Liquor, Leaf and Ladies – Kesselia Banta

Part 2 - Pippin

"A fool. . .   but an honest one." Pippin's in trouble with her more often than he's not and conveniently yanks out his secret weapon to make it all better, but the old method stops working when it comes time to talk about houses and babies. Enter Bailey: a woman brandishing a leash and a wink that threatens to tear Peter Pan from his faithful shadow. Meanwhile, Frodo continues to dig himself deeper into trouble.

Hobbits and Brothels

A Man Stakes his Claim

He Never Came Home

Does this make me look fat?

Sneaking Out

Pippin's Midnight Bottle

Master Likes Us

The Power of Pippin's Grin

Ball and Chain

The Path Peregrin Took

The Other Ring

*** Part 2 also includes copyrighted song lyrics by Billy Squire.***

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Hobbits and Brothels

Frodo shadowed Sam all the next day while the man went shopping for a list of supplies written by his wife. Several bolts of cotton were the most important on the list and the first retrieved, but there were a dozen other things too: spices, thread, cucumber seed, flint, and so forth. Frodo only went browse. He hadn't expected to have so much time with nothing to do on the trip. They met Merry later on in the afternoon. He had enjoyed a little fun and games on his own. He sported two brand new bags of fresh tobacco, a big bottle of sour mash, and a little bottle of blueberry cordial that must have cost a few shiny ones.

They moved back to relax on the grass outside the lodge and sipped on sour mash and smoked as they talked about stuff that didn't matter. Frodo was chuckling again (thank goodness that stuck) Sam was displeased with the prices of everything, and Merry was wiggling his brows making noises about wanting to visit a house full of wayward ladies.

He tried to convince Frodo to go with him, but Frodo looked up at the evening stars with a far away smile in his eyes. He shook his head thoughtfully. "No. That's not what I want." He sent a grin to Merry, "but thanks for thinking I would."

Merry shrugged it off and offered the same to Sam just to see Sam decline with a fervent grumble. It was worth a bit of a laugh. Merry turned his pipe over to Frodo to finish, and pushed off. "See you in the morning."

Merry's hands were stuffed into his front pockets and his hairy forearms held back the tails of his burnt orange coat. He whistled as he strolled down the lanes looking for some pleasant trouble to get into, stepping around drunken blobs of men without a care and took in the various sights for a smallish blonde. Soon, he was singing under his breath and making it up as he went along.

Blueberry wine; so blueberry fine.

A blueberry baby and a blueberry lady.

And I wouldn't say maybe,

If blueberry was mine.

 He popped into the first brothel he saw but they didn't have what he was looking for, so he left just as quickly. The next one was several blocks further up the lane. It was loud and friendly and had plenty of ladies hanging from the balcony trying to bring in the business. Merry stepped in looking as tall as if he thought he were Man-sized and asked the first lady that winked at him. "Do yeh have any Hobbits?"

The blonde opened her mouth to nod seductively at him. "I'm twice the woman she is." She licked her lips hungrily at Merry.

Unaffected, he crossed his arms at his chest. "You're also twice the work."

The harlot flattened her mouth at him. Her gaze was already searching through the front windows for someone she could flirt with. "There's a new one upstairs. Last room on the left."

Merry looked up the stairs and thanked her before moving that way.

The blonde pointed behind him and teased his innocence, "You have to pay Aunty Emma first, luv."

Merry's expression darkened. He turned to the large woman with heavy make up and fancy black hair. "Oh really?"

He took a long second to dig into his pockets and take in the situation before stepping up to Aunty Emma. The Madame was rambling on and on, talking with a regular who was apparently already finished having his ego stroked for the evening. Merry hoped he wouldn't be recognized, dug out a few more coins than necessary, and stepped up to a lady that was sitting in a chair, not far behind the house Madame he was trying to avoid.

He looked the young prostitute in the eyes, an uncommon experience for most of them, and flicked his head toward Emma. "She looks to be busy at the moment. Here's an extra if you can give it over."

The prostitute tucked a smile as if to blush, but the only blush she had was what was painted there. Still, it got him his pass. Merry quickly moved up the stairs and down the hall to the last door on the left.

He didn't knock only because he didn't have time. Aunty Emma was loudly waving 'toodles' and turning to greet other patrons. Merry slipped quickly into the room and closed the door behind his back.

Lauren was sitting stiffly at the vanity. Her face was red with terror and tears. Her hair was rolled up with curls and ribbons, and her face was painted to the point of unpleasant. She was bound up in black stockings and a short, red silk skirt that was so petty-coated it almost went horizontal. She had a matching black and red bodice pushing up her breasts until they puffed out the top.

She turned with disgust to see what had come for her, but her face flashed as if the gods had decided to let her live. "Merry!" She shot off the stool and wrapped her arms around his shoulders as if he a bonefide hero with no other intent than to save the damsel in distress. "I was afraid you'd all gone home."

Merry scratched his ear and winced a little, but patted her on lightly the shoulder with the other hand. "It's all right, luv." His face ripple a little, "We wouldn't let you down." He winced, but she didn't see it.

She stepped back, "Where's Frodo?"

Merry tilted his head with intense confusion. "What happened your alleged husband?"

Lauren's mouth twitched and tightened. "Emma paid him as soon as we were away from the lodge. She paid the tender at the pub too. There used to be a Hobbit here, but she died of cholera." She looked to Merry with wizened eyes. "She claims she did me a favor. She said it is good work for a husbandless woman." Lauren shook her head at him. "I may have no recollection of what I did before, but I know it wasn't this."

Merry had to smile sadly. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye and shook his head, "No, I wouldn't think so."

"Where's Frodo?" She asked again, with almost a whisper this time. Her eyes were terrified, but now the thick parts of her eyebrows had tucked angrily down over them as well. Lauren was a fledgling preparing to battle for her soul. She just didn't want to have to. "I want Frodo."

