Anjion - Thanks! I need cranberry juice! :D If the rest of the story isn't as entertaining I'll understand; it's angsty and sappy from top to bottom, not much moving around, very fluffy. If that makes any sense. O.o
Speaking of that, though, this one-if you can consider the rest of the story "storyline"-I've decided to describe as VERY fluffy, but a nice little bow to tie for a semi-ending after next chapter. It does lead to more mini-plot, there is actual structure, I promise. It's just packed with as much fluff as I can manage. ;)
And I suppose I forgot to mention, but in the last chapter when she holds him on the couch and kisses him-that was a dream I had a while ago. And I changed it a great deal, but there are a couple of places in these chapters where it's based on something I dreamed about.
Somehow the anti-creature slept without risk of dying. She didn't understand quite why she felt tired, but she rested anyway. Her blood was strong and prodded her to sleep.
Frodo awakened before sunrise, anxious and still on the couch. His skin pricked as he paced in his front room, eyeing the world outside. He couldn't see Sev, but he hoped she was still there, that she hadn't left.
The sun dragged on its way to the horizon; Frodo finally broke out of Bag End and raced down the lawn to awaken her. But when he saw her his pace slowed. He gently leaned down and brushed his fingers against her face, adding a slight bit of pressure until she awakened. Her eyes flickered, and she yawned until she saw him.
"Sev," he said. "I want to show you something." He checked his pocket for the ring again, then extended his hand to her. He thought he anticipated the rush of warmth correctly, but it scattered up his arm more starkly than he had imagined before. She followed him up the hill he'd selected, one overlooking her log and the party field. She could see the sunrise, Thunderhome, Bag End, even the Brandywine although it was so far away.
When they reached the top, neither seemed to want to sit down. Sev leaned back against the blossoming tree on the hill, watching Frodo expectantly.
He nodded at the sunrise. "It's another day in the Shire . . . one I didn't think I'd see."
"I didn't think you would either." Sev rose from her slouch and nudged him. "You devil. Running off like that, scare me half to death. I thought we weren't going to leave each other."
Frodo lifted an eyebrow. "You did it first."
She brought her forehead against his, glaring jocosely. Frodo stifled a chuckle. "I confess—no, I don't confess. That wasn't my decision." They laughed for a moment, more relieved at the situation than entertained. But Frodo brought it to a halt, remembering why he had come up here.
He slipped the ring into his hand and swallowed. He couldn't help it; his heart fluttered wildly as he thought of everything that could be now, the confidence and affection that need not be stopped. She would be at home always; he could hold her with no fear of having to let her go.
Sev cocked her head as his hand came out of his pocket and unfolded. She gasped when she saw it glimmer in the light. The band of metal was mithril, and every stone within caught her. But even more than that, she couldn't reign in her hopes. She stared up at him.
"When I said I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you," he said around his initial fear, "I meant it. And you said that if you could have married anyone . . ." He didn't finish. He wanted to hear her reiterate it so he couldn't get her message wrong.
She was more than happy to carry it out again: the words tasted like sweet sugar on her tongue, but more satisfying. "It would have been you." She reached up initially and kissed his forehead; her hand laid on his heart. "And I absolutely will." She pecked his nose, wondering at how she could now touch him . . . how she could be forever with the one she'd loved for so many years.
Frodo moved to take the metal ring from her finger and replace it, but she shook her head.
"A marriage is not the end of a friendship," she said. She traced her name on the etching, then shifted the ring to her other hand.
Frodo grinned slightly. "I should hope not." He then slipped the larger ring over her finger. It was a little loose on the ring finger, so she slipped it to her third one; so much for moving the metal ring. He ignored that, cupped the back of her head and kissed her soundly. She inhaled slowly, letting her hands drift through his hair. She broke it off to thank him, but he needed no words. He kissed her again, pecked her lips a third time before pulling fully away. She laid her head on his shoulder as the sun rose in the distance, shedding light over the glimmering Shire.
