Once shattered, strength ended
Twice shattered, never mended
—Shire proverb

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Pimpernel could not keep her hands still. They fidgeted with her skirt, plucking and releasing its folds time and again as she hurried towards the front rooms in response to the housekeeper's summons.

Frodo Baggins had come. He had not—significantly—invited any of them but Pippin to his fortieth birthday party. Nel tried to tell herself that it meant nothing; he was bruised and wounded from his affair with Pervinca, and to see any of Vinca's sisters so soon after their break-up would only cause him pain. That was more than six months ago, and Nel had not seen a scrap of him since. Perhaps his acceptance of a Took dinner invitation now meant that he had finally come to terms with his loss. Yet Nel felt anxiety and giddiness sweep her by turns as she hastened down the hall.

She heard him before she saw him. Down the corridor, round the corner leading to the main sitting room, her mother's voice welcomed their guest warmly. "Frodo! What a pleasure to see you. It's been far too long since you visited."

"I beg you will forgive me. I have had much to do in Hobbiton these past months."

Nel's heart fluttered. He sounded just as he used to: gentle, urbane. He was the finest gentlehobbit in the farthing, Nel was convinced.

"I'm sorry to hear it," Eglantine continued. "But now that the weather has improved, perhaps we'll see more of you."

"Perhaps."

His answer was not encouraging. Nel quickened her pace.

"I'm not sure if Pippin told you," her mother continued, "but we'll be one short tonight. Vinca has gone to spend a couple of weeks with Willy Whitfoot's family, in Whitwell."

"Yes, I had heard that."

Nel rushed round the corner and stopped short. Her mother had just handed Frodo a glass of honey wine. He was well dressed, as suited the occasion. His dark blue frockcoat was wonderfully complementary to his coloring, and the white cravat set it off perfectly. He looked composed, though his expression was more guarded than formerly. Her mother was watching him keenly, doubtless trying to assess his mood.

They both looked up when Nel burst into the room. She colored, aware of the sight she must make, all blowsy from her hurried walk. She smoothed her hands down her skirts, as her eyes automatically sought Frodo's. His gaze locked on hers: vivid, intense, unreadable.

Eglantine cleared her throat. "I believe Pearl is fluttering about the kitchen. I'll tell her you've arrived." She exited so gracefully, Nel would never have suspected her of hurrying, but she knew her mother too well.

Nel's heart pounded beneath her ribs. "It's been a long time, Frodo. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten us."

Frodo set down his untasted drink. The small clink of glass on the sideboard jarred her brittle nerves. He faced her again, and Nel felt her hopes crumble at his unsmiling look.

"I'm relieved your mother chose to remove herself. I can now dispense with what I've come to say, without drawing out the matter."

Nel's mouth was dry. She felt faint, yet mastered herself enough to take a step forward. "Something to say?" She'd meant to sound offhand, but her nervousness made her voice raspy.

He approached her, holding her gaze. Nel quailed. There was no doubt about his feelings now. The indifference he had feigned before her mother had fallen away. His face showed nothing but anger and dislike.

"I know what you did," he said quietly, so his words could not be heard across the room, were anyone else present to hear it. "I have learnt it all; every last step."

Nel's pulse pounded in her throat. "I don't know what you mean."

"Don't pretend!" His words sliced through the air. For a moment, she saw rage flicker in his eyes, and felt afraid. He'd never frightened her before.

"We haven't much time," he continued, "so I will be brief. I uncovered your entire plot to separate me from Vinca. I know how you used Mira to set it up, and Gerda to confirm it. I know how you duped Hugo into marrying Mira, and how they all worked together, wittingly or not, to bring Vinca and Willy together. Not only did I have to suffer the pain of seeing another hobbit steal away the love of my life, I had to pay considerable money to maintain peace with Hugo's family, who were convinced that I was the worst sort of cad. All of this was your doing, solely. I only want to know, why."

Nel thought she might faint. He knew! He had figured it all out—how, she wasn't sure. Mira wouldn't have told; she was desperate to capture Hugo after she'd become pregnant by another lad. Gerda was their loyal friend; surely she wouldn't have confessed. Pippin couldn't have told him, because Pippin knew nothing about it. Or rather, he hadn't known. With sinking heart, she realized that her younger brother had been rather cool to her lately. She wondered if Frodo had shared his speculations with him.