Merry closed his mouth and nodded again. He'd seen that look before, in someone else's eyes, but hadn't realized what put it there. It was clear Lauren hadn't been visited by a man yet; she was still too terrified it was about to happen. Nonetheless, she was a far leap wiser tonight than she was yesterday, and that was unfortunate. She was perfect for Frodo's fancy the way she was before, in Merry's opinion.

He took his orange coat off, wrapped it around her shoulders and gathered the collar under her chin, covering her naked shoulders and enforced cleavage. "I promise you'll be back to your blushing self and in his care before the night is out."

She tried to smile at him. "Is he worried about me?"

Merry stepped around her to take a look out the window. "Well, I'm not at liberty to say." He pushed up the window, stuck his head out into the night and looked all the way around. "But if I could say it without saying anything," he stood tall and turned to her again. "I would say it loud and clear."

Lauren's eyes warmed.

"Take them useless shoes off." Merry fumbled with the waistline of his trousers. "Where's your dress?"

Lauren easily yanked the little girl shoes off her feet and slipped her arms into the coat. "They packed it away." Wary eyes watched him take the suspenders off his pants.

In an instant, a practical joke, there for the taking, flooded his mind with the funniest of images, but he would likely be the only one to think it hilarious for years to come.

Merry grinned, and tied the suspenders together to make one long strap and tied one end of that to the nearest bedpost. "Hold tight onto my shoulders."

"What if I lose my grip?"

"Don't lose your grip."

Lauren firmly tucked in her chin and wrapped her arms around his neck. She used her knees also to pin herself at his hips. The girl radiated with discomfort to form such an unladylike position with him, but as soon as he was out the window and carefully groping for foot holds, her need for survival washed propriety away.

 There were intense noises coming from the nearest window. Lauren kept her eyes shut tight as she clung to his back. Merry silently made his way down the strap until he had a foot hold on the trim to the first floor. With that, he attained better control, and had an easier time to shift left, positioning them above a short wood shed.

"Jump down." He whispered.

Lauren looked first and tried to breathe courage into her lungs, but it only came out in small, frightened gasps.

"When you hit the roof, bend your knees and roll off of it. You may get bumped when you fall to the ground, but you won't break anything that way."

"I understand."

"Ready?"

"Yes." She sounded better now.

"On three. One. . .  two. . .  three. . .  jump."

Lauren let go of him and fell. A loud hollow thump sounded on the woodshed, splintering a single plank, and then she tumbled to the ground. She grunted and dust clouded up. It looked and sounded clumsy, but Merry didn't hear any loud cracks of bone.

Suddenly, Emma could be heard in the room above, yelling angrily at the woman who had taken Merry's money. "I told you I had to see anyone that came up for the hobbit! Bloody hell! She's already gone!"

"Damn." Merry huffed, closed his eyes, and jumped.

Merry shattered two of the shed's roof planks and as he rolled off of it, his weight yanked out and flipped over three of them. It was a horribly loud noise. Lauren grunted in pain when Merry landed on top of her. "Oops."

They were still trying to figure how who's arms and legs were who's when Emma's head to poke out the window and flare at them both. "You come back here, you little slut! I paid good money for you!"

Neither of them paused to pretend they heard her. Merry grabbed Lauren by the hand and yanked her up as he pushed to his feet, and Lauren scrambled onto her shaky legs, holding his hand just as tightly and keeping up as best she could.

They came around the corner of the building already in a full run, and Emma was shouting for her musclemen to catch them out the front door. Merry dragged her under a horse's belly to evade the large captors. Their feet were quick enough to speed them passed the busy front porch of the brothel for all to see the action and then the musclemen dodge around the stupefied onlookers to jump into a long legged sprint after them.

There were gasps as they sped by, jumped steps, and dodged elbows. Horses reared. People cussed at the rudeness of their dash. Pints got knocked into friends. Pursuers yelled to the population that the two were steeling. Then bold men started trying to get in their way too.

Lauren kept a firm grip on Merry's hand and clutched the coat over her breasts with the other. Merry stomped on feet that got in his way. He tripped one and then ran right over the man's belly and head. (Lauren ran around.) They rounded another corner and jostled a whole new street of people, but this time, Merry started yelling. "Frodo! Sam!"

Frodo jerked his head from the grass at the distant noise.

Sam stood so he could see the street. Another fight? His eyes went wide as his feet dashed into motion. "Dag nab it, Merry!"

Merry could and would take on a handful of them by himself, but not with a lady to protect at the same time. He pulled Lauren in and wrapped an arm around her shoulders to squeeze between two passing carts. "Gamgee! Baggins!"

"Baggins?" A man echoed.

Lauren glanced back at that.

"By the powers! It is him," a lady said.

Lauren looked ahead.

Frodo and Sam stomped quickly forward in the street with mean faces. The Hobbit innkeeper pounded out with a short sword drawn. Two other visiting Hobbits stepped out as well, just to add to the numbers. Merry didn't slow down until they got passed the line that was forming, but screeched to a halt as soon as Lauren was on the safe side of a long line of men. He swiveled around to face his chasers, looking like he'd instantly gone rabid.

The three musclemen slowed to a stop. Onlookers collected behind them, and soon, Aunty Emma bounced her big body up, getting ready to exaggerate what Merry stole, but there was only a shaking, half-naked virgin hunched by the wall behind them. It would have been bad public relations.

The innkeeper took point, raising his sword and his chin at the growing collection of Mankin. "This isn't a fight you want to be in, lads."

"Ignore him," one whined. "Their Shirefolk."

"Yeah," a wiser one returned. "But that one is the Ring Bearer."

A hush fell across the crowd.

