Frodo and I spent most of the next week together, as well. I kept my bed freshly made, although I did not sleep there. I couldn't leave my bed so obviously unmade without arousing unpleasant talk. The next Thursday, we planned a long walk along the Brandywine River. I'd managed to beg fresh bread and cheese from Cook, packed in my hamper with a blanket and a bottle of wine. It was surprisingly hot for September.
The path south wound between the River and pastures and little remnants of woods. We followed the path into one small wood and the River disappeared behind an overgrowth of scrub; mostly broom interspersed with juniper and berry bushes. What looked like a game trail crossed the path at one point, leading to a small break in the stand. Frodo pointed at this, shifting the hamper to the opposite hand.
"Still there," he said, sounding surprised.
"What is?"
He left the path to peer into the bushes. I looked over his shoulder and saw a narrow trail that wound into the greenery. The rushing sounds of the River were louder and clearer. Frodo stepped cautiously onto the trail. "It's a shortcut to the River," he said. I watched him skeptically.
Why do we need a shortcut? I thought to myself. We can walk back that direction and come to the River easily enough. He crouched down to avoid an overhang of a prickly berry bush and disappeared. The air was still and hot, fragrant with the smell of overripe berries and fallen leaves.
I pressed my skirts close to my side and followed him. The trail was so overgrown it was as if I were maneuvering through a green-lit tunnel. Bees and wasps were buzzing about the fruit, preparing for winter. The trail ended abruptly at a steep bank. Down the incline, Frodo stood on a miniscule shoreline edging the water. He gestured to me.
"Let's wade for a bit," he called. "The water's lovely and cool." The river swept around a bend here, and the banks were a tangle of unbroken brush except where we stood. Once I'd scrambled down the slope, I took in the setting with wonder. I'd thought I was familiar with the area around Brandy Hall, but I'd never seen this before. Frodo set the hamper on the rocks and stepped into the water, breaking the image of the shoreline into sinuous ripples.
I looked at the placid water doubtfully. It went unsaid that I preferred to wade only in places where I was more familiar with the depth and behavior of the water. I delayed by opening the hamper and pulling out the blanket, spreading it in the sunshine.
When I finished, I looked around for him. He hadn't moved away from the shoreline. His hair shone, the breeze blowing his curls into his eyes. Oftentimes, his hair appeared black but now the bright sunlight showed the faint golden-brown highlights plainly. He held out a hand invitingly. "Aren't you coming?"
"Ye-es," I replied hesitantly. "Just a minute." I went back to the hamper and removed the twine from Cook's package, using it to catch up my skirts. When I'd gotten that done to my satisfaction, he was still waiting. I stepped tentatively into the water. The cool water was crystal clear here, letting me see down to the rocky bottom, unlike other spots on the changeable river. Frodo took my hand, and pulled me further out. "Slow down," I squeaked. "I'll fall!"
He half-smiled. "The water is to your ankles," he pointed out. "It should be safe."
"Sure you say that now," I pretended to grumble, pushing away my nervousness.
He stopped for a minute, looking around us. "I haven't been here for the longest time. I used to swim here, sometimes with Merry, once he got old enough. The water is deeper over towards the other bank. It was far enough away to seem adventurous and yet close enough to run back for meals."
It was peaceful. Dazzling sun-reflections danced over the water, and the gentle hum of the water lulled the ears. "I've never been here before," I said.
"Not many think to explore that scrub. Even when the other swimming spots had bathers, this one was usually quiet."
"Sounds more useful for a tweeny than for a lad," I teased. The water was over my ankles now and I tugged my skirt up a little. Frodo shaded his eyes and looked at the sky.
"It's warm enough for bathing today," he said thoughtfully.
I shivered. "I don't think so." I felt a light touch on my legs and looked into the water. Silvery minnows flicked about, occasionally pausing to nibble my skin curiously. I brought my cupped hands down, and they scattered magically. Frodo laughed, and I looked up at him.
"They're warned off by the shadows on the water," he said. He half-crouched and picked up a handful of the rocks from the bottom. He rinsed them under the water, and held them out. "Anything interesting?" he asked, dropping them in my hands. I examined them closely. They were only smoothed pebbles, but the Brandywine often held unusual rocks, found no place else in the Shire. Tory used to look for the kind with imprints of tiny plants and shells, and had collected several.
