When I awoke, it was daylight. I was curled on my side, and I could feel Frodo's body against my back, fitted to me closely. I lay there, savoring the fatigue in my muscles, even the slight ache in my thighs and hips. We were covered with a quilt, something he must've done. I had fallen asleep as soon as our bodies stopped moving. A shiver ran across my skin as I thought about the night we'd passed. I shifted my hips back a little until I could feel him.
He shifted slightly and whispered, "Are you awake?"
"Yes," I answered. My faint feeling of awkwardness was quickly dispelled when he nuzzled his face against the back of my neck and slid one arm familiarly around my waist.
He planted a gentle kiss on my shoulder, and said, "Good morning."
I felt a rush of warmth along my body and down between my legs. I couldn't believe my own reaction to him. I wanted to turn and pull him into me. "Good morning, indeed," I said. I could feel him growing hard, and I draped one leg over his hips, pushing back against him.
"Mmm..." he murmured, running one hand along my thigh. He hugged me tighter and said, "Gifts unbidden, undreamt of. Never knowing. Are you always that correct this quickly? Or am I merely extraordinarily lucky?"
It was becoming difficult to think. His hands were wandering about my thighs and hips while he nibbled along my shoulder. "You're extraordinarily lucky. Or perhaps I am, I don't know. What was the question again?"
He laughed a little breathlessly and pulled me closer. And that was when we heard a loud tapping, followed by the distinctive sound of his door opening. I gasped and he started, jerking the quilt up over us both. I slid down, wondering who was visiting Frodo at this hour of the morning. My mind answered Merry? Frodo's body was warm next to me, half sitting with the quilt pulled up to his shoulders to hide my presence. We glanced at each other wryly and I felt a frisson of mortification at the situation. Just cheering him up, Merry, I thought with an internal groan. Oh, dear.
Then a familiar voice called out, "Mr. Frodo, are you awake? I have a tray for you, where do you want it?" It was Brandy Hall's Cook, a little round dumpling of a hobbit who'd been in charge of the kitchens for nearly 50 years.
I looked at Frodo in surprise. He met my eyes, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. Then he sat up slowly and grabbed a dressing gown and pulled it on. Leaving the bedclothes cannily bunched up about me, he walked through to the sitting room, stopping where he would block Cook's view of the bedroom. His voice was almost entirely natural as he said, "I think the table there would be fine, Cook, thank you."
He had carefully not closed the bedroom door, avoiding even the appearance of having something to hide. I was overcome with admiration for his calm competence until I remembered the likely state of the sitting room. I wondered if Cook's next words would be, "Oh here, Mr. Frodo, by what appears to be a hastily removed skirt and bodice, chemise, and breeches? Or over there by the ripped…shirt?"
Instead, I heard the tray set down and then she said, "I hope this'll keep you until elevenses." I peeked out and caught sight of a pile of neatly folded clothes on the chair next to the bed. All our clothes were there.
Cook continued on: "Mr. Merry said as how you weren't feeling well today, could I make up some trays."
I thought in irritation that it was one thing to speculate on the absence of privacy in Brandy Hall, and quite another to have it so completely confirmed. Frodo sounded bemused when he answered. "I'll thank Mr. Merry later, then." He recovered himself, and said gallantly, "You shouldn't have brought it yourself, Cook, heavy as it is. The Brandybucks would be upset if you injured yourself on my account."
She clucked maternally and said, "I'm not so old that I can't carry a tray, boyo. And I wanted to see for myself how you were. You look much better than I expected, if I may say so. Still, it's food and rest you need. Why, you weren't nearly so skinny when you lived here. I don't think those Hobbiton folk know how to set a decent table!" When I heard the door close, I sat up and looked over at him. He was standing by the table holding an envelope. He opened and read it, then brought it to me. It read thusly:
Frodo,
I know you haven't been feeling well, so I am insisting you get some rest today. I have a great many things to see to as I've just received word that Estella will be arriving unexpectedly today. I've left orders that you are not to be disturbed, except for meal trays.
Remember throwing Sancho Proudfoot out of Bag End? I'd ask his sister to look in on you, but she's had a quarrel with another member of the family and is sulking in her room. But it's an ill wind that blows no good, as the saying goes.
