Disclaimer: see ch1
A/N: So, Faramir is giving us trouble, apparently not very happy that I wanted to do a very angsty chapter with him. So we decided to give him some time to pout it out before going back to him. So here's Rosie, Sam's love interest, for you. Hope you enjoy-Onoro (Elf Secretary, Wakabe Writing Firm)
Prompt: Rosie Cotton: Dance
They had danced this dance for many years, she and Samwise. It was one she was intimately familiar with, had been part of since she was a girl. He had always been shy to her touch, mostly unwilling to take the initiate, to go to her, though she knew that he wanted to. It had endeared him to her, made her want to get closer to this shy hobbit. This shy hobbit, who was the son of a friend of her father's, who was kind and courteous to her, and indeed to all hobbits. This shy hobbit that blushed when talking to her, who stumbled over his words and spoke in large rushes, where words would simply pour out of him before he went silent, nervous and anxious.
Even now, years from their first day playing in the sun, they still danced, always a back and forth back and forth easy routine, one that ended too often with their parting before she could press a little closer, before she could see him become a little more flustered and relaxed with her. She gave him knowledge of her desire for more through her actions, letting him know that she wanted to become more with him. He always gave shy smiles to her, but always hesitated to make a move. He followed her with his eyes as she danced alone in the middle of a crowd, giving form to her joyous spirit and happy soul. And whenever he gathered his courage enough to go to her (or whenever his master pushed him into the mass of dancing hobbits) it was always an easy dance between them. And how could it not be, when they had been dancing for so long together?
Though she longed to push for more, to ask for more, Rosie held her tongue. She knew that it was not yet time for them. Their time would be later, just as the sowing of seeds demanded time to grow, to blossom, so that fall would bear fruit of hard work and patience. She would have to wait for him to gather his courage and strength that she knew resided inside him, to let go of the fear of rejection, when such a possibility was not possible, not with her. And when they finally had their time together, barring any disaster for either of them, then it would be a most joyous occasion.
But for now, she would wait, letting the tension buuld as their dance neared its end, day by day, waiting to let them bow out of it, so as to start a new dance. And as she danced in the middle of all the other hobbits, at the One hundred and elventh birthday of one Mr. Bilbo Baggins, and the thirty third birthday of a Mr. Frodo Baggins, she could not help but smile with a profound happiness of what she knew. All she needed now was patience, and diligence in guarding her heart as she waited for his to reach for her own.
And when she found herself with an arm full of bashful but dancing hobbit, she could not help the smile that overcame her, nor the warm laughter as they danced around, coming closer and closer together, circling, parting, rejoining, with what seemed to be all the Shire, indeed all the world, at their little dance. And when the fireworks in the form of a dragon broke the trance they had seemed to have settled in, she did not mourn the loss of that temporary but wonderful connection with him. She knew that it was just one of many that she would have with him. She knew that there would be more; if not now, then later. She would wait, just as she had waited for many years now.
It would not be long, and she was willing to wait.