The slow, gray haired innkeeper stepped out and pointed his short sword slowly at each large body that was poised for attack. The enemies knew what they needed to know. "You take a good look here ladies and gentlemen. The men behind me may be halflings to you, but they've put down bigger monsters at worse odds. . .

I'm the only one among us that needs a sword kill you. And I'll do it too, just out of your lack of respect." He was exaggerating of course, but it was a nice touch. The moronic Mankin seemed to believe it anyway.

The innkeeper kept turning, side-stepping a little so he could look up to each one in the eye. "But think about what's really going on here. They're protecting an innocent girl." He pointed the sword at Aunty Emma's nose. "You are just after a quick coin." The innkeeper lowered his voice to speak directly at Emma, "Is it really worth you dying over?"

The silence fell hard. There were three musclemen out front with another seven or so full grown men who'd come to the call of 'thief'. Six more elders and ladies had emerged from the pub to see all the commotion, and a sprinkle of others were rushing down the street just to see the fight. Aunty Emma's eyes were stuck in a stare down with the innkeeper as long as it took to realize that, in this one, she would not be spared simply because she was a woman.

Her eyes flicked to Frodo, for that was the direction she really felt the ice coming from. Her mouth opened and she took a step back. "You are still cursed, Frodo Baggins."

She touched another on the back of the shoulder as she stepped back again, but pointed at Frodo to distract everyone from the fact that she was yielding. "Look at the evil in his eyes!"

Frodo only glared at her.

The muscleman glanced at her and stepped back at her silent order.

"There's still traces of that Ring in him, I tell you!" Aunty Emma's garish voice was loud and accusing, but she and her men were backing up. "You should have died with it, Baggins! You should have died!"

Another waved a hand at them as if the Hobbits weren't worth it. The last flicked a chin at Merry as he turned around, "Coward."

Merry launched three long steps to him, jumped into the air, and tackled the six-footer, yanking him swiftly to the ground. The wave of people swept back a pace and grew stronger at the same time. Sam stomped up to peal Merry off, but Merry got in a few, good, blood-spraying punches before Sam yanked him away by the collar.

Merry snarled as he stepped back. "Lucky bastard."

The guy got up, spat blood at Merry, and moved off. "Stupid Hobbits."

Frodo shook his head at it all and nodded to the innkeeper. "How can we thank you," he sighed.

The innkeeper smiled and dropped the flat of his short sword on his own shoulder. "Call it even."

Frodo grinned with half his mouth and turned back to the lodge with the rest of them.

She came out of nowhere. She plunged into him before he could blink. Her arms wrapped her around his shoulders by the sheer inertia of her speed. She squeezed him so hard she picked herself up off the ground. It was only natural to wrap his arms around her waist with such relief that he lifted her just as much.

Frodo tucked his patient sigh into her hair. She stank of cheap perfume and makeup. She was fully crying by the time she pulled away, trying to tell him what had happened and what she was scared of, but Frodo's eyes fell from her painted face to her naked shoulders. He only heard enough to explain the sight of her body under the dark wool coat. White breasts puffed to escape the tight, silky little clothes. As his hands tried to get away, they left the safety layer of the coat and came dangerously close to her body.

Palms froze in air, poised to wrap around soft extremities that weren't his to grab. It took conscious commands from his mind to reach for the coat's collar instead. He pulled it closed around her neck with both hands.

He sighed stiffly and looked her deeply in the eyes. It was a bittersweet feeling. He was glad to see her again and feel that flutter she always slipped into his stomach, but she'd been through a great deal and an adventure that all of them could have done without.

The bitter part was that they were at the beginning again about Lauren's identity. And now Frodo had a visual permanently burned into his mind of silken under things and a wide open neck that fit snuggly in with the memory of her white breasts, pink nipples, and blushing kiss.

The butterflies in his stomach multiplied tenfold; and yet would continue to go unfed.

"Let's get you inside."

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A Man Stakes his Claim

She had been wounded in the fall. A two inch wide scrape down the side of her calf, complete with a dozen splinters, was reddened and seeping blood. Water and needle were fetched, and the innkeeper's wife supplied a wide dress for her. The stockings were shredded at the feet and calves already, but the other silky things, hair ties, and vanity contraband were removed and sacked for selling the next day. She washed her face, getting off most of the makeup and cut off a piece of hose from the stockings to tie back her hair with a simple knot even if the hard curls still graced her hair in a few places.

Sam kept the room lit and warm, including a candle he held at the sight. Merry sat at the bed like a short table, needle in one hand and a small ankle in the other. . .  and Frodo sat next to her. He leaned his back against the headboard and held her firm to his chest and neck, whispering comfort into her forehead each time she flinched.

As Merry worked, the men reviewed the evening as it happened, sharing clues and suspicions as the night went along, and quickly figured out how they were targeted, approached and conned so easily. Lauren filled in the rest of the mystery with what she'd over heard from Emma and the other girls. Apparently, Aunty Emma had in mind to fill a gap in the market. Hobbit prostitutes were hard to come by. Not only would Lauren help her serve all of the Hobbit men in town, she would also serve as those who preferred young girls. Emma figured she had it made even if Lauren wasn't originally willing because, as soon as Lauren was spoiled, no one but a brothel house would want her anymore.

As far as the details of her stay, her face flushed a little, unwilling to repeat or describe the things she heard or saw, save for the hard-throated knowledge that Merry came 'just in time.'

Frodo closed his eyes with a thankful sigh for that.

It took a good hour before all the splinters were extracted. And when Merry finally put her foot down to nod at Frodo that it was done, Lauren was still buried in his shoulder, exhausted and sighing out tiny sobs from time to time. Sam put the fire down to coals, Merry put the candles out, and both tucked themselves in beds without stripping any further than shirt and suspenders.

Frodo remained still. He held her safely until she fell completely asleep and was certain to be deep in dream. Frodo lay her gently down on the bed, tucked her in with a blanket, and put his own body down in a different bed.

