Chapter Text
The Shire, most specifically Hobbiton was a quiet town filled with quiet residents who prided themselves on being entirely normal- never doing anything unexpected. The day our story began seemed like any other, the people of Hobbiton went about their daily business: farming, gardening, trading, sitting on their stoops and chatting amiably with the neighbors, all in all a completely ordinary and expected day. However, if you were to travel approximately a mile into Hobbiton and follow a lightly used path past the bright green door at the top of the hill, deep into the Overhill forests you would find a young Hobbit lass. This lass had vibrant ash brown hair which was currently pulled back in a most unrefined fashion, and was indeed dressed in a most unexpected style of dress- a tunic and breeches! In her hands was a bow knocked with an arrow that she was aiming at a target through the trees past several other targets closer in range and already filled with arrows.
With a slow breath out she released the arrow from between her fingertips and watched it whistle past the terrain in front of her. The arrow sunk into the center mass of her target with a dull thud, signifying her successes in accuracy and strength. She lowered her bow and was preparing to collect her arrows when the sound of brush rustling behind her caught her attention. She whirled around on the balls of her feet another arrow knocked and aimed in the direction where the sound originated. When her eyes caught up to her actions she found herself to be pointing her arrow (albeit slightly off-center) at a familiar face.
A man stood in front of her, almost double her height wearing robes of all gray and a matching hat and carrying a walking stick, he had a long gray beard to match the rest of his dress and possessed a wrinkled face with a startled yet amused expression on his face. Despite his old age there seemed to be a certain power and youthfulness within him, as well as a sense of mischief, all of which our young Hobbit lass could see in his blue-gray eyes. Blue met honey and recognition flashed across the latter set.
“Gandalf, by the turning of the tides is that you?” The hobbit smiled greatly, dropping her weapon and racing forward to embrace the old man in front of her.
He caught her with an ‘oomph’, chuckling lightly, and crouching to wrap his arms around her as well. The old man stood at a least twice her height, since hobbits are small folk and she reached 3’6’’ on a day when the Valar treated her favorably. However, neither seemed to mind the height difference amid their reunion.
“My dear Merriadonna I have rarely been happier to see another being in all of Middle Earth. Your joy warms my heart, you have not a notion of the trials and tribulations I have endured these past months.” Gandalf smiled down at her with his hands on her shoulders.
“Please, do share. Allow me to alleviate some of your woes with a sympathetic ear,” Merriadonna smiled back, placing a hand over his.
“Well, it all started two years ago when I came across an old friend, a Dwarf King struggling to unite his people under a new mountain. Though his story begins long before that…”