elderberrywine (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
elderberrywine) wrote2004-08-23 12:08 pm
elderberrywine) wrote2004-08-23 12:08 pm
Aaaand here's more. A Rose For My Love, Part Three
Well, these two sort of came back to back. So, next part coming up!
Strawberry jam references are now clarified.
Title: A Rose For My Love, Part Three
Author: Elderberry Wine
Pairing: F/S, P/D
Rating: NC-17
Summary: An eventful morning at the Great Smials, and a surprising one for some.
A Rose For My Love
Part Three
Sam lay with his face well tucked in the crook of Frodo’s neck, and sleepily considered the sound he thought he had just heard. It had sounded like a quiet knock, but then it hadn’t repeated itself. Well, if whoever it was would just be so kind as to go away, then he would be more than happy to nuzzle his nose drowsily against those silky curls, to tighten his grip ever so slightly there, and to just make the tiniest of adjustments, oh, there. He was beginning to fall back into a warm blissful doze, when he felt Frodo stir against him and give himself a feline stretch.
“Drat this crowd anyways,” Sam grumbled internally, blinking his eyes open with some difficulty. If they had been at Bag End, they could have slept in peace, at least until midmorning, or until the rumblings of their stomachs would have been too loud to ignore. But Frodo then yawned, and rolling away from Sam, propped himself up on his elbows.
“First breakfast,” Frodo muttered sleepily. “They leave it at the door.” They could have left it on the back garden door stoop, for all Sam was concerned, and he voiced his protest with an annoyed groan, and an even tighter clasp around Frodo’s waist.
Frodo gave a warm chuckle, and leaning over Sam, brushed his forehead with a light kiss. “Not going far, love,” he murmured. “Don’t you think of getting up.” Slipping from Sam’s grasp, he left their warm bed and with another stretch or two, ambled over to the door.
Sam’s attention had now been truly captured. The wintry sunlight was already brightening the window, for they had never thought of closing the shutter the night before, and Sam considered the fact that he never saw enough of Frodo’s backside, since his attention usually was preoccupied with the front view. But perhaps he should get Frodo to turn around more often, for it really was lovely: creamy white skin, a long, strong back, and such a charmingly pert rump. Frodo really had all the flesh on him that he needed, Sam decided, and those who claimed otherwise had obviously never had the view that he had, especially when Frodo opened the door just enough, and bent down to retrieve the tray that had been set outside in the hallway.
But Frodo was returning to the bed now, door firmly closed behind him, with tousled dark curls and a still rather sleepy expression, and a fully laden tray, complete with a steaming pot, in his hands. Deftly catching hold of a small table nearby with one foot, he tugged it closer to the bed, and laid the tray on it. “Stay there, Sam,” he looked up and ordered with a laugh, as Sam instinctively started to get out of bed to assist him.
Sam did so, and was rewarded, as Frodo crossed back over to the fireplace, and stooped over to stir up the fire that had nearly burnt out during the night, with another enticing view similar to that which he had just enjoyed. The flames caught, and danced up again, and Frodo quickly returned to bed.
“Ah, you’re that cold, Frodo-love,” Sam chided him, as Frodo scooted up to him under the covers, feeling Frodo’s chilled skin next to his own.
“Umm, a temporary state, I’m sure,” Frodo nudged into Sam with a chuckle, as Sam gladly wrapped him up in his arms. They lay quietly together, tightly intertwined, listening to the crackle of the flames, until at last the aroma wafting from the pot became impossible to ignore.
“Hmm.” Sam finally poked his head up, resting his chin lightly on Frodo’s chest, which lay between the tray at the side of the bed, and his own curiosity about the sort of items this place might provide in terms of first breakfast. Frodo rather snickered at that, and leaning forward, kissed the tip of Sam’s nose.
“Held out longer than I thought you would,” he chuckled, sliding himself up into a sitting position under the covers. This left Sam’s chin in his lap, and Sam did spare a thought or two as to that, but the temptation of breakfast was proving too strong to resist. He sat up as well, and leaned over Frodo.
The teapot, of course, along with small pots of cream and honey, as well as freshly baked bread, with additional pots of butter and jam, and a couple of ruddy late autumn apples. “Ah,” Sam mentioned appreciatively, and Frodo laughed again.
“I saw, Sam,” he teased. “Strawberry. I knew breakfast would never wait, once you spotted that.”
Sam smiled, and didn’t bother to deny it. Still leaning across Frodo, he deftly buttered bread for the both of them, and spread a slight amount of the jam on Frodo’s slice, as he preferred it, and copious amounts on his own. Squiggling slightly, just to tease Frodo back, he pulled himself back across Frodo, sat up next to him and offered Frodo his slice, and then settled down with his own. Frodo had thrown his left arm around Sam’s shoulders, bread held in his other hand, and Sam nestled happily against Frodo’s side, contently munching.
The overload of jam, however, was not easily handled, and it was inevitable that a small portion of it managed to plop off. Fortunately, the covers were drawn back somewhat, and thus it landed on Frodo’s exposed stomach. Both sets of eyes were drawn to this unusual sight, and after only a moment, Frodo began to helplessly giggle.
“ ‘Twould be a shame t’see any of this fine jam goin’ to waste, now, surely it would,” Sam remarked, his casual tone belied by the wicked grin he cast in Frodo’s direction.
“I thought you’d feel that way,” Frodo gasped, his own bread-and-butter held high to the side, and completely forgotten.
“I knew you’d be takin’ my meaning,” Sam murmured, as he cunningly managed to reach over Frodo and drop his piece of bread heedlessly back on the tray, and meet the jam dollop with his mouth at exactly the same time.
“Ah!” Frodo moaned, his eyes flickering closed, at the sensation of Sam’s tongue quite thoroughly covering the area in question. “Did you get it all, Sam?” he asked breathlessly, as the covers were suddenly tenting next to Sam’s face.
Sam’s response was rather unintelligible, but could have been interpreted as, “Not quite, I don’t think so,” since his head did not rise, and he continued to cover the area of concern with gusto. And now, apparently, the jam must have found its way a little further down, and perhaps got onto the dark curls that were presently tickling Sam’s nose, as he continued his ministrations.
Frodo choked back another cry at that, and the hand that was not involved with the bread-and-butter immediately found itself clamped to the back of Sam’s head. Sam gave an indefinable grunt at that, and continued down further still.
“Oh, oh,” cried Frodo breathlessly, the hand that had been at the back of Sam’s head leaving for the moment to twitch the covers further away, as his back arched up and the bread-and-butter in the other hand was quite unconsciously mashed into the headboard over his head. And certainly there could have been no jam left at this point, yet Sam’s tongue continued to swirl around Frodo. Slowly he took Frodo in, and his teeth teased and nipped until Frodo, trying desperately not to yowl, took to panting loudly instead, as he thrust himself up into Sam’s mouth. Slowly and painstakingly Sam started, as Frodo gasped, sparing only a fleeting grateful thought as to how very good Sam had gotten at this over the last couple of years, and tried to hold himself back. But the pace gradually increased until, as much as he tried to stay back from the brink, it wasn’t that long before he could not keep himself from rocking wildly into Sam’s mouth, and feeling the melting sensation of letting himself go.
Frodo lay spineless for several moments, with a heaving chest and Sam draped over him, before Sam sat up and wiped his mouth with a rather satisfied grin. “Strawberry,” he mentioned thoughtfully, “not all tha’bad,” and Frodo couldn’t help helplessly giggling again.
Before the hazy sun had a chance to climb much higher in the sky, they had completed the rest of the meal in a much more uneventful fashion and, dressed, were ready to leave. But as Sam was looking into the mirror, running a quick hand through his unruly curls, Frodo gave a last glance at the breakfast tray, and unobtrusively hid the butter pot under the bed. He, too, had developed a few specialties.
*****
It was only after they had left the room that Frodo remembered what he had wanted to show Sam yesterday. From the number of trays still outside the doors as they passed down the halls, it appeared that it would be awhile before most of the inhabitants of the Great Smials would be considering second breakfast, so Frodo gathered he had time. Clasping Sam’s hand tightly, he made his way through the halls with the assurance of one who had spent a great deal of his youth here. Presently, they had made their way to the side of the smial, and out of doors into the kitchen garden, which was still deserted at this early hour of the morning.
The sky was now a soft opaque light grey, promising snow again before the morning was out. Frodo had been heading to the part of the yard that he, Merry and Pippin had seen the day before, when he suddenly stopped short, and drew Sam into a hidden brick alcove.
Sam looked at him with some surprise, but Frodo just smiled, and leaned into a lingering kiss. “Thank you, dearest,” he murmured as they slowly broke apart.
“For what?” asked Sam, genuinely bewildered.
“For this morning. For making me so very happy, being in love with you,” Frodo responded simply.
Sam gave him a rather sheepish smile at that response, and shook his head. “Naught to be thankin’ me about,” he murmured, caressing Frodo’s cheek lightly.
“No, Sam, I insist I must thank you,” Frodo replied determinedly, a certain mischievous glint appearing in his eyes, to Sam’s mystification. “Perhaps a nap might be in order this afternoon.” But before Sam could question him further, Frodo laughed, and taking his hand up again, they walked together out into the kitchen yard.
“That’s it, Sam,” Frodo bent down and brushed the snow from the small plant he had noticed yesterday.
“Well, ‘tis kale, sure enough, but what’d it’d be doin’ with pink leaves, I’d never know,” Sam responded with interest, squatting down to join Frodo. “Doesn’t that look that pretty now, a bit of color in the snow. You don’t think Pippin’s dad’d mind givin’ you one of these, Frodo?” He glanced hopefully over to him.
“Of course not,” Frodo chuckled. “You know, I rather doubt he’d have an inkling what I was talking about, not being much in the way of any plantings. It’s mostly the ponies that Uncle Paladin cares about.” Rising up, he blew on his fingers to warm them up and tucked them under his arms, but gave Sam a warm smile. “Uncle Paladin would be glad to give you any planting you wish, Sam dear. I think he likes you, you know.”
Sam rose up as well, shaking his head a little skeptically at the idea, but beaming at the thought of acquiring some of the riches of the Great Smial. “I’d love to be havin’ a bit of chat w’the gardeners here,” he mentioned, giving Frodo a hopeful look.
