Author's Note: It's amazing how much I used to write. These days, I find the words stuck in my throat.
Disclaimer: Tolkien created these two cuties. I did not, though they are perhaps my favorite couple.
Love is kind
Rosie hummed. It was quiet, all the lads and lasses still asleep. She was rolling out the dough for bread; like the morning, it was warm.
Wiping her hands carefully, she started to braid it. It was her favorite style of bread, passed down by all the mothers. "A secret for us hobbit-mums," her own mum had said on her wedding day, handing over the recipe. "Guard it!"
She wiped her brow and without knowing it, left a streak of flour.
Two hours later, Sam steps into the cellar, where she is gathering the apples for breakfast. He admires her bent form, just so over the barrels, and whistles lowly.
An apple is tossed his way, but he catches it deftly. Taking a bite, he smiles at her as she finally stands, somewhat breathless. Her hands are full with her apron, bulging as it is, and he surveys her with delight.
"My Rosie," he says, and she blushes. "Busy, I see. But look!"
He raises his hand to her forehead. She giggles, thinking it a tender gesture.
"Flour on my flower. Good thing ol Gaffer didn't see you!"
Indeed; by midday, she would have been the talk of the surrounding hobbit holes for appearing so "dirty". Everyone knew her ol Gaffer was a stickler, and a busybody too.
"Thankee, Sam," she said, and he kissed her on the forehead, fondly.
