Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings, nor do I own Frodo. Sadly,
they belong to JRR Tolkein. I will try not to cry too hard over this. I,
however, do own Camilla Took, however odd she is.
FYI: I have not read the entire trilogy yet. I have only seen the movie twice and am in the 7th chapter of FOTR. So please, keep that in mind as you read this. I'm not exactly sure which hobbits are directly related to which, so if this seems like an incestuous infatuation I did not intend for it to be that way. If something seems like it just totally wouldn't work, don't flame me, just drop me a line (via reviewing) and I'll change it around. Thanks so much for reading.
"Because of you,
I forgot the smart ways to rhyme.
Because of you,
I'm running out of reasons to cry.
When the friends are gone,
When the party's over,
We will still belong,
To each other.
Underneath your clothes,
There's an endless story.
There's the man I chose,
There's my territory,
And all the things I deserve,
For being such a good girl, honey. "
-Shakira, "Underneath Your Clothes" (love this song)
1 FOOL
Ch 1- Life of the Party
The twilight set over the Shire like a blanket, and would have been intolerable if not for a slight breeze in the air. The fireflies were performing their nightly ritual in the tall grass, and the crickets singing somewhere far below. Stars, pinpoints of light, dotted the sky like tiny holes in a velvet sheet. The way the clouds lit up when they crossed the moon was the finishing touch to a perfect evening: the night of a party.
Camilla Took stood under the huge pavilion, staring at the erratic flight and blinking lights of the fireflies. Normally she would be out trying to catch them as the other young hobbits were, but tonight was different. Tonight she had to keep her white blouse clean and the green frock over it unwrinkled. She had to manage to keep her mop of curly blonde hair untangled, however impossible that was going to be with the wind and all. She had to walk tall and dignified, like a lady-hobbit, not a child. After all, she was not a child, or was she? At 29 she was not sure. She glared sadly at the children laughing and jumping among the reeds, then forced herself to turn away. She would keep her promise to herself.
It was quite clear that the whole Shire was on hand for Blibo Baggins's 111th birthday. There were hundreds of hobbits that she had never seen before. Camilla wondered if Bilbo knew all them or if they had just showed up because if was the most anticipated party in 50 years. She was in the food tent, standing in a corner next to a giant barrel of ale. From there she could everything going on in the tent without being seen herself. The guests talked loudly to each other and consuming everything in sight. Camilla felt very small in her corner as she hugged herself and stared at the dirt.
Her friend, Hannah Proudfoot, had been unable to come because she had been stricken with a very bad cold and could scarcely leave her bed. Without her partner in crime, Camilla was quite alone. She had been sure to distance herself from her parents at the first possible moment because spending the evening alone was much better than spending it with her fussy mother. Her brother Pippin had taken off to somewhere unknown and was probably getting into mischief if she knew him well enough. Yes, she thought, he's probably off with Merry and …
A nauseous wave swept through her body as she thought of the other hobbit and her mission for the evening. She promised herself (and Hannah for that matter) that she'd do it, but without her there for moral support how on earth was she supposed to get through it?
In her lifetime, Camilla Took had only had a few conversations with Frodo Baggins; most consisted of things like, "Nice weather we're having today". Now, the thought of declaring her love for him was enough to make her want to hurl. Look Camilla, she told herself, you hardly ever see Frodo and you need to do this. Just tell him how you feel and then you can get on with your life. After he turns you down, she added ruefully. There was, however, a little voice deep inside her, the hopeless romantic in her, that said perhaps he would return her love and they'd live happily ever after. She laughed bitterly at the ridiculous idea and turned around to find herself standing over the open barrel of ale.