“And I’m sure they would enjoy that every bit as much,” Frodo laughed, tucking an arm under Sam’s and starting back to the kitchen entrance. “I saw the look on the gardeners’ faces at Brandy Hall when they found out you were Hamfast Gamgee’s son.”
Sam chuckled fondly at that, holding onto Frodo’s arm quite unselfconsciously. “That’d be because Mr. Bilbo’d bring him by, every now and then. He did enjoy that, he did.”
“Then we should be sure to…” but Frodo’s thought was not completed, as a young hobbit lass swept by them suddenly, with an anxious and preoccupied expression.
“Oh, I’ll never find it in all this snow,” they heard her mutter, worry clear in her voice, as she passed, never giving them a look. Puzzled, they both stopped to watch, as she headed for the far corner of the garden, and kneeling heedlessly in the snow, began to brush it away from near the brick wall.
Frodo and Sam gave each other a quick glance, and then approached the frantic searcher. “Might we be of help, my lass?” Frodo asked kindly.
The tween gave a quick glance back, but seeing two well-dressed hobbits and not recognizing them, answered in a distracted manner, “Not unless you know what tansy looks like,” and continued to search.
“Aye, that I do,” Sam responded, and stepped forward to assist her.
She gave him a grateful look, but said no more until Sam uncovered the browned and frost bitten tops of a tansy plant under the snow. “Ah!” she cried in relief, and explained over her shoulder as she plucked them up. “ ‘Tis for little Lily Roundbarrel, the second cook’s fauntling. Burning with the fever she is, and naught a bit of tansy in the storerooms. I never thought I’d be needing this much this winter.”
“Would you be the healer, then?” Sam asked with interest, as they followed the young lass into the smial.
“Aye,” she responded, rather breathlessly, “ ‘twas my mam afore me, and I wished I’d learned more, but she was taken suddenly this summer, and now…” but with that, she stopped short, and bowed to them at the great kitchen’s entrance. “Thank you most kindly, good sirs, I certainly thank you for your help, and won’t be bothering you now.”
But as she turned around to leave, Sam suddenly said, “My sister’d be a healer as well. She’s visiting along w’me. I know she’d be that happy to help, if you’d like.”
The young lass turned at that, a grateful look on her face. “Oh, would she now?” she appreciatively asked.
“Aye, sure she would,” Sam answered warmly. “Only,” then he stopped short. “I’d have no idea where she’d be.”
Frodo spoke up at that. “I wouldn’t know either, but Pearl would, and I can find her. We’ll have her meet you in the kitchen, then.”
“Oh, bless you, sir,” the young healer sighed, “I can’t tell you how much that would put my mind at ease. I remember most, but not everything, and that Lily is the dearest…” And with another brisk nod of her head, she was through the kitchen door.
*****
It wasn’t long before Frodo, Sam, and a still sleepy but dressed Pearl were at Daisy and May’s door. Sam explained the situation as Daisy let Pearl and him in, Frodo politely waiting outside, and as he expected, she was throwing her dress over her chemise before he could finish explaining. “Oh, of course, the poor thing,” she exclaimed, snatching up a piece of bread and an apple from their breakfast tray. “I remember how frightenin’ it’d be not to be sure, and with a fauntling too…” She shook her head at that. “Of course, I wonder what manner of roots and dried potions they’d be havin’ this way.”
Sam quickly spoke up, hearing that. “I’d not mind comin’ too, Daisy, and give you a bit of a hand w’that. Just let me tell Frodo.” And he left the three lasses.
May was just beginning to actually wake up now, and sleepily blinked at her sister. “Should I come too, Daisy?” she asked, yawning widely.
“Oh, no, you go on and get more rest, if you like. I’ll be meetin’ you in the servant’s hall for second breakfast, like as not.”
“Not too sure I can find it,” May rubbed her eyes.
“Well,” Pearl mentioned with a slight grin, “Since I’ll be taking Daisy and Sam back to the kitchen, that leaves cousin Frodo. I’m sure he won’t mind.”
May stopped rubbing and blinked again, rather owlishly, at the other two. “Oh,” she said in a small voice.
“As a matter of fact,” Pearl continued, her grin widening, “if you don’t mind terribly, you may as well just go with Frodo down to the front room, where the family generally eats second breakfast. It would be lovely if you wouldn’t mind letting my sisters know where I am. They really would love to have you, you know.”
“Oh,” May repeated, in a somewhat stronger voice this time. “I would hate to inconvenience Mr. Frodo, after all,” she continued, with a sudden coy smile.
Daisy had been eying her with a sudden skepticism. “ T’be sure, not,” she muttered dryly. “Then best you dress yourself fast, May. “Twould never do to keep Mr. Frodo waiting in the hall for his breakfast.”
“No worry on that,” May chuckled, and she was out of bed with more alacrity than her sister had ever seen before.
So it was that Pearl Took led Daisy and Sam back to the kitchen, and a rather surprised Frodo graciously escorted May Gamgee to the front room of the Great Smials for second breakfast.
*****
Second breakfast had just begun when Frodo and May arrived, but Eglantine Took and her two younger daughters were already presiding over the table, and Paladin Took was firmly ensconced in the far corner of the hearth with a few of his comrades. Frodo escorted May to Pearl’s sisters, leaving her with a bow, and went to where the male hobbits were beginning to gather around Paladin.
May, feeling surprisingly nervous but hiding it well, approached the younger two Took daughters, giving a curtsy, as they looked up from their mushrooms-and-toast, that was slight enough that it could be overlooked if desired. Pervinca, the youngest, blinked over the top of her spectacles and gave her a warm smile. “Hullo there, May,” she gave her a nod, slightly lowering the book that she had been reading.
Pimpernel’s head snapped up at Vinca’s greeting. Her mouth was full, but she graciously indicated an empty seat next to her, and May sat down. She folded her hands in her lap, and crossed her furry ankles, and gazed over the delicacies laid out over the table, and half wished that she had settled for a breakfast in the servant’s hall. Even after the last several years during which she had for the most part lived with her friends among the quality of Hobbiton, she was still unprepared for this level of magnificence. Vinca’s face had disappeared behind the book again, and Nell shook her head. “Always at it,” she mentioned wryly to May. “Nearly as bad as cousin Frodo. Have some fried toast,” she pushed a plate toward her. “It’s really quite good with the mushrooms. Sausage and tomatoes here, scones over there, tea of course, and perhaps some honey with your bread?” Clearly, Nell was a lass who enjoyed her meals, and May suddenly felt a bit more at home.
“Yes, thank you,” she replied, and managed to gather a bit of everything on her plate.
“So.” Nell paused in her chewing for a moment, giving May a cool look. “You’d be the sister of that lass that Pearl seemed to find so captivating this last spring.”
“Erm. I suppose so.” May answered, rather unsure as to how she should take that remark. “Miss Pearl stayed at Mr. Frodo’s smial for a couple of weeks, seems like, and since Daisy does for them at times, ‘twould seem she met your sister.”
“Them,” Nell repeated thoughtfully, and May suddenly found her eggs of the greatest of interest. “Cousin Frodo, and…?” she raised an eyebrow.
May considered for the briefest of moments of pretending that she had misunderstood Nell, before her well-entrenched Gamgee streak of stubbornness won out. “Mr. Frodo and my brother, Sam,” she declared, her chin unconsciously lifting up proudly. “They live together at Bag End.”
Nell surveyed her for a moment without a word. “Well done,” she then stated softly, the side of her mouth crooking up. “I had rather gathered that from Pearl’s letters.” She turned her attention back to the toast and continued to chew awhile in silence. “Don’t you find that odd?” she asked abruptly, giving May a sudden penetrating glance.
May looked up from the cup of tea to which she had just finished adding an inordinate amount of honey, and shrugged. “ ‘Twas a time I did,” she confessed. “But now it just seems right, I suppose. I’ve never seen Sam any happier, nor Mr. Frodo either, for that matter. So I’d not be the one to say aught about it.”
Nell did not respond to this, but continued to dispatch her breakfast, and eye May thoughtfully. “How do you get your hair to curl so?” she asked suddenly.
May gave her an amused look at that. “Rags,” she replied succinctly.
Nell cocked an eyebrow again. “Show me?” she asked hopefully.
May grinned at her. “Aye, t’be sure I will,” she answered. “But breakfast first.” And it was only then that she remembered to convey Pearl’s message.
*****
Frodo found that the topic was the weather, when he joined the others about Uncle Paladin. Oddly enough, even though he was now a landowner of sorts, this had been a topic that he had rarely considered, until Sam had come to live with him. It was since then that he had come to realize that the amount of rain, when it fell, and how hard, had such a central part to play in Sam’s life, and indeed, the life of anyone who worked the land. The cycle of seasons had begun to open their mysteries to him under Sam’s patient but unknowing tutelage, for Sam never considered that there were areas of knowledge that had been unknown to Frodo. Many had been the quiet conversations over the kitchen table, as Sam cooled off a bit over lunch in the shady smial, on a hot summer’s day, or as they watched the chill mist gradually hide the world outside on a damp autumn afternoon, sitting snugly inside, sipping tea, and quietly talking. Then Frodo had found that he only needed to ask a question or two, and Sam would open up, the learning that he had effortlessly absorbed all of his life from the gaffer, and from the very earth itself, transparent in his words. So now, when the question arose regarding the impact of the second exceptionally snowy winter in a row, and the spring drainage, and its effect upon the next year’s crop, Frodo found that he did actually have an opinion on the matter, and was able to join in the conversation. Out of the corner of his eye, however, he thought that he detected a twinkle in Uncle Paladin’s gaze behind the pipeweed smoke.
Such important topics as these were quickly set aside, however, upon the arrival into the front room of a rather bouncy Pippin and a yawning Merry. Nothing excited Pippin more than the company of his favorite cousins, and obviously feeling that Frodo’s proper place was with him rather than the older hobbits, he had no compunction regarding linking his arm with Frodo’s and attempting to draw him off. His father laughed indulgently at his son, and waved Frodo off.
