A/N: Hullo all, and thank you for the lovely reviews. I really don't deserve them. I've had a rather ill, stressful half a year and time just got away from me with updates. But I need something to cheer me up, and immediately wanted to pop out a chapter of this, so without further ado, here is the long overdo fair installment. I'm gonna try to update both of my stories a bit, but I may also experiment with a hyper realistic Girl in Middle Earth story (I know, how original). But I spent two weeks living in the wilderness this summer, climbing mountains, and spent the whole time thinking "This is how those girls who join the fellowship feel". But for now, here's an update of this. I hope any remaining readers enjoy it, and I do enjoy hearing from you!
Chapter 7: A Rose by Any Other Name
In which Merry tries to impress and overestimates himself, Estella and Fredegar Bolger are introduced, and Amaryllis does not need a lad to get her flowers.
Amaryllis couldn't sleep the night before the Midsummer Fair. It wasn't that she was nervous, because she had been nearly every year since she was old enough to waddle along next to her mother. It was just that this was the first time she'd be attending with anyone other than family, let alone a boy. Not that Frodo Baggins was a boy to her in the same way as Acacia's various lads (Folco the longest lasting as of that week), and she wasn't even attending with him so much as potentially meeting him there.
It was just that whenever she was with him, Amaryllis often just felt that Frodo wasn't inhabiting the same Shire she was. He was always off somewhere in his head, maybe on adventures with elves or reading in some quiet, light-filled place that smelled like the sea. But Frodo's uncanny knack for wandering off to places in his head far beyond Amaryllis' rather dull reality only made her more anxious about spending time with him outside her humdrum routine of chores, mending, the occasional trip to the market, and of course, her reading lessons.
Amaryllis rolled over in her bed, stomach in knots and knowing Acacia would say something sly about the circles under her eyes the next morning if she didn't manage to sleep soon. She tossed and turned and lay in every possible position, finally emerging from beneath her pillows and giving up on the whole matter, grabbing the latest edition of simple poetry she'd borrowed from Frodo to practice her reading with. There was nothing to do but give up. Amaryllis would have liked to read by candlelight under her sheets, but the one time her mother had caught her in such a position had not ended well ("Dripped wax all over the bed-sheets, confound it all! Have a little common sense, Amaryllis. They could've caught fire and then what would've become of our smial?"). She would simply have to go to the kitchen where there was nothing as flammable as bed-sheets. Amaryllis tried to pad out quietly enough to not wake Acacia or her parents in the adjacent room, but just when she thought she had made it to safety, she heard the telltale creak of an opening door.
"Amaryllis, is that you? What in heaven's name are you doing up at this hour?" her mother inquired, rubbing her eyes. Amaryllis went pale on cue.
"Oh, I was just—I couldn't sleep, so I thought I'd read a bit." The fact that she could officially use reading as an excuse gave Amaryllis a small thrill in spite of the fact that the books she was capable of reading weren't particularly impressive. "I'm sorry, I'll go back to bed and forget about it."
Something about her stammer must have alerted her mother to an underlying cause of her insomnia, because a moment later she was seated beside Amaryllis, gentle and relatively alert.
"What is the matter, dear? You sleep like a log every night of the year except for when there's something nagging at that overactive head of yours. Come on, better spit it out now, and you'll feel better for it."
Amaryllis bit back her thoughts for all of a second before her nerves came spilling forth.
"I'm just nervous about, well, about seeing Frodo again tomorrow. Not because I fancy him," she clarified when her mother raised an eyebrow. "He's just so smart, and not just in the clever way. He's wise somehow, like he couldn't stop thinking even if he tried and he's serious too, and looks a little sad sometimes and then I want to cheer him up. I so want to be his friend but I don't know how and there you have it."
She finished in a huff, folding her arms defiantly and waiting for a retort about not wasting her energies worrying about Madd Bagginses when there was mending to be done and chores to be finished. Instead, her mother was silent for a moment. Then she got up and padded over to set the kettle to a boil, trotting over to the larder to retrieve milk and sugar.