It happened to be still at the moment and Camilla could see her murky reflection. A round face with a mass of curly locks and stick out ears stared back at her. She nervously pushed her ears to her scalp, hoping they would stay closer to her head. She hated her ears with a passion. In fact, she hated her face altogether: her nose was too big, her eyes too small, and her lips too thin. Her father always told her that she was beautiful but that didn't count for anything. Fathers were supposed to say things like that to their daughters. Camilla noticed that one of the roses in her hair was falling out and she shoved it back into place. She loved roses and thought that they made her mousy hair a bit more exciting. My head smells like a perfume shop though, she thought and sighed. Her image suddenly rippled as someone dipped his mug into the barrel. She looked up and rolled her eyes at its owner.
"Don't give me attitude, Camilla," sneered Pippin. "At least I'm having fun."
"Who says I'm not having fun?" Camilla retorted. She couldn't stand it when her brother could read her mind.
"Well let's see," he said, "you're standing here staring into a barrel of ale. Sounds like loads of fun to me." He sipped his ale. "I'd love to join you, but Merry and I are… well… busy."
"And what would you be busy doing?" Camilla asked?
"Ah," he continued, "I cannot say. Sworn to secrecy." He grinned. "And if you try to follow me, I'll pour this on your head." He jollily waved his glass in the air.
"Glad you're so understanding," she scowled.
"Oh, please, Camilla, I'm not buying the sob story. Honestly, does your life fall apart when Hannah isn't here? Go find Sam or Frodo or someone…"
"Well where are they?" She asked earnestly. Her brother was finally becoming useful.
"Not sure," he replied, "last time I saw them was in the dancing field. Frodo was hanging out with Bilbo and trying to get Sam to ask Rosie to dance." He ran a hand through his wavy hair. "Go check there, or at least do something instead of standing there looking miserable."
Camilla offered a weak smile as Pippin bounded off into the darkness. Perhaps he wasn't such a bad older brother after all. Hands shaking, she headed in the direction of the music. It took her down a lantern-lit path through the trees, the wind whistling through the leaves. Numerous hobbits dotted the path, all of who gave Camilla a hearty "hello", even though she didn't know any of them. Hobbits get extremely friendly when they're drunk. The trees gave way to a clearing circled with lanterns and hobbits twirling in the center. Off to the left sat a fiddler and a flutist playing a sprightly jig. She took another step forward, cautiously looking to see if she knew any of these hobbits. Her eyes rested on an older one. "Bilbo Baggins," she muttered.
The guest of honor sat at a table talking to another hobbit and Gandalf the Grey,
neither of who looked too far off of eleventy-one either. His curly hair was gray and it flew out madly in all directions. They always said that Bilbo was crazy. Camilla was not in the mood to contemplate Bilbo's mental stability, however, and briefly flirted with the idea of marching straight up to him and questioning the whereabouts of his cousin. She had never met Bilbo Baggins, and it would most certainly seem odd for her to go up to him and ask such a frank question.
She sighed. There were a million hobbits milling about and none of them the one she was looking for. She was about to go when a husky hobbit sitting alone at a table caught her attention: Sam Gamgee. If anyone knew where Frodo was it would be he.
She pushed her way through the crowd to Sam's table. He was pouring ale down his throat like there was no tomorrow. His mug hit the table with a bang as Camilla sat down across from him. "Hi Sam," she said.
"Oh, hello there Miss Camilla," he replied woefully.
"Why so upset?"
"Oh the usual. Mr. Frodo is trying to get me to dance with Miss Rosie and I'm just don't want to. I don't have to dance with her, I'll be alright here, but oh no, Mr. Frodo is hell bent on…"
"Don't you like Rosie?" I cut in.
"Well yeah I do," he said, "but you know I'm too scared to ask, and she'll say no anyway…" He sighed, "I need some more ale."
Camilla clutched his arm, "No you don't. Sit down." He reluctantly obeyed, staring back at Camilla with the most pitiful expression she'd seen since… well… since she had looked into the ale barrel. "If you like Rosie than why don't you just go up to her and tell her so? Then you'll know."
