Dawn (A Hobbit Fanfic)

Chapter 3 - By the gods, there's thirteen of them.

~-Two weeks ago-~

Gandalf was wrong.

I didn't belong in Isengard. I don't know where I did belong, but it wasn't there. I decided to give Bree another chance. It had been five decades since I last set foot in there.
People knowing of my heritage only seemed to cause me trouble, so I disguised myself as a young human woman and wrote my accent off as Eastern, which was not wrong, but not entirely right either. I took the name Dawn. Which wasn't entirely a lie either, as my real name meant Fading Stars. Which sounds a lot more poetic than it is. I was born at the crack of dawn and my parents hadn't expected me to be female for some reason so they had to come up with something.

It was my plan to go back to hunting at Bree. Don't ask me why. The only person I knew who visited there every so often, and was no hostile, was Gandalf. Besides, while short visits to Gondor or Rohan were completely fine, a longer stay increased the odds of seeing a Mirkwood Elf.
Either way, I did not much like my own decision, but much like last time, I did not feel particularly rich in options. In order to procrastinate, I made a detour to the Shire first. It had been a long time since I'd been there and I certainly liked it more than Bree.

I didn't have money so I killed a hare to barter for a bed for the night. I remembered that every time Gandalf and I used to visit one young fellow always expected us.
Bilbo Baggins always waited for us at the borders of the Shire. Always asked to tell him about our adventures. He stood out in my mind because I knew where he lived when he was young. He had invited us over to sleep at his house when he was seven years old. His father was less than happy about that so we ended up only having tea and leaving again. To be honest, I hadn't seen him at all since then. I do hope he still lives there, or that the person who does can point me in the right direction.

When I finally arrived in Bag End, the sun was sinking fast. I knocked on the round green door. It really needed a paint job, very badly. The garden was very nicely kept though.
"The Tooks live a few hills to the North!" shouted a voice I hoped was Bilbo's. He did sound quite agitated.
"I am not looking for the Tooks. I am looking for one Bilbo Baggins and I believe that he lives here in Bag end!" I called back.
He opened the door. "Who are you?"
"A childhood friend." The smile I had worn faded away at Bilbo's lack of recognition.
"I, I don't think that's possible."
"Why would it not be?"
"You look twenty-something- young, at least, and I am, I'm fifty-two."
"Ah yes, but looks can be deceiving."
"Who are you?" he asked more pressingly.
"Oh, right, sorry. You might know me as Kahlahari the Green, but I-"
"Kahlahari the Green!" He seemed to remember now, and his mood changed drastically. "Come in!"
I hit my head on the doorpost on my way through. Classic me.
"You haven't changed at all. Last time I saw you, I was still a child and I invited you and Gandalf to stay over and my dad, he, he didn't agree. Every time after that the other children would call "Bilbo! Bilbo! The, the Wizards are back! Gandalf the Grey and, and Kahlahari the Green!" And I, I would never be allowed to come," Bilbo started rambling.
"More like Kahlahari the Banished now. People don't seem to like having me around. They call me Dawn, or, they will, in time."
He seemed to understand that I wouldn't appreciate questions and we talked about gardening and flowers and what-not. He traded me a bed for the night in exchange for the hare, a story of one of my misadventures as a wizard and my opinion on his home made jams. They were the best I'd ever eaten. Hobbits had quite the taste for finery.
We got on like it was only yesterday since we last saw eachother and I actually got to stay the next night as well.

I left early the next morning on my way to Bree. I hunted on my way there and traded my game for clothes. I pulled my hood up and went to the Prancing Pony. There I struck a deal with the innkeeper that I hunt to keep his storages full, and he provides me with a meal and a place to sleep. My old cottage had long since gotten a new owner.