"Hot milk has always helped you relax, dear, and I don't see any reason why it shouldn't now." Amaryllis was silent as she bustled about, accepting the resultant steaming mug without questions. The hot fog was soothing against her face, and for a moment she simply inhaled the sweet smell and sighed contentedly. "Now, Lissie, why does Frodo Baggins make you so anxious? You've been heading down there every Tuesday for two months now, against your father's wishes and my better judgment. If the lad has done anything to you to make you nervous, I won't having you go down there again."
"Oh, no, he's not done anything to me," Amaryllis stuttered, "He's the kindest person I've ever met, really, and it just surprises me is all, because I'm not anything special. I mean, you know how I am. I'm silly and I'm not good at listening and I'm not pretty, either. I just keep wondering when he is going to realize that it's not worth it letting me spend time with him at all and give up."
"Come here, my sweet girl," her mother said, and Amaryllis kneeled down to hug her round the middle without question, resting her face in her skirts just like she had when she was little. "Dearheart, there is no reason why Frodo Baggins or any other lad with half a brain—and it sounds like Frodo has more than half, much as I wonder about him and his uncle—shouldn't want to spend every minute with you. You are lovely to look at and be with, though I won't deny you are headstrong and would do well to mind your elders more. But I suspect there's no use trying to curtail that now, and I wouldn't change you anyways. You've marched to your own tune since you first could walk, and I'd rather have a clear-headed difficult lass on hand than one who only serves as a pretty doll. I'm sure Frodo feels the same."
"You can't know that," Amaryllis mumbled, though the weight in her stomach had already lessened grudgingly.
"I can," her mother said ruefully, "Do you think I haven't watched the sun set and wondered when that boy was going to let you head on home to your family on Tuesdays? Now, are you ready to go to sleep once you finish your milk?"
"I think so," said Amaryllis, sitting back. "Mother," she began hesitantly. "Can you make me look nice tomorrow? For the fair?"
"You always look nice, but I can fix your hair so you don't look like you just tumbled out of bed," her mother said, the beginnings of amusement lighting up her eyes. "But why the sudden interest in appearance? Don't tell me you've just now decided to take after Acacia?"
"No," Amaryllis said firmly, wrinkling her nose. "I just want to look less, well, less like my normal self tomorrow, if you follow. I'm not quite sure why."
"You will be lovely," her mother said decidedly. "Frodo will be very impressed." Amaryllis turned red. She didn't care about looking pretty for Frodo or anyone else, exactly, but it would be nice to feel put together, in charge, and proper for a change. Like she wasn't just a silly girl barely into her tweens.
"I don't want to do it for Frodo," she mumbled. "I think I can sleep now, maybe."
"Good. Off to bed with you, then."
Amaryllis fell asleep instantly, and dreamed of the way the noon sun filtered into the Bag End sitting room just so.
The next morning, her mother got her all prettied up as per her wishes while Amaryllis wriggled, squirmed, and complained about how much of her silly hair was showing.
"Can't you, I don't know, wrap it up in something? I want to hide the color." Her mother shot her a look in the mirror and Amaryllis pouted, jolting when one of the hair ribbons was pulled too tight.
"Amaryllis, if I let you put your hair up you'll have it all pulled down by the end of the day in any case, with those restless hands of yours, so I'm not going to bother. There's nothing wrong with your hair. Now, for goodness' sake, hold still and let me finish."
"What about my freckles?" Amaryllis asked, wrinkling her nose at her reflection. "Is there anyway to cover them up?"
Her mother sighed, her expression a clear 'no'. "Let's get a good breakfast in your belly and I'll send you and April on your way. Amaryllis, stopping fiddling with those. You look enchanting. Prettier than any of your elves."
"That's untrue and you know it," Amaryllis grumbled, feeling moody, gingery, and generally ungainly. "Elves don't have freckles."