"Funny that should come from you," He replied sharply.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Well considering you like Mr. Frodo…"
Camilla gasped and almost fell out of her chair. "Sam, I haven't told anyone that I like Frodo except for Hannah. If that damn Proudfoot told anyone…"
"As far as I know, she didn't. And your secret's safe with me." Sam grinned warmly.
"Who told you then?"
"I figured it out myself Miss Camilla. You see, I can see things that people don't usually notice, like how you're a very social outgoing hobbit when you're with your friends or Mr. Pippin, but whenever Mr. Frodo arrives on the scene you suddenly act like you are the most sophisticated hobbit in the Shire."
"Do I really?" She asked quietly.
"Well there is a notable change in your personality." He replied, "You don't act snotty or anything, you just try to act more mature."
Camilla did not know that she was doing this whenever she spoke to Frodo, but the more and more she thought about, she realized that Sam was quite right. "Do you suggest that I be myself a little more?"
"Oh yes," said Sam, "I think Mr. Frodo would rather enjoy the real you. He likes fun-loving hobbits."
"And I suggest that you ask Rosie to dance." Camilla declared.
Sam blushed furiously, "Well now you see Miss Rosie and I is a lot different than Mr. Frodo and you…"
"It's no different Sam." Camilla answered, "You're a very nice hobbit and I'm sure Rosie would love to be your girlfriend." She stood, leaned across the table and kissed Sam on the forehead. "Now where is Frodo?"
Sam turned an even deeper shade of red. "The last I saw, he was talking to Miss Rosie. Just stay in the area. You're bound to find him."
"Thanks Sam." She turned her back to his table.
"Good luck," he called after her.
"You too," she replied. If Frodo was in the area, he was sure doing a good job of hiding himself. She reasoned that he must be on the other side of the dance floor, but she didn't want to cut through the waltzing couples to get there. She was so busy debating the best way to arrive at the other side that she almost missed the fact that she didn't need to.
A hobbit emerged from the bushes at her right. He was laughing to himself and his clothes were slightly dirty. His brown hair flew in all directions as he raced past Camilla, then suddenly skidded to a stop a few yards in front of her. He turned around and the light caught in his eyes, brilliant blue ones and Camilla felt faint.
Frodo Baggins was looking her straight in the face.
Immediately, her palms were covered in sweat and her heart thumped a thousand times a minute. There was no one else near her, which meant that he was heading for Camilla. So this is when I die, she thought, which was instantly rebuked with a cry of, oh Camilla you foolish Took, you're not going to die.
If hobbits had gods, Frodo surely would have been one of them. The light twinkled in his eyes and his curly hair always seemed to look perfect. He was lean, rather tall for a hobbit, and a smile constantly played at his lips, those thin lips that she longed to touch. Stop that, Camilla, she scolded herself, you mustn't think dirty thoughts about Frodo. But it was too late for that, her mind was already wandering to R rated things, and by the time she gained control of her brain he was already upon her.
"Hi Camilla you look lovely tonight." He grinned double rows of perfect gleaming teeth. Camilla felt weak somewhere in the knee area.
"Oh," she said breathlessly, "thank you. You look nice yourself."
"Are you kidding me? I've been running around in the bushes. My clothes are a mess and Bilbo'll give me hell for it." He chuckled and it sounded like bells.
This was the time to do. This was the time to tell him. She needed to. She just had to. She had to get it out of her system once and for all. At this point, a horrible aching pain had arisen in her chest and combined with her throbbing heart she was finding it hard to breathe. Maybe you just shouldn't do it, she thought, just let this blow over and forget about it. Besides, you know what he'll say anyway. Then a new thought struck her: oh what the hell. Carpe Diem, baby.
She inhaled sharply. "Frodo, I really would like to tell you that…"
Frodo grabbed her arm and gasped. The waltz in the background had been replaced by a fast jig. "This is my favorite song!" His eyes grew two times their size. "Let's dance."