Frodo walked away from me, scuffling his feet and raising grey swirls in the water. I scattered the pebbles into the water, and followed. The water was deeper, climbing to our knees, and no longer clear, but a dark green-gold. He stepped up onto something, teetered for a moment and steadied. The water had dropped to his ankles again.
I looked up at him. "My word, Mr. Frodo! How you've grown!"
He turned around, smiling. "I'm the Thain of the hill." I put my foot out, feeling the mossy rock he stood upon.
I stepped onto it, balancing in my turn. "No, I am." I grabbed his shoulder to steady myself and he put his arms about me.
"I don't think this rock is large enough for us both," he said.
I slid my arms about his waist, momentarily distracted by the warmth of his body under the layers of weskit and shirt. "Indeed?" I tucked my thumbs into the top of his breeches and tugged sharply. Our hips and thighs bumped together.
He had to let go of me and shift his weight to keep his balance. "Prevaricator," he accused, stepping away.
I wavered a moment myself, and he grabbed my arm. I reached up to his face, to brush back the strands of hair falling in his eyes. "I'd forfeit for one so fair."
"Precisely what I—" He stopped abruptly.
I had stepped toward him as he spoke, and now we both felt a subtle shift in the rock that had previously been firm underfoot. We looked at each other, and the smile on his face changed to alarm. The rock abruptly rolled sideways under our weight and we threw out our arms, vainly trying steady ourselves. My balance deserted me first and still clutching at Frodo, I tumbled off the boulder into the water. A nearly simultaneous splash marked Frodo's fall. My head went under and I landed on my posterior with a jolt. When I surfaced, sputtering and shivering, I found myself sitting in shoulder-high water. It's much colder when one is wet all through. Frodo was a little away from me, wiping water from his eyes. He stood, streaming water, and pulled me up by one arm. "Tansy, I'm sorry. I should never have climbed on that rock."
I sighed, plucking at my sodden skirt. "It's not your fault, Frodo." My clothes were terribly heavy on my shoulders. I removed the twine I'd used to hold my skirts up and tucked it into my pocket. No need for that now.
I looked at him ruefully as he stood next to me. "I owe you an apology. You probably wouldn't have fallen if not for me."
He shook his head. "Nonsense," he said.
His weskit was velvety tweed, now dark with moisture. The fine material would be ruined without care. I began undoing its buttons. "We need to hang this up."
"On a more cheerful note, there's certainly no reason not to swim now, is there?"
I rolled my eyes at him. "Now that I know how chilly the water is? No, of course not. Speaking of which, you didn't happen to know that that rock would roll, did you?" I eased his weskit off his shoulders, and walked over to hang it on a tree limb.
When I turned back to him, he was unbuttoning his shirt. "I haven't been here for twenty years at least," he said, in a very reasonable tone. "Is it likely I would remember something like that?"
He shrugged his braces off his shoulders and took off his shirt. He held it up, looking blank, and started to wring it out. "No, here, Frodo, you'll damage the weave, " I said, taking it to shake out and hang up. I found a clean limb and spread it to dry.
He began unbuttoning his breeches, and I looked at him in surprise. He'd been serious about swimming, then? I suppressed a shiver of unease. Wading was one thing, but actually being out in the water, with nothing under you and nothing to hold onto? He met my eyes as I thought about it, and his hands stilled. When he raised an eyebrow at me questioningly, I realized I was standing there staring at him whilst he undressed. I blushed red as a beet and whirled around.
"Sorry," I muttered. After a short time, I heard him wading through the water behind me. I addressed the air before me. "I think I will sit on the bank and let my dress dry while you swim."
He stepped in front of me, nude. "Are you speaking to me, Tansy?" He tipped my chin up with a finger. "You didn't need to turn around, you know," he said, his eyes dancing. "Little late for that, isn't it? I only wondered why you weren't joining me."
"Oh," I said blankly. His body glowed in the bright September sunshine, from this angle flawlessly perfect. I felt an urge to trace the planes of him, study him as if I were an artist and would have to draw him from memory sometime soon. I put my hands on his upper arms, rubbing gentle circles along them. "I'm not a very strong swimmer, though."