"You have your father's hair whether you like it or not, my dear, and red hair and freckles go together as well as eggs and bacon and bread and butter. Now, stop your needless fretting and come eat."
Amaryllis and April managed to get out the door and on their way by Hobbiton by mid-morning, which was a mild miracle considering just how many times April forgot her drawing things (she wanted to sketch every flower stand she saw) and their mother's constant fixing of Amaryllis' hair, which came undone with alarming frequency thanks to fiddling fingers. Amaryllis was still feeling homely and grouchy as they walked down to Hobbiton, but the clearness of the summer sky and warm kiss of sunlight on her skin did a lot to cheer her up. April's presence helped as well.
"You look so nice," she commented, "though I think your hair looks even nicer when it's all the way down. Mother makes miracles with those ribbons. Will you let me draw you? I want to get better at doing portraits, and Acacia yelled at me the last time I did her. Said I made her eyes too close together."
"Sure you can draw me," Amaryllis said, beaming at her big sister. "It would be an honor, knowing how carefully you sketch. And everything you draw turns out looking just like what it's supposed to. I don't know how you manage it."
April blushed in pleasure and took her sister's hand, her step in full spring. By the time the sun was well on its way to reaching its noontime apex, the sounds of the fair were audible. Amaryllis could see all the bright colors of the stands and rustling skirts of fair-goers. Soon, a familiar and cheery banner came into view, reading Hobbiton Midsummer Festival in an elegant petal-pink script. Amaryllis' heart soared with excitement.
"Come on, I think I see Hanna Grubb. You probably shouldn't get any pies yourself, but she may be amenable if I'm the one doing the sampling. What would you like me to bring you back?" April asked, craning her neck to look around.
"Something with lots of cream. You know I have no taste for berry pies," Amaryllis answered. "Shall I just wait here until you get back?"
"Yes, that would probably be best. We all know how directionally challenged you are, and there are too many people here even for those with maps for a mind."
Amaryllis didn't mind staying put for once, as there was far too many interesting things to look at to get bored. In her line of vision she could see several children oohing and aahing over porcelain dolls being championed by a Buckland toy vender, a conglomeration of farmers leading their prized pigs over to the livestock showing, and flowers galore. She kept looking around for Frodo's dark hair among the numerous sandy-blonde heads, but he was nowhere to be found. She did, however, spot a curl of fair orangey hair not unlike her own that could very well belong to Merry.
"Merry?" she called, wishing would April would come back so she could safely chase after him. "Is that you?"
"Merry, I think that's Amaryllis!"
Merry and Pippin both jostled into view, dragging a rather portly and worried looking hobbit-lad with them. The both grinned when they saw her.
"Hullo, Amaryllis," Merry said cheerfully. "Lost another sister?"
"Just waiting for one, actually. The good one," she clarified. "She's gone to get treats from Hanna Grubb and thought it best I stay behind, given my history with fresh pies," she finished sheepishly.
"Well, we'll just have to wait with you, now won't we?" Pippin said, "And you had better tell us all about your little skirmish with Magda Proudfoot. Frodo was in conniptions when he told us, but I should like to hear it straight from the horse's mouth."
"Watch who you call a horse, you cad!" Amaryllis swatted him playfully. "I'll not say a word about it. It was terrible behavior on my part, and I'd rather put it behind me."
"Terrible? I'd say inspired," Merry grinned. "One could almost think you were Buckland-born-and-bred from the messes you get yourself into. Oh, we should introduce you to Fatty. Fredegar, get over here and meet Amaryllis."
Merry's stout companion lumbered over on cue, smiling sheepishly at Amaryllis and turning a little red when she shook his hand.
"Amaryllis Bracegirdle," she said, wondering why in the world he was blushing so fiercely. Perhaps he was just overheated. It was, in fact, a rather warm day. "A pleasure, Fredegar."
