It dawned on Ruby almost immediately that nothing, no matter of imagination or practical training, could have prepared her for the celebrations of Hobbits.

She watched from her perch on the crest of the Hill as they arrived in droves from all over the Shire; sometimes in pairs or small families with politely dressed children who drifted toward old friends and relatives and struck up civil conversations, sometimes in rambunctious throngs who livened the lessening silence of the dawning evening.

Finally, the sun's light departed the land altogether, dimming rays relinquishing their hold on the grassy hills and slopes. Matches were struck and lanterns fizzed into existence, casting their illumination in smaller areas, though holding the same warmth as that which had recently faded. Casks of ale were cracked open, Ruby deciding then and there to stay as far from it as she was able.

It was only when the warm lights of the festivities grew in intensity to their final fullest that Ruby shoved herself upright and began the short jaunt down to the Party Field. The dress she had chosen swayed with her movements, its layered fabric offering comfortable protection from the chill of the evening. She would never have been one to willingly wear a dress on a regular basis - her combat attire, in her mind, hardly counted - but she couldn't deny that she felt especially and extraordinarily confident in this instance. The rich red fabric of the pelice, colored from a mixture of beet and bedstraw root dyes and lined with soft white wool, was almost the exact same shade as her cape. The cote beneath was a pale yellow, light enough to offer her complete freedom of movement, with black leather cuffs and a flattering low neckline.

A soft breeze swept up from the Water, carrying with it the wonderful smells of the party, and the echo of upbeat music. Exhilaration settling pleasantly in her stomach, Ruby picked up her pace and rounded the bend of Bagshot Row, bare feet churning the loose stones of the beaten track. Ahead, a bouncing light entered her line of sight. It took her a second to correctly identify it as a swinging lantern, casting ominous shadows across its bearer, who Ruby recognized through the darkness a moment later.

"Frodo?" she questioned, squinting in an attempt to affirm her assumption.

"Ruby! There you are," laughing merrily, he put his arm about her shoulders, "Bilbo hadn't seen you, so he sent me looking."

"Sorry," Ruby said, timidly rubbing at the back of her neck before running a hand through her lengthy locks. "I'm just not much of a fancy pantsy… dancey girl." I've been here before, she thought with a small hum, finding it odd that she was in almost the exact same situation as Beacon's dance. Confidence in her attire was one thing, but her social skills left quite a bit to be desired. She didn't even want to think about dancing.

"Nonsense!" Frodo, her insistence notwithstanding, was having none of it. In the Hobbit's mind, anyone could dance - how well was a matter to be disregarded - and if Sam could with reasonable poise, Ruby would certainly be able to.

And so the young Huntress found herself whisked down into the thick of things. A beautiful white picket fence had been erected around the field, separating the goings-on from the roads beyond. They passed through the intricate gate, meeting Bilbo on the other side, who had made a point of greeting all his guests personally.

"Ah, there you are my girl! Was beginning to worry we'd frightened you off," he chuckled and winked, and Ruby found his happiness so contagious that she couldn't help but smile herself. His brow furrowed in a funny sort of way before his eyes shot wide, and he raised a finger in indication that she should not move for a moment. He turned aside to a table that Ruby had had yet to notice, and when he turned back, he presented her with a small, paper-wrapped object.

"What's this?" Ruby asked as she examined it, puzzled by the apparent concept of giving other people things on one's birthday. The item was light, and perhaps a couple inches shorter than her forearm.

"Everyone who walks through my gates tonight gets a little something," Bilbo grinned mischievously, "Why don't you go have a look?"

Before she could say anything more, she was ushered aside by Frodo, allowing the group that had arrived behind them through. Clutching her gift tight to her chest, she offered her friend a smile, and the two of them began to make their way through the masses.