Merry
I looked up at Frodo, somewhat shocked, and with the thought that Frodo had gotten the better excuse. There was more to Merry than I'd given him credit for. I supposed he was put out with me, though, since Estella was bound to be in a rather delicate mood when she arrived. "Well, Merry knows," I said tentatively, wondering how he would react.
He stared at me for a moment and then laughed. "Merry, that schemer. I should have realized when he was oh-so-surprised I'd seen you that day. Mad with grief, he said. Broods for hours in the cemetery every day. 'Poor Tansy.' I shouldn't take her lack of social graces personally."
I stared at him, my mouth open. "Merry said that?" And you think I'm beautiful? I sat back, and folded my arms. "And then came along and made me promise to spend time with you? Why…. Why…that…" Words failed me and I just looked at him.
He laughed again. "At least he's provisioned us well," he said. I picked up my chemise and shook it out, holding it up to him. "This isn't where I remember leaving it," I teased.
He paused in the act of lifting a dish cover and his cheeks turned bright red. "I thought you might need to leave early and I didn't want you to have to search for your clothes." I shrugged into the loose linen garment and wrapped my arms about myself, suddenly chilled.
"Would you like me to leave?" I asked him, trying to sound casual. "If you have things to do, I can always see you later."
He swung 'round, looking surprised. "No, I don't want you to leave. Not at all, I wasn't sure how you felt, though and…" he trailed off when I shook my head, smiling. Relief blossomed in my chest.
I held out my arms to him and he walked back into the bedroom. "Perhaps I should stop thinking, then?" he asked, sitting down on the edge of the bed.
I ran my hands over his upper arms and shoulders, and to the fastenings of his dressing gown. "Perhaps."
That day passed dream-like. I was gloriously intoxicated with the sight and smell and feel of him, and he seemed like-minded. Neither of us left his rooms all day, and we only ate a little of the masses of food the cook sent up every three hours.
Late in the day, we were cuddled into a warm bath. His tub, though larger than mine, still crowded two hobbits. I was sitting between his legs, curled against his chest. We said very little, being both fairly exhausted. He had his head tipped back against the edge of the tub, his eyes closed. His hair was plastered flat and the heat of the bath had raised a fine sheen of sweat along his brow and the sides of his face. I had my head against his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. My hair was loose down my back, the dark strands swirling in the water. He lifted one of my hands and pressed it to his lips. "Will you stay tonight?" he asked gently.
"Mm-hmmm.." I sang the chorus of the old song drowsily. "O whistle an' I'll come to you, my lad, O whistle an' I'll come to you, my lad, though' father and mother and clan go mad, whistle and I'll come to you, my lad…."
He chuckled softly, and kissed the top of my head. "I could become accustomed to that." He hesitated, then added, "I think you would be very easy to love, Tansy."
I forced my voice even. "I think you would be entirely too easy to love, Frodo." I spoke nothing but truth; I loved him already.
"I imagine Merry will want to speak with me tomorrow," he said musingly. I felt a surge of rebellion. I knew Tilly would say that I'd just ruined myself, but I found myself not caring what others thought. I'm no blushing virgin, after all. Why should it matter who I share my bed with?
"Yes," I said thoughtfully. "And we should be sure he's up and about early. After all, I'm sure he'll have a lot to do, with Estella visiting and all."
Frodo started laughing. "And how shall we do that?"
"Simple," I replied slyly. "We'll take him a breakfast tray. Return the favor, as it were."
After the bath, we climbed into his bed as easily as if we'd been doing it for years. He seemed to fall asleep immediately, but I lay awake a little while. I wondered what Tory's family was thinking today. I had little faith in Merry's ruse deceiving Opal or Dahlia, but I didn't think they'd say much. I hadn't gone to the cemetery today. Remember Toby, Tansy? Toby is dead… Remember how he smelled? That sweet baby scent, as if nothing bad could ever happen to him? Tears trickled out the corners of my eyes. I kept my breathing even, so I wouldn't wake Frodo. A joy, a gift, I reminded myself. Mine for a little while, to love and then give back.
Quite the one for thinking with your heart, aren't you, Tansy? the voice responded. Just how do you see this romance ending? I shifted in the bed uneasily, staring out into the dark. Only thin slivers of moonlight peeked into the bedroom through the slats of the window's shutters.