"Oh, there's no need to call my Fredegar," Fredgar mumbled, looking at his toes. "Most just call me Fatty. It suits me better, I reckon." Amaryllis, who had had plenty of experience with unpleasant nicknames, took offense at this.
"It does not if I have anything to say about it, so you will continue to be Fredegar to me," she said stubbornly. "Nicknames go against everything I stand for. They are a fate worse than death." Fredegar's blush seeped into his neck, and he smiled.
"You don't call us Meriadoc and Peregrin," Merry commented, quirking an eyebrow at her.
"That's because Merry and Pippin aren't bad things to be called. Fatty isn't nice and I won't use it. It's my own business what I call people. I'll compromise on Freddy. Very nice to meet you, Freddy," she said, and Fredegar grinned.
"Oh, suit yourself, you stubborn girl," Merry said with a blasé wave of hand. "Say, Fatty, where did your sister get to? I should like to win her a prize at one of the flower stands. It's tradition."
"It's also tradition that you always lose," Pippin said under his breath.
"I reckon she's over at the roses, mooning over the pink ones," said Fredegar. "Shall we look for her?"
At that point, April emerged from the crowd gathered around Hanna Grubb's sweets stand, a stack of pastries balanced precariously in her arms. Her eyes widened when she saw Amaryllis' company.
"This would be the infamous Peregrin Took and Meriadoc Brandybuck, I presume?" she said, gathering herself admirably. "I hope you know you've gotten my baby sister into a great deal of trouble with your…your exploits! What do you have to say for yourselves, corrupting the young and innocent?"
"Corrupting? Now see here, Miss, Amaryllis has been more than willing to accompany us on our exploits, as you put it," said Merry indignantly, "I hardly think she is any more corrupted now than she was before we happened upon her, and I'm sure Hanna Grubb would be happy to testify against her 'innocent' character. Now, can we please go and locate Estella? I'd rather like to—"
"Make moon eyes at her and pretend you're handsome and charming, yes," Pippin interrupted. "Coming, Amaryllis? Or are you opposed to roses?"
"As a matter of fact, I'm quite fond of them," Amaryllis beamed. "Coming, April?" April nodded a bit doubtfully, handing Amaryllis a cream puff. Amaryllis bit into it with a happy sigh. "I had no idea you were sweet on anyone, Merry. Is she very lovely?"
"Don't talk with your mouth open," April chided, nudging Amaryllis. "It's rude." Amaryllis just shrugged and took another bite. She hardly cared about minding her manners around Merry and Pippin after their excursion into Farmer Maggot's fields. The two were hardly upstanding examples of chivalry themselves.
"Now see what you've done, Pip," Merry grumbled, "I'll never hear the end of this, and I do not fancy Stella. Quiet, you," he said to Amaryllis. "From what I've heard, you've had your own share of embarrassing fancies. Does the name Sparklewing ring a bell?"
"Watch whose sister you call an embarrassing fancy," Fredegar protested as Amaryllis growled.
"I'm going to kill Frodo. He promised he wouldn't—oooh, that rotten liar," she snarled. "Speaking of which, have you seen him anywhere? He promised he'd—well, I was looking forward to seeing him," she finished, blushing a little and hoping neither cousin noticed. April shot her a look, but kept silent.
"I'm sure he's around somewhere," said Pippin absently. "No doubt trying to cajole poor Sam into romancing Rose Cotton. I heard she took a turn at the kissing booth this year, and I'm sorry to have missed it." He waggled his eyebrows.
"Sam would flay you if he heard you talking about his Rose like that," said Fredegar wisely, "and you'd go back to Tuckborough in a matchbox if you actually kissed her."
"Sam fancies Rose Cotton?" Amaryllis asked, curious. It wasn't hard to imagine sweet, encouraging Samwise liking such a kind, pretty girl. Pippin grinned.
"'Fancied' is putting it lightly. He's been planning the wedding since he first laid eyes on her. Oi, there's your Stella, Merry. Stella! Hoy, Stella, over here!"