When Sev approached Rosie for help, she sheepishly brought up that she was getting married before she could ask anything. Rosie squeaked excitedly and nearly hugged the life out of Sev; she then dragged Sev and Frodo inside and shoved them in with Sam.
"Samwise! Sam!" Rosie cried.
Sam glanced up from where he was playing with Elanor on the floor.
Rosie squeezed Frodo and Sev together from behind. "They're getting married, Sam!"
Sam stood and embraced them both powerfully, and simultaneously. Sev's eyes bulged.
"Congratulations, Mr. Frodo!" He shook Frodo's hand with both of his own, and the poor hobbit—completely breathless—just nodded in response.
"Coming from one who has been married five years, Sam," Frodo gasped, "that means a great deal more than you know."
Sam turned to Sev and held her hand in both of his, more softly than he had Frodo's. "You'll keep him safe, won't you, Ms. Sev?"
Sev rolled up her sleeves. "Exactly that, Sam. Thank you." She turned back to Rosie. "Now, I've come to ask you, as you have experience, when would be the best time to have the wedding?"
Rosie blew a raspberry, pondering.
"Two weeks?" Frodo said hopefully. He knew nothing about the preparations, but hoped it wouldn't take long.
Rosie gaped at him, and Sam blanched just a little. "Two weeks?!" she exclaimed. "No, no, no."
"Sooner?" Sev interjected. "Rosie, this wedding will not be very big."
Rosie laughed. "Knowing the Bagginses, it will be a grand wedding. You'll need at least the whole summer to plan and prepare everything. I say seven months; I would have liked that much time at least."
That brought a gawk to Frodo, and Sev stared at her friend with disbelief.
"Seven months?" Frodo managed.
Sev shook her head. "Too long, Rosie. We can't do seven months; there's no way either of us would make it."
Rosie paused, fingering her lips. Then she shrugged. "You made it through almost 20 years of friendship; you need seven months."
Frodo shook his head vehemently.
"What about five?" Sam offered before Rosie could hit her case home with Frodo, for her husband knew she would brook no argument without a decent compromise. "Five months from today is Mr. Frodo's birthday."
Sev jumped on that idea. Frodo still felt like it was a long time, but he decided he could wait. He nodded in affirmation, and Rosie reluctantly agreed, throwing Sam a hinting smile. Frodo moved to take Sev back to Bag End—looking forward to a day with just the two of them—when Rosie grabbed her arm.
"Come. No delays; five months is not nearly enough time!"
Sev paused, following Rosie very hesitantly as she looked back at Frodo. Rosie nodded and released Sev.
"But only for today," Rosie warned. "First thing in the morning we get started on preparations." She glanced over at Frodo. "You won't see her between tomorrow and the wedding, so get it all out now."
Frodo extended his hand to Sev; she accepted, and they walked out of the Gamgee home together, back to Bag End.
"What did you want to talk to me about?" she said simply, afraid of what he really wanted.
Frodo blinked at her. "What?" He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed her knuckles. "Just come inside. Rosie said it would be the solid five months before I got to see you."
"Somehow I don't doubt you will worm your way through that," Sev said, glancing down at the front step. She turned back to look at him. "A day would be nice, though." Then she stared at the door. "We would need to talk about a few things."
Frodo grew slightly solemn.
"Simple things," Sev said hurriedly. "Arrangements for roles in the home, the little things to straighten out. Differences, compromises. Knowing both of us, there will be things."
Frodo exhaled slowly. "Come." He opened the door; he thought he could distract her enough.
They ended up squeezing in conversation, but Sev realized Frodo was unnaturally pliable to anything she had to say in circumstances like this. She conceded to let him hold her on the couch. She sat underneath his arm, to his side, and he held her close to him. She thought she was making good progress: they got a few points covered that she had considered, but he said something very sweet, and she kissed his cheek.
That turned him on. He wrapped his other arm around her, and although she sat as angled away from him as possible, he managed to get a kiss in every few words, whether it be to her nose or her hand or her forehead.
