"Out from the tree stuck Merry’s legs, inside Pippin had been swallowed whole!" The children’s eyes widened in surprise and excitement at the story their grandfather told. It was the first time they’d heard the part of Old Man Willow in the Old Forest. Their two older siblings, however, had heard the tale more times than they’re own family history.

Enola sat behind her three younger siblings, mesmerized by the tale of the Old Forest. It was her favorite out of all of them besides the tale of Lothlorien. She loved when her grandfather came to visit. He knew all the old stories of the Fellowship and of the four hobbits who came to be the greatest heroes in the Shire. Enola was a hobbit herself, living in Hobbiton with her family. Her family’s hole was near the mill.

It had been so many years since Middle-earth had seen that wondrous time in the last days of the Third Age. The year Enola lived in was S.R. 1899 December 8.

"Then they heard a ‘Hey dol! Merry dol!’ Do you know who that was?"

The boy grinned with a twinkle in his eyes. "I know! Tom Bombadil!"

"That’s right, Dolen" Grandfather replied, pointing to him. "How did you know?"

"En told me tales of Bombadil, but not this one, I’m afraid." He looked back at his sister with a suspicious cock of his brow.

Enola held up her hands. "I wanted you to hear this one from Grandfather. It’s even more special from him since he knows the Story of the Ring better than I."

"But you know better than to keep your brother and sisters up so late, En" their mother, Sula, said walking in the front room.

"It’s not everyday they get a chance to hear Grandfather’s stories" Enola protested.

"It doesn’t matter. They’re just stories." Sula scooped up her two youngest daughters and bused down the hall. "Come along Dolen." The boy stood, rubbing his tired eyes, and followed his mother.

"I should be off to bed too" Grandfather said, creaking as he stood. Enola grabbed his arm to help him. "Thank you, child. Getting old has it’s rewards, but time also wags it’s finger at you. Good night, Enola."

She smiled at him as he waddled down the long hallway, disappearing into a room. She stared down the dark hall until a small light shining toward her. "They’re not -just- stories, mother."

Sula brushed pass her daughter to stoke the fire. "Yes, they are. There’s no proof of those happenings...of a magic ring and a quest."

"It’s true. There was Frodo Baggins who carried the ring in a Fellowship of nine."

Sula turned to her daughter. "I know there was a Frodo Baggins, along with a Took, Brandybuck, and Gamgee that the tales are based after, but what they did cannot be possible. Or maybe not the same as we know. I’ve never seen an elf or dwarf or talking tree or any of that nonsense."

"How do you know? It’s our history also! Middle-earth’s greatest faring. What about the Red Books? They were proof."

"The Red Books were lost." Sula grasped Enola’s arm, squeezing it. "I use to believe the same when I was your age. Then I grew up."

Click. The front door closed. "Did I miss something?" a male voice asked at the sight.

Sula released her daughter, walking away to the kitchen. "You have missed nothing, Griffal."

Griffal peered at his sister, who’s face was contorted in a scowl. "I’m guessing I’m about to hear of your dispute."

"Come with me" Enola said, heading to the porch.

"Now, what is it?" Griffal asked, sitting down on a crate near the garden.

"We had the argument again" she replied, knowing that he knew exactly what it was.

"Every time Grandfather comes, you two gnarl at each others throats over his tales."

"She doesn’t believe in them!"

"I know that, En! You don’t have to shout it. She’s probably spying through the window anyway."

"I don’t get it, Griff" Enola heaved, raising a hand to her forehead. "She’s denying our past just as many folk do in the Shire. They either don’t care or want proof of the matter, which was lost when the Red Books disappeared."

There was a pause of silence. Only the hard breathing of Enola’s frustration could be heard. "There is proof. Lots of proof."

"And, where could we find it?"

Griffal stared up at his sister, a grin forming on his face. "Gondor."

The answer awe-struck Enola. "Gondor?"