“I’ll talk to you about it later, Frodo,” he chuckled. “Pip-lad’s been mad with anticipation over your visit, and there’ll be months to be considering what to do before it’s likely to be done. Off with you then, lads.”
A smiling Frodo put up no further resistance then to being pulled along by a grinning Pippin, with Merry following behind the two of them, chuckling. And it was well that he did so, for it was then that Bracegirdle, followed at a discreet distance by his servant, entered the front room, and immediately spotted Paladin Took. Bearing down upon the Thain, as several other guests spotted him and suddenly considered the scones at the farthest end of the table as being items of the greatest necessity, Bracegirdle found his path unimpeded, and lesser Tooks were cast away from Paladin Took in the wake of the Bracegirdle entrance. Paladin sighed, and mentally resolved to have it out, even now, at second breakfast, since apparently Bracegirdle had never learned that conducting business over a meal was impolite. There was no point in ruining tomorrow, the Yule Day itself. Today must be sacrificed, if needs be.
Frodo, Pippin, and Merry had been watching this drama from safely down the table, where they had settled with full plates and their own pot. “Watch this, now,” Pippin indicated the Bracegirdle with his fork, upon which a plump sausage was wiggling. “This ought to be fun. Dad told me that he isn’t about to sell him those ponies. He said anyone who treats a servant the way he does doesn’t deserve to have Took ponies.”
Frodo and Merry began watching the scene with increased interest. Bracegirdle was speaking to Paladin Took with animation and a great air of bonhomie, but Paladin was watching him with crossed arms over his chest, great clouds of pipeweed smoke issuing from his pipe, and not a word. Then finally he removed the pipe, and answered, briefly. The response did not appear to be to Bracegirdle’s satisfaction, and he launched off again on a rather long-winded argument, his face becoming rosier by the moment. Paladin’s final response was briefer yet, and obviously negative.
With a growl that could be heard where the three sat, Bracegirdle turned on his heels and strode from the room. There was a snarl directed at his servant as he passed him, and the servant, with the color noticeably draining from his face, followed him out of the room.
“Certainly wouldn’t want to be in that poor sod’s shoes,” Merry muttered, shaking his head and reaching for more tomatoes.
Frodo couldn’t help eyeing the older hobbit, as he left, with an expression of disgust. “Arrogant toad. That hobbit really sets me off for some reason,” he confessed. “Even the first time I met him at the inn.”
“I know why,” Pippin gave him a quick canny glance from over the edge of his teacup. “It’s the way he treats his servant, that’s what it is. And now what’s all this about Sam, Frodo? Why won’t he sit with us here? Doesn’t seem to bother him at Bag End. It just doesn’t seem right with just the three of us any more.”
Merry looked at Frodo as well, and valiantly nodded agreement. “Did you ask him about it last night, Frodo?”
Frodo sighed and looked down at his plate. The large room seemed all too noisy and crowded all of a sudden, and he thought wistfully of peaceful Bag End, where questions such as this seemed to have no place in their lives. He rose up, almost unconsciously, though his plate was still nearly full, and his cousins had only just begun their breakfasts. “I’ll see you two later,” he murmured, head down. “I think I’ll just get some air.”
Merry and Pippin instantly traded glances at that, and nearly as one, rose along with Frodo. “Stuffy, isn’t it, Pip,” remarked Merry in a conversational tone, prudently thrusting several apples in his pocket. “Bit of fresh air sounds good, just about now.”
“Aye,” Pippin agreed with a smile, “I know where we could go, I believe. Follow on, then.” They threaded their way, completely unnoticed, out through the crowd that was still making its way sleepily on in.
*****
It was past the stables that Pippin headed, the other two silently in tow behind him. Even though there were mounds of snow on the ground, brown earth could still be seen beneath, and sprigs of dried unidentifiable grass. But there was a sharp bite to the gusts that had started swirling around them, and the air was thick and white about them. There was no doubt but there would be more snow falling before night.
“Um, Pip?” Merry questioned, wrapping his arms around himself as he followed the teen. “Fresh air is bracing and all, but I really don’t think this is quite the day for a cross-country excursion.”
Pippin laughed, and cheerily agreed. “But Frodo wanted air, so air he must have, even if it is nearly frozen air,” he added impishly. “But don’t worry, I do have a goal in mind, dragging the pair of you out here, and it isn’t just to give you frostbite.” They had reached a section of the fields where long waist-high rows, heaped over with snow and only the occasional barren stick poking out, lay on either side of the road. “There it is,” Pippin pointed out, indicating a small building under the shelter of several lofty firs, “Come along, lads, nearly there now.”
“Vineyards,” Merry exclaimed suddenly, recognizing the snowy lumps. “The winepress, Pip?”
“Thought you’d guess, Merry,” Pippin chuckled, pushing open the heavy wooden door to the shed. “Looks different in all this snow, doesn’t it?”
The three hobbits entered the dark wooden shed, with the large vat hidden in the shadowy corner. On the far end was a stone hearth, and that’s where Pippin headed. “Now, let’s see, they usually keep it, oh, here!” he exclaimed triumphantly, producing a small metal box from atop the high beam mantel ledge “Tinder box,” he explained, and bent down in front of the fireplace. “Left some dry wood here, too,” came the sound of his voice, only slightly muffled, as he busied himself with the flint. And in no time, the wood caught, and the kindling blazed up, and there was quite a satisfactory fire lit.
All three stood closely together in front of it, rubbing their hands in the welcome warmth. Pippin caught Frodo’s eye as he glanced curiously about. The light of the flames left the corners still in shadow, but he could now see the large wooden vat bound with its gleaming metal strips, and the tables and stools stacked neatly on the other side of the shed. “I don’t know if you’ve ever been here, Frodo,” Pippin smiled. “You’re not about that often at harvest time, having the Hobbiton harvest and all to be fussing about.”
“Actually, I was, once,” Frodo replied, giving the ground a dubious inspection. “You and Merry lured me here one time years ago.”
“Spiders!” crowed Merry suddenly, looking up from the apple that he had just bitten into. “You left in a bit of a hurry, as I remember.”
Frodo grimaced at that memory as Pippin laughed, recollecting the event. “No worries, Frodo dear,” he threw an arm around his cousin’s shoulders. “No spiders in the snow. They go off somewhere, and grow nice and fat, so they can come back and torment you again come spring.” Reassured by that, Frodo relaxed and sat cross-legged in front of the fire, his cousins following suit on either side of him, and Merry passed each of his cousins an apple.
They companionably munched in silence for a while, as the fire gradually warmed the shed, and they had stopped shivering. “Well, now,” Merry said resolutely at last, tossing his core into the fire where it hissed and sputtered a bit. “Why is Sam so suddenly mindful of what he seems to think is his place?”
Frodo sighed, and tossing his well-bitten core in as well, rested his elbows on his knees, and his chin in his hands. “It has to do somewhat with his sisters being here, too. He’s afraid any unkind remarks about our relationship might be directed at them, as well.”
Pippin stopped in the midst of his relentless search for any edible bits of pulp remaining on the core of his apple. “But why should anyone make unkind remarks, anyway?” he asked, bewildered by the notion. “Surely it’s your business and his. Who needs to remark on it, anyhow?”
“That’s what I would have thought,” Frodo replied, somewhat wistfully, “but the point of it is, someone already has. Bracegirdle.” And out of the corner of his eye, he thought he detected a quick expression of relief wash across Merry’s face.
“Bracegirdle?” Pippin snorted, a world of disdain in the one word. “And why should his opinion concern anyone? He probably has worse things to say about my father right now, and I doubt if anyone else will pay him any mind about that, either.”
“If it only were just Bracegirdle,” Frodo murmured softly, gazing at the flames, “it would mean nothing. But it seems that it isn’t. There are those about Hobbiton that say the same, and some have many more listeners than Bracegirdle does. And the worst…” and at this, he lowered his head and paused for a moment before he could continue. “The worst is, I never thought to ask. Never considered it. It’s been a couple of years now, and Sam has put up with it alone, for fear of upsetting me. I just never thought of it.”
There was silence as the other two considered Frodo’s words, but Pippin scooted a little closer to him, and Merry lay a reassuring hand on his knee.
“Sam doesn’t want to be gentry,” Frodo said suddenly, with a bit of an edge to his voice. “He wants to be my gardener, that’s what makes him the happiest. He always wants to be doing something; he needs a purpose to each day. The garden gives him such joy, I would never, ever, take that from him. I still have to pay him of course; his family has always relied on the Baggins’ income. And I can’t tell you how often I have tried to give him a little more, for his family’s sake, but neither he nor the gaffer will hear of it. He just wants to be treated the same as he’s always been, to be the Bag End gardener, neither more nor less.” He fell silent again, moodily studying his hands. The other two waited, patiently silent, for they knew he was not yet through.
“They say he lives with me for the riches I can give him, to make his life easier,” Frodo muttered, and suddenly lifted his head, clenching his hands in his lap. “Oh, they’re so wrong, so wrong,” he suddenly cried out passionately. “If I had to make my bed in a ditch at the side of the road, he’d be with me. There could never be anyone more giving, with a more loving heart. Sometimes, I almost feel we’d be better off taking to the road as Bilbo did, but he has family, ties, and his heart is at Bag End and all that grows around it. And so here we stay.”
There was no answer to this, and both cousins wrapped an arm each tightly around Frodo and held him close between them. Frodo grabbed hold of their hands and, clutching them closely, bowed his head. There was only silence for a while, until Merry suddenly lifted his head, and gently withdrawing his hand, reached out instead and turning Frodo’s face toward him, spoke. “Don’t feel too badly, Frodo,” he said gently and sincerely, the smoky blue-grey eyes intense on Frodo’s. “You’ve given Sam something as well. I may not know him as well as you, but it has always seemed to me that Sam needs someone he can love and devote himself to. And now he has you, and I don’t think any of the rest of this really matters to him. You need to forgive yourself, Frodo, for surely Sam has never thought to blame you for anything.”
Frodo stared back into Merry’s gaze in silence for several moments as an unspoken bond was renewed between them. “Thank you, Merry, dear,” Frodo then said softly, the slightest of smiles tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You are probably quite right.”