He wasn't sure why, but he needed to have his back to her. Everyone else was in deep sleep, but Frodo lay awake for a while trying to figure out what to do next. Clearly, she wasn't leaving as soon as he needed her to. He would care for her as long as it took; there was no question in that. Unless he completely lost control of his need to reproduce, he would keep her in food and clothes and a place to sleep. And there was sure to be an interesting mission to find her family, but Frodo finally accepted it wasn't going to be quick enough for his naked soul.

The next morning, Frodo sent her out to find a dress shop to trade her spoils for a dress more suitable for a lady. He asked Merry to go along as well just to be the muscle behind her so that she wasn't ignorantly had by prices or Aunty Emma's discontented henchmen.

His visit to the sheriff was actually his first stop, and though he was at the office for hours, nothing substantial was produced. There were no rumors or clues about a halfling girl going missing in the area. And anyone that was going to go through such means to just dump her could have saved themselves the trouble just by selling Lauren to Aunty Emma et al outright.

As for Aunty Emma's underhanded behavior, there was nothing the sheriff could do and truth be told, didn't really want to. Ill practice, yes, but illegal, no. Frodo had willingly turned over Lauren's care to Emma, and Lauren willingly walked away. What happened after that was personal business between Lauren and Emma. Despite its immoral properties, Emma provided a valuable service to the city – prostitution could not be eliminated, it could only be controlled, contained, and supervised. Aunty Emma did that.

Frodo found that street vendor again, the one from which he bought the yellow ribbon (which was now lost at the brothel), but this time he looked over the options for another idea. He found a necklace of hemp and decorated beads of bone. It was fairly pretty, but its prettiness was not its purpose. The beauty of it was that the centerpiece was a ring of bone about the size she would fit on her pinky. It was the perfect token, so Frodo bought it.

By midday, all had returned to the inn once more. Merry pulled up the cart and Sam loaded his many goods into the back. Lauren was smiling and twirled happily to show off her new pine green dress, long-skirt and long-sleeved, warm and simple, new and pretty. She'd even tied up her hair with a new ribbon, but this time, she was dressing up for herself, which was just fine with him.

Frodo climbed up the little grass hill behind their lodge room to where Lauren was standing proud, swinging her arms until they wrapped around her waist like a maypole. He wrapped his fingers around the hemp necklace in his pocket and even slipped the tip of his pinky in the tiny bone ring at the end of it.

"How do you like it?" She prodded.

This was a perfect idea and already an incredible relief.

He stopped face to face and looked her in the eye. "It's beautiful."

She didn't flicker; she just flushed with warmth.

"Which is exactly why I have to do this."

The sparkle faded from her eyes. "Do what?"

He stuffed both hands in his trouser pockets and locked his arms. "You know I'll take care of you until we find your family and obviously that task is not going to be quick or easy, so I'm going to do us both a favor."

She shifted on her feet. The smile was gone.

"You're going to wear a favor," he said firmly. "And we're going to pretend it's your husband's favor until we find the family that is going to prove us otherwise."

Her brows slanted a touch and her mouth closed to a natural pout, but it was all an effect of looking down at the hemp braid he raised in his hand.

She took a long look at it, and flicked her eyes up to him. Frodo pressed his mouth and motioned for her to turn around so he could tie it on.

The bone ring fell at the hollow at her throat. It would be clearly visible whether she wore dress or cape or night robe. The bone ring would remind him how temporary she was and how strong of a spell a woman could cast. The feel of the hemp and bone on her neck was to remind her that she was locked away at the moment. Just to add to the permanence of this decision, Frodo didn't lock it with its built in ball and eye, he tied it in a knot that even he couldn't have untied without tremendous work.

She turned around and touched the bone ring with her fingers. She could no longer see it, but the weight of its reality was already visible on her face. Lauren lifted her head to meet his eye. She took her medicine, she knew that it was right, but she wasn't going to pretend she liked it.

Frodo took a step back and grinned weakly at her, agreeing all the way.

Part one of the trip home was more business that the trip there had been. Frodo and Lauren sat in the cart with the goods, but now had so much stuff to deal with that they had to put their weight on the wheels in the middle and too far away to easily engage in conversation with those riding in the front. So Frodo was draped over the cotton bolts, propping his upper body up with his elbows, and explained his ideas to her. Lauren lounged sideways on the sack of chicken feed and rested her temple in her palm to offer options and agree to his decisions where she knew she could.

They were going to make on like she were simply a hired maid in his household. It was a way of earning her keep, keeping her busy, and justifying to the rest of the town that she wasn't earning her keep in ways that were less than honorable. He would move her into the other bedroom and tasked her to handle all the cooking and cleaning, the chicken coop and the milkman. This would enable Frodo the time to work up the land so he could continue support her and the Gamgees. Lauren was delighted about being put to work and found honor in the simplest of responsibilities. Where Lauren was in suspect to be after his riches, this day proved it wrong.

Frodo also told her what he planned in terms of finding her identity. It was going to be tedious and slow, but the steps had to be made sooner or later. He would write letters to friends he knew in far away lands. It would take months, if not a whole year, before they would see all the results, so "patience" was the key word she was to lean on when times got tough.

Lauren's brows knitted a little to ask him just how many friends he had in far off lands. Frodo responded too easily with too much smugness on his face. "Well, a wizard, a dwarf, a couple of elves, the Queen of Rohan, and Aragorn. . .  who is now the King of um. . .  Gondor actually. . . ." As her expression strengthened, his voice weakened.

Lauren's face slowly blossomed at Frodo's sense of humor. "Are you making this up?"