I don't know and it doesn't matter. I love him for now, even if it doesn't end in honorable marriage or suchlike. The night changed the contours of the room I'd felt comfortable in earlier. It seemed unfamiliar and unwelcoming. What am I doing here? I thought. I don't belong here. I turned and laid my head on Frodo's shoulder. He shifted and lifted one hand briefly to my hair, then his breathing slowed again. Here…yes, I can belong here… With these thoughts, I finally went to sleep.
I awakened very early, when it was still dark. For an instant, I had no idea where I was. Next to me, Frodo was saying something, still asleep. I pressed my ear to his back, listening.
"It's gone," he murmured, "Gone." And then, louder, "Sam, no! Not Sam, please….no…." I took his shoulders and shook him gently.
"Frodo, wake up, it's a nightmare." I whispered in his ear. My fingers touched a scarred depression on the left side of his neck. He started awake violently, breathing heavily. I could feel him shaking under my hands.
"Who are you?" he asked suddenly. "Don't touch me!"
I recoiled, hurt to the quick. I tried to reveal nothing except concern and care. "Tansy, Frodo. It's Tansy."
He quieted in the dark, then turned over and laid his head on my shoulder. I put my arms around him, stroking his hair. "Tansy, yes, I remember now," he said dreamily. I felt his hand go to the white jewel on its chain around his neck, and he sighed deeply.
"I'm sorry," he said so softly I almost didn't hear him. "I can't believe I said that to you."
"Please, Frodo, don't give it another thought. I understand." I moved my hands down to massage his shoulders, noticing with a shiver that the left seemed just a little cooler than the right. "Do you want to talk about your nightmare?"
He tensed a little. "I dreamt I was back in the hands of the orcs," he said tonelessly. "My neck aches." I stroked his hair gently. Hadn't he done enough, taken enough?
I had to part his hair and raise my head to see the discolored pit, being careful not to touch it. Why must his beautiful body be marked so?
"It's the Spider-sting," he said quietly. "In my dreams, it happens all over again. I lose the Ring and then find Sam has taken it. And I want to kill him." He buried his face in my hair, loose on the pillow. "It's a terrible thing to know your own capacity for evil."
"You have no capacity for evil, Frodo," I said firmly. I felt him shake his head. "No, listen to me, I know it." I closed my eyes, thinking back to what he'd said. "You have the capacity to break…" I had to swallow hard. "Under pain and suffering and torment… To lose your ability to direct your own actions and make your own choices. But that reflects nothing of you. There is no evil in you. I know it, I feel it."
He was silent for a long time, but I could feel the butterfly-soft brush of his eyelashes, and I knew he was still awake. Finally, he whispered, "Thank you."
"Why do you still have nightmares? The Ring has been destroyed for over a year."
He answered matter-of-factly, "Because I was hurt too deeply. I'll bear these wounds the rest of my life."
"Couldn't some of those wise ones, Elrond or Galadriel heal you?"
"No, they did what they could, but they could not heal me fully." He hesitated a moment, and added. "Arwen and Galadriel seemed to think I could be healed fully only in the West, by going over sea with the Elven Ring-bearers when they leave Middle Earth." He paused, and I felt a dreadfully sick roil in my stomach. Then he went on. "I will not leave the Shire, however. During the Quest, I only ever wanted to come home. That thought helped sustain me nearly 'til the end."
"You once said Bilbo would go into the West. Why?" I asked.
A dim grey light was slowly replacing the dark in the room, as dawn began lightening the sky. "He was a Ringbearer, as well."
"As you and Sam were," I said.
"Yes."
"And what of Sam?"
"He is married, Tansy. He would not leave Middle Earth, either, unless…" he stopped short. I thought I could imagine what he'd been about to say. I felt as if I understood Sam. We both loved Frodo, in our way. Sam would never leave Middle Earth, unless Frodo did.
Frodo raised his head, his face a study of contrasts. Grey, with deeply shadowed eyes and mouth. "I am no fit lover for you, Tansy," he said quietly.
"Don't say that, Frodo. I'd have no other."
He looked at me meditatively. "What day is it?"
I had to count up for a minute. "September third," I replied, feeling a pang. It was getting close to Toby's birthday. I pushed that thought away.