"The last thing I thought of," she said, at about the middle of the afternoon, "was night habits. I like to prowl, and I won't be in any danger if I do so. You need sleep, and I figure staying here would just distract you from getting any rest." She paused. "At the rate you're getting dizzy now, that is."
Frodo nodded. "Prowling shouldn't be an issue." He reached forward on an impulse and pressed his lips against hers, gathering her close. She let her thoughts scatter and settled in place, her legs wrapped up on one of the couch cushions.
She broke it off to speak. "My point exactly," she murmured. Then she glanced at the floor. "Was there anything you were concerned about?"
Frodo shook his head, either adamant or vigorous. He frankly didn't mind which he seemed or felt. He kissed her again intently; he felt at home with his lips against hers, although didn't consider at the time whether or not she felt the same.
"I suppose there was one thing," he muttered when he pulled away.
Sev's eyes flickered back open. "And what is that?"
He kissed her nose. "That you're too serious about this. Relax a little bit. Enjoy it if you can allow yourself." He squeezed her shoulders, and she sighed. "You're going to be stressed enough over the next few months. Give this day just to the two of us."
Sev nodded, and her head rested against his neck. She folded into her brown dress. "I suppose you're right. But we can't just sit here kissing the whole time."
Frodo eyed her doubtfully, then began to trail kisses across her forehead and down her cheek, to the joint of her jaw. "I'm certain we could."
Sev laughed nervously and pushed him back to look at him. "But a bit of reading is in order."
"And cuddling," Pippin piped up. Sev shot to her feet, nearly falling over on the floor; before she could, Frodo caught her hand and stood. Pippin grinned, then walked slowly inside.
"I knocked, but apparently you two were too busy to hear me," he said, stifling a laugh.
"How long have you been standing there?" Sev didn't sound upset . . . but it chagrined her a little bit. She hoped he didn't hold it all against them after this, or tease them about it. She decided eventually it would become so casual that none of them really cared.
Pippin shrugged. "I didn't see much if that's what you mean. I think Frodo's a little distracted," he said, nodding to his cousin. "I also think I heard something about wedding bells in the coming months?"
Frodo let his eyes close. "Has Rosie been spreading such things so soon?"
Pippin shook his head with a bright grin. "No—that would be your honorable lady Elanor."
Sev laughed. "Indeed, Pippin. No harm done, then; what is it?"
"I just came over to see if she was right." He paused, eyeing their hands, then flicking his gaze back to the couch. "I suppose she was."
Sev nodded quickly. "Verified. Preparations are to begin tomorrow."
Pippin's eyebrows shot up, and Merry poked his head in. "Where do we go to . . .?" He paused, searching for the right words. "Give input. Make suggestions."
Frodo shot Sev a worried look, but she seemed rather nonchalant. As long as the two of them were married by the end of the day without anybody dead, she would be fine with whatever they had planned. She tossed her head.
"The Gamgees'. You'd better hurry; Rosie probably has every last little detail sketched out and being set in stone."
Pippin and Merry shot out the door without another word. Merry eventually shouted from the window: "Congratulations!" He waved hugely and raced after Pippin.
Sev exhaled slowly, although she did not sound relieved. She sounded content. She flopped back down onto the couch, and Frodo sat by her feet. She finally got back up and slipped over next to him.
"I think Pippin knows more about this stuff than I do," she admitted. She nestled against his arm.
Frodo blinked at her. "Why do you say that?" He wrapped his arms around her. "He's not even engaged."
Sev shrugged against his shoulder. "I don't have the typical capacity for affection, and sometimes I wonder if mine will ever be enough to make you happy." She reached over his lap and lifted a book from the table by the couch and set it down behind her. She looked up at his questioning expression. "Just something to read for later."
Frodo buried his jaw in her hair. "Much later."