Frodo scratched his eyebrow and got louder, yanking the perplexed attention of Merry and Sam as well. "No. There was this episode with this dead. . .  evil. . . " He couldn't bring himself to say Sauron's name. He took a deep breath and looked at the cotton fabric under his blunt-tipped fingers. "An army of orcs, and these . . .  flying beasts with dead kings on them. . . ." He paused to realize what he was telling her, but didn't want to tell her now. Not like this. He pulle din a new breath and tried to shake the severity off his shoulders. He forced himself to relax enough to give her a smile. "Well a bunch of Menfolk out in the East seem to think that I saved the-"  Frodo caught his breath when he looked at her. "It's not that important."

Lauren snickered again, tucking her head in with wild laughter.

"What?" He blatted with a grin.

She lifted her head, giggling until her face was red. "Orc and kings and flying things. You are absolutely impossible, Frodo."

Never in his life had Frodo been so blatantly called a liar while so much love was woven into the message. He looked with mind-twisting disbelief toward Merry and Sam (the latter of which was glancing back with raised red eyebrows) and flopped a hand against the cotton bolt in a motion to just give up.

Lauren saw his expression and laughed even louder, rolling onto her shoulder so she could hold her belly to do it, but sparkling eyes kept dancing back to him.

Both Frodo and Lauren were in bubbly moods when they stopped for the night in Whitfurrows. The topic had gotten onto the milkman and Frodo had to explain to her the difference between cheese, yogurt and butter, but Lauren was still too giggly to take the topic seriously. He would try to explain how cheese was made and she would mistake it for butter. So he would explain butter and she would describe the end product as if it were yogurt. So he'd go into yogurt and she bit her lip and pretend to be back on cheese again.

Eventually, Frodo tightened his teeth and hunched hard over the supper table in happily exasperated defeat. Lauren snickered again, bumping her shoulder against his as she poured a bit of her ale into his mug as an apology.

Frodo was happy to have her home even before they rolled into town and the quiet pleasantness of his mood radiated from him. As soon as the first house came round the bend, Pippin ran up from the woods and hopped easily in the back of the cart. Frodo smiled at him. Lauren yelped in surprise to find him there. Sam looked back to say hello. Merry tossed the pouch of tobacco over and Pippin leaned over to smooch Lauren on the cheek.

Her eyes went wide and her hand went to her cheek. "I didn't realize you'd miss me so."

Pippin tilted his head in honesty, "Well, I didn't really." He grinned, "Bailey's just giving me the cold shoulder today." He angled his head casually. "How is your shoulder?"

She grinned a little and glanced questionably over at Frodo. Frodo looked her in the eye to shrug it off, and blindly kicked Pippin.

Thud.

"Owe."

Lauren looked back to Pippin.

Pippin glanced up at her with incredible casualness. "Huh?"

Sam's smile was found again as soon as they pulled up to the front of his house. He gave Rose and Elanor big hugs and kisses before he started to empty the cart. The whole crew worked to distribute the goods to whom they belonged and get everything put away, whether it was in their own home or not. The horses were stabled, brushed, fed and watered, the cart was returned to its owner up the road and everybody took a long time at the wash bucket in Sam's house to clean off some of the road dirt.

The Lauren Trials in Bree were summarized a great deal, but no one uttered the true nature of Lauren's 'kidnapping'. They simply described her intended duty as a 'free work hand'. In all reality though, Sam would tell Rosie, and Merry would tell Pippin, all in confidence, as soon as Lauren wasn't around to embarrass.

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He Never Came Home

Frodo pulled open the turquoise-painted shutters, wrinkling his nose at the dust he kicked up as he did so. They stuck. He yanked. The loud crack preceded a wash of spring sun from the backyard. It wasn't much of a bedroom because it hadn't been used by anyone since Uncle Bilbo gave up the house to Frodo, but the place still rang as the icon of comfort and security that Frodo grew up safely in. The down mattress on the little bed had compressed over time. The unmade white sheets were covered in a single layer of ash gray dust, solidifying the random wads and old folds as a constant nag at the person who failed to make his bed the last time he'd slept in it.

Lauren covered her nose with the backs of two fingers to try to keep from sneezing from the dust. Two sets of shelves were cluttered with stupid trinkets and unarranged paper. An old beer stein was filled with coin-sized stones in a corner. A tobacco pouch hang empty from the coat hook. Stacks of well-used books lay unkempt on their sides, falling over and into each other. A jar of black licorice bits now looked like a collection of dead flies. The armoire was empty, falling apart and undecorated. As if to stand apart from everything that said 'male', a lacey-yellow ribbon was tied to the bedpost like pair of batting eyelashes from the past.

A boy once lived here. He left abruptly, but he never came home.

Lauren glanced over to ask.

Frodo was grinning. His eyes smiled into history. He reached over the clutter on a shelf and picked out a rolled knot of paper in his fingers. He pulled it out with a full smile, turned to her, and held it up. "Do you know what this is?"

She looked at the small gray thing. It looked nothing more than a tiny cylinder of paper with a string coming out of one end. She shook her head.

It was a tiny one, so Frodo set the little thing on the front step of the bedroom's white-brick fireplace. "I have a friend by the name of Gandalf." He stood up and motioned for her to hand over a match from the nearest wall sconce. "He's a wizard," he grinned, flicking the flame to life on the stick. "He comes up with the most fantastic little gadgets."

Frodo lit the fuse and smiled proudly to hurry behind her. "Watch this." He stood behind her shoulder as it burned. Lauren watched the feisty little flame sizzle away and started to ask-

POP!

She jumped back into him, but Frodo was ready for it. He caught her, already chuckling and looked at her with pride. "Isn't that neat?"

She was still trying make her heart beat again. She slapped his shoulder and muttered under her breath. "Pointy-eared freak."

"Peg leg," he grinned and started to leave the room.

Lauren flicked a grin and sighed at the mess. "So this is my bedroom now?"

Frodo beamed victoriously and pointed a rough order. "Make your bed."

