s arms, as though they were old friends, which they practically were.  Each had heard so many stories about the other from Frodo that they did indeed feel like old friends. 

            “How could I not know you, Little Evenstar?  You fit Frodo’s description perfectly.”  Gandalf looked into her eyes again and shook his head.  He could have sworn that the child had inherited Frodo’s cerulean blue eyes.  But that wasn’t the case.  Gandalf knew from Frodo’s letters that he had adopted Arwen after the Battle of Bywater, which had made her an orphaned lass when she was a wee babe – but still she had an uncanny resemblance to the Hobbit that she called her father.

            “Little Evenstar?” Arwen repeated incredulously.  “That’s what Daddy calls me!  How’d you know?”

            Gandalf smiled as he put the child down next to him.  “How?  Why that is simple.  I’m a wizard, dear child.  Didn’t you know?  I’m expected to know these things.”

            Once the little lass was seated comfortably next to him, outstretched legs not even reaching the end of the seat, Gandalf tugged on the reigns that kept Shadowfax, his wild and prized horse, in check.  He hated to do it, but it was necessary.  If Shadowfax were to be set loose in the Shire, he would no doubt trample several Hobbit children.  He was already known as ‘Disturber of the Peace’ and he had no wish to add ‘Murder’ to his reputation as well.

            Looking down at Arwen, he noticed again the book, slate and chalk that she carried.  “What have you been doing?”

            “Practicing my letters.  Dad told me to copy this page.”  She held the book up so Gandalf could see.  The page was the last of a chapter had had no more than four lines.  Then he looked at the slate on her lap. 

            “That’s good.”  And he meant it.  The letters may have been a little lopsided and large, but they were legible… barely, and that was much better than he’d seen from and hobbit lass – or lad - her age.  “So, how’s your old Hobbit?”  he asked, deciding to change the subject away from studies.

            “I don’t know, he says he’s fine but I know he’s not.  He’s hiding something, I know it.  Now if only I could figure out what it was.”  She cupped her chin in her hands, and sat there far too deep in thought for a child her age.

            Gandalf nodded.  He remembered Frodo’s definition of ‘fine’ from his days of recovery in Rivendell and Minas Tirith.  Needless to say, the healers had rarely ever agreed with him.

            “He’s always rubbing his shoulder, and he always locks himself in his study.  He even goes to bed before me!”

            “Oh, really?”  Now this was new.  He knew that Frodo had been drained of much of his former health, courtesy of the Quest, but still, he should be able to stay up longer than his 4-year-old daughter.  They reached the Hill of Bag End and Arwen let Gandalf in, banging the round, green door behind her.  A second later they heard the sound of a baby crying, followed a very angry Hobbit.

            “ARWEN BAGGINS!” a voice bellowed from down the hall.  Frodo Baggins appeared a moment later, carrying a squalling babe.  “I just had him sleeping!”  Frodo exclaimed hopelessly.  At this rate, Thranduil and Glóin will sign a non-conditional treaty of friendship before this lad goes to sleep.  Well, their sons have already have, so maybe there’s hope.  Oh what am I thinking?

            Gandalf watched his old friend fondly, trying to hide an amused smile.  He had never imagined Frodo trying to manage two small children.  He also noticed that Frodo was exhausted and fingering the white jewel that the Queen had given him, which hung around his neck… where the Ring had been in safe keeping for several months.

            “Can I hold him, Daddy?  I know how to make Frodo-lad go to sleep.”

            Frodo-lad?  Here was yet another surprise.  Frodo bragged in his letters about his little lass like the proud father he was.  But why hadn’t he mentioned the lad?  Why had Frodo adopted another child?  On the other hand, the lad could be his child by birth, but then why hadn’t Frodo mentioned his marriage.  They were going to have a lot of words about this.  Though he realized that the answer could be simply that Frodo had been too busy to write.  Or maybe the letter had never reached him, since he was always traveling.  Yes, that was it.  That had to be it. 

            “Alright, Arwen,” Frodo reluctantly agreed, handing his young son to her.  “Then once you get him quiet I want you to feed Elanor.  She’s taking her nap now and should wake up soon if she hasn’t already.  You never can tell with that lass.  She’d stay sound asleep even if a heard of oliphaunts was set loose in Hobbiton.”

            Elanor?  How many children did Frodo have?  Gandalf thought he couldn’t be anymore surprised… but he was wrong.  He looked down at Arwen cradling the little lad, and noticed a silver ring… with Elvish letters on her right, middle finger.  Could it - ?  No.  It wasn’t a Ring of Power!  It just couldn’t be.  The One was destroyed.  The Nine and been destroyed with their owners, the ring wraiths.  The Three were accounted for.  But what about the Seven?  They weren’t all accounted for, and Dwarves passed through the Shire often enough.  What if one of them had been an irresponsible ring-bearer, who had dropped it for this innocent child to pick up?  But no… it was impossible.  This ring fit the child’s finger perfectly; it was much too small for a Dwarf.  Besides, did it really matter?  Now that the One had been destroyed, the others had lost their power.  But what if the Elves had made other Rings - ?  NO!  He couldn’t bear the thought of burdening a third generation of Bagginses with yet another of the cursed things.  Well, here was one more thing that needed to be straightened out.

            With Arwen off to the little lad’s room, Frodo finally had time to notice his visitor.  “Gandalf?!” he exclaimed as Gandalf bend down for a hug, which Frodo gladly gave.  “You should really knock!  How long have you been here?”

            Gandalf laughed softly.  “Your daughter let me in.”

            At that Frodo froze.  “You mean you’ve been here all along and I didn’t even - ?”

            “It’s alright, Frodo.  After all you have three children.  I’ve no doubt they’ve kept you busy.”

            Frodo gave him a puzzled look.  “Three - ?”

            “Arwen, Elanor, and Frodo-lad.  Why didn’t you tell me you had two other children?  Don’t tell me you forgot!”

            The confusion melted from Frodo’s face, sending him into a fit of laughter, which lasted for several minutes.  Gandalf, failing to see what was so funny, patiently waited for the impending explanation. 

            “Arwen is my child,” Frodo said at last.  “But the others aren’t.”

            “Not even little Frodo-lad?”

            Frodo shook his head, leading Gandalf towards the kitchen.  “The other two are Elanor and Frodo Gamgee: Sam and Rosie’s kids.  I’m baby-sitting.  I insisted that they take some time to themselves.  So they did.”  Frodo smiled.  “But only after I threatened Sam.”

            “Oh really?”  The idea of Frodo seriously threatening his loyal gardener and bodyguard was just ludicrous.

            “Aye,” Frodo continued, leading Gandalf towards the kitchen.  “I threatened to begin calling him ‘Samwise the Brave’ on a regular basis.  He doesn’t mind the title being included in the Elven tales, in fact he likes it.  But the idea of me calling him that was just too much.  ‘T’wouldn’t be proper, Mr. Frodo, you bein’ my master and all.’  So I told him, ‘Alright then, Sam, as your master, I’m ordering you to take your lovely wife out to see the rest of the Shire for a few days.’  There was naught that he could say to that.  They’ve been gone for three days.  They should be back tonight.”

~To Be Continued~

Don't Forget to REVIEW!

A/N: Please note that this is not actually the beginning.  I have an un-named prequel in the making that I realized was needed once I had really begun to work on this story.  So there will be some back-ground information on Arwen’s ring.  Also this chapter will probably be the fourth or fifth of this story by the time it’s finished.  Sorry for the inconvenience, but that’s just how my crazy mind works.

I am also planning a prequel about Arwen's pre-adoption days.  So any references that this story makes to the past will be explained when the prequel is eventually finished.