Sev decided to wait until he wanted to get up. He just felt like holding her then, as memories trickled back to him, times he wished he could have had her like this. Simple, not overbearing or invasive, but affectionate. He fingered her arm; she sat as though frightened, young or exhausted, but he assumed this was normal, for he had held her no other way save when they comforted each other.
She would never let go of her fear of physical contact. Although it was most pleasant in the circumstances she found herself in, it wouldn't be remedied. But she felt a good deal for him, and therefore did not stop herself.
They sat like that for a few hours. She was content not to move, and her warmth lulled him into a gentle rest, one like he hadn't had in a long time. He gently held her closer as time passed, laying his head on her own.
Sev thought about what the day would have been like if he left. She nestled into his arms, now limp around her shoulders. It comforted her, then, to be surrounded by the hobbit she might have lost. She wriggled her arms out from around her buckled knees and wrapped them around his neck. She kissed his cheek.
"Thank you for staying." She flicked her gaze to his jaw, then touched her lips to his. "I wouldn't have anything else in the world."
Frodo's eyes flickered open. He hadn't picked up any of what she had just said, but he did feel that softness brush his lips. He pulled her back into a kiss, held her there for a while before letting go.
Since she had lifted her arms out, Frodo now held her by the waist. She reached back over his arm and slipped the book up off the couch. Frodo complied, releasing her so she could sit fully down against the cushions.
They read and talked the rest of the day. That night, they were both laughing rather hard, courtesy of Frodo proposing a contest. It started out just as Frodo trying to distract Sev from eating, but hinting that she should come and sit on his lap throughout dinner was not helpful, so he tried to get her to laugh instead. She was barely able to touch her food, and started firing back at him.
She stayed up with him until the middle of the night. They walked outside, but Frodo took her to the back lawn. He didn't want her to leave him, not yet. He wanted to spend every possible second with her before she vanished under Rosie's plans for five months.
They laid on their backs, facing the stars. Sev folded her hands behind her head, and Frodo did the same.
"Your birthday," she said. She turned to him. "You weren't proposing, were you?"
Frodo shrugged. "Not entirely: you said something at Minas Tirith about not being ready to think."
She sighed and reached for his hand. Their fingers entwined slowly. "I'm glad you did though. The ring is beautiful; where did you get it?"
He leaned forward and kissed her hand. "Bilbo brought it home. Apparently Balin or Dwalin or—," He paused. "I cannot recall which dwarf it was, but one was convinced Bilbo would come back and be married, so he forged this ring. Obviously Bilbo never used it." He hesitated, wondering if the background would mean anything to her. "And I thought that it was precious enough."
Sev grinned: a ring with a little bit of history. She liked that; it had some form of bookish ding to it. She propped herself up and kissed him. "It is precious." She ruffled his hair. "And so are you. Don't forget that."
She refused to sleep back there, even though Frodo promised to move to the other side of the lawn. She said she wanted her couch, and he needed to rest in a proper bed. She dragged him back inside; he was a little tired, having gotten no sleep the night before and being awake half of the present night. He acted more tired than he felt, because he found that she did her best to hold him up (initially weak as she was), and therefore touched him more as he moved less capably. He made a note to ask Pippin of the conventionality of that concept.
Sev embraced him. "Good night, Frodo."
He tilted her chin up and carefully looked her over—her eyes flickered apprehensively. She couldn't have explained why that expression frightened her so much; he didn't mean to do anything to her.
"Good night, my Sev." He leaned forward slowly and brushed his lips against hers, then caught there and pulled her into his arms. She wrapped her hands around his neck to stay upright. He hadn't gone absurdly deep, but it still made her dizzy.
When he was relaxed enough that she could back out, she wormed carefully away from him. She ruffled his hair, then grabbed his sleeve and brought him to his bedroom door.
"Now go to sleep. I'll see you in five months." She turned slowly, wishing she could kiss him once more, but she resisted and walked out the front door.
As Frodo slipped under the thick blanket, he felt like the world was perfect. But somehow something itched on him. Nothing bad, just . . . something that he'd wanted to bring up earlier in the day that he hadn't remembered when she asked. He shrugged and nestled into the pillows.
