Title: Curving Paths

            Rating: PG-13 (Just to be on the safe side...Probably mostly PG)

            Disclaimer: I am not, and do not claim to be, at all associated with J.R.R. Tolkien, the brilliant author of Lord of the Rings, whose characters I am borrowing temporarily.

            Time Period: Mid to late 1420 of the Third Age, by Shire Reckoning.

            Additional Note: This is a revised version of the previous draft of the story.  The plot has remained intact, for the most part; I have simply made a few adjustments so that everything fits into canon a bit more smoothly.

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            Frodo browsed through the market stalls, stopping from time to time to chat with neighbors and friends, enjoying the atmosphere of the town.

            When he had returned from his journey, he had discovered that he had acquired a wonderful new appreciation of the Shire and the hobbits who lived there. Sometimes he would go out walking into town just to watch them go about their daily hustle and bustle, looking as if they had hardly a care in the world other than what they were having for supper that night. He envied them and admired them as well. When he observed these folk and interacted with them, he often felt, for a brief moment, as if he had been transported back in time, back when he was still just a curious, naive little hobbit begging his uncle and Gandalf to give him news of an outside world he longed to explore.

            He knew he had sacrificed that innocent outlook on life when he had agreed to become the Ringbearer, and though this knowledge saddened him, it also did his heart good to witness firsthand the type of peaceful life he had given everything to preserve.

            Lost in his thoughts, Frodo wandered through the market, stopping a few times to purchase supplies and absentmindedly looking through the various wares.

            At one stall, he walked up to the sound of two older hobbit matrons talking as they did over an exchange, filling each other in on the latest gossip.

            Without meaning to, he caught what sounded like the tail end of a conversation.

             "She's here in Hobbiton? That good-for-nothing little wench! How dare she show her face here after what she did to my poor Lily!" This outburst came from a scandalized sounding, gray haired woman, who Frodo recalled as being Mrs. Sue Proudfoot.

            He didn't know the other's name, though he recognized her from town. She was a tad taller than Mrs. Proudfoot, with auburn hair twisted into a tight bun.

             "I know, dear, but maybe she didn't realize you all lived around here, though I'm not tryin' to give her any more credit than she deserves. She and Bo met at that party out a ways, near to Tookland, remember?"

            Sue just nodded. "Still, if I see that little hobbit-stealin' harlot anywhere around here, I have a good mind to show her just what we think of her! I'd slap some respect into that hussy!" A large carriage rolled by just then, and Frodo missed her friend's reply, but when it passed he head Sue say,

             "Another hobbit? So, it's not enough to steal Bo from right out under Lily's nose, but now she's working her charms on another hobbit? Well, he'll see soon enough what she's after. Just as soon as a green- and richer, might I add- pasture comes walkin' by, she'll be gone just as soon as you can blink!"

            Frodo left after this, having bought the bread he needed. He shook his head and sighed. Didn't they have anything better to do than stand there and talk about other people's lives?

            Still, he did briefly wonder who they had been discussing. A few months ago, he hadn't been able to help hearing how Lily Proudfoot's betrothed had left her for another lass, some stranger he had made at a festival of some sort. It had been the top news of the town for a week or so, but he never had learned who the lass was. He hadn't heard anything about it since then.

            His mind wandered to different things as he headed back for home, remembering that Sam and Rose would be back in a mere two days. He knew they would be excited to see Pippin and to meet Jasmine.

            He found the couple sitting close on the garden bench, laughing together as he approached.

             "Well, Frodo, we've set a date. November 18, we're thinking. I've already spoken to Merry, but you'll stand with me also, won't you? Sam will too of course."

             "Of course Pip, it sounds wonderful. A lovely autumn wedding."

             "Pip's been telling me about the elves, Mr. Baggins, and he said he's planning on inviting King Elessar himself! A lass is jittery enough on her wedding day, without the added pressure of royalty in attendance!"

            Frodo smiled. "Well, I'm sure Strider is much too preoccupied ruling his kingdom to come all the way to the Shire for the wedding of some measly halfling," he joked.

            Pippin feigned offense. "What? He could make it to Sam's, but not mine? I knew it, he always did like the other's better! I was rather excitable back then, I suppose."

            They were all laughing as they made their way inside for afternoon tea.

            As Frodo set out the china, he noticed a glint on the table. Glancing up, he realized that its source was a large gem inset into a slender gold band wrapped around Jasmine's finger.

            Seeing his stare, Jasmine smiled and said, "Lovely, isn't it, Mr. Baggins? Pippin's such a dear. I could hardly believe it when I saw him slide it on my hand.  It's like something out of a dream."

             "Please, Jasmine, call me Frodo. And yes, your ring is quite beautiful."

            Jasmine excused herself to freshen up, and Frodo took the opportunity to question Pippin.

             "Pip, that jewel is rather staggering.  Are you sure it was a wise gift?"

             "Oh, it was my mother's, from the family collection, you know. But Frodo, I told her the day I proposed that she is worth more than any jewel on Middle Earth, and I will not spare any expense to secure whatever her heart fancies."

            The lass reentered the room then, so the conversation ended. As he observed the way Pippin obviously adored his betrothed, Frodo found himself wondering if he would ever find someone for whom he felt the same. He had gotten used to the interplay between Sam and his wife, but seeing this new couple, clearly still in the passionate giddy period of romance, struck a chord within him, so deep he barely recognized the feeling at first.

            He was lonely. Yes, he lived with his best friend and this friend's wife treated him like a brother. But he longed for more, despite the impossibility of the whole situation.

             "Frodo?"

            He jerked his head back to reality and realized he had missed a question from Pippin.

             "I'm sorry, my mind was wandering. What did you ask?"

            Pippin repeated himself. "I was just wondering when Sam will be back. Jasmine is eager to meet them."

            Frodo gave himself a shake mentally, forcing himself to focus on the conversation. Still, the rest of the night, he felt something tug inside himself every time Pippin would touch Jasmine or she would lovingly pat his arm or stoke his back. When they announced that they were taking a walk for a while and Pippin added with a wink, "Don't wait up, Frodo," he had headed to bed, desperate to find solace in sleep from the growing ache in his heart.

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