The entirety of the field had been consumed by multitudes of Hobbits, partaking in various activities. The crowd was thick, and buzzed with a nearly palatable energy that had Ruby on her toes in anticipation, though for what exactly, she was uncertain. Long wooden tables lined and dotted the green spaces, where families and neighbors and old friends sat, eating or smoking or enjoying a good conversation about the various happenings of the Shire. The pure, unadulteratedly joyful laughter and shouts of children rolled over the area as they ducked and wove between the legs of adults in ceaseless games of tag. A band played a jaunty tune for eager dancers, observers clapping in time with the beat.

And everywhere, there was light. Lanterns hung from the trees and the interior of tents or sat slowly burning on the tables. Young ones sprinted here and there, waving glittering sticks that crackled with trails of sparks that dissipated before they touched the ground. Cooking fires littered the northern end of the field, from which plate after plate of food was carried in a magnificent feast.

Being easily a foot taller than everyone else, Ruby saw all this quite clearly. This advantage came however with an equal downside, as eyes were drawn to her and whispers from those who had never seen her before arose.

'Who is that?' was chief among them, as well as several mutterings of, 'Isn't she one of the big folk?'. This did not phase Ruby quite as much as it had that morning, and she continued following Frodo despite the sour looks she was given.

Finally, the pair found a suitably empty place to sit, and Ruby dramatically flopped onto the bench, overwhelmed by everything around her. She smiled brightly at Frodo, who said something or other about heading off to find her something to eat, though she scarcely heard him over the din of the party. He disappeared, leaving her feeling quite alone all of a sudden.

Realizing that she still had an unnecessarily firm hold of her gift, Ruby decided that now would be as good a time as any to open it. Setting it on the table in front of her, she carefully undid the twine bow, and broke the red wax seal that had held the paper together. The wrapping unfolded easily, and she found herself cradling a leather-bound book. The cover was a soft beige color, tapering off in a darker gradient at the corners.

As she watched in absolute awe, golden writing faded into existence, etching itself into the cover. It was in a language Ruby did not understand, but the runes were beautiful nonetheless, and the symbol that followed beneath was familiar beyond any question. A rose. Her rose, identical to the one borne by her combat skirt and weapon alike.

Fingers trailing almost hesitantly over the inscription, she stared in amazement. This was definitely something she couldn't explain, though the rational possibilities of it simply being a trick of the light or some sort of special ink still sat heavily in her mind. For the first time, she dismissed them instantaneously and felt as though this was really and truly magic. It was a jarring concept, but Ruby paid no mind to the specifics. Instead, she slid her thumb under the cover and opened the book.

The page inside was blank. For a second, Ruby's heart fell, and she was sorely disappointed. That was abruptly replaced with wonder as the same phenomenon she had witnessed mere moments earlier occurred once more. Finely penned ink began to appear on the page as if some invisible hand were writing with an equally invisible quill.

'For Ruby,' it read in the common tongue, then transitioned into more runes. Realizing that this was likely his way of insisting that she learn the language and that she wasn't going to understand them until she could ask Bilbo, she moved on, the parchment rustling as she turned the pages. She briefly flipped through, pausing on a random one that was, like the first, bare. She waited with bated breath, only to have it stolen away when an intricate design was scrawled into view.

It was a map.

Of where she wasn't certain. Yet, she could not help the smile of untarnished joy that tugged the corners of her mouth upward as she watched the minuscule peaks of mountain ranges, and flowing curves of rivers, dance before her eyes. In soft blacks and grays, the page quickly filled with every detail, with names and borders, and even a small compass rose that seemed to spin before settling into its proper direction.

"Thank you…" Ruby whispered to the open air, struggling to keep the prickling sensation assaulting her blurring vision at bay. She had never been given such a beautiful thing in all her life, and to receive it from one who knew so little about her, who had known her but for a few months, made it all the more precious.

Her reverie was broken not a heartbeat later by a mat of dirty golden hair sliding into view. She hadn't time to utter a word before the Hobbit leaned forward, breathless, and grasped her wrist. His blue eyes sparkled with a mischievous light, mouth drawn in a playful smirk,

"Ruby! We need your help."