A generously curvy, vibrantly dressed hobbit lass bounced over to them, pecking Fredegar on both cheeks and beaming at Merry. Amaryllis could see Lace Goodbody's flower stand behind her, her hallmark of roses erupting in every conceivable color and configuration. There was a bundle of buds the exact color of sunshine and butter, and her stomach fluttered. They were the loveliest things she'd ever seen, and she wanted them desperately.
"Lace is doing a bottle toss this year for a bouquet of choice," Estella Bolger said, "which is wonderful, because silly me forgot my coin purse on my dresser, and they cost a pretty penny. Not that she shouldn't charge for them, her buds being the finest in the Shire. Oh, Freddy, won't you try and win some pink ones for me?"
"You know I'm rubbish at those games, Stella," said Fredegar worriedly, eyeing a couple of strappy teenagers trying the bottle-toss with overenthusiastic arms. One of the bottles actually shattered from the force of the tallest one's throw, and Lace ushered them away from her precious blooms with a scolding expression as her assistant, a rotund and cheerful Adrian Mellows, set up a new bottle.
"I'll win some for you, Stella," Merry announced, swaggering forward. Pippin sniggered, exchanging an amused glance with Amaryllis. Estella's grin split even wider.
"That's terribly kind of you, Merry," she said radiantly, pecking him on the cheek. Merry puffed out his chest. "Come on, let's go now. Hullo again, Mrs. Goodbody," she said cheerfully. Lace just huffed, straightening out a prominent bundle of white roses with a slightly sour expression.
"I've told you already, you get one chance and one chance only. Either pay for your roses, or leave." Estella was undeterred, pushing Merry forward.
"Never mind that, I've brought someone new to take a gander. Go on, Merry luv, show her what you're made of."
"Is he any good at aim?" Amaryllis asked Pippin. Pippin just shushed her and pointed to where Merry was coolly observing the line of bottles with narrowed eyes, throwing pebble in hand.
"Remember to throw gently, boy," Lace interjected grouchily, "you don't win a thing if you break the bottles. Knock all of them down, and pick your bouquet of choice. No more, no less."
"Right," said Merry, measuring the swing of his underhand. He released the first pebble and the first bottle toppled easily. Estella cheered, and Amaryllis whooped. The second pebble flew, and the second bottle toppled over. Amaryllis clapped, leaping to her feet, when she heard a familiar voice.
"Oh dear, I see Merry's trying to impress Estella again. Has he ever actually won any of these games, Sam?"
"As far as I've seen, no," said Sam, "he does alright on the first couple o' throws, then gets cocky trying to impress Ms. Stella and does in his chances."
"Frodo Baggins," Amaryllis immediately snapped, whirling around, "you have a lot of nerve, telling Merry and Pippin of all people what I confided in you with strictest…um…confidence!" she finished, the picture of righteous indignation. Frodo looked quite taken aback at being unexpectedly faced with her ire, blinking confusedly.
"Amaryllis, what—"
"Sparklewing," Amaryllis whispered in a deadly voice. Frodo winced.
"Oh, goodness, I am sorry about that. Bilbo asked what we were laughing about after you'd left that day, and it just slipped out. I just thought it endearing, and Bilbo agreed. He said he thought the elves would find it downright sweet, and I imagine he must have told Merry and Pippin, because I certainly didn't." Amaryllis' eyes narrowed. Frodo gulped. "I swear it. I never made a peep to them. I may have, erm, forgotten to stress the confidentiality of the matter to Bilbo, though."
"So this is your fault!" Amaryllis said triumphantly. "You have some nerve, Frodo Baggins. That is the last time I tell you anything!"
"See here now, Ms. Amaryllis," said Sam, indignant on behalf of his master, "stop these accusations at once. Mr. Frodo never did nothing—"
"She's right, Sam, and she has every right to be annoyed," interjected Frodo, looking at Amaryllis with something rapidly approaching puppy-dog eyes. "Please forgive me, Amaryllis. It won't happen again. I'll buy you those yellow roses."