"Yes! Don’t you remember, King Elessar made a grand exhibit of the Fellowship’s gear. If we were to see that, we’d have our proof."

"For one, my dear Griff, we wouldn’t be able to bring any gear back to show everyone. For a second, we don’t know the land beyond Bree. Times are different than they were when Gondor’s people lingered here. We don’t know what to expect out there."

Griffal suddenly came directly in her face. "You want a solution, you have one. Besides, who was your heroes? Surely not the Fellowship of the Ring with that talk."

Enola searched his eyes. No fear of the outside world and it’s hidden dangers could be found. Griffal had taken the old tales as serious as she did, but to go this far? Maybe it had to be done to keep the heroes’ and lore of the distant age alive.

"There is a reason for us believing in it so. We need to journey to Gondor, but how?"

Griffal smiled, mischievously. "I know where we can get our hands on a map."

"You’re not going to steal one, are you?" Enola asked, planting her hands on her hips.

"No." Griffal snorted. "I’ll go borrow one from Narnor Brandybuck. He has piles of maps of Middle-earth even some made from Meriadoc Brandybuck himself. Some of the only belongings left of his too."

"All right, as long as you don’t steal one."

Griffal’s smile never faded. "I won’t."

***

The next day, Griffal found his sister feeding the ducks near the mill. "Hullo En!" he greeted, cheerfully.

Enola whirled to catch her brother walking up behind her with a rolled up parchment in his hand. He waved it in her face. "Guess what I have?"

"Is that?" Enola’s eyes widened.

"It is." Griff sat beside her on the grass. His smiled reflected hers.

"When do you think we could start out?"

"So hasty, my dear sister" Griff joked. "What would the Ents have to say of you?"

Enola smacked his shoulder. "Hush up! I can see you want to leave as quick as I want to. Adventure is stirring in your eyes. Our history is waiting to be given back to our people. We need to make haste. But mother will need help with the three little ones while we’re away. We should ask Grandfather to stay for an extenuation."

"I hadn’t thought of that."

Enola rolled her eyes. "Of course not. I should pack our clothes and food, with your scattered-brain hanging around. When shall we leave?"

"10th of December. You get packing, sis. I’ll take care of our other supplies."

***

Smoke rose from the old chair Grandfather always sat at when he visited. He had gotten far for the night, leaving the tale off with the Fellowship departing from Rivendell. Enola came in from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.

"You are truly a wonderful storyteller."

Grandfather looked up from the fire. "You are a wonderful listener, child."

"I have a very important question...well, questions to ask you." Enola sat on the stones of the fireplace, curling her skirt around her tucked legs. Grandfather waited with raised eyebrows. "Do you believe in the tales of the Fellowship of the Ring?"

He hesitated, his pondering clearly showing on his face. "I do believe in them all."

"What about elves and dwarves and the magic ring and..."

"Calm down, child" he said, grabbing her shoulder. "If I believe in the tales, I believe in all of that and more."

Enola smiled. It was the reassurance she needed. Then she remembered..."Mother doesn’t."

"Your father did."

"I know." She hung her head, sadly. "I wish he was still alive. He understood."

"Let’s not dwell on sorrowful times, child. Your father loved you, Griffal, the young ones, your mother, the Shire, and especially the history of Middle-earth’s past. Don’t ever stop believing."

Enola felt tears prick at her. She never expected a couple simple questions would lead to this. "I won’t. My other question is, will you stay here for an extended period? Griff and I are leaving for a journey in two days. Mother will need help around here."

"Where are you two heading off?"

The girl lowered her head and said in a whisper, "Gondor."

"Where?"

"Gondor" she said louder.

Grandfather gawked at her in shock. He couldn’t find the words to ask or comment...why? Enola placed her hand on his, and explained everything. When she came to the end, waiting excitedly for a response, he finally said, "You have all my blessings." At that moment, En knew they were doing the right thing.