He sighed. "I'll get ill again soon, most like. You would be better off if you left now, and never thought of me again."
"Ill? From what?"
In answer, he pressed my hand against his left shoulder. I caught my breath. The tiny chill I had felt in the scar yesterday was once more localized and distinctly abnormal. "It will get worse until October sixth…. and I will be ill with it. Then, slowly it will ease, and heal as much as it ever does."
"I'll lay in a stock of warm quilts and blankets."
"Tansy…"
"No, I'll not listen to this nonsense," I said shrilly. "If you're ill, and you'll accept my help, then you'll have it. If you refuse my help, then I'll wait for you to get better."
"You don't understand—"
I pulled his face to mine with my hands. "I cared for Tory his last night alive. I cared for Toby for four days while he died in my arms, a little more each day. Don't tell me I don't understand!" I released him and tried to still my trembling. "I understand, Frodo. I understand what you've said…. and I understand what you've left unsaid, as well. It changes nothing to me."
The room had lightened enough that I could see his face clearly now. He closed his eyes. "Of course you understand," he said quietly. He picked up my hand and kissed the palm gently, then put his head back on my shoulder.
I stared blindly into the faint morning light. Was he afraid he would die in this illness? I seemed to hear his words repeating, echoing like a death knell. I could be healed by going over sea. I will be ill with it. Healed fully only in the West. I realized with some surprise that I loved him well and truly. Why else would the thought of him going over sea to live out his life hurt so? After a time, when the room was lit with golden light, I stirred and told him, "I'll make you some tea before I go down to the kitchens."
"What for?" he said drowsily.
"The tray for Merry, of course."
"Oh." He looked at me in surprise. "You were serious about waking him up early, then?"
"Why not? You said you wanted to see him, and he's bound to be busy with Estella visiting. It seems a shame to spend the day indoors waiting about to catch him. Perhaps then we can go out this afternoon." I still had no intention of leaving him and Merry alone together initially. They were both too honorable and would have us separated in no time.
"All right, then, that sounds wonderful." I didn't miss the hesitation in his answer, but I guessed correctly that he would not consider telling me I couldn't go with him.
After dressing, I walked over to the kitchens. They were in a separate building to the side of Brandy Hall so that if (some said when) they caught on fire, the entire Hall wouldn't burn down. For convenience there was a short stone-floored and roofed passageway between the kitchen and Brandy Hall. The dining hall was immediately off that passageway to minimize the cooling of the food as it was carried in at meals.
Despite the early hour, the main kitchen was a beehive of activity. Cook and her helpers were running about roasting ham and sausages, and baking bread in preparation for second breakfast. Several covered trays stood to one side, ready to be delivered. As far as Esmeralda was concerned, the members of the household could come down to eat, or feed themselves in their rooms or go hungry, but there were always a few exceptions.
One of the maids saw me and came over. "Yes, Miss Tansy?" she said politely, catching Mrs. Hobbs' eye. Mrs. Hobbs wiped her hands and frowned magnificently. I fought the urge to duck my head and mutter, like a hobbit-lass hoping for a treat.
"I saw Mr. Frodo Baggins in the hall, he said he was coming to the kitchen to get a breakfast tray for Mr. Merry, and so I offered to help him," I said in a rush.
"He did, did he?" Cook grumbled. "I suppose it's a gracious thought and thank you, but why didn't the lad think of this last night?" As she spoke, she picked up an empty tray with several platters and began rapidly dumping piping hot scones, bread, cheese, and sausages onto it. "Get another tea pot, Ginny, and some of those eggs," she called to the maid, adding small crocks of jam, a pitcher of milk and silver utensils.
"Why is it a gracious thank-you?" I asked as innocently as possible. She eyed me thoughtfully, and shook her head.
"Nothing, Miss, nothing at all. There, now, and I've got extra on in case he invites you to dine with." She finished adding covers to the platters and hefted the tray. "It's a bit heavy," she said doubtfully. "Don't you want Ginny or Elsie here to take it?"