Frodo had few real clues on how to cook but he remembered whether stuff was baked or boiled and he remembered what it looked like once it hit the table. He had managed all these with a handful of his favorites but admitted he was getting bored with them.

He grinned then. "Alright, I confess. There was a small alternate motive behind my idea to have you become my housemaid." They had no meat for the evening, so Frodo pulled a late-planted acorn squash. It wouldn't fill them up by itself, but it would have to do for tonight's tired dinner.

"Other than cleaning your bedroom?" She snorted. As he came back in with it, Lauren pointed at his nose. "You liked my stew!"

He didn't look up at her but admitted it shyly, "I liked your stew, yes." He stepped back from her so he could pull out the large kitchen knife and stone to sharpen it up a touch. "And now I'm going to punish you by making you cook for me all the time."

"Never let good deeds go unpunished," Lauren smirked. She sat down at the table and studied the strange shape of the squash. "No wonder you thought it was a try for your fancy."

He swiped the knife several times and put the stone away. He looked at her boldly; amazed she would deny it. "Well was it or wasn't it?"

Lauren innocently scratched the side of her neck and drifted her eyes away. "Well. . . . Maybe. . . ." Her eyes shifted sweetly back to him, trying to stay out of trouble about it, "A little?"

"See?" He scolded lightly. He put one knee on the bench next to where she sat and picked up her hand off the table only to move it aside eight inches. He took the squash in his hand, studied a place to cut it, and prepared to put all his weight on the knife when he sliced.

"Did it work?" Lauren set her chin lightly on her fist and looked up at him.

"Did it work." He echoed the stupid question and sliced open the hard shell of the squash with one smooth, powerful move. He stood on both feet again and put the knife on the table. "I don't know, Lauren," he grinned pathetically. "I jumped you in the hall the next day. What do you think?"

Lauren bit her lower lip with a twinkle, shied by his boldness about it.

He passed behind her and hooked a finger on the back of her necklace just enough to pull the bone ring against her throat as a reminder. Lauren took the order soberly but not insultingly. She glanced back to where he'd sat down on the bench behind her.

Frodo motioned to the squash. "All I know from here is that you put some chopped up stuff in the hollow, like apples and nuts, season the top, and bake it in the oven for a couple of hours."

Lauren grinned. She pulled one of the halves over and studied it a moment like she was still thinking about gaining his fancy. She glanced back up to him. "The inside is too dry to bake. Are you sure it's not steamed?"

His lifted his chin honestly. "Haven't a clue. That's what you're here for."

Lauren rubbed her palms. "Least you could do was start me off with a piece of food I recognize."

He shrugged and climbed off the bench. "I'm not expecting a King's meal out of it, dear."

Lauren watched him go so he could tend to the chores that had been building up, and she got seriously to work on this evening's cooking experiment.

~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~

Does this make me look fat?

. . . "She asked if the dress made her look fat," Sam said once upon a time, "Answering questions like that are a tricky business, specifically when they're asking about their abilities or looks."

Back then, they were sitting on top of a table in the pub, leaning shoulder to shoulder, after swallowing a half or two. Through hazy eyes, they watched the fair lady Sam had already been courting for some time. The bonnie maiden Rosie was dancing with her friends not far away.

Sam slurped up a little more and explained through intoxicated wisdom. "If she asks you a question, and you tell her the truth, that's bad. If she tells the truth and you agree with her, that's bad too. If she tells the truth, and you don't agree with her, now she thinks your lying."

Frodo had scratched the top of his head at all this.

"Some say answering a woman's question is a no-win situation," Sam explained. "But with Rosie, I think I've figured out a way."

"How's that?" Frodo asked with insanity on his face.

Sam leaned in to whisper his secret with a wink and intense nod. "Answer a different question."

Frodo's eyes shifted to his lap in complete befuddlement.

Sam cackled as he said it. "I told her the dress would make me look just fine.". . . .

The acorn squash was decent. It was soft enough. The steaming idea worked, but she had spiced it with the entirely wrong stuff.

Lauren sat up straight about it before Frodo had finished his first bite. It was a strange taste, but not a bad one, and thankfully, Lauren admitted its shortcomings before she asked for Frodo's honest opinion of it. "I think oregano was a bad choice," she said to her dish and glanced up at him.

Frodo's tried to hide his sudden terror about how to respond, but upon afterthought knew he didn't hide any of it. Instead, he cut out another bite and stuffed it into his mouth before he spoke.

Lauren must've thought he hadn't heard her. "What do you think?"

He tried to think of which other question he should answer and came up empty, so he simply sliced another bite and told her the truth "You're right. It's weird."

Lauren smiled weakly, not angry and not really offended, but not terribly happy either.

"But I have faith in you, and for that I'll give you every bit of patience you need to find your magic." He took up his mug of wine and forced a scowl, "So stop giving me that look."

Lauren's smile found her eyes again but she kept it contained and proper as much as she could.

She was obvious, he realized, that's why she was dangerous. Even if she smiled at him over something harmless, there was fondness in her eyes that put a spell on him. It would start sucking him in for a second or two before he realized that the bliss was only a distraction so that he didn't feel his life force bleeding out through his stomach.

Her laughter and her laughing eyes was like the poison of a spider, stunning him and distracting him so he wouldn't notice she was pulling out the miles and miles of his innards, and keeping his attention there until she'd claimed so much that it was too late to survive it.

Time after time, Frodo would catch it as the chord was slipping away out his belly. He would grab it with both hands, smile back at her with victory that he didn't fall for it, and push her back with a word or a look or a quick step away. It took a minute or two outside of her presence to put his innards back in their proper order and then he was good as new again. There was long time between stings, long enough for him to forget, and drop his guard again.

It would have been easier if it were as simple as comparing her to the sting of a hungry spider, that she was being mischievous or devious, that she knew deep down her intent was ill wanted, but none of that was true.