Sev sat out on her couch.
"Thank you, Willation," she whispered. Her hands clasped, and she pressed them against her jaw. She remembered every kiss, every touch, that day. The conflict—her fears—melted away in the gratitude she felt. "Thank you so much."
Rosie began her march to Bag End before the sun was even up. Frodo didn't think to awaken before she got there, but Sev was sitting and waiting. Rosie approached the front step, then paused and curtsied.
"May I come in, Mrs. Frodo Baggins?"
Sev gaped at her for only a moment. "I'm not Mrs. Frodo Baggins yet." Frodo's eyes opened wide when he heard her, and he shot up in bed. "Don't let me get ahead of myself. I might disappear into that hole and not come out for the preparations," she continued.
Rosie put her hands on her hips. "You would have been calling me Mrs. Gamgee while I was engaged if you had been here." She held out her hands. "Come on; it's time. I have a list, and you must look it over and then plan with me." She glanced back at Bag End while Sev made her way up the walk. "And Sam has some lecturing for your . . . how did Pippin describe it? Cuddling companion?"
Sev rubbed the ridge of her nose between her fingers. "I'm coming, Rosie," she managed, opening the gate. Frodo leaped out of Bag End and raced down the walk, catching her wrist before she could go anywhere.
"Frodo," Rosie pouted teasingly, "I told you that after this morning—,"
Frodo didn't even mark that. He spun Sev around and pressed his lips to hers desperately. Rosie smiled and backed away towards her home; Sev would catch up in a moment or two.
Sev's hands rubbed over his back. She would miss him for a while, if Rosie lived up to her expectations of preparation intensity. She eased out of the kiss despite Frodo's persistence and settled on her feet.
"I'll miss you."
He pecked her lips again. "Good luck to you."
"Sam has some things to tell you."
"Sev!" Rosie called out hintingly.
Sev broke away from Frodo and waved as she went.
He watched her go . . . and then it hit him: what he'd been bothered about all night. "Sev!" He caught up to her, and as they ran to the Gamgees', he spoke to her.
"Sev, I never asked you. Sam told me this was the most important thing to talk about, and I never did it."
She nodded. "What is it?"
"A family, Sev. How many children do you want?" He paused; he realized perhaps this subject was a bit touchier than he'd initially thought in his hurry. "If any. I mean—,"
Sev halted abruptly, and Frodo stumbled staying back with her. Her expression . . . he didn't know how to begin to describe it. It was some terrifying blend of horror and bitterness. She stared up at him, almost afraid of why he would ask that question. He had read her journal, and if he had he would have seen the entry in which she wrote down her experiences with Willation.
Of course, that was after the adventure, after he'd read it. But she didn't think about that.
She threw her hands in the air. She wanted a family so badly, and was actually a little stung by the fact that she couldn't have one. And yet it was such a common discussion topic amongst spouses and fiancées.
"Tronian curses . . ." She blew a raspberry. The look in his eyes convinced her that he had read her journal, but regretted what he had said. In reality he only was confused by her reaction, and hoped he hadn't offended or scared her. She shook her head; her words were, in her mind, laced with sarcasm, but Frodo heard pining.
"I always wanted a big family," she blurted finally. "Nine children at least, although fourteen would be nice. As many as is possible, let me put it that way."
Frodo's eyes bulged. "Fourteen!" Not even the Bracegirdles had that many children. They topped at twelve, and were currently the largest family in the Shire.
She nodded assertively, then waved it off. "Never mind that." She dismissed the daydream—watching little girls with red curls and Frodo's blue eyes, little boys racing around Bag End, listing off their sweet names one by one as she stood in Frodo's arms—and anticipated he would leave the subject be as well. He grabbed her arm before she could turn away.
"I'm sorry. If that's really what you want . . . then we'll have a family when you're ready."