"Not at all," I said hastily. "I told Mr. Baggins I'd meet him outside Merry's suite. I want a chance to say hello to Merry this morning before second breakfast." "Oh, aye, of course," Mrs. Hobs said, smiling. "Well, if Mr. Merry is cross with you it won't be because of my cooking." Ginny and Elsie exchanged looks and giggles. I had had first-hand experience before with the fact that the servants knew everything that happened in the Hall. Sometimes they seemed to know about it before it happened. Now, it was obvious they knew about Tilly's fears that I had set my cap for Merry, her subsequent message to Estella and our quarrel. Right, they think I'm trying to get back into Merry's good graces, I thought resignedly. Well, soon enough they'll know it's not Merry I was after… I suppressed a grin at that thought.
A short time later we were knocking on the doors of Merry's quarters. He had lived in the Crickhollow house with Pippin for a time after his return, but lately was staying mostly in Brandy Hall. Saradoc was relying more on him for help with some of the Master's responsibilities. His sleepy face reflected his astonishment at seeing us outside his door shortly after dawn. "Good morning, Merry," I said cheerfully, walking over and setting the tray on a low side-table. "Here's a breakfast tray. I'm sure you have a great deal of work to do today."
Merry shot a glance at the open door leading deeper into the suite and nonchalantly went over and closed it.
Frodo looked amused. "I had to come and thank you, since you arranged for my meals yesterday, when I was…. being reclusive." I had to smile to myself. He had to be sure that Merry knew, and still he spoke as if he'd been alone. He can't not be decent, I thought marveling.
Merry perched on the arm of a chair. "I see," he said thoughtfully. "You seem much improved today, Frodo." There was an undercurrent of laughter in his voice.
"Yes, well, perhaps you were right," Frodo said shrugging. He couldn't forebear from grinning a bit, however, that cocky and intensely male grin that shouts how pleased with themselves they are.
It was all Merry needed. He jumped up and hugged him. "I'm gladder than glad you're feeling better," he announced. "I think Tansy must have had something to do with this transformation," he teased.
Frodo and I glanced at each other but said nothing, and he finished, "I've been worried about you both, I don't mind saying."
I looked hard at him, trying to see behind the good-humored mask. "And where does the Master's heir get his information?" I asked him.
He looked indignant. "Not from spies, if that is what you're implying, dear cousin. The Master's heir has brains, which come in a sight more useful than spies even."
"Oh yes," said Frodo, in a mock-serious tone, "didn't you know that Merry is the brilliant one of the bunch?" He spoke lightly, secure in his own scholarly credentials.
"I don't know about brains so much," I said thoughtfully. "But you are definitely the clever one, Merry. Quite the clever hobbit."
They both looked at me. Frodo was smiling, thinking I was joining in the ribbing. But for a moment, Merry's mask slipped and he looked at me with a bit of surprise and respect. Then he grinned and the glimpse faded. "So speaks the lady who leaves a condemnatory note under Tilly's door."
"How was I to know she would give it to Frodo?" I said sulkily. Merry guffawed but Frodo looked surprised.
"You knew about the note?" Frodo asked him.
Merry shrugged innocently. "Not until the next day, Frodo. Mentha told me she'd seen you reading something Tilly dropped. I didn't figure it for a love letter. By the time I tracked down Tilly to find out what it was, I'd already heard Cook say you were resting and seemed well."
I looked down at the floor glumly. Now Merry would laugh at me and tease and I'd never hear the end of it. Frodo slid an arm around my shoulders and gave me a comforting squeeze. I covered his hand with mine, caressingly, looking up at him. Then Merry cleared his throat and I jumped. He looked at us pointedly, and then at the closed door across the room again. "Well, as much as I've enjoyed talking to you, I do have a busy day," he said, ushering us toward the door. "I do thank you for the breakfast."
Frodo looked confused, but I raised my eyebrows at Merry laughingly, cutting my eyes toward the door he seemed so eager to keep us from. He sketched me an ironic little bow, and started closing the door behind us. His parting comments were "I'll see you later, Frodo, and Tansy, don't think you don't have some making up to do with Estella."
Frodo regarded me curiously for a moment. "What did he mean about Estella?" he asked.
"Nothing important, " I said, leaning against the wall and smiling up at him. "She does tend to be a little jealous sometimes, though. And with a lonely widow in Brandy Hall.."
"A lonely widow?" he questioned. He stepped closer to me and just brushed my lips with his. "Surely not." I pressed myself closer and kissed him. In the morning light, the nightmare he'd had seemed very far away. He took my hand with a smile. "Shall we go and eat together?"