"Uh wait a minute, I…"
But Camilla's plea fell on deaf ears as she was whisked to the dance floor. In a second his arms were around her and they whirled in circles. Camilla's head swam and she felt faint. She was not middle earth's best dancer, and the love of her life was about to find that out the hard way. To Camilla's horror, many of the hobbits dancing around her stopped to cheer on their guest of honor. She knew she shouldn't have had that 3rd mug of ale.
Frodo noticed her floundering and offered the best tips he could. "You have to drive your feet into the ground," he called, "That's how you do a jig." He spun her out on one hand, then reeled her in like a bass from the Brandywine. Her body hit his with a thud. "Try it." He cried.
Try she did, and surprisingly she didn't do too badly. Their feet moved in time and the crowd of hobbits cheered at their synchronization. He linked his arm with hers and ran in a circle. Then he took her by both hands and spun her around. The world was a blur of color and lights, nothing focused except for the wide smiling handsome face before her, and the hair whipping behind his head. A blonde curl of her own fell across her eye and in vain she shook her head to remove it. She wanted to remember this sight her whole life.
Suddenly Frodo stopped twirling her. The song was over and the hobbits were cheering uncontrollably. The world still shaking like an earthquake, she somehow managed to curtsey while Frodo bowed. He slowly led her off the dance floor as she massaged her aching head with her palm. "You did well," he said, "You're not too bad of a partner."
"Oh that's good." The words sounded stupid to Camilla but she still couldn't see straight. Frodo's face was bobbing back and forth in front of her. She plopped down on the bench of one of the tables and Frodo let go of her hand.
"Yes," He replied, "Well, it was nice dancing with you. I'll see you around when I come to visit Pippin."
"But…" It was too late. Frodo was off and running to someplace else. Where he got the energy she had no clue. She blinked and inhaled deeply. Sweet oxygen filled her lungs and she dipped her head back against the table. She had a terrible headache and she closed her eyes. She hadn't accomplished her mission, but she felt as though she had done enough for the night. After all, she thought wearily, tomorrow is another day.
And with that she fell promptly asleep against the wood.
Do you like? Please review and I'll continue the story. Thanks so much!
FYI: I have not read the entire trilogy yet. I have only seen the movie twice and am in the 7th chapter of FOTR. So please, keep that in mind as you read this. I'm not exactly sure which hobbits are directly related to which, so if this seems like an incestuous infatuation I did not intend for it to be that way. If something seems like it just totally wouldn't work, don't flame me, just drop me a line (via reviewing) and I'll change it around. Thanks so much for reading.
"Because of you,
I forgot the smart ways to rhyme.
Because of you,
I'm running out of reasons to cry.
When the friends are gone,
When the party's over,
We will still belong,
To each other.
Underneath your clothes,
There's an endless story.
There's the man I chose,
There's my territory,
And all the things I deserve,
For being such a good girl, honey. "
-Shakira, "Underneath Your Clothes" (love this song)
1 FOOL
Ch 1- Life of the Party
The twilight set over the Shire like a blanket, and would have been intolerable if not for a slight breeze in the air. The fireflies were performing their nightly ritual in the tall grass, and the crickets singing somewhere far below. Stars, pinpoints of light, dotted the sky like tiny holes in a velvet sheet. The way the clouds lit up when they crossed the moon was the finishing touch to a perfect evening: the night of a party.
Camilla Took stood under the huge pavilion, staring at the erratic flight and blinking lights of the fireflies. Normally she would be out trying to catch them as the other young hobbits were, but tonight was different. Tonight she had to keep her white blouse clean and the green frock over it unwrinkled. She had to manage to keep her mop of curly blonde hair untangled, however impossible that was going to be with the wind and all. She had to walk tall and dignified, like a lady-hobbit, not a child. After all, she was not a child, or was she? At 29 she was not sure. She glared sadly at the children laughing and jumping among the reeds, then forced herself to turn away. She would keep her promise to herself.