Sev swallowed and nodded. "Thank you." Her voice trembled, both with fear of why Frodo would have been asking and deep, scarring sorrow at her lack of ability to be a mother.
Frodo was certain he'd scared her. She probably wanted a family, but not everything that came with it. Kissing had turned her off, relative to what Frodo had seen in the reactions of those that flirted with Merry and Pippin. He rubbed her shoulder reassuringly.
"Not until you're ready," he insisted. Rosie poked her head out of the door and grabbed Sev.
"My dear, if you wish to get everything done . . ." she said, half joking and half serious. Sam reached out and took Frodo aside.
Sam and Frodo managed to get sleep, and actually kept things fairly relaxed. Frodo hoped Rosie would do the same, but the woman was a taskmaster, and her whole work ethic revolved around Sev's opinions. There were not very many, and it almost irritated Rosie. But Rosie was patient (as much as she could be), and things were done one little bit at a time. The cake was planned, invitations and decorations were organized . . . quite frankly Sev did not care two bits about the whole thing. But it made Rosie happy, as well as Elanor on the occasions that Rosie thought it suitable, so Sev went right along with it.
Mostly, as the world whirred around her, Sev pondered what Frodo had asked her. A family. Children. She could not have them. She felt broken. Except she had never been whole either; she wasn't broken, just dysfunctional. She'd never quite worked right, and wondered why she had been lucky enough to get married anyway. On those days when Rosie would wrap her in white fabric and pin her tightly from head to toe for the wedding dress, she felt even less useful, like she was really a prop in the background of everything.
She missed Frodo.
But then she wondered how, if he knew everything about her that he did, he could possibly love her.
She stayed up late doing what Rosie fell asleep trying to get done. She never got sleep, which was not an issue. Frodo tried to find her late at night and early in the morning, but she never stopped, not when she could actually get something done. She wondered occasionally if Rosie had stacked up so much to keep her busy on purpose. She could only wave at Frodo once in a while, and even so he would reach forward for her and Rosie would drag her off.
As the day approached, Frodo grew restless. He'd been trying to enjoy his time with Pippin and Merry—and sometimes Sam—and it had worked to an extent. But he soon counted down the days to his birthday, to the day he could take Sev home for good. He tried to find her at the Gamgees', but soon it became such a frequent occurrence that even Elanor had memorized the exact words to "kindly escort Mr. Frodo outside while his cuddling companion worked." It didn't frustrate him, but he worked relentlessly. To put it plainly he felt like he wanted to kiss her again.
The night right before the wedding day, he saw her prowling. He slipped after her; he knew to alert her would be to alert Rosie as well, wherever Sam's wife might be hiding. Frodo glanced around before going after Sev.
Sev just needed some white roses, ones Rosie wanted to sow into the skirt of the dress. Sev loved the design for the dress, but despite all the work Rosie had put into it Sev didn't know if it would fit. Dresses often were the wrong shape for Sev.
She found white roses by the river, only three of them. Rosie had wanted five or six, but Sev figured it would have to do. She plucked the blossoms carefully. Frodo followed her across the mist, then back to Rosie; he sighed when he watched her snake into the house. He heard a loud celebratory exclamation, and he glanced through the window. Rosie and Elanor whirled away with the roses into another room.
He watched Sev, cocking his head against the windowsill. She stood somewhat wistfully, not quite paying attention to her surroundings. She flicked her hair across the ends of her curls; she fingered them with naïve concentration. She paced around the room, distracted. He wanted to go in and kiss her, but Rosie's voice snapped him out of it.
"Sev!" Rosie called out, almost in a pining excitement. She poked her head back out of the adjacent room where she had disappeared with the roses. "It's perfect! You must come look!"
Sev smiled, but she didn't feel like smiling. She was excited for the next day, surely enough . . . but she felt sick. What if Frodo wanted something better and wouldn't find that out for himself until it was too late? She didn't want to disappoint him.
She slipped out of Frodo's sight, and he sat back. Hopefully she would reemerge—he gathered Rosie would finally let her rest the night before her wedding.