"Well, really, I should wash up and change clothes, Frodo," I said with a little laugh, wishing I weren't blushing in embarrassment.
"Oh, of course," he said. "And I'm sure you have other things to do."
"Not at all," I teased. "My days are surprisingly vacant. I'm sure I can accommodate you."
He began walking down the hallway. "But for what?" he replied.
"Whatever you want," I said honestly.
He stopped at the intersection of this corridor with the one that led to the dining hall. He started down it, but I didn't release his hand so that it stretched out between us. He looked back at me over his shoulder. "Joining me then?" I dropped his hand and sighed heavily. He chuckled. "I'll see you after second breakfast."
I started down the other hallway, grumbling wordlessly to myself. Once I reached my little apartment, I stepped inside and looked around. Had it really only been a day since I'd been here last? It seemed musty and closed off; as if this small space already knew its principle inhabitant had left.
I shrugged off these fancies, and walked into the bedroom. I was startled at the amount of disorder present. I remembered tipping the mattress over, but apparently it had caught the side table on the way down and tipped that over, as well. The pottery vase had smashed, and the water had soaked into the mattress and bedding. Thank goodness it was clean water.
I suddenly realized that for over a day, I had not thought about the small glass bottle that had sent me rushing to Frodo's room. I couldn't simply leave it there. For one thing, it was rare and dear, and could be important to the healer. And for another… I started for the door, and then held my clothes away from me with a grimace. Frodo was eating second breakfast, and I surely had time to freshen up. I'd worn the maroon bodice and skirt for two days, and I was right sick of them.
I went into the kitchen area of the front room and ran some water from the pump into the sink. I stripped and washed up quickly but thoroughly, shivering. I combed out my hair and re-braided it. Luckily my wardrobe was on the wall furthest from the crumpled bedding and broken crockery. I pulled on a fresh chemise and a simple yellow dress and underskirt.
I was sweeping up pieces of crockery when I heard my front door open. I glanced up and saw Frodo standing in the doorway, looking shocked.
"What happened?"
I was kneeling on the floor with my small brush and dustpan. I looked around the room, and back up at him. "I was looking for that blasted bottle and … got impatient, I guess."
"Remind me never to keep you waiting, then," he said dryly. "Here, let me help you." He began gathering up the bedding.
"Mind the broken bits, they're sharp," I said. " Frodo, since we are on the subject of the other night..." I let my voice trail off, feeling a combination of chagrin and nervousness.
He ignored that and said, "Where do you want these?" He had an armful of blankets and pillows.
"In there by the wash tub is fine," I said, pointing into the front room. "I'll have to wash it all anyway." I finished sweeping the pottery shards into the dustpan and dropped them into my dustbin. I got down on the floor to tug the side table out from under the mattress. I would have to repeat myself. He came in and knelt down next to me. I took a deep breath. "As I was saying, since we are on the subject—"
He took my hand, holding it out flat, palm up. "Is this what you are referring to?" He dropped a glass bottle in my hand and folded my fingers around it. A quick glance ascertained it was the poppy distillation. I held it up to my chest and looked at him in surprise. His lips were curved into the faintest of smiles.
"How—" I began curiously, and didn't finish, for he leaned over and kissed me, lingeringly. The hand holding the bottle fell limply to my lap, and I put my other arm around his shoulders. His lips were warm and I could taste the tiniest hint of tea and honey on his mouth. My head began to swim and I straightened up and away from him, regarding him steadily.
"Changing the subject?" I asked him.
The little smile quirked his lips again. "Not at all," he answered. I realized I was staring at his lips as he spoke and tried looking into his eyes. I rose up on my knees to get closer to him, feeling a little quiver in my thighs. He continued, "It's time it was returned, don't you agree?"
My hand tightened unconsciously on the smooth rounded glass. How many times had I longed for an end to grieving, to sorrow? I wondered how often he had thought of peace and freedom from his wounds. "And how do you feel?" I asked him.
He hesitated and looked away. After a moment, he shrugged. "I've been wrapped up in my own woes for long enough. And that is no way to live." I rubbed my hand along his shoulders, feeling the silver chain he wore through his shirt. Belying the ease of his words, the muscles of his neck were taut with unexpressed tension. I felt a rush of tenderness and leaned my head down onto his shoulder.