It was quite clear that the whole Shire was on hand for Blibo Baggins's 111th birthday. There were hundreds of hobbits that she had never seen before. Camilla wondered if Bilbo knew all them or if they had just showed up because if was the most anticipated party in 50 years. She was in the food tent, standing in a corner next to a giant barrel of ale. From there she could everything going on in the tent without being seen herself. The guests talked loudly to each other and consuming everything in sight. Camilla felt very small in her corner as she hugged herself and stared at the dirt.
Her friend, Hannah Proudfoot, had been unable to come because she had been stricken with a very bad cold and could scarcely leave her bed. Without her partner in crime, Camilla was quite alone. She had been sure to distance herself from her parents at the first possible moment because spending the evening alone was much better than spending it with her fussy mother. Her brother Pippin had taken off to somewhere unknown and was probably getting into mischief if she knew him well enough. Yes, she thought, he's probably off with Merry and …
A nauseous wave swept through her body as she thought of the other hobbit and her mission for the evening. She promised herself (and Hannah for that matter) that she'd do it, but without her there for moral support how on earth was she supposed to get through it?
In her lifetime, Camilla Took had only had a few conversations with Frodo Baggins; most consisted of things like, "Nice weather we're having today". Now, the thought of declaring her love for him was enough to make her want to hurl. Look Camilla, she told herself, you hardly ever see Frodo and you need to do this. Just tell him how you feel and then you can get on with your life. After he turns you down, she added ruefully. There was, however, a little voice deep inside her, the hopeless romantic in her, that said perhaps he would return her love and they'd live happily ever after. She laughed bitterly at the ridiculous idea and turned around to find herself standing over the open barrel of ale.
It happened to be still at the moment and Camilla could see her murky reflection. A round face with a mass of curly locks and stick out ears stared back at her. She nervously pushed her ears to her scalp, hoping they would stay closer to her head. She hated her ears with a passion. In fact, she hated her face altogether: her nose was too big, her eyes too small, and her lips too thin. Her father always told her that she was beautiful but that didn't count for anything. Fathers were supposed to say things like that to their daughters. Camilla noticed that one of the roses in her hair was falling out and she shoved it back into place. She loved roses and thought that they made her mousy hair a bit more exciting. My head smells like a perfume shop though, she thought and sighed. Her image suddenly rippled as someone dipped his mug into the barrel. She looked up and rolled her eyes at its owner.
"Don't give me attitude, Camilla," sneered Pippin. "At least I'm having fun."
"Who says I'm not having fun?" Camilla retorted. She couldn't stand it when her brother could read her mind.
"Well let's see," he said, "you're standing here staring into a barrel of ale. Sounds like loads of fun to me." He sipped his ale. "I'd love to join you, but Merry and I are… well… busy."
"And what would you be busy doing?" Camilla asked?
"Ah," he continued, "I cannot say. Sworn to secrecy." He grinned. "And if you try to follow me, I'll pour this on your head." He jollily waved his glass in the air.
"Glad you're so understanding," she scowled.
"Oh, please, Camilla, I'm not buying the sob story. Honestly, does your life fall apart when Hannah isn't here? Go find Sam or Frodo or someone…"
"Well where are they?" She asked earnestly. Her brother was finally becoming useful.
"Not sure," he replied, "last time I saw them was in the dancing field. Frodo was hanging out with Bilbo and trying to get Sam to ask Rosie to dance." He ran a hand through his wavy hair. "Go check there, or at least do something instead of standing there looking miserable."
Camilla offered a weak smile as Pippin bounded off into the darkness. Perhaps he wasn't such a bad older brother after all. Hands shaking, she headed in the direction of the music. It took her down a lantern-lit path through the trees, the wind whistling through the leaves. Numerous hobbits dotted the path, all of who gave Camilla a hearty "hello", even though she didn't know any of them. Hobbits get extremely friendly when they're drunk. The trees gave way to a clearing circled with lanterns and hobbits twirling in the center. Off to the left sat a fiddler and a flutist playing a sprightly jig. She took another step forward, cautiously looking to see if she knew any of these hobbits. Her eyes rested on an older one. "Bilbo Baggins," she muttered.