Sev couldn't stop staring at the dress; she only hoped she could actually wear the thing, that by some miracle it would fit. Pearls draped the front, and the skirt looked like it would swish around her feet. The sleeves were cut two inches below the elbows, and had slits of translucent white fabric protruding from the center of each. She fingered the silk, entranced. A fluffy white cloak came down to the knees of the dress, reflecting the length of her Lorien cloak. A white stone clipped the cloak together. The roses were sown in, one at the center of the neckline and the other two up by her shoulders.
"Do you like it?" Rosie whispered excitedly.
Sev nodded. "Rosie, I love it." She embraced her friend. "Thank you so much . . . for everything. I don't know if this would have been possible without you."
Rosie smiled and held Sev tightly before setting her down. "My dear, I'm sure you would have figured it out eventually. Don't thank me just yet; we're not done."
Frodo shifted from one window to another, slipping his head inside to watch them.
"Not done?" Sev's brow creased. "What more is there to do?" She picked up a huge roll of paper off the floor. "Everything is checked off." She scanned it, scrolled over it entirely, but she couldn't find anything unmarked.
Rosie sat her down.
"Darling, it's not over until the wedding is done. You've got to try the dress on . . . once I add the ribbon. Then you can go rest." Rosie paused. "Actually, we've got to finish the cake as well. And get the flowers up on the poles—never mind. No rest until after tomorrow. Besides, I promised Frodo he couldn't see you until five months were up." She winked, then grabbed a white, slightly glimmering ribbon from her side desk. She pulled a silver pair of scissors from the table as well and snipped the strip into pieces. She tied one piece around the waist at the border of the bodice, then the other two at the ends of the sleeves. Sev handed her a needle with white thread (there were eighty or so of them scattered all over the room; Sev could pick up any of them when necessary), and Rosie hurriedly attached the ribbons, stuck solid to the fabric.
"Now I'll go put Elanor to bed, and you get into the dress." Rosie ushered her little girl (who yawned loudly despite her protests that she wanted to see Sev in the dress) out of the room. Sev watched them go, fingering the dress distantly. She realized in that moment that Frodo knew exactly how her brain worked . . . or might have after reading her journal. At least he could get a general idea if he wished, but she only hoped he knew what he was marrying in to. She conceded that they had been friends for over 17 years, so it would be fine.
Frodo propped himself up on the windowsill with his hands and whispered so Rosie didn't hear.
"Sev!"
Sev turned from the dress. Frodo couldn't see it very well, as it wasn't his focal point. She stepped over to him rather slowly, a little surprised and very happy to see him. Conflict kept her from grabbing him and crushing her lips against his. She knelt down as she approached him.
"Hello. You look somewhat familiar; do I know you from somewhere?" she said, entwining her fingers with his.
Frodo shook his head. "I am the phantom that haunts you, Seville Baggins."
She gasped. "A devil! And a spy. But you are mistaken; I am not Sev Baggins." She paused. "Not for another fourteen hours."
Frodo sighed and kissed her hand. "Fourteen hours." He smiled, but didn't take her hand away from his lips. "Is that such a difference? Could you not be a Baggins right now?"
Sev lifted an eyebrow. "Perhaps, but what difference would it make to a phantom?"
He reached through the window and grabbed her back just above the waist to lift her up. She complied, not quite coming out of the window as he had hoped. She sat on the sill, and he knelt down by her. He looked her over, fingered her hair out of the way of her face.
"It makes no difference to a phantom," he said softly, "but it means you have something you never had. You have a family, a last name, and a home. And a husband that wants you and loves you."
Sev smiled, and a strong blush rose to her face. She didn't know that she could say anything that would make him feel as . . . satisfied, or fill him with as much ecstasy, as the words he had just said to her. "A very handsome, very sweet husband," she murmured, "that I love more than he could ever know." She embraced him, laid her head against his shoulder. "I would do anything for him. I am honored to have his last name, for it means I will have no one else. You're a phantom; you'll tell him, won't you?"