Lauren was genuine, innocent, playful, even stupid at times, ignorant of the evils in life, and she couldn't care less about the adventures he wasn't ready to tell. She didn't even believe him.

And there was never a sign when he would be stung. Her laughing eyes worked as well as her frightened ones. Her klutzy moments were just as beautiful as her graceful ones. The only time she couldn't cast a spell on him is when she was angry, which for one happened rarely, and for two, twisted his stomach in the worst ways imaginable, so Frodo avoided those as much as he could anyway.

In the end Frodo found his only peace when he wasn't in Lauren's vicinity. And then, he was wide open to attack from bad memories and Ring whispers. It became a frustrating, restless way to be.

~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~

Sneaking Out

"But you called us out to fight." Pippin muttered into his pillow. "Gandalf. . . ?"

He rolled over and shuddered himself awake with a deep scowl on his face.

He rubbed one eye with his palm as he sat up. He was on the bed but still fully dressed. It was dark outside, the crickets were singing, but Pippin had still been asleep from his afternoon nap. It couldn't have been very late.

The dream still came at him as he fished himself awake. He could hear the fading echoes in his head: the women screaming, the orcs growling, the baby crying, the pounding on the gate like some repetitive earthquake . . . .

Blue eyes were so hopeful. Don't you want babies someday, Pip?

He threw his legs out of the bed and his hands went into his hair, holding his head as the nausea soured on his mouth.

It had been a couple of months since they had their last Midnight Bottle and Pippin sure could use one right now. He slowly found his tobacco pouch and an unopened bottle of Mystery Liquor, tucked himself into a couple of layers to keep him warm, and set out to start collecting sleepy Hobbits.

Merry still lived in the giant Hall a day's ride away, but was in Hobbiton and Bag End so often he could be dependably found snoozing in an unused stable on fresh hay not far from the pub.

"Hey, Merry. Wake up."

Merry licked his mouth and blinked awake. He stuffed his elbows behind him to sit up and see the moonlight. His unasked question was answered as soon as he opened his eyes.

Pippin grinned from the stable door and showed him the large beautiful bottle.

Merry started to grin and quietly climbed out of the hay.

Frodo was the third easiest to steel for a bottle, but this time there was an unknown variable in the house. Merry and Pippin slipped quietly through the front gate and whispered ideas about which window or door to sneak through. It was decided to go right through his bedroom window despite its small size or the thorny artichoke plant at its base.

Pippin covered his hip with his thick coat and scooted between the plant and the window. He knocked lightly and called. "Frodo. Wake up."

Inside the dark and cozy room, Frodo was sleeping like a baby, oblivious to it all.

"Give me a lift," Pippin whispered. Merry tucked in a knee so Pippin would have something to stand on, and the other launched himself easily to sit on the window sill.

He struggled with the double shutters, but they were locked from the inside, and would have opened outward anyway. Pippin pulled them out as much as they would go and tried to stuff a finger between the resulting crack to push up the hook.

"Quiet," Merry scolded. "You'll wake her up."

Frodo stirred, but barely.

Pippin's mouth twisted as he worked this contortionist's puzzle. "Don't worry about her. She's no right to be upset about him going out with the boys."

Merry shut his eyes with tested patience. "Then why aren't we going through the fuckin' front door?"

Pippin stopped. He looked over to the front door, considering this.

"Nah," Merry waved it away. "He doesn't want her to start asking questions about what we're drinking off."

One of Frodo's eyes opened. He rolled over to peer at his window.

"Ah, good point." Pippin said, again rattling the window and shuffling his feet against the artichoke plant. "I don't want her to know either."

The shutters pulled away from Pippin's fingers. His eyes flicked. He froze. The hook was lifted quietly and then one shutter opened – the one that wouldn't knock Pippin's ass off the window sill and into the artichoke plant.

Frodo leaned out with and elbow in the angel white glow of moonlight on nightclothes. "Use the front door next time. There's a reason the thistle bush was planted under this window."

Pippin tried to slide off gracefully, and failed.

"We didn't want to wake up the little woman." Merry told him.

Frodo grinned and shook his head. "She's not my woman. She's my housemaid. That's the beauty of it."

Pippin hopped off and brushed his pants back in order. "Aye, but for safety's sake, we're just gonna pretend like she's your woman from now on, all right?"

Frodo hitched a grin and shrugged it off. "I'll be out in a minute." He closed the shutters and quietly got dressed. It felt like boyhood again when he snuck out into the moonlight and found them on the road.

The three of them paused out by the massive eucalyptus tree across the street from Sam's little house. There was a slight glow of what was left of the fire, probably meant to keep the baby warm, and absolute silence otherwise. This mission required cunning and patience.

Merry crossed his arms at his chest and studied the tightly shut windows. "We should go in through the kitchen."

"But then we'd have to go pass the baby's room," Pippin put in. "Don't forget what happened last time we did that."

Merry rubbed the back of his head with strong memories of The Skillet he Never Saw. "Perhaps you're right. Maybe the bedroom window? If we don't hear anything naughty. . . "
Frodo leaned his back up against the dark tree trunk. "That doesn't mean they're not indecent."

Pippin thought long and hard and sucked a sigh in through his nose. They needed this tonight, but they couldn't do it with three. It just wouldn't be right.

Then he heard it.

He put a hand out to get them to be quiet. Elanor was fussing and a soothing voice as pretty as a moonlight kiss was singing her back to sleep.

"Damn," Merry cursed. "She's awake."

Rosie wasn't an unreasonable woman. She had her hard lines, sure, but she had no strong aversions to letting Sam go out and play. Getting him out for a midnight bottle was difficult because of Sam, not Rosie. Sam was either worried about abandoning his wife and baby on extra cold or eerie nights. Or he was preoccupied with his baby when she had fallen ill, or was extra fussy, or it was just plain old His Night to Take Her. And often enough Sam was preoccupied with only his wife and the quest for another baby, in which case the other three never got through the yard before hearing it and giving up entirely.