"I stand ready to offer any needed assistance," he said calmly. He reached around me to where my dress laced up. He found the ties and pulled the knot loose. Then he slid his fingers between the laces and began loosening them with a series of small tugs. I shivered again, though I didn't feel cold. I could feel the tickling sensation of his hair against my cheek, and the small movements of his hands. When all the ties were loose, he flattened his hand on my back and slid it down to where the waistband of the underskirt began. I shrugged the dress down off my shoulders, and it fell loosely onto my elbows.
He traced the outlines of the buttons on my underskirt and turned me a little away from him to unfasten them. I was as still as a mouse menaced by a hawk. Was any hawk ever so beautiful? The fastenings came loose and my underskirt fell sodden into the water. My heart was beating ferociously as he untied my chemise. I leaned against him with a little sigh, feeling his bare skin through the loosely woven fabric. He widened its neckline and slid it slowly off my shoulders and down my body. His face intent, he steadied me as I lifted first one leg and then the other so he could pick up the soaking wet garments. He turned to hang them, and I took a few deep breaths and began quickly wading toward the deeper water. Once it reached my shoulders, I stretched back to float as Tory had taught me. The water buoyed me up, lapping along my sides. I paddled my arms gently, savoring the feeling of lightness.
Then I heard splashing as Frodo swam out into the deeper water, while I floated. After a quarter of an hour or so, he returned to me, a little breathless. I rolled toward him and slid my arms about him, resting my chin on his shoulder. I stretched my toes down and found I could barely touch bottom. Frodo, taller than I, supported me easily. Diamond-bright droplets of water beaded on his neck, and the white jewel he always wore gleamed just under the surface on its silver chain. I licked a droplet of water off the angle of his jaw. "Mmmm" he murmured.
His skin was cooler than usual, and had a brisk mineral-like tang. I tucked the damp tendrils of his hair off his forehead. In the sunlight, his eyes were a brilliant cerulean blue. He tipped his head to kiss me, his mouth warm and sweet on mine. I shivered, pressing closer to him, and wrapping my legs about his hips. He took a step backward in reaction, and the water deepened, lapping my chin. I instinctively tried to raise myself by pushing down on his shoulders, and nearly sent him under.
"Oh, Frodo, I'm sorry," I cried. Cursed unsteady water! I thought.
He got his balance back and shook his hair back out of his eyes. "If I drown now, I'll die happy."
I used my fingers to delicately brush the water off his cheeks and lips. "Perhaps that's enough swimming for today?" I asked. His lips quirked, and we turned toward the shore in unspoken mutual consent. As the water level diminished, I felt myself gathering weight and substance, no longer adrift. It was an odd shift, as each footstep seemed to fall more heavily than the one before. The air was uncomfortably cool despite the sunlight. Once the water had dropped to our knees, I crouched down momentarily, hugging my knees tightly.
"The water felt chilly to begin with, and the air was hot. So why am I now colder in the air, and warmer in the water?"
Frodo stopped and pulled me back to my feet. "Warmer still would be lying on the shore wrapped in a blanket, don't you think?"
I nodded, shivering, and followed him onto the shore, where the blanket I'd spread earlier waited. We dropped down onto the warm, rough fabric, and Frodo pulled half of it over us, tucking the edges in. The sensation of the sun-hot blanket on my chilled skin was delicious. I curled closely to Frodo's body, basking in it.
He made a noise, a breathy little exhalation of contentment. I opened my eyes to look at him, lying next to me on his side. Rivulets of water on his face and neck gleamed like liquid silver. I was seized by a sudden fancy that it was silver, that contact with him had changed the water into something precious. I put my mouth on a trickle on his cheek, and licked it away.
He half-raised himself on one elbow and turned to kiss me lazily. I opened my mouth under his, exploring him. His hair was still soaking wet and cool droplets rained down on my face like tears. Suddenly the warmth I'd welcomed was stifling. I pushed the blanket down off our shoulders, and wrapped my arms 'round his neck.
He lay sideways, facing me with his head resting on one folded arm. I did the same, staring into his eyes. The afternoon was waning, and the sun's warm rays touched his face obliquely. One bright blue eye was translucent; the other, dark and fathomless.