Merry smiled back with his accustomed cockiness, only slightly altered by the trace of sadness in his eyes. “Of course I am, Frodo.” Rousing himself and standing up, he glanced over at an unusually pensive Pippin. “It must be getting on elevensies, Pip. Let’s not have the search party come out for us again, shall we?” He quickly kicked some ash onto the small fire, smothering it. Walking over to the doorway, he stuck his head out, waiting for the other two. “Look,” he mentioned, gazing out thoughtfully. “it’s begun to snow.”
*****
Pearl Took sat quietly in the corner of the kitchen, watching as Daisy assisted the young healer, Violet. Violet was trying to steep some sort of tincture out of the dead and withered tansy leaves that she had been able to find, and Daisy was at her side, guiding and suggesting, in low comforting tones that were obviously settling the nervous young healer down. Sam stood at Daisy’s side, helping with what he could, and ready to go out to search for other herbs upon Daisy’s request.
It was the first time Pearl had seen this brother of Daisy’s, who had apparently managed to break through her cousin Frodo’s rather severe reserve. When she and Frodo had been younger, there was talk in both the Took and Brandybuck households of what an excellent match the two of them would make. As long as Frodo had lived at Brandy Hall, her Aunt Esme had been ever so gracious about always inviting her as well, whenever Pippin came to visit. And since Pippin lived to be Merry’s shadow, and their indulgent parents could never deny their only son anything, those occasions were frequent. But somehow, without a word ever being spoken between the two of them on the matter, she and Frodo had amicably concluded that the wished-for event would never materialize. At first, she had suspected that if Frodo ever settled on anyone, it would be his cousin, Merry, for it was only in his company that she ever saw Frodo genuinely laugh, and relax his customary detachment from all that went on about him. But as the years went by, it appeared that was not to come about either, even though she had caught the unguarded look of desire, unnoticed by Frodo, on occasion in Merry’s eyes. So when Frodo left Brandy Hall to live with Bilbo Baggins, she had concluded that he, too, was destined to live a bachelor’s comfortably solitary life.
But obviously, she had not foreseen the gardener’s son, nor, she suspected, had Frodo. She watched Sam now, next to Daisy in the shadowed light, in a quiet corner of the busy kitchen of the Great Smials. He did not favor Daisy that much in looks, having the more golden curls, and greener eyes of his other sister, May. He was also somewhat shorter, and his form was more rounded than that of his spare older sister. It was their manner, the quick yet sure movements, the air of calm patience, the soft and gentle tone in their voices that marked them as brother and sister. Lost in watching, never minding being forgotten for the time being, Pearl sat, engrossed in memories and dreams.
But finally, the tincture was finished, and with many a word of thanks and a grateful smile, Violet was off to administer it, but not without gaining a final promise from Daisy to spend a bit more time with her, before her departure for Hobbiton. As Sam stood watching her leave, Pearl could see that he was thinking of something else. Recollecting himself when there remained only the three of them, he approached Pearl, and with a slight respectful nod, asked if he might have a word with the gardeners of the Great Smials.
“Why, certainly, Sam,” she nodded kindly in return, with a warm smile. “I’ve seen what you’ve done with Bag End, you know. Anything you would like to take with you, we’d be honored to let you have. Certainly you and Frodo should have something in return for the hospitality you gave me, even if you were unaware of it at the time.”
Sam colored slightly at Pearl’s words, but bravely gave her a steady gaze in return. “I’d be that grateful, Miss Pearl,” he answered her sincerely. “There was something as I had in mind, if it not be too dear…”
“Anything, Sam,” Pearl repeated firmly. “I’d be glad to take you to them now, if you like.”
*****
And then it was just Daisy with her. They threaded their way through the hallways toward the Gamgee sisters’ room, for Daisy had barely had a chance to dress this morning, and hardly a bit of first breakfast, let alone second. But Pearl had snatched up one of the breakfast trays, that had come back to the kitchen untouched, and with a quick exchange of the teapot for a fresh one, was carrying it in front of her, as Daisy silently followed. The room had been tidied, as Pearl was grateful to find upon opening the door, and she laid the tray carefully down on the table.
“Thank you for helping Violet,” she said quietly, straightening up and watching Daisy, who sat wearily down in one of the chairs before the fire. “She is so inexperienced, I know that she is very appreciative of any help you can give her.”
Daisy nodded, her eyes drawn to the rekindled flames in the fireplace. “It’s not an easy thing, trying to remember what you heard once, with no chance to ask again. And the cost if you’d be rememberin’ wrong…” she shook her head sadly at that and continued to stare into the fire, her shoulders slumped, and her chin resting in her hand, propped up on the arm of the chair.
Pearl studied her quietly, and asked no more, for it was obviously not a happy memory. Instead she busied herself with the teapot, and let Daisy be. She poured a cup each for the both of them, and then turned back to Daisy. “No cream, and only a bit of honey, right, Daisy?”
Daisy looked back at her with a start, and gave her a grateful smile. “Ah, listen to me now, going off on the likes o’that. ‘Twas a long time ago, and frettin’ over it would never change a thing.” She accepted the cup from Pearl, and drank the hot liquid thankfully.
“It was your mother who taught you, wasn’t it?” Pearl prompted her, settling comfortably into the other chair next to her.
“Aye, but she just showed me what she knew, just what’d you’d know from raising a family o’fauntlings. I was to be a laundress, never a healer. But somehow, folk’d just kept comin’ to me, and I’d learn a bit more, and now all of Hobbiton’d be thinkin’ that I can cure the lot of them. Sometimes, that’s a frightening thought.”
“Hmm,” Pearl was noncommittal, and placed her empty cup on the tray. “Well, it was a fine healer who took care of my arm, last spring.” Pushing up the sleeve of her frock, she held out her arm toward Daisy.
Daisy put down her cup as well, and carefully held Pearl’s arm. Gently running her fingers up it, she studied the skin, where the red burn mark had been so prominent. It had faded, and was now only faintly to be seen against the white skin.
“It’s nearly gone,” Pearl said softly. “But I’d rather it had stayed. Because when I look at it, I remember. Bag End, quiet and peaceful. The first time that I saw you, and startled you so. All the days we sat, in the kitchen. The hill behind Bag End, and the sun and the flowers. And you.”
Daisy looked up into her eyes. “I wish you’d never left,” she said longingly. “It’s that hard now, t’get through the days. It’s only me and the gaffer, May’s gone most of the time.” She looked back down at Pearl’s arm, and lightly ran her finger down it once more. When she glanced back up at Pearl again, her eyes were full with unshed tears, and she continued in a halting voice. “I see both Mari and Sam, and they’re that happy. And I think, why not me?”
Pearl rose up suddenly at Daisy’s words, as if finally making a choice. Grasping Daisy’s hands, she pulled her to her feet as well, and wrapped her arms around Daisy in a tight embrace. “Indeed,” she murmured, raising a tender hand to the side of Daisy’s face. “Why not us?” And with that she leaned forward and met Daisy’s mouth in a tentative kiss.
With a forlorn moan, Daisy clutched Pearl closely to her and urgently returned her kiss, answering Pearl’s question without words, the tears finally spilling down her face, and tasting of salt in both of their mouths. “No, don’t cry, dearest,” Pearl whispered, drawing away from Daisy for a moment, with a shaky smile, her own full eyes belying her words. “We will find a way, I promise you. If you want to, my love.”
“Yes, oh, yes,” Daisy breathed, running a hesitant hand through Pearl’s unruly red curls. Pearl’s smile deepened at Daisy’s words, and she blinked her own tears away.
“Then that’s what really matters,” she answered, gently brushing Daisy’s tear-dampened curls back from her face. “And right now, you are here with me again, and there is time for us.”
*****
“See now?” May laughed over her shoulder to Nell, who was following behind. “I told you I’d be able to find it. Sam now, he’s that hopeless, and even Daisy can get a bit befuddled. But I can remember my right from my left, and that’s all it really takes, isn’t it? Let me just be getting my rags and I’ll show you what I mean.” And she flung open the door to the guest room to find Pearl and Daisy on the bed locked in a tight embrace, clad only in a chemise, in Daisy’s case, and rather less than that in Pearl’s.
There was a silence in the room, and May’s gaze shifted in her shock to the window, and a small corner of her mind noted dazedly that it had started to snow again. But then the sound of Nell’s footsteps behind her spurred her into action, and without thinking why, she whirled out of the room, quickly closing the door behind her, and gaily laughed, “What a ninny I am! I just remembered that I’d left them at the inn by mistake. Well if we go to your room, I’m sure I could find something as would work just as well.” And with a rapidly beating heart, and questions in her mind that she had never thought to ask, she led an unsuspecting Nell away.
To be continued.
Strawberry jam references are now clarified.
Title: A Rose For My Love, Part Three
Author: Elderberry Wine
Pairing: F/S, P/D
Rating: NC-17
Summary: An eventful morning at the Great Smials, and a surprising one for some.
A Rose For My Love
Part Three
Sam lay with his face well tucked in the crook of Frodo’s neck, and sleepily considered the sound he thought he had just heard. It had sounded like a quiet knock, but then it hadn’t repeated itself. Well, if whoever it was would just be so kind as to go away, then he would be more than happy to nuzzle his nose drowsily against those silky curls, to tighten his grip ever so slightly there, and to just make the tiniest of adjustments, oh, there. He was beginning to fall back into a warm blissful doze, when he felt Frodo stir against him and give himself a feline stretch.
“Drat this crowd anyways,” Sam grumbled internally, blinking his eyes open with some difficulty. If they had been at Bag End, they could have slept in peace, at least until midmorning, or until the rumblings of their stomachs would have been too loud to ignore. But Frodo then yawned, and rolling away from Sam, propped himself up on his elbows.
“First breakfast,” Frodo muttered sleepily. “They leave it at the door.” They could have left it on the back garden door stoop, for all Sam was concerned, and he voiced his protest with an annoyed groan, and an even tighter clasp around Frodo’s waist.
Frodo gave a warm chuckle, and leaning over Sam, brushed his forehead with a light kiss. “Not going far, love,” he murmured. “Don’t you think of getting up.” Slipping from Sam’s grasp, he left their warm bed and with another stretch or two, ambled over to the door.