The guest of honor sat at a table talking to another hobbit and Gandalf the Grey,
neither of who looked too far off of eleventy-one either. His curly hair was gray and it flew out madly in all directions. They always said that Bilbo was crazy. Camilla was not in the mood to contemplate Bilbo's mental stability, however, and briefly flirted with the idea of marching straight up to him and questioning the whereabouts of his cousin. She had never met Bilbo Baggins, and it would most certainly seem odd for her to go up to him and ask such a frank question.
She sighed. There were a million hobbits milling about and none of them the one she was looking for. She was about to go when a husky hobbit sitting alone at a table caught her attention: Sam Gamgee. If anyone knew where Frodo was it would be he.
She pushed her way through the crowd to Sam's table. He was pouring ale down his throat like there was no tomorrow. His mug hit the table with a bang as Camilla sat down across from him. "Hi Sam," she said.
"Oh, hello there Miss Camilla," he replied woefully.
"Why so upset?"
"Oh the usual. Mr. Frodo is trying to get me to dance with Miss Rosie and I'm just don't want to. I don't have to dance with her, I'll be alright here, but oh no, Mr. Frodo is hell bent on…"
"Don't you like Rosie?" I cut in.
"Well yeah I do," he said, "but you know I'm too scared to ask, and she'll say no anyway…" He sighed, "I need some more ale."
Camilla clutched his arm, "No you don't. Sit down." He reluctantly obeyed, staring back at Camilla with the most pitiful expression she'd seen since… well… since she had looked into the ale barrel. "If you like Rosie than why don't you just go up to her and tell her so? Then you'll know."
"Funny that should come from you," He replied sharply.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Well considering you like Mr. Frodo…"
Camilla gasped and almost fell out of her chair. "Sam, I haven't told anyone that I like Frodo except for Hannah. If that damn Proudfoot told anyone…"
"As far as I know, she didn't. And your secret's safe with me." Sam grinned warmly.
"Who told you then?"
"I figured it out myself Miss Camilla. You see, I can see things that people don't usually notice, like how you're a very social outgoing hobbit when you're with your friends or Mr. Pippin, but whenever Mr. Frodo arrives on the scene you suddenly act like you are the most sophisticated hobbit in the Shire."
"Do I really?" She asked quietly.
"Well there is a notable change in your personality." He replied, "You don't act snotty or anything, you just try to act more mature."
Camilla did not know that she was doing this whenever she spoke to Frodo, but the more and more she thought about, she realized that Sam was quite right. "Do you suggest that I be myself a little more?"
"Oh yes," said Sam, "I think Mr. Frodo would rather enjoy the real you. He likes fun-loving hobbits."
"And I suggest that you ask Rosie to dance." Camilla declared.
Sam blushed furiously, "Well now you see Miss Rosie and I is a lot different than Mr. Frodo and you…"
"It's no different Sam." Camilla answered, "You're a very nice hobbit and I'm sure Rosie would love to be your girlfriend." She stood, leaned across the table and kissed Sam on the forehead. "Now where is Frodo?"
Sam turned an even deeper shade of red. "The last I saw, he was talking to Miss Rosie. Just stay in the area. You're bound to find him."
"Thanks Sam." She turned her back to his table.
"Good luck," he called after her.
"You too," she replied. If Frodo was in the area, he was sure doing a good job of hiding himself. She reasoned that he must be on the other side of the dance floor, but she didn't want to cut through the waltzing couples to get there. She was so busy debating the best way to arrive at the other side that she almost missed the fact that she didn't need to.
A hobbit emerged from the bushes at her right. He was laughing to himself and his clothes were slightly dirty. His brown hair flew in all directions as he raced past Camilla, then suddenly skidded to a stop a few yards in front of her. He turned around and the light caught in his eyes, brilliant blue ones and Camilla felt faint.
