In a hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit.

round door was a sight she had not looked upon in many years. It looked as if a fresh coat of the green paint had recently been applied. He had once said not to bother knocking, but she knocked anyway and listened to the patter of large feet on the wood and tile floor. "No thank you! We don't want any more visitors, well-wishers, or distant relations!" He called. She only chuckled, leaning closer to the door.

"What about old friends, Master Baggins?" The door to the hobbit hole opened wide in greeting. His hair was whiter, his face older, and his stomach larger than the last time she had seen him. She opened her arms to him and old friends were reunited for the first time in half a century.

"My dear, Arethusa!" He pulled away from the small woman, hands resting on her shoulders while he was lost in thought for a moment. Remembering his courtesies, the hobbit stepped aside, ushering Arethusa into his home once more. "Come on, come in. Welcome, welcome." She looked around his home curious, recalling that in one of the letters she had received in the mountain stated that his home had been ransacked as the Shire-folk believed him to be dead.

She remembered watching him change over their adventure, like most hobbits, Bilbo was fond of the comforts of home and hearth. He loved good, simple food in abundance, and he loved his pipe and hobbit-hole. But she knew the others in Hobbiton thought him to be odd, it was the Took in him, that part longed for adventure. Adventures were nasty things in the eyes of most Hobbits, anything that made them late for supper was to be avoided.

Everything was in place, even to the last pinecone that sat near the kitchen hearth as kindling. The pantry was full, the kettle of tea had already been brewing. Her friend scuttled around his home in a frenzy, muttering to himself and at times speaking to her. Arethusa followed him into the sitting room and kitchen, after the years she still could hear their voices singing in the night. Far over the Misty Mountains cold...

She passed into the oak hall, noting the chest that had been buried in the troll hoard, overflowing with gold coins. The sight that ensnared her at the moment was within the drawing-room, the image preserved within the wooden frame made her heart twist, as did the runes inscribed on the right.

The lonely mountain, Erebor, the greatest of all dwarf kingdoms. When she held the frame and map all else faded, even Bilbo. She could picture the broken ramparts, the mounds of gold coin, even the scent of a dragon tickled her nose at the memory. She grew silent, and the hobbit began to worry. "Arethusa?" Bilbo saw what she was holding, saw the tears that came to her eyes, he even saw that she wore the key to the mountain on a leather strip around her neck and that there was a single silver bead hanging from a braid of silver hair.

"It's been sixty years." Her voice was meek, small, it fit her petite frame but not her age. She looked up at Bilbo as he came and gently took the map from her shaking hands. He may have aged but despite that, his eyes were still bright, longing to see the world once more.

"Has it really?" Arethusa meant to reply if not for the excited voice that called Bilbo's same from the door. It was Frodo, she only recalled his name from the single time they had met when he was nothing more than a child, not even coming to Bilbo's waist. He was a small excitable thing at the time. He was certainly taller than some and fairer than most, with a cleft in his chin and bright eyes it was easy to see how young he was.

"Arethusa! You've come for the party!" Frodo exclaimed. She smiled at the young hobbit when Bilbo nudged her in the side and agreed to stay. Knowing Gandalf would come was half of the reason she stayed. When Frodo ran off once more to meet the wandering wizard on the path to Hobbiton, Arethusa and Bilbo enjoyed their afternoon tea telling their recollections of the journey they had partaken in with the dwarves of Erebor.

⌘⌘⌘

Arethusa's hair clung to her face and irritably she pushed the soaked strands out of her eyes, the hood on her cloak useless. Rain had been coming down in thin pelting sheets since the early morning. Her pony's hooves clopped along the mud-covered path, the creature's blond mane no longer shone for the muck nor did the four white socks.

She had been in Minhiriath. The villages along the Gwathló River had been flooded and the elderly and sick were in need of aid. Her stay was over a month-long and now her sabretache was emptied of all herbs and remedies. She had long established herself as the wandering healer, never staying in one place, she traveled Middle Earth seeing the highest peak and lowest valley, helping the sick should she come across them.