Sam’s attention had now been truly captured. The wintry sunlight was already brightening the window, for they had never thought of closing the shutter the night before, and Sam considered the fact that he never saw enough of Frodo’s backside, since his attention usually was preoccupied with the front view. But perhaps he should get Frodo to turn around more often, for it really was lovely: creamy white skin, a long, strong back, and such a charmingly pert rump. Frodo really had all the flesh on him that he needed, Sam decided, and those who claimed otherwise had obviously never had the view that he had, especially when Frodo opened the door just enough, and bent down to retrieve the tray that had been set outside in the hallway.
But Frodo was returning to the bed now, door firmly closed behind him, with tousled dark curls and a still rather sleepy expression, and a fully laden tray, complete with a steaming pot, in his hands. Deftly catching hold of a small table nearby with one foot, he tugged it closer to the bed, and laid the tray on it. “Stay there, Sam,” he looked up and ordered with a laugh, as Sam instinctively started to get out of bed to assist him.
Sam did so, and was rewarded, as Frodo crossed back over to the fireplace, and stooped over to stir up the fire that had nearly burnt out during the night, with another enticing view similar to that which he had just enjoyed. The flames caught, and danced up again, and Frodo quickly returned to bed.
“Ah, you’re that cold, Frodo-love,” Sam chided him, as Frodo scooted up to him under the covers, feeling Frodo’s chilled skin next to his own.
“Umm, a temporary state, I’m sure,” Frodo nudged into Sam with a chuckle, as Sam gladly wrapped him up in his arms. They lay quietly together, tightly intertwined, listening to the crackle of the flames, until at last the aroma wafting from the pot became impossible to ignore.
“Hmm.” Sam finally poked his head up, resting his chin lightly on Frodo’s chest, which lay between the tray at the side of the bed, and his own curiosity about the sort of items this place might provide in terms of first breakfast. Frodo rather snickered at that, and leaning forward, kissed the tip of Sam’s nose.
“Held out longer than I thought you would,” he chuckled, sliding himself up into a sitting position under the covers. This left Sam’s chin in his lap, and Sam did spare a thought or two as to that, but the temptation of breakfast was proving too strong to resist. He sat up as well, and leaned over Frodo.
The teapot, of course, along with small pots of cream and honey, as well as freshly baked bread, with additional pots of butter and jam, and a couple of ruddy late autumn apples. “Ah,” Sam mentioned appreciatively, and Frodo laughed again.
“I saw, Sam,” he teased. “Strawberry. I knew breakfast would never wait, once you spotted that.”
Sam smiled, and didn’t bother to deny it. Still leaning across Frodo, he deftly buttered bread for the both of them, and spread a slight amount of the jam on Frodo’s slice, as he preferred it, and copious amounts on his own. Squiggling slightly, just to tease Frodo back, he pulled himself back across Frodo, sat up next to him and offered Frodo his slice, and then settled down with his own. Frodo had thrown his left arm around Sam’s shoulders, bread held in his other hand, and Sam nestled happily against Frodo’s side, contently munching.
The overload of jam, however, was not easily handled, and it was inevitable that a small portion of it managed to plop off. Fortunately, the covers were drawn back somewhat, and thus it landed on Frodo’s exposed stomach. Both sets of eyes were drawn to this unusual sight, and after only a moment, Frodo began to helplessly giggle.
“ ‘Twould be a shame t’see any of this fine jam goin’ to waste, now, surely it would,” Sam remarked, his casual tone belied by the wicked grin he cast in Frodo’s direction.
“I thought you’d feel that way,” Frodo gasped, his own bread-and-butter held high to the side, and completely forgotten.
“I knew you’d be takin’ my meaning,” Sam murmured, as he cunningly managed to reach over Frodo and drop his piece of bread heedlessly back on the tray, and meet the jam dollop with his mouth at exactly the same time.
“Ah!” Frodo moaned, his eyes flickering closed, at the sensation of Sam’s tongue quite thoroughly covering the area in question. “Did you get it all, Sam?” he asked breathlessly, as the covers were suddenly tenting next to Sam’s face.
Sam’s response was rather unintelligible, but could have been interpreted as, “Not quite, I don’t think so,” since his head did not rise, and he continued to cover the area of concern with gusto. And now, apparently, the jam must have found its way a little further down, and perhaps got onto the dark curls that were presently tickling Sam’s nose, as he continued his ministrations.
Frodo choked back another cry at that, and the hand that was not involved with the bread-and-butter immediately found itself clamped to the back of Sam’s head. Sam gave an indefinable grunt at that, and continued down further still.
“Oh, oh,” cried Frodo breathlessly, the hand that had been at the back of Sam’s head leaving for the moment to twitch the covers further away, as his back arched up and the bread-and-butter in the other hand was quite unconsciously mashed into the headboard over his head. And certainly there could have been no jam left at this point, yet Sam’s tongue continued to swirl around Frodo. Slowly he took Frodo in, and his teeth teased and nipped until Frodo, trying desperately not to yowl, took to panting loudly instead, as he thrust himself up into Sam’s mouth. Slowly and painstakingly Sam started, as Frodo gasped, sparing only a fleeting grateful thought as to how very good Sam had gotten at this over the last couple of years, and tried to hold himself back. But the pace gradually increased until, as much as he tried to stay back from the brink, it wasn’t that long before he could not keep himself from rocking wildly into Sam’s mouth, and feeling the melting sensation of letting himself go.
Frodo lay spineless for several moments, with a heaving chest and Sam draped over him, before Sam sat up and wiped his mouth with a rather satisfied grin. “Strawberry,” he mentioned thoughtfully, “not all tha’bad,” and Frodo couldn’t help helplessly giggling again.
Before the hazy sun had a chance to climb much higher in the sky, they had completed the rest of the meal in a much more uneventful fashion and, dressed, were ready to leave. But as Sam was looking into the mirror, running a quick hand through his unruly curls, Frodo gave a last glance at the breakfast tray, and unobtrusively hid the butter pot under the bed. He, too, had developed a few specialties.
*****
It was only after they had left the room that Frodo remembered what he had wanted to show Sam yesterday. From the number of trays still outside the doors as they passed down the halls, it appeared that it would be awhile before most of the inhabitants of the Great Smials would be considering second breakfast, so Frodo gathered he had time. Clasping Sam’s hand tightly, he made his way through the halls with the assurance of one who had spent a great deal of his youth here. Presently, they had made their way to the side of the smial, and out of doors into the kitchen garden, which was still deserted at this early hour of the morning.
The sky was now a soft opaque light grey, promising snow again before the morning was out. Frodo had been heading to the part of the yard that he, Merry and Pippin had seen the day before, when he suddenly stopped short, and drew Sam into a hidden brick alcove.
Sam looked at him with some surprise, but Frodo just smiled, and leaned into a lingering kiss. “Thank you, dearest,” he murmured as they slowly broke apart.
“For what?” asked Sam, genuinely bewildered.
“For this morning. For making me so very happy, being in love with you,” Frodo responded simply.
Sam gave him a rather sheepish smile at that response, and shook his head. “Naught to be thankin’ me about,” he murmured, caressing Frodo’s cheek lightly.
“No, Sam, I insist I must thank you,” Frodo replied determinedly, a certain mischievous glint appearing in his eyes, to Sam’s mystification. “Perhaps a nap might be in order this afternoon.” But before Sam could question him further, Frodo laughed, and taking his hand up again, they walked together out into the kitchen yard.
“That’s it, Sam,” Frodo bent down and brushed the snow from the small plant he had noticed yesterday.
“Well, ‘tis kale, sure enough, but what’d it’d be doin’ with pink leaves, I’d never know,” Sam responded with interest, squatting down to join Frodo. “Doesn’t that look that pretty now, a bit of color in the snow. You don’t think Pippin’s dad’d mind givin’ you one of these, Frodo?” He glanced hopefully over to him.
“Of course not,” Frodo chuckled. “You know, I rather doubt he’d have an inkling what I was talking about, not being much in the way of any plantings. It’s mostly the ponies that Uncle Paladin cares about.” Rising up, he blew on his fingers to warm them up and tucked them under his arms, but gave Sam a warm smile. “Uncle Paladin would be glad to give you any planting you wish, Sam dear. I think he likes you, you know.”
Sam rose up as well, shaking his head a little skeptically at the idea, but beaming at the thought of acquiring some of the riches of the Great Smial. “I’d love to be havin’ a bit of chat w’the gardeners here,” he mentioned, giving Frodo a hopeful look.
“And I’m sure they would enjoy that every bit as much,” Frodo laughed, tucking an arm under Sam’s and starting back to the kitchen entrance. “I saw the look on the gardeners’ faces at Brandy Hall when they found out you were Hamfast Gamgee’s son.”
Sam chuckled fondly at that, holding onto Frodo’s arm quite unselfconsciously. “That’d be because Mr. Bilbo’d bring him by, every now and then. He did enjoy that, he did.”
“Then we should be sure to…” but Frodo’s thought was not completed, as a young hobbit lass swept by them suddenly, with an anxious and preoccupied expression.
“Oh, I’ll never find it in all this snow,” they heard her mutter, worry clear in her voice, as she passed, never giving them a look. Puzzled, they both stopped to watch, as she headed for the far corner of the garden, and kneeling heedlessly in the snow, began to brush it away from near the brick wall.
Frodo and Sam gave each other a quick glance, and then approached the frantic searcher. “Might we be of help, my lass?” Frodo asked kindly.
The tween gave a quick glance back, but seeing two well-dressed hobbits and not recognizing them, answered in a distracted manner, “Not unless you know what tansy looks like,” and continued to search.
“Aye, that I do,” Sam responded, and stepped forward to assist her.
She gave him a grateful look, but said no more until Sam uncovered the browned and frost bitten tops of a tansy plant under the snow. “Ah!” she cried in relief, and explained over her shoulder as she plucked them up. “ ‘Tis for little Lily Roundbarrel, the second cook’s fauntling. Burning with the fever she is, and naught a bit of tansy in the storerooms. I never thought I’d be needing this much this winter.”
“Would you be the healer, then?” Sam asked with interest, as they followed the young lass into the smial.
