Many months have gone by, and Tearose returns to the Shire to rest and heal. She is battle-weary and saddened by the loss of many of her comrades.

Cadreth of Lindon fell to her death at Weathertop in the Lonelands.

Another Elven princess, Lavendiel of Lorien, was overtaken by Orcs who have terrorized the Northern Breefields.

The loss of those fair elven warriors was more than Tearose could bear. She thought Elves were immortal, and that they surely would out-live her. But instead, Tearose lives on and the horror and the evil in places like Angmar, where terror dwells in every corner, keeps her awake at night.

She has begun to believe the whispers of her Shire neighbours, that she is crazy. What can one hobbit possibly accomplish by trying to fight the evil that never seems to dwindle in numbers? Instead, more evil minions are dispatched from Angmar and from the East.

Soon they will reach the Shire. Peaceful hobbits will be stunned to discover that they are no longer safe in their warm hobbit-holes. How will they all survive if they are attacked? Hobbits know nothing of war.

In Rivendell, Tearose met the nine members of the Fellowship. She learned that they were on a most important mission. It was whispered that one of them, Aragorn, was in fact the new King. Tearose was hopeful for a while when she saw the quiet strength in Aragorn. But after seeing the sheer numbers of orcs and other evil men invading the north, she now has her doubts. Aragorn is travelling east with the Fellowship. There are not enough Rangers to defend the North Downs. There are not enough Wardens to rid Annuminas of evil Angmarins who have invaded the ancient city. Who will come to their aid?

What is to become of Middle Earth? Tearose longs for simpler happier times. Never before has a hobbit felt such despair.

“Perhaps I’ll feel better after I’ve had a good hobbit meal”, she thought. “Aye, perhaps, indeed.”

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