Frodo Baggins was looking her straight in the face.
Immediately, her palms were covered in sweat and her heart thumped a thousand times a minute. There was no one else near her, which meant that he was heading for Camilla. So this is when I die, she thought, which was instantly rebuked with a cry of, oh Camilla you foolish Took, you're not going to die.
If hobbits had gods, Frodo surely would have been one of them. The light twinkled in his eyes and his curly hair always seemed to look perfect. He was lean, rather tall for a hobbit, and a smile constantly played at his lips, those thin lips that she longed to touch. Stop that, Camilla, she scolded herself, you mustn't think dirty thoughts about Frodo. But it was too late for that, her mind was already wandering to R rated things, and by the time she gained control of her brain he was already upon her.
"Hi Camilla you look lovely tonight." He grinned double rows of perfect gleaming teeth. Camilla felt weak somewhere in the knee area.
"Oh," she said breathlessly, "thank you. You look nice yourself."
"Are you kidding me? I've been running around in the bushes. My clothes are a mess and Bilbo'll give me hell for it." He chuckled and it sounded like bells.
This was the time to do. This was the time to tell him. She needed to. She just had to. She had to get it out of her system once and for all. At this point, a horrible aching pain had arisen in her chest and combined with her throbbing heart she was finding it hard to breathe. Maybe you just shouldn't do it, she thought, just let this blow over and forget about it. Besides, you know what he'll say anyway. Then a new thought struck her: oh what the hell. Carpe Diem, baby.
She inhaled sharply. "Frodo, I really would like to tell you that…"
Frodo grabbed her arm and gasped. The waltz in the background had been replaced by a fast jig. "This is my favorite song!" His eyes grew two times their size. "Let's dance."
"Uh wait a minute, I…"
But Camilla's plea fell on deaf ears as she was whisked to the dance floor. In a second his arms were around her and they whirled in circles. Camilla's head swam and she felt faint. She was not middle earth's best dancer, and the love of her life was about to find that out the hard way. To Camilla's horror, many of the hobbits dancing around her stopped to cheer on their guest of honor. She knew she shouldn't have had that 3rd mug of ale.
Frodo noticed her floundering and offered the best tips he could. "You have to drive your feet into the ground," he called, "That's how you do a jig." He spun her out on one hand, then reeled her in like a bass from the Brandywine. Her body hit his with a thud. "Try it." He cried.
Try she did, and surprisingly she didn't do too badly. Their feet moved in time and the crowd of hobbits cheered at their synchronization. He linked his arm with hers and ran in a circle. Then he took her by both hands and spun her around. The world was a blur of color and lights, nothing focused except for the wide smiling handsome face before her, and the hair whipping behind his head. A blonde curl of her own fell across her eye and in vain she shook her head to remove it. She wanted to remember this sight her whole life.
Suddenly Frodo stopped twirling her. The song was over and the hobbits were cheering uncontrollably. The world still shaking like an earthquake, she somehow managed to curtsey while Frodo bowed. He slowly led her off the dance floor as she massaged her aching head with her palm. "You did well," he said, "You're not too bad of a partner."
"Oh that's good." The words sounded stupid to Camilla but she still couldn't see straight. Frodo's face was bobbing back and forth in front of her. She plopped down on the bench of one of the tables and Frodo let go of her hand.
"Yes," He replied, "Well, it was nice dancing with you. I'll see you around when I come to visit Pippin."
"But…" It was too late. Frodo was off and running to someplace else. Where he got the energy she had no clue. She blinked and inhaled deeply. Sweet oxygen filled her lungs and she dipped her head back against the table. She had a terrible headache and she closed her eyes. She hadn't accomplished her mission, but she felt as though she had done enough for the night. After all, she thought wearily, tomorrow is another day.
And with that she fell promptly asleep against the wood.
Do you like? Please review and I'll continue the story. Thanks so much!