“Aye,” she responded, rather breathlessly, “ ‘twas my mam afore me, and I wished I’d learned more, but she was taken suddenly this summer, and now…” but with that, she stopped short, and bowed to them at the great kitchen’s entrance. “Thank you most kindly, good sirs, I certainly thank you for your help, and won’t be bothering you now.”
But as she turned around to leave, Sam suddenly said, “My sister’d be a healer as well. She’s visiting along w’me. I know she’d be that happy to help, if you’d like.”
The young lass turned at that, a grateful look on her face. “Oh, would she now?” she appreciatively asked.
“Aye, sure she would,” Sam answered warmly. “Only,” then he stopped short. “I’d have no idea where she’d be.”
Frodo spoke up at that. “I wouldn’t know either, but Pearl would, and I can find her. We’ll have her meet you in the kitchen, then.”
“Oh, bless you, sir,” the young healer sighed, “I can’t tell you how much that would put my mind at ease. I remember most, but not everything, and that Lily is the dearest…” And with another brisk nod of her head, she was through the kitchen door.
*****
It wasn’t long before Frodo, Sam, and a still sleepy but dressed Pearl were at Daisy and May’s door. Sam explained the situation as Daisy let Pearl and him in, Frodo politely waiting outside, and as he expected, she was throwing her dress over her chemise before he could finish explaining. “Oh, of course, the poor thing,” she exclaimed, snatching up a piece of bread and an apple from their breakfast tray. “I remember how frightenin’ it’d be not to be sure, and with a fauntling too…” She shook her head at that. “Of course, I wonder what manner of roots and dried potions they’d be havin’ this way.”
Sam quickly spoke up, hearing that. “I’d not mind comin’ too, Daisy, and give you a bit of a hand w’that. Just let me tell Frodo.” And he left the three lasses.
May was just beginning to actually wake up now, and sleepily blinked at her sister. “Should I come too, Daisy?” she asked, yawning widely.
“Oh, no, you go on and get more rest, if you like. I’ll be meetin’ you in the servant’s hall for second breakfast, like as not.”
“Not too sure I can find it,” May rubbed her eyes.
“Well,” Pearl mentioned with a slight grin, “Since I’ll be taking Daisy and Sam back to the kitchen, that leaves cousin Frodo. I’m sure he won’t mind.”
May stopped rubbing and blinked again, rather owlishly, at the other two. “Oh,” she said in a small voice.
“As a matter of fact,” Pearl continued, her grin widening, “if you don’t mind terribly, you may as well just go with Frodo down to the front room, where the family generally eats second breakfast. It would be lovely if you wouldn’t mind letting my sisters know where I am. They really would love to have you, you know.”
“Oh,” May repeated, in a somewhat stronger voice this time. “I would hate to inconvenience Mr. Frodo, after all,” she continued, with a sudden coy smile.
Daisy had been eying her with a sudden skepticism. “ T’be sure, not,” she muttered dryly. “Then best you dress yourself fast, May. “Twould never do to keep Mr. Frodo waiting in the hall for his breakfast.”
“No worry on that,” May chuckled, and she was out of bed with more alacrity than her sister had ever seen before.
So it was that Pearl Took led Daisy and Sam back to the kitchen, and a rather surprised Frodo graciously escorted May Gamgee to the front room of the Great Smials for second breakfast.
*****
Second breakfast had just begun when Frodo and May arrived, but Eglantine Took and her two younger daughters were already presiding over the table, and Paladin Took was firmly ensconced in the far corner of the hearth with a few of his comrades. Frodo escorted May to Pearl’s sisters, leaving her with a bow, and went to where the male hobbits were beginning to gather around Paladin.
May, feeling surprisingly nervous but hiding it well, approached the younger two Took daughters, giving a curtsy, as they looked up from their mushrooms-and-toast, that was slight enough that it could be overlooked if desired. Pervinca, the youngest, blinked over the top of her spectacles and gave her a warm smile. “Hullo there, May,” she gave her a nod, slightly lowering the book that she had been reading.
Pimpernel’s head snapped up at Vinca’s greeting. Her mouth was full, but she graciously indicated an empty seat next to her, and May sat down. She folded her hands in her lap, and crossed her furry ankles, and gazed over the delicacies laid out over the table, and half wished that she had settled for a breakfast in the servant’s hall. Even after the last several years during which she had for the most part lived with her friends among the quality of Hobbiton, she was still unprepared for this level of magnificence. Vinca’s face had disappeared behind the book again, and Nell shook her head. “Always at it,” she mentioned wryly to May. “Nearly as bad as cousin Frodo. Have some fried toast,” she pushed a plate toward her. “It’s really quite good with the mushrooms. Sausage and tomatoes here, scones over there, tea of course, and perhaps some honey with your bread?” Clearly, Nell was a lass who enjoyed her meals, and May suddenly felt a bit more at home.
“Yes, thank you,” she replied, and managed to gather a bit of everything on her plate.
“So.” Nell paused in her chewing for a moment, giving May a cool look. “You’d be the sister of that lass that Pearl seemed to find so captivating this last spring.”
“Erm. I suppose so.” May answered, rather unsure as to how she should take that remark. “Miss Pearl stayed at Mr. Frodo’s smial for a couple of weeks, seems like, and since Daisy does for them at times, ‘twould seem she met your sister.”
“Them,” Nell repeated thoughtfully, and May suddenly found her eggs of the greatest of interest. “Cousin Frodo, and…?” she raised an eyebrow.
May considered for the briefest of moments of pretending that she had misunderstood Nell, before her well-entrenched Gamgee streak of stubbornness won out. “Mr. Frodo and my brother, Sam,” she declared, her chin unconsciously lifting up proudly. “They live together at Bag End.”
Nell surveyed her for a moment without a word. “Well done,” she then stated softly, the side of her mouth crooking up. “I had rather gathered that from Pearl’s letters.” She turned her attention back to the toast and continued to chew awhile in silence. “Don’t you find that odd?” she asked abruptly, giving May a sudden penetrating glance.
May looked up from the cup of tea to which she had just finished adding an inordinate amount of honey, and shrugged. “ ‘Twas a time I did,” she confessed. “But now it just seems right, I suppose. I’ve never seen Sam any happier, nor Mr. Frodo either, for that matter. So I’d not be the one to say aught about it.”
Nell did not respond to this, but continued to dispatch her breakfast, and eye May thoughtfully. “How do you get your hair to curl so?” she asked suddenly.
May gave her an amused look at that. “Rags,” she replied succinctly.
Nell cocked an eyebrow again. “Show me?” she asked hopefully.
May grinned at her. “Aye, t’be sure I will,” she answered. “But breakfast first.” And it was only then that she remembered to convey Pearl’s message.
*****
Frodo found that the topic was the weather, when he joined the others about Uncle Paladin. Oddly enough, even though he was now a landowner of sorts, this had been a topic that he had rarely considered, until Sam had come to live with him. It was since then that he had come to realize that the amount of rain, when it fell, and how hard, had such a central part to play in Sam’s life, and indeed, the life of anyone who worked the land. The cycle of seasons had begun to open their mysteries to him under Sam’s patient but unknowing tutelage, for Sam never considered that there were areas of knowledge that had been unknown to Frodo. Many had been the quiet conversations over the kitchen table, as Sam cooled off a bit over lunch in the shady smial, on a hot summer’s day, or as they watched the chill mist gradually hide the world outside on a damp autumn afternoon, sitting snugly inside, sipping tea, and quietly talking. Then Frodo had found that he only needed to ask a question or two, and Sam would open up, the learning that he had effortlessly absorbed all of his life from the gaffer, and from the very earth itself, transparent in his words. So now, when the question arose regarding the impact of the second exceptionally snowy winter in a row, and the spring drainage, and its effect upon the next year’s crop, Frodo found that he did actually have an opinion on the matter, and was able to join in the conversation. Out of the corner of his eye, however, he thought that he detected a twinkle in Uncle Paladin’s gaze behind the pipeweed smoke.
Such important topics as these were quickly set aside, however, upon the arrival into the front room of a rather bouncy Pippin and a yawning Merry. Nothing excited Pippin more than the company of his favorite cousins, and obviously feeling that Frodo’s proper place was with him rather than the older hobbits, he had no compunction regarding linking his arm with Frodo’s and attempting to draw him off. His father laughed indulgently at his son, and waved Frodo off.
“I’ll talk to you about it later, Frodo,” he chuckled. “Pip-lad’s been mad with anticipation over your visit, and there’ll be months to be considering what to do before it’s likely to be done. Off with you then, lads.”
A smiling Frodo put up no further resistance then to being pulled along by a grinning Pippin, with Merry following behind the two of them, chuckling. And it was well that he did so, for it was then that Bracegirdle, followed at a discreet distance by his servant, entered the front room, and immediately spotted Paladin Took. Bearing down upon the Thain, as several other guests spotted him and suddenly considered the scones at the farthest end of the table as being items of the greatest necessity, Bracegirdle found his path unimpeded, and lesser Tooks were cast away from Paladin Took in the wake of the Bracegirdle entrance. Paladin sighed, and mentally resolved to have it out, even now, at second breakfast, since apparently Bracegirdle had never learned that conducting business over a meal was impolite. There was no point in ruining tomorrow, the Yule Day itself. Today must be sacrificed, if needs be.
Frodo, Pippin, and Merry had been watching this drama from safely down the table, where they had settled with full plates and their own pot. “Watch this, now,” Pippin indicated the Bracegirdle with his fork, upon which a plump sausage was wiggling. “This ought to be fun. Dad told me that he isn’t about to sell him those ponies. He said anyone who treats a servant the way he does doesn’t deserve to have Took ponies.”
Frodo and Merry began watching the scene with increased interest. Bracegirdle was speaking to Paladin Took with animation and a great air of bonhomie, but Paladin was watching him with crossed arms over his chest, great clouds of pipeweed smoke issuing from his pipe, and not a word. Then finally he removed the pipe, and answered, briefly. The response did not appear to be to Bracegirdle’s satisfaction, and he launched off again on a rather long-winded argument, his face becoming rosier by the moment. Paladin’s final response was briefer yet, and obviously negative.
