It was late into a cool spring night in the Shire, but one particular hobbit had not quite yet retired to bed. In fact, he meant not to; he had an itch growing on him that had been doing so for years, and as much as he had tried to ignore it, it was not about to go away without the proper medication. That adventure he had gone through all those years ago…those experiences still lived with him, worming around inside of him, wanting to be freed. Oh yes, he had filled the heads of young children with tales of trolls, goblins, and dragons every now and then, but that had been only a short reprieve from the itch. On top of that, he felt the years bearing down on him; how much longer did he expect to live? How much longer could he keep the stories locked up inside of his brain, only to see the light of day when he shared snippets with those who failed to take him seriously or would forget what he had told them with the passing of the years? Who would remember the stories when he passed through the Gates at long last?

There was only one solution to the problem, only one way to scratch the itch. Lighting a candle, he tread very carefully down the hall, so as not to disturb his sleeping nephew, and entered his study, which by now was cluttered thoroughly with stacks of books and old maps that he had pored over the past couple of days. After lighting the fireplace, he went over to an old chest that had sat in the corner for some time. How long it had been, however, he had lost track of. He lifted the lid up, and he felt somewhat nostalgic at the sight of Sting lying there amongst his things. He wondered, how long ago had it been since he had last held it? No, that wasn't important, now. He reached underneath the sword and plucked out a book bound in red leather. He flipped it open to the first page, and found himself staring back from an old yellow piece of parchment. No, this was a sketch of a younger him, from long ago. He chuckled a bit at the young hobbit immortalized in ink, and at the same time felt the weight of sixty years on his shoulders. He thumbed through the rest of the book, finding the pages to be all blank, ready for ink to darken their surfaces. Yes, this should do the trick, he thought; this will be most prudent to my cause…

But then he noticed something glimmer deep where the book had lain. Curious, he reached in, and at first was surprised to find cold greeting his fingers. But then he remembered, and gingerly grasping the cold object, lifted it out of the chest.

Tears came to his eyes as he gazed upon the snowflake medallion in his hand, with the necklace trailing through his fingers. It glistened and gleamed as it had done so for years; truly the giver of this gift had spoken truly concerning its longevity, for there was no sign of wear or melting. The tears ran down even more so as the memories of the giver came back to him, and though the years had dimmed his memory, he could very well remember the elegance of her stride, the luster of her soft white braided hair, and the shimmer of her sapphire eyes…where was she now? Had she restored her kingdom? Had she found someone else, become a mother, and grown old? Had she gone the way of all the earth? There was no way that he could be certain…but he felt certain that she was happy, and he was happy for her. But now, the more that he thought of her, the more that he wanted to see her again. What he wouldn't give to do so…

He then looked towards the window of his study; outside, he could see the soft moonlight, glowing like the work of her hands.

A very strange thought came to him; where was this kingdom of hers? She had never really quite given him an exact location, had she?

He looked down at the book in his hands. Was it enough to merely record what he had gone through?

At that moment, he took a very deep breath, and decided that, very soon, he would be taking a very long holiday. He knew at least some of the places and some of the friends where he would visit. But there was one kingdom in particular that he didn't know how to find…well, he figured, she had to be somewhere out there in the world. At the very least, he owed her a visit, and though he indeed felt very old, he still felt quite ready for another adventure.

Perhaps it would be best to depart after his One Hundred and Eleventieth birthday party.

Thank you so much for the support and reviews, you guys! This has been quite an adventure, indeed!

But this story is far from over: check out Frost Along the Road to see what happens next!