They both looked at the flower stand, where Merry was doing his last two throws. His simple underhand had become rather dramatic and exaggerated, and after knocking over the second to last bottle, he put his other hand over his eyes.
"Eyes closed," he called while Estella clapped delightedly. Frodo sighed, grinning at Amaryllis, who only glowered. She was not going to forgive him for betraying her that easily.
"Here it comes," Frodo announced, "the downfall of a hero." Sure enough, the second the pebble was thrown, it swerved and soared a good foot over the last bottle. Merry's eyes flew open, and he stared at the standing bottle in incredulous horror. Estella pursed her lips, looking bitterly disappointed, and Pippin hollered.
"Right on, cousin! Good show!"
"Shut up Pip," Merry growled, turning imploringly to Lace, who looked thoroughly unimpressed. "Oh, come on. I was this close."
"Sure you were," Pippin grinned. Merry scowled at him.
"This close or no, the last bottle is standing, and you didn't win a thing," said Lace stubbornly. "Move along now." Merry could see arguing was futile, and moved away reluctantly, looking at Estella with obvious guilt.
"Shall I buy you those roses then?" Frodo asked, clearly hoping all would be forgiven and forgotten. Amaryllis shook her head.
"My favor can't be bought at a flower stand, Frodo Baggins. Anyways, I'll not have you wasting money on me. Take a go at the bottle toss, and if you win them I may be impressed enough to forgive you."
"Amaryllis, I'm truly hopeless at this kind of thing," said Frodo, eyeing the bottles like he thought they'd bite them.
"Well, if you're too scared to try, I won't hold it against you," Amaryllis said loftily, patting him on the shoulder. "It's okay, Frodo, I'll forgive you anyway, out of the goodness of my heart."
"Oh, good," said Frodo, looking quite relieved. "I hate these sorts of games. I'd rather not make a fool of myself today. Are you sure you don't want me to buy you any? I really don't mind."
Amaryllis considered this offer carefully. Truthfully, as enticing as the offer was, she knew for certain she would feel terribly guilty about making Frodo spend money, and her parents would probably hear about it as well if he bought flowers for her, and who knew what her father would start thinking then? She was still rather annoyed at his betrayal as well, which was dimming the excitement of the whole deal.
"No," she said firmly, making up her mind. "I'll win them myself. Do you mind if I give it a go?" she asked Lace Goodbody, who acquiesced grudgingly.
"Amaryllis," began April, "you know father won't be happy if he finds out you've made a spectacle of yourself. These sorts of games are…well, it's all very well and good for a lad to win flowers for you, but you can't just win them yourself."
"Poo on that," Amaryllis said resolutely, squinting at the first bottle. Pippin looked quite excited at getting to watch a second round, and Merry perked up a little, though he was still visibly put out at losing Estella's pink bouquet. She looked back at Frodo, who just raised an eyebrow, a slight challenge in his eyes. Amaryllis gulped and tried to concentrate.
"Give Merry a run for his money," Pippin cheered, and Merry punched him.
Growing up a Hardbottle hoodlum had its advantages, one of them being that Amaryllis had spent a good number of years throwing rocks at things. In those days the target had usually been Maurice Grubb after he said something annoying, and he had the most obnoxious habit of scaling trees to avoid Amaryllis' retaliation every time he called her Lissie. Amaryllis, knowing perfectly well that she mixed with heights about as well as oil did with water, had had no choice but to develop excellent aim to punish Maurice for his awful nicknames. She wasn't completely confident as she aimed the first pebble, but she did know she had the arsenal of necessary skills if her arm still remembered how to pitch a good throw, and that was enough to release the pebble with faith it would hit its target. It did, and all six bottles fell with very little fuss. Amaryllis was shocked at her own luck as Pippin cheered her.
