“Peregrin Took that is the most ridiculous thing that I have ever heard. You don’t really expect me to believe that do you?”

“It’s true Cousin Bilbo”. Pippin pointed window desperately. “It flew in and took it away”. He started to sulk, unaware of the telltale crumbs that covered his shirt.

Bilbo gave a slight chuckle and shook his head. “Well if that is fact then I best bake another one. Can’t be going without cakes now can we now Precious” Pippin shook his head, smiling triumphantly as he climbed up onto the table.

Bilbo took of his waist coat and laid it on the back of a nearby chair, not hearing the quiet tinkle against the floor as he did this. He had been checking on Frodo and Merry who were playing down by the river. Pippin couldn’t go, he had only recently recovered from a summer cold and had been forbidden any form of play that involved getting wet. Frodo and Merry had originally offered to stay with him in Bag End, but the day was hot and Pippin didn’t want to spoil their fun so he had insisted they go. He had his Cousin Bilbo, and his marbles.

Sitting cross legged on the table, Pippin took one of the glass balls from his pocket and started pushing it around the assault course of cooking utensils. Bilbo disappeared into the pantry towards the back of the hole, muttering ingredients under his breath along with several occurrences of ‘typical child’ and ‘wild imagination’.

Pippin took another marble, knocking it against the first and watching them follow each other around the large, recently vacated cake dish. Pippin laughed and took a third, hitting it harder to make them go even faster, faster, faster…too fast.

The marble flew out of the bowl, narrowly missing Pippin, and landed on the floor behind. It rolled under one of the cupboards, gently tapping the back wall.

“Oh fiddlesticks”. Pippin muttered as he slid down from the table, using his cousin’s coat as leverage. He knelt down on his knees, peering under the cupboard and making out the shape of the marble in the shadows. The fringe was to low to get his arm under, so he reached for a long rolling pin and swept it along the floor, revealing from the shadows two spoons, one discarded biscuit, his marble, and a ring.

It was the ring that got the child’s attention, golden in colour and glistening in the light from the window. He picked it up; surprised by how heavy it felt, and watched in awe as in his small hand it changed shape to become an almost perfect fit for his tiny fingers.

In the pantry, Bilbo’s utterances changed from an annoyed “Where are they?” to a slightly more hysterical “Where is it?”

“Cousin Bilbo, I found something?” Pippin stood up, meaning to take the ring back to Bilbo, but why should he? He found it after all. The child studied the ring, this beautiful and perfect creation, flawless, precious, it came to him. The urge to try it on…just to try it…was too strong to ignore and he slid it onto his middle finger.

Immediately the kitchen seemed to change, everything was dimmer around him, sounds sharper yet distorted. He could hear Bilbo’s footsteps coming out of the pantry, Frodo and Merry laughing as they played in the Water, the clouds moving in the sky.

Bilbo looked at him…no through him. “Where is it?” His eyes swept the kitchen, and then looked elsewhere. “Precious?”

“Cousin Bilbo I’m over here”. Pippin said, worried. What was happening, why was everything different, why couldn’t Bilbo see him. He reached to take the ring off…no not yet, leave it on a little while longer, just a little while won’t hurt…Bilbo still couldn’t see him, and if he could hear him he wasn’t acknowledging it.

The older Hobbit fled to his bedroom, checking through every single coat and trouser pocket he owned, leaving no corner unchecked. “Cousin Bilbo here I am, your precious”. Pippin cried, but got no response.

‘There ou Are’. What was that voice? It wasn’t one Pippin had heard before. Deep, booming...dark. The child felt warmth spread through his body, getting hotter, hotter.

The window, look out the window, watch the forest rush by, the mountain range, miles of endless marsh and fog, the tower…sinking into the ground…

…the Eye.

‘You heard my call. Have you found a bearer, yes’ Fire. Pippin didn’t know he could feel such heat. It was burning every inch of his form, and the ring was so heavy, reaching out to the Eye. ‘I Seek You. Soon’.

“NO!” The Eye blinked, focused on the screaming child as he grabbed at his finger, willing to tear his whole hand off if it got him away from the tower, from the voice.

Finally it gave way, the ring flying in one direction, Pippin falling in the other to land on the solid wooden floor of the bedroom. He was panting hard, knew something had scared him, but the memory was already fading like a waking dream.

Why was he in the bedroom? He shouldn’t be playing in here? What had he been doing?

“There you are my precious”.

“Cousin Bilbo”.

Bilbo was knelt by the door, shaking with relief as his hand rested in his pocket. “Oh…Pippin?”

There was something in the older Hobbit’s eyes then, and Pippin realised he wasn’t Bilbo’s precious. That was Bilbo’s secret name.

He knows this one. ‘So you have come back?’ It is he who bore the Precious, perhaps he still does so. ‘Why have you neglected to report for so long’. So many years.

He does not answer. He is older now, stronger he may think, but still he can be broken.

‘Who are you?’

“A Hobbit”.

His mind opens, Sauron laughs, for it was almost too easy. He can see that this is the Palantir of Saruman, the Uruk-Hai taking the ring bearer and his kin to Isengard. So, the ring is in Isengard, away to the west. The White Wizard is near by; it was from him that the bearer has taken the orb. Foolish.

Foolish, yes but not weak, he has strength of mind.

‘Wait a moment! We shall meet again soon’. Yes my precious. ‘Tell Saruman that this dainty is not for him! The ring is mine and mine alone. I will send for it at once, do you understand? Say just that!’ He leans forward. He can see that the pain is great for the bearer, and it amuses him. ‘Say just that, I am coming for it, my precious’.

The last word. The ring bearer has broken away, with a strangled cry he disappears.

Not to matter. The winged Nazgûl were afar, they would find the White Wizard and with him the bearer, they would take the ring.

‘Soon’.

The Eye of the enemy moved to the west. It looked towards the world of men, distracted from the three small figures crossing the borders into darkness, distracted from the true bearer.

The ring was closer that Sauron knew, he did not see it and therefore the quest lived to see its end.