With a growl that could be heard where the three sat, Bracegirdle turned on his heels and strode from the room. There was a snarl directed at his servant as he passed him, and the servant, with the color noticeably draining from his face, followed him out of the room.
“Certainly wouldn’t want to be in that poor sod’s shoes,” Merry muttered, shaking his head and reaching for more tomatoes.
Frodo couldn’t help eyeing the older hobbit, as he left, with an expression of disgust. “Arrogant toad. That hobbit really sets me off for some reason,” he confessed. “Even the first time I met him at the inn.”
“I know why,” Pippin gave him a quick canny glance from over the edge of his teacup. “It’s the way he treats his servant, that’s what it is. And now what’s all this about Sam, Frodo? Why won’t he sit with us here? Doesn’t seem to bother him at Bag End. It just doesn’t seem right with just the three of us any more.”
Merry looked at Frodo as well, and valiantly nodded agreement. “Did you ask him about it last night, Frodo?”
Frodo sighed and looked down at his plate. The large room seemed all too noisy and crowded all of a sudden, and he thought wistfully of peaceful Bag End, where questions such as this seemed to have no place in their lives. He rose up, almost unconsciously, though his plate was still nearly full, and his cousins had only just begun their breakfasts. “I’ll see you two later,” he murmured, head down. “I think I’ll just get some air.”
Merry and Pippin instantly traded glances at that, and nearly as one, rose along with Frodo. “Stuffy, isn’t it, Pip,” remarked Merry in a conversational tone, prudently thrusting several apples in his pocket. “Bit of fresh air sounds good, just about now.”
“Aye,” Pippin agreed with a smile, “I know where we could go, I believe. Follow on, then.” They threaded their way, completely unnoticed, out through the crowd that was still making its way sleepily on in.
*****
It was past the stables that Pippin headed, the other two silently in tow behind him. Even though there were mounds of snow on the ground, brown earth could still be seen beneath, and sprigs of dried unidentifiable grass. But there was a sharp bite to the gusts that had started swirling around them, and the air was thick and white about them. There was no doubt but there would be more snow falling before night.
“Um, Pip?” Merry questioned, wrapping his arms around himself as he followed the teen. “Fresh air is bracing and all, but I really don’t think this is quite the day for a cross-country excursion.”
Pippin laughed, and cheerily agreed. “But Frodo wanted air, so air he must have, even if it is nearly frozen air,” he added impishly. “But don’t worry, I do have a goal in mind, dragging the pair of you out here, and it isn’t just to give you frostbite.” They had reached a section of the fields where long waist-high rows, heaped over with snow and only the occasional barren stick poking out, lay on either side of the road. “There it is,” Pippin pointed out, indicating a small building under the shelter of several lofty firs, “Come along, lads, nearly there now.”
“Vineyards,” Merry exclaimed suddenly, recognizing the snowy lumps. “The winepress, Pip?”
“Thought you’d guess, Merry,” Pippin chuckled, pushing open the heavy wooden door to the shed. “Looks different in all this snow, doesn’t it?”
The three hobbits entered the dark wooden shed, with the large vat hidden in the shadowy corner. On the far end was a stone hearth, and that’s where Pippin headed. “Now, let’s see, they usually keep it, oh, here!” he exclaimed triumphantly, producing a small metal box from atop the high beam mantel ledge “Tinder box,” he explained, and bent down in front of the fireplace. “Left some dry wood here, too,” came the sound of his voice, only slightly muffled, as he busied himself with the flint. And in no time, the wood caught, and the kindling blazed up, and there was quite a satisfactory fire lit.
All three stood closely together in front of it, rubbing their hands in the welcome warmth. Pippin caught Frodo’s eye as he glanced curiously about. The light of the flames left the corners still in shadow, but he could now see the large wooden vat bound with its gleaming metal strips, and the tables and stools stacked neatly on the other side of the shed. “I don’t know if you’ve ever been here, Frodo,” Pippin smiled. “You’re not about that often at harvest time, having the Hobbiton harvest and all to be fussing about.”
“Actually, I was, once,” Frodo replied, giving the ground a dubious inspection. “You and Merry lured me here one time years ago.”
“Spiders!” crowed Merry suddenly, looking up from the apple that he had just bitten into. “You left in a bit of a hurry, as I remember.”
Frodo grimaced at that memory as Pippin laughed, recollecting the event. “No worries, Frodo dear,” he threw an arm around his cousin’s shoulders. “No spiders in the snow. They go off somewhere, and grow nice and fat, so they can come back and torment you again come spring.” Reassured by that, Frodo relaxed and sat cross-legged in front of the fire, his cousins following suit on either side of him, and Merry passed each of his cousins an apple.
They companionably munched in silence for a while, as the fire gradually warmed the shed, and they had stopped shivering. “Well, now,” Merry said resolutely at last, tossing his core into the fire where it hissed and sputtered a bit. “Why is Sam so suddenly mindful of what he seems to think is his place?”
Frodo sighed, and tossing his well-bitten core in as well, rested his elbows on his knees, and his chin in his hands. “It has to do somewhat with his sisters being here, too. He’s afraid any unkind remarks about our relationship might be directed at them, as well.”
Pippin stopped in the midst of his relentless search for any edible bits of pulp remaining on the core of his apple. “But why should anyone make unkind remarks, anyway?” he asked, bewildered by the notion. “Surely it’s your business and his. Who needs to remark on it, anyhow?”
“That’s what I would have thought,” Frodo replied, somewhat wistfully, “but the point of it is, someone already has. Bracegirdle.” And out of the corner of his eye, he thought he detected a quick expression of relief wash across Merry’s face.
“Bracegirdle?” Pippin snorted, a world of disdain in the one word. “And why should his opinion concern anyone? He probably has worse things to say about my father right now, and I doubt if anyone else will pay him any mind about that, either.”
“If it only were just Bracegirdle,” Frodo murmured softly, gazing at the flames, “it would mean nothing. But it seems that it isn’t. There are those about Hobbiton that say the same, and some have many more listeners than Bracegirdle does. And the worst…” and at this, he lowered his head and paused for a moment before he could continue. “The worst is, I never thought to ask. Never considered it. It’s been a couple of years now, and Sam has put up with it alone, for fear of upsetting me. I just never thought of it.”
There was silence as the other two considered Frodo’s words, but Pippin scooted a little closer to him, and Merry lay a reassuring hand on his knee.
“Sam doesn’t want to be gentry,” Frodo said suddenly, with a bit of an edge to his voice. “He wants to be my gardener, that’s what makes him the happiest. He always wants to be doing something; he needs a purpose to each day. The garden gives him such joy, I would never, ever, take that from him. I still have to pay him of course; his family has always relied on the Baggins’ income. And I can’t tell you how often I have tried to give him a little more, for his family’s sake, but neither he nor the gaffer will hear of it. He just wants to be treated the same as he’s always been, to be the Bag End gardener, neither more nor less.” He fell silent again, moodily studying his hands. The other two waited, patiently silent, for they knew he was not yet through.
“They say he lives with me for the riches I can give him, to make his life easier,” Frodo muttered, and suddenly lifted his head, clenching his hands in his lap. “Oh, they’re so wrong, so wrong,” he suddenly cried out passionately. “If I had to make my bed in a ditch at the side of the road, he’d be with me. There could never be anyone more giving, with a more loving heart. Sometimes, I almost feel we’d be better off taking to the road as Bilbo did, but he has family, ties, and his heart is at Bag End and all that grows around it. And so here we stay.”
There was no answer to this, and both cousins wrapped an arm each tightly around Frodo and held him close between them. Frodo grabbed hold of their hands and, clutching them closely, bowed his head. There was only silence for a while, until Merry suddenly lifted his head, and gently withdrawing his hand, reached out instead and turning Frodo’s face toward him, spoke. “Don’t feel too badly, Frodo,” he said gently and sincerely, the smoky blue-grey eyes intense on Frodo’s. “You’ve given Sam something as well. I may not know him as well as you, but it has always seemed to me that Sam needs someone he can love and devote himself to. And now he has you, and I don’t think any of the rest of this really matters to him. You need to forgive yourself, Frodo, for surely Sam has never thought to blame you for anything.”
Frodo stared back into Merry’s gaze in silence for several moments as an unspoken bond was renewed between them. “Thank you, Merry, dear,” Frodo then said softly, the slightest of smiles tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You are probably quite right.”
Merry smiled back with his accustomed cockiness, only slightly altered by the trace of sadness in his eyes. “Of course I am, Frodo.” Rousing himself and standing up, he glanced over at an unusually pensive Pippin. “It must be getting on elevensies, Pip. Let’s not have the search party come out for us again, shall we?” He quickly kicked some ash onto the small fire, smothering it. Walking over to the doorway, he stuck his head out, waiting for the other two. “Look,” he mentioned, gazing out thoughtfully. “it’s begun to snow.”
*****
Pearl Took sat quietly in the corner of the kitchen, watching as Daisy assisted the young healer, Violet. Violet was trying to steep some sort of tincture out of the dead and withered tansy leaves that she had been able to find, and Daisy was at her side, guiding and suggesting, in low comforting tones that were obviously settling the nervous young healer down. Sam stood at Daisy’s side, helping with what he could, and ready to go out to search for other herbs upon Daisy’s request.
It was the first time Pearl had seen this brother of Daisy’s, who had apparently managed to break through her cousin Frodo’s rather severe reserve. When she and Frodo had been younger, there was talk in both the Took and Brandybuck households of what an excellent match the two of them would make. As long as Frodo had lived at Brandy Hall, her Aunt Esme had been ever so gracious about always inviting her as well, whenever Pippin came to visit. And since Pippin lived to be Merry’s shadow, and their indulgent parents could never deny their only son anything, those occasions were frequent. But somehow, without a word ever being spoken between the two of them on the matter, she and Frodo had amicably concluded that the wished-for event would never materialize. At first, she had suspected that if Frodo ever settled on anyone, it would be his cousin, Merry, for it was only in his company that she ever saw Frodo genuinely laugh, and relax his customary detachment from all that went on about him. But as the years went by, it appeared that was not to come about either, even though she had caught the unguarded look of desire, unnoticed by Frodo, on occasion in Merry’s eyes. So when Frodo left Brandy Hall to live with Bilbo Baggins, she had concluded that he, too, was destined to live a bachelor’s comfortably solitary life.