"Shown up by a girl!" he taunted, slapping Merry on the back. "Excellent job, Amaryllis. I'll never let him forget this."
"Amaryllis," April groaned as Amaryllis threw her arms around Pippin triumphantly, hollering. "Father is not going to like this."
"Alright, girl, get on with it," interjected Lace. "What color bouquet do you want?"
"Yellow ones, please," Amaryllis said without missing a beat, looking over her shoulder. Frodo was smiling, his eyes sparkling more than usual, and Amaryllis own grin widened on its own accord. She thought her cheeks would burst from the force of her joy as Lace handed her the bouquet, which smelled heavenly. She touched one of the buds reverently, marveling at the velvet-softness of its petals. Estella Bolger eyed the roses a little jealously.
"Oh, those are beautiful," she sighed wistfully, touching one. Amaryllis extracted one from her bouquet and handed it to her, feeling generous. "You don't have to," Estella said, but took it anyway, beaming again. Amaryllis grinned back.
"It's okay, I have plenty. Roses should be shared!" Amaryllis felt wonderful as she handed a rose to Merry, Pippin, April, Freddy, Sam, and finally Frodo. She hesitated handing him his, hand shaking for just a moment when her thumb brushed his skin and she looked up to meet his eyes. They were dazzlingly bright, and Amaryllis glanced away again like she'd been burned.
"You don't have quite enough for a bouquet now," Estella said thoughtfully, stroking the petals of her rose. "Oh, I have a splendid idea. Hold still, will you? My ma's done this to my hair before and it looks lovely when it's done properly. The color might clash with your hair, and white would probably be better, but these'll still do nicely. Do you have something to trim the stems with, by any chance? I have more than enough ribbon to work with here."
Lace reluctantly procured a pair of pliers, and Estella went to work. Amaryllis held still, thinking that having a crown of roses was like something straight out of one of Bilbo's books. She could imagine an elf princess wearing such a thing. Estella's fingers were swift and clever, and she soon finished. "There, done. Don't touch it too much, or they'll fall out. Turn around." She regarded Amaryllis carefully before nodding in approval. "Yes, that's very nice. I'd make a good hairdresser. I do wish your hair was blonde or brown, but I suppose bright isn't necessarily a bad thing."
"Oh, Amaryllis, you look like a dream," April gushed, fiddling with one of the blossoms. Amaryllis glowed under the praise.
"Or at least less like a nightmare," Pippin said cheekily. Amaryllis hit him without hesitation. "I'm only kidding. They're very nice."
"What do you think?" Amaryllis asked boldly, turning to Frodo, who was fingering the rose she'd given him. Her confidence disappeared the moment his eyes raised to look at her, but she tried to keep her chin high anyway, the wreath of flowers nestled heavily in her curls. Frodo was silent for a beat.
"I've never much liked roses," he said carefully, and Amaryllis wilted, disappointment curdling in her stomach, "but I think I just hadn't seen them under the right circumstances." Amaryllis looked up, her cheeks pinking. Estella broke the moment, threading her arm through Amaryllis' elbow.
"You're Amaryllis Bracegirdle, aren't you? I've heard all about you. Thank you ever so much for the flower. Merry and Pippin didn't do you any justice when they were talking about you."
"I'm sure they didn't," Amaryllis said, glowering at Pippin, who looked sheepish.
"Do you want to check out some of the other stands with me? I saw a man doing portraits just a little to the left of here."
Amaryllis spent the rest of the fair chatting with Estella and April, but her cheeks never quite cooled as she remembered just how brilliant Frodo's eyes had looked when he'd regarded her in her flower crown, and she found herself reaching up just to make sure it was still there, stomach overflowing with butterflies.
A/N: There it is! I am sorry about the wait, but I've had a rotten time this year, and just didn't have it in me to write on top of everything. But I am doing a little better now, and will try to update again soonish! Please review if you can, and thanks very much for reading lovelies!