"Yes," I said softly. "Thank you." I wanted to say more, to say I love you, but my throat closed and my courage failed me. His arms came up around me, and he embraced me tightly. We sat there in silence for a time, enjoying our own warm closeness.
I inhaled against his neck, savoring this small intimacy. He was fragrant, like green forestlands baked under a warm summer sun. Fresh, with an earthy undertone. He hadn't changed since I'd seen him earlier and I fancied I could smell a lingering remnant of myself on him, the way a bed holding two will come to smell of both and neither, a commingling at the most elemental level. I inhaled his scent into my lungs and fair shook with desire for him, desire and more, a wanting that both included and overwhelmed sexuality.
I wanted him, to be with him, to wake by him every morning, and sleep by him each night. I wanted to watch his face and see his moods flickering across it. I wanted to disagree with him and feel the utter freedom that comes of knowing no matter how you argue, the other loves you still. I wanted to know him and be known in return, until we two could glance at each other and share what we thought, as I'd seen other long-married couples do. I wanted all those things and I was beginning to think that he wanted them as well…if it were possible.
"You're shivering," he said softly.
"Just a chill," I answered. I closed my eyes and pushed away my thoughts. "A chill, that's all." I straightened reluctantly, and looked at him. "I suppose I should finish cleaning this up."
"You could do that," he responded. "Or you could come with me and go for a walk. A long walk."
I was immediately tempted, but shook my head. "I've got to finish. What if Opal or Dahlia came looking for me? I don't know what they'd think."
"Of course." He stood up gracefully, and picked up some more blankets. I set the bottle on the windowsill and replaced the washstand. Frodo took the blankets in and dumped it all in the corner by the washtub. A rather larger pile of laundry than I usually had but not too unremarkable. Together we wrestled the unwieldy mattress back onto the bed frame.
"It wasn't nearly this difficult to get off," I panted. When we finally jostled it into place, I stepped back and looked around. Once I brushed off the mattress it would look as if I were only stripping and airing out the bed, to a casual eye.
After I brushed the mattress, I tucked the troublesome bottle into my skirt pouch. He was waiting patiently. "Perhaps you need some clothes?"
I felt a sudden glow of happiness. I glanced over at him. "I do?" I said, making it a question.
He flushed. "I thought you might. After all, you won't want to sleep here tonight, will you?" He gestured toward the denuded bed.
The glow died. Intellectually, I understood what he was saying, but still... I said contrarily, "Well, I'm sure I can get this bed put back together by nightfall."
Realization dawned on his face. He looked up at the ceiling. "Perhaps I phrased that incorrectly," he said evenly. "What I meant to do is whistle." He promptly suited action to word.
I had to laugh, a little embarrassed at my own vulnerability. "In that case, I will come to you, my lad. And I will need some clothes." I walked into the other room and picked up a covered hamper that I'd occasionally used for picnics. It would do nicely.
He caught my arm as I opened the wardrobe. "Second thoughts?" he asked simply.
I looked at him thoughtfully. His intensely blue eyes were filled with concern, and his lips had tightened. I flattened my free hand along his side, and slid it into the waistband of his breeches. "None," I said softly.
He smiled gently. "In that case, bring several." I complied hastily and we walked out into the hallway together.
He took the hamper from me. The poppy-bottle was heavy in my pocket. I hesitated and looked around, seeing no one. I wanted to have done with it immediately. The healer had a hinged box on her door so hobbits could leave empty tonic-bottles or notes. It would hold the poppy-medicine.
He glanced along the hallway, as well. "Shall I come along?" he asked.
"No," I said, uncertainly. "I'll just pop over and drop it in her door-box."
"I'll be waiting, then," he said. He leaned over and just brushed my lips with his own, and walked off. I looked after him, thinking rather dazedly that I really wanted to return to his rooms with him. Finally, I shook myself and set off. It felt strange to be walking the corridors of Brandy Hall as if the past day had not happened. I reached the healer's door without meeting anyone and carefully lifted the lid of the box on her door. I set the deceptively small bottle inside and walked away.
Done! I thought exultantly. The route to Frodo's room stretched out before me like a pathway of gold…and I hurried along it.