"You… you must know how absurd this sounds." Her voice barely passed a whisper. That, and doubtless the whiteness of her face, must have proclaimed her guilt. Yet she could not admit it, or all her efforts would be in vain.

"I wouldn't have believed it of you. You're Vinca's sister. Couldn't you see our affection was genuine? Didn't you want the best for her?"

Not if it meant losing you, thought Nel. But she said stubbornly, "If Mira's story was false, I wonder why you would pay anything to hush it up. That would seem rather to be a confirmation that you were the father than otherwise."

To Nel's surprise, Frodo looked suddenly weary. He passed a hand through his hair. "By then, I only wanted it over with. Vinca didn't believe me; you had set up your chain of false witnesses too well. Since she chose to believe my guilt, why should I care if the whole farthing believed it, too? I have a reputation to maintain, Miss Took—or did, before you began this sorry business. So I ask you again: why?"

Nel opened her mouth, but found no reply ready. She searched his eyes, but gone was any hint of the regard they had used to share as friends. The deep blue eyes were ominous as the sky before a storm.

Frodo broke the gaze. A muscle moved in his jaw, betraying his inner tension. Softly he said, "Thank you for confirming my suspicions. I'll be leaving now."

Impulsively, Nel grabbed his shoulder. "Wait!"

"For what?" The words stung like stones; his tightly held wrath snapped in his eyes. "More of your games? Tricks? Lies? Deceit?"

Nel's eyes filled with tears. "I love you!"

He shrugged off her hand. "You call this love? Shaming me, breaking your sister's heart?"

"You're all alone!" Nel found herself spouting the various justifications she had repeated to herself at night, lying alone in her empty bed. "You couldn't have married Vinca for another ten years—"

"Well, you've fixed that problem for me. Now we won't marry at all. Congratulations."

Nel tremblingly reached out a hand. "You need someone to be with you…"

"Someone I won't have to wait ten years for, you mean? Someone who'll be available in, say, four?"

Nel winced. "From the moment I met you, I never wanted anyone else."

"After Filibert left, you mean."

Nel bit her lip. That memory was still painful to her. But Father had made Filibert leave, not Nel. It wasn't her fault. Her voice trembled as badly as her knees. "You liked me once."

"As the sister of my lover, I cared for you. There was never anything else. You must know there was nothing else. After Vinca, there could never be another lass for me. You knew this in your heart. I should never have believed you would go to such lengths to destroy me."

The tears fell down in a hot cascade. "I love you," she whispered.

"I could never love you now," Frodo answered. "Not if you were the last hobbit in the Shire. The only lass in Middle-earth I truly cared for is forever beyond my reach. I leave you to savor the fruit of your victory. Well done, Miss Took. I concede the game."

Nel dropped her gaze in shame and despair. She stood, breast heaving, and heard his soft footfalls approach the door. They suddenly halted.

"Have I come at a bad time?" a youthful voice asked uncertainly.

Nel's head jerked up. Pippin! Through the watery veil of her tears, she saw him standing just outside the door.

"You've come at an excellent time," answered Frodo. "I've said all I wanted to say." The resignation in his voice tore at her heart. "Pray make my excuses to your family."

"What excuse do you want me to give? Illness in the family, a dispute in the village, the Mill caught fire?"

"Say whatever you like. I'm incapable of thought at the moment."

Pippin squeezed his shoulder. "Go ahead, dear cousin. I'll catch up to you shortly."

"Thank you, Pippin." Frodo left the room without a backward glance.

Pippin turned towards Nel. Though he was still but a teen, there was something fierce in his expression, some less-developed quality of the fury that had been so potent in Frodo. He crossed to her. "I didn't want to believe it, you know. When Frodo told me the story, I said, 'It couldn't be Nel. She would never do something like that.'" His green eyes flickered over her face, taking in her tear-swollen eyes and disheveled appearance. "I think I shall spend some time at Bag End. I'm not certain I can bear to look at you at present."

Though Nel had swatted down Pippin for his impudence countless times before, her conscience held her dumb. Feeling the tears rise afresh, she dashed from the room.