The heavy beating of hooves upon earth sounded behind her on the road, veering to the side she allowed the traveler to pass by. That was until she saw his long grey beard and blue-grey hat. Mazey could not seem to gallop fast enough to catch up with the brown mare. Arethusa shouted the wizard's name and in the distance she saw him pull on the reins, bringing horse and rider to a halt while she and her pony trotted along.

The wizard turned his gaze toward the small woman with a glint in his eye and a smile twisting its way onto his thin lips. "You're meddling in something Gandalf! I've never seen you make such haste with that twinkle in your eyes." Her voice accusing, her eyes narrowed at Gandalf.

Despite the sudden halt in his journey, the grey wanderer laughed, the sound coming from deep within his throat. "Spare me from your lectures, Arethusa. I am going to Bree, there are things that must be attended to."

For each step the brown mare took Mazey had to take three, she would have to stop and make camp soon for the night, even if her rations of food were close too nonexistent. "Official wizard business I'm sure. You ought to know not to meddle by now." Radagast the Brown had spoken many things about Gandalf the Grey and his penchant for mischief.

Typical of the wizard he dodged the question and responded with his own. "Where is the wandering healer headed?"

She could almost see the rolling green hills and jolly round faces of her destination. "The Shire, it's been too long since I've seen Bilbo." Of all the hobbits in the Shire, she had taken to Bilbo Baggins the best. Arethusa knew so long as she did not interrupt his supper (she had arrived once or twice just as he sat down to eat and was met with an irritable hobbit) then there would always be a bed and warm meal to share.

The wizard nodded, picking up his haste once more. "Yes, yes, very good. I have no doubt our paths will cross again very soon." He offered no further explanation before nudging the mare into a fast trot, they were gone in a blink.

"Gandalf!" Arethusa shouted his name over the rain knowing he was far ahead of her by now, "Wizards," she muttered, Mazey snorted and raised her head like she agreed with her rider. "If we make it to Bag End tonight, I'll buy you a bushel of apples and carrots." Arethusa nearly slipped from the saddle when the pony lurched forward, happily continuing along the sloppy road.

By the time she had reached the rolling hills, night had fallen, the clouds had broken to reveal a clear sky with a full moon to shine on the land. Smoke rose from chimneys, the wisps curled into the air from homes with candles alight in the windows and laughter coming through thick wooden doors. Keeping on the path, she climbed to the top of the hill, tied off Mazey, and walked to the green door (noting that it had been freshly painted). She knocked three times and leaned closer, hearing feet plodding across the floor.

The door swung open as the hobbit continued to tie off his robe. "Have you mind to look at the time before knoc-" Bilbo stopped midsentence when he finally looked at who his guest was. "Arethusa," was all he could mumble in a voice that was decidedly quieter and apologetic.

"Bilbo." She greeted.

He stepped aside and waved her in. "Come on, come in." Bilbo took her pack and placed it in the guest room. She was the only guest he approved of arriving unexpectedly. "Have you eaten? I can..." She smiled at how very excited her old friend got over the smallest of things.

"My bones are aching from riding. For now, I just wish for a hot bath and soft bed." Her voice was soft as silk and smooth as the water that flowed in the Brandybuck River.

The hobbit backed away to stand in the arched frame of the door, "Of course, I'll let you rest now. Listen to your nose for when breakfast is ready."

Arethusa smiled. "Thank you, Bilbo. I apologize for not being much company tonight." Typically, she arrived during the afternoon hours and after supper, she and Bilbo would sit by the main fireplace and she would tell the recollections of her adventures, of the places she had seen and the people she had met.

Bilbo waved off her apology. "Nonsense, you can tell me of your adventures on the morrow."

She nodded. "Very well. Goodnight, Master Baggins." The hobbit hummed and left her in peace for the rest of the night.