Frodo nodded slowly, burying the side of his head in her hair. He hadn't felt her warmth for five months; he'd missed it.
She smiled and pulled away. "Take a kiss for him too, will you?" Her blush intensified, and Frodo laughed lightly.
He allowed the moment to settle before he traced her jaw tenderly with his fingers. He faintly tipped her face down towards him, then leaned forward. He allowed the warmth to overwhelm him. Her lips were so close, but he could not yet feel them . . .
"Seville Baggins, you don't have enough time!" Sev jolted, just missing Frodo as she sank to the floor. She threw him down past the windowsill and stood upright as Rosie walked inside. She cocked her head.
"Sev? You look warm; are you all right?" In truth she heard them talking, but didn't want to interrupt: they simply didn't have time to kiss longer than the silence said they had.
Sev nodded slowly. "Just very nervous." She sighed. "And thinking about Frodo." She flicked her gaze back to the window.
Rosie nodded. "All right, let's get you into that dress. A wonder you didn't put it on while I was gone." She shrugged, then eyed Sev's sheepish pause. "I'll wager that blasted Baggins was roaming around." Her voice escalated slightly.
Sev grabbed Rosie's arm. "Yes, he was. I assume he's long gone by now, but if not I hope you'll let him stay."
Rosie mused over that. "She's trying on the dress, Mr. Frodo, so go back to Bag End and get some sleep. Tomorrow's the biggest day of your life, all right?"
Frodo snuck around to the other side of the house. Sev would come out eventually, and he didn't need to hide if he could change his position. Rosie would have to sleep at some point; likely Sam would drag her to bed.
Unless, of course, Sam was in with Elanor like any Samwise Gamgee would be, supporting his lovely wife during a busy time. Frodo muttered to himself as he wound to the other side of the house.
Sev breathed, satisfied, as the dress slipped into place around her. Rosie spun her towards the mirror, and Sev cocked her head. That didn't look normal. It looked right, maybe a little bit attractive, but not normal.
"White sets off the red," Rosie said, flicking Sev's curls. "All right. Out of the dress; we'll go finish the cake."
Sev laid a hand on her friend's shoulder. "Rosie, you need sleep."
Rosie didn't respond with anything more than an exhausted yawn as she undid the ties at Sev's back. After donning her brown dress again, Sev followed Rosie into the kitchen. The cake stood, huge and lovely, on the main table.
Frodo watched them as they began the last touches. Rosie slumped against the floor after only ten or twenty minutes. Sev glanced down, a little surprised. She finished the cake before dragging Rosie to a nearby couch.
"How I wish you had a Morgul stab on your elbow," Sev muttered as she tried to lift her friend. Frodo stifled a chuckle. But as he watched Rosie, he too grew tired. He laid down against the soft grass to wait, but fell asleep actually fairly quickly.
Sev embraced Rosie as she laid her down on the couch.
"I can't thank you enough. I really couldn't have done this alone." Sev traced Rosie's forehead with a finger, then moved over to the window. She sat rather dramatically on the sill, then chuckled at herself. "You're not graceful, you know."
She sighed. She wanted to be graceful. She glanced down at Frodo, curled up under the window. She cocked her head, taken aback by his slender face and how young he looked; then realization hit her with a start just how young he was. He'd come of age only a couple of years ago.
And somehow he carried that youthfulness through all his struggles. He may have become wiser, but something within him still reminded her of that young man she met.
Sev clambered down from the window and kissed his cheek. She thought it would only be a moment, but then it hit her. His face was soft, relaxed . . . her Frodo. She let the kiss stay, relishing in that one second.
She didn't like affectionate nicknames very much, but in that moment she felt like she needed one outside of "devil." Frodo looked anything but devilish; but even if he did look devilish, she would still love him.
"Rest well, love." She bit her lip, surprised at her own nickname for him, and laid her head against the window. "I'll marry you tomorrow."