But obviously, she had not foreseen the gardener’s son, nor, she suspected, had Frodo. She watched Sam now, next to Daisy in the shadowed light, in a quiet corner of the busy kitchen of the Great Smials. He did not favor Daisy that much in looks, having the more golden curls, and greener eyes of his other sister, May. He was also somewhat shorter, and his form was more rounded than that of his spare older sister. It was their manner, the quick yet sure movements, the air of calm patience, the soft and gentle tone in their voices that marked them as brother and sister. Lost in watching, never minding being forgotten for the time being, Pearl sat, engrossed in memories and dreams.
But finally, the tincture was finished, and with many a word of thanks and a grateful smile, Violet was off to administer it, but not without gaining a final promise from Daisy to spend a bit more time with her, before her departure for Hobbiton. As Sam stood watching her leave, Pearl could see that he was thinking of something else. Recollecting himself when there remained only the three of them, he approached Pearl, and with a slight respectful nod, asked if he might have a word with the gardeners of the Great Smials.
“Why, certainly, Sam,” she nodded kindly in return, with a warm smile. “I’ve seen what you’ve done with Bag End, you know. Anything you would like to take with you, we’d be honored to let you have. Certainly you and Frodo should have something in return for the hospitality you gave me, even if you were unaware of it at the time.”
Sam colored slightly at Pearl’s words, but bravely gave her a steady gaze in return. “I’d be that grateful, Miss Pearl,” he answered her sincerely. “There was something as I had in mind, if it not be too dear…”
“Anything, Sam,” Pearl repeated firmly. “I’d be glad to take you to them now, if you like.”
*****
And then it was just Daisy with her. They threaded their way through the hallways toward the Gamgee sisters’ room, for Daisy had barely had a chance to dress this morning, and hardly a bit of first breakfast, let alone second. But Pearl had snatched up one of the breakfast trays, that had come back to the kitchen untouched, and with a quick exchange of the teapot for a fresh one, was carrying it in front of her, as Daisy silently followed. The room had been tidied, as Pearl was grateful to find upon opening the door, and she laid the tray carefully down on the table.
“Thank you for helping Violet,” she said quietly, straightening up and watching Daisy, who sat wearily down in one of the chairs before the fire. “She is so inexperienced, I know that she is very appreciative of any help you can give her.”
Daisy nodded, her eyes drawn to the rekindled flames in the fireplace. “It’s not an easy thing, trying to remember what you heard once, with no chance to ask again. And the cost if you’d be rememberin’ wrong…” she shook her head sadly at that and continued to stare into the fire, her shoulders slumped, and her chin resting in her hand, propped up on the arm of the chair.
Pearl studied her quietly, and asked no more, for it was obviously not a happy memory. Instead she busied herself with the teapot, and let Daisy be. She poured a cup each for the both of them, and then turned back to Daisy. “No cream, and only a bit of honey, right, Daisy?”
Daisy looked back at her with a start, and gave her a grateful smile. “Ah, listen to me now, going off on the likes o’that. ‘Twas a long time ago, and frettin’ over it would never change a thing.” She accepted the cup from Pearl, and drank the hot liquid thankfully.
“It was your mother who taught you, wasn’t it?” Pearl prompted her, settling comfortably into the other chair next to her.
“Aye, but she just showed me what she knew, just what’d you’d know from raising a family o’fauntlings. I was to be a laundress, never a healer. But somehow, folk’d just kept comin’ to me, and I’d learn a bit more, and now all of Hobbiton’d be thinkin’ that I can cure the lot of them. Sometimes, that’s a frightening thought.”
“Hmm,” Pearl was noncommittal, and placed her empty cup on the tray. “Well, it was a fine healer who took care of my arm, last spring.” Pushing up the sleeve of her frock, she held out her arm toward Daisy.
Daisy put down her cup as well, and carefully held Pearl’s arm. Gently running her fingers up it, she studied the skin, where the red burn mark had been so prominent. It had faded, and was now only faintly to be seen against the white skin.
“It’s nearly gone,” Pearl said softly. “But I’d rather it had stayed. Because when I look at it, I remember. Bag End, quiet and peaceful. The first time that I saw you, and startled you so. All the days we sat, in the kitchen. The hill behind Bag End, and the sun and the flowers. And you.”
Daisy looked up into her eyes. “I wish you’d never left,” she said longingly. “It’s that hard now, t’get through the days. It’s only me and the gaffer, May’s gone most of the time.” She looked back down at Pearl’s arm, and lightly ran her finger down it once more. When she glanced back up at Pearl again, her eyes were full with unshed tears, and she continued in a halting voice. “I see both Mari and Sam, and they’re that happy. And I think, why not me?”
Pearl rose up suddenly at Daisy’s words, as if finally making a choice. Grasping Daisy’s hands, she pulled her to her feet as well, and wrapped her arms around Daisy in a tight embrace. “Indeed,” she murmured, raising a tender hand to the side of Daisy’s face. “Why not us?” And with that she leaned forward and met Daisy’s mouth in a tentative kiss.
With a forlorn moan, Daisy clutched Pearl closely to her and urgently returned her kiss, answering Pearl’s question without words, the tears finally spilling down her face, and tasting of salt in both of their mouths. “No, don’t cry, dearest,” Pearl whispered, drawing away from Daisy for a moment, with a shaky smile, her own full eyes belying her words. “We will find a way, I promise you. If you want to, my love.”
“Yes, oh, yes,” Daisy breathed, running a hesitant hand through Pearl’s unruly red curls. Pearl’s smile deepened at Daisy’s words, and she blinked her own tears away.
“Then that’s what really matters,” she answered, gently brushing Daisy’s tear-dampened curls back from her face. “And right now, you are here with me again, and there is time for us.”
*****
“See now?” May laughed over her shoulder to Nell, who was following behind. “I told you I’d be able to find it. Sam now, he’s that hopeless, and even Daisy can get a bit befuddled. But I can remember my right from my left, and that’s all it really takes, isn’t it? Let me just be getting my rags and I’ll show you what I mean.” And she flung open the door to the guest room to find Pearl and Daisy on the bed locked in a tight embrace, clad only in a chemise, in Daisy’s case, and rather less than that in Pearl’s.
There was a silence in the room, and May’s gaze shifted in her shock to the window, and a small corner of her mind noted dazedly that it had started to snow again. But then the sound of Nell’s footsteps behind her spurred her into action, and without thinking why, she whirled out of the room, quickly closing the door behind her, and gaily laughed, “What a ninny I am! I just remembered that I’d left them at the inn by mistake. Well if we go to your room, I’m sure I could find something as would work just as well.” And with a rapidly beating heart, and questions in her mind that she had never thought to ask, she led an unsuspecting Nell away.
To be continued.
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Great series!
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Glad you aren't all read out....
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*winks*
Well, m'dear, it ain't for toast.
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(Anonymous) 2004-08-23 03:37 pm (UTC)(link)In other words, I'm rubbing my hands, wide-eyed in anticipation of more!
Oh, and butter immediately slips to mind...
Catherine
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And Nell, of course, still doesn't have a clue. It's May who's trying to wrap her brain around it first. You gotta think she's beginning to wonder if it runs in the family or what.
Oh, yeah. And butter. Heheh.
Thanks again!
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I'm also enjoying the character growth we're seeing in Merry. From the stand-offish almost ass-hole he was at first, he's finally accepting that he will not be the one to make Frodo happy, and if he truly loves him he'll step aside and let the one who CAN step forward, without making life miserable for him. Wish he'd snap out of it and see Pippin was for him, though, because your Pippin has thoroughly claimed my heart. He's so open and giving and shrewd and kind all at once! Perfectly Pippin. :)
And please, please, PLEASE tell me SOMETHING will be done with Lar? He doesn't deserve to be treated the way he is by that horrible hobbit. *glowers once again at Bracegirdle*
Hope to see a new chapter soon!! :D
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I'm glad you like Merry's coming round. Merry's still barely a tween at this point (21), and still has a lot of moody adolescent in him, and Pippin is much too young to be looking at quite like that (13) although, naturally, he wouldn't agree with that at all. Of course, down the road, that definitely changes. *points to Tag Me, Touch Me*
But I think that Merry is beginning to grow up enough now to realize that just because you want something doesn't mean you can, or even should have it, and you need to accept that sometimes and get on with your life.
And Bracegirdle and Lar? Well, not every hobbit is a decent sort, and not every ending is a happy one. *cackles evilly*
Thanks for reading and enjoying! *hunches over hot PC again*
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Multi-use breakfasts are always a good thing...
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You know, I am sooooo jealous of Sam!
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*really really hopes for "years later" Valinor nude bathing scene*
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I have loaded the two chapters and think you'll be very happy with the pictures. I really am very sorry that I've let it slip. I've been having muscle spasms and have been in a haze of muscle relaxants for several days and lj and email sort of went by the wayside. Next time, YELL!!
Anyway, you know I love this, or, at least, I hope you do. I adore the F/S you bring us more everytime you add to this. And the P/D is sooooo intriguing. I love that Merry is coming to terms and I love that he needed to come to terms in the first place! Jealous!Merry!!!! *happy sigh*
And my inbox has been graced, yet again. *smooch* Love that one, too and I hope I'm not quite as slow, when it comes time to post it! Seriously, never hesitate to kick my ass, when necessary. We're talking 'squeaky wheel' here.
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Thanks, and glad you're enjoying the F/S, the D/P, and even jealous!Merry. The boy does sulk rather well, doesn't he. Me, I'd be pitching a regular hissy fit, or at least thinking up ways to have Sam meet up with an "accident" if I were him. Heh.
No hurry on the one you just got, because that's HobbitSmut3, so it can't go on the site for at least a month. Ah, well, best be getting back to the butter here.
And the pictures are lovely! Winter scenes are so nice, maybe all fics should be set then. But of course, that would get in the way of the skinny-dipping fic.... *evil laugh*
Thanks and take care!
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Thanks so much.