"Frodo," I sighed, touching his half-lit face softly. He lifted my leg and pulled it over his. His hands were warm and sure. I could feel him against me. For a long moment, neither of us moved, only a flicker in his eyes betraying his desire. The sense of expectation was almost unendurable. I moved forward a scant fingers-length and reached out to his face and stroked the silky damp curls back again. He turned his mouth into my palm and kissed it.
"Yes," I whispered to him, pressing toward him. His breath caught and he gripped my hip firmly.
"Yes," he answered softly. He began an achingly dilatory rhythm.
"Oh, oh," I sighed, enjoying the sensation, flexing with his movements. He held to his pace, even and unhurried. Each time he moved forward, I felt the delicious friction, and every brush of our bodies. Culmination came with our bodies pressed closely. Then after an agonizing pause, he would rock relentlessly backward. He would pause for an instant, and then again….and again…. My skin jumped and quivered, and my belly tightened. Over the blood roaring in my ears, I heard his quick light breaths.
For a long while, we said nothing, just shifted back and forth until I felt I could bear no more. Exquisite, unendurable shivers were racing outward from the center of my being. "Oh, Frodo, now," I managed.
"Wait," he whispered. I gripped his shoulder and moaned and he slid one arm up to hold the back of my neck, kissing me fiercely. I felt his arms and shoulders trembling, but his deliberate pace never faltered.
I shook my head to clear it a little and kissed from his lips to his cheek and neck. I found his earlobe, and traced my tongue around the delicate curve of his ear. He made a little sound in his throat, his body tensing. I pressed against him, wanting to dissolve my body into his, his smell, his heat, his wondrous embrace. "Now, now," I said, biting back a cry.
"Yes, now," he gasped. He rolled forward slightly, just enough to put him a little above me. I wrapped my legs 'round him tightly. We could move faster now, and did, until a sheen of sweat covered us both. Yes, yes, yes… I looked up at him. His hair was wildly askew and his color high. Oh, Frodo, I love you, I thought raggedly, losing myself to him. His eyes flew to mine and I heard him gasp from far away, and a paroxysm of pleasure rolled over me.
Afterward, we stretched out in the sun. I curled onto his chest, half-asleep. He lay on his back, arms around me, idly toying with my hair. "Here, I'll re-braid it for you," he said. He took a section, separated it and began plaiting it together. The sensation of his hands in my hair made me shiver. I slid my bare leg over his hips slowly and he tugged the plait. "Hold still," he teased.
"I can't help it," I grumbled. "Don't you realize how you affect me? Even Dahlia admitted you were handsome."
"Try and have some hobbit-sense," he said lightly.
"Oh, I do," I purred. "Good sense. Ask anyone."
He laughed to himself as he finished the plait. He held it out and said thoughtfully, "This part's too short. Aren't they all the same length?" I squinted sideways at the lopsided braid.
"You didn't make the locks equal," I told him. "That's why it came out uneven. You'll have to do re-do it now."
"Or I could just trim the long parts," he said casually. "Wasn't there a little knife in the hamper?"
I started, sweeping my hair out of his hands. "You wouldn't!"
He laughed again, a warm rumble under my cheek. He combed the braid out with his fingers, and rubbed his thumbs over the base of my neck. I nuzzled my face into his neck, sighing with contentment. A cool wind blew over us, and he shivered.
"Our clothes must be dry by now, " he said. "We should go or we'll be late to supper. Will you join me in the Hall tonight?"
"Yes," I replied, "but I'll need to change first." His hands stopped short. "What is it?"
He said slowly, "I believe that marks the first time you have agreed to be seen with me in public."
My face grew warm with consternation. "Surely not, Frodo. There was…" I trailed off, unable to recall a refutation.
He touched my lips gently, silencing me. "It's not important."
I opened my mouth but nothing came out. He was right. And worse, I knew why I'd avoided being seen with him.
I don't know him now, Tilly had sniffed.
He's changed, and he's not your type, Mentha had stated.
That disreputable Baggins, Dahlia had snapped.
I had let myself be influenced by others and undervalued him. I saw in his eyes that he'd known as well. There was no anger or hurt in him, just a quiet resignation. "I'm sorry. You're right. It is the first time. Forgive me."
His face cleared a little as he pulled me close. I rested my head on his arm and took a shaky breath. Then his lips found mine and we talked no more for a while.