Frodo took a step forward. "I've got an idea." He started walking quietly but boldly to the front gate. Pippin and Merry were curiously frozen until Frodo waved them to follow and reminded them along the way to be extra silent.

 They went to the window of the front room where the coals still glowed warm and the singing was the loudest. There was even a low creak every two seconds of the rocking chair Rosie relaxed in.

With the three of them together, feet shuffling in the dirt, it wasn't a surprise for her to hear a finger tapping twice on the shutters. "It's open," Rose said quietly, albeit thinning patience was in her tone.

Frodo pulled open the shutters and the three heads appeared in the small window, pleading, pouting, and smiling sweetly while trying to remain absolutely silent for the sake of the bundle now snoozing in Rosie's arms.

At the sight, Rosie smiled warm and caring at them. Everybody heard details of the Battle, but she knew details of Sam and Frodo's end of the story better than anyone else alive. It was with this knowledge that she approved or denied requests for any male bonding.

And Frodo knew it.

He had a knowing grin on his face and stared directly at her. Frodo was the one to tell her the quote, ". . . Rosie Cotton dancing. She had ribbons in her hair. . . "

So now, Rosie Cotton Gamgee cuddled Elanor a little bit more as she stared at Frodo.  "Go through the bedroom window. And don't wake the baby."

All three troublemakers smiled from ear to ear. Pippin blew her a kiss. Merry put his palms together and mouthed his thanks. Frodo took the round knob of the shutter and nodded at Rosie as he closed it.

Frodo shuffled to the bureau to dig out a warm set of clothes for him. Merry moved to close the bedroom door quietly, and Pippin crawled on the bed. Poor Sam was snoring, still deep under a thick layer of blankets when Pippin straddled his waist and leaned over.

"Boo."

Sam jumped violently, heaving air and reaching for a sword that wasn't there. He started cussing and fighting, still startled and angry at Pippin for doing it to him. He looked to the other side of the bed. "What did you do with my wife?"

Pippin was giggling but grabbed him by the shoulders and pushed him hard down again. Merry had fallen on Rose's side of the bed to slap a hand over Sam's mouth. "She said don't wake the baby or you cannot go with us."

Sam's eyes were still wide and confused. He saw Frodo step up to the end of the bed, grin a little, and throw some clothes down. Merry pulled his hand from the man's mouth and whispered quite regally. "We've come to inquire on you if you'd like to share a bottle on the water with us this fine midnight."

Sam finally breathed in a huff. His eyes closed and he dropped back on the bed with a groan.

~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~

Pippin's Midnight Bottle

The night always started out with jokes and teasing as they walked through the crops and down the road. They would start out complaining about bad beer or cussing out neighbors, and would end up making fun at each other's complaints. This time, they broke into song, out of tune and chuckling between verses, bumping into each other as they walked and grabbing the bottle from another's hand.

Sam stopped his feet and tried to tuck in to sing a deep tone, but he belched instead. It echoed against the sleeping trees. Merry tossed his head back with laughter. Pippin's eyes were still tearing up from the last hilarious comment, and Frodo wrapped an arm around Sam's shoulders. "I think you're done with that," He took the bottle from his friend and took in a deep slug.

"Hay." Sam whined lightly but kept walking forward. "I can't possibly be drunk already. We haven't even got there yet."

"You're not," Frodo assured, patting his shoulder with a manly slap. "I'm just taking away the tempting evils of the earth, so you won't be lured by its poison."

Sam nodded at that, "Well I suppose I should thank you for that."

Frodo nodded and took another slug.

Sam reached a hand up and plucked it from his mouth. "And I'll thank you for this too."

Frodo sputtered, trying to catch as much of the wine as he could as he cackle wildly. And Pippin rode by on the back of a 'pony', Merry, who tried to laugh and gallop, and carry Pippin at the same time.

They tumbled to the road within a few feet.

The moon was nearly full. It shined down through the treetops, giving the night a happy glow. The water giggled scintillating reflections. The crickets chirped a good beat to sing to. A night bird occasionally cried out as it swooped over the riverbank. A tiny pier had but a single rowboat tied to it, but they never went in the rowboat, lest they got too drunk and drifted. Instead, they had a special spot not far down water of the pier.

There was nothing particularly remarkable about it save that it was far enough away from houses and livestock to avoid waking anybody with their laughter. It was simply where they ended up the first time they did this, without realizing it would turn into a tradition, and they habitually end up in the same place nearly every time.

It was a spot where there weren't any trees or bushes in the way, but they were loosely surrounded by them, the smell of honeysuckle drifted on the wind from time to time, a slope steep enough to lay back comfortably and stare at the stars, and a marsh-less edge to the deep flow of water. It had all the sounds and sights once could experience at nighttime that would remind them that they had, in fact, saved the Shire.

"It's still here," Frodo grinned sleepily. He rested his elbow on his knee and his cheek on his fist. He smiled at the glittering moon reflection on the river like it was a diamond he thought he'd lost.

"Of course it's still here." Sam lay back on the hill and balanced the bottle on his big stomach and a bit of glaze in his eyes. "You didn't think we'd go through all that and not come out smelling like roses, would yeh?"

Pippin lay on the hill like Sam did, but he was on his side, holding his body up with an elbow and tearing apart a tiny, dried leaf. He was quiet and intense, an uncommon thing to see in Pippin, and silently reached over for the bottle.

Sam offered it, but mumbled apologetically. "It's empty."

Below Sam and Pippin, Merry rolled over, holding his chest up with his elbows and pulled something out of his layers of coats. "Not to fret. I brought a spare." He handed it easily up to Pippin to open and drink.

Sam lifted his head to look down at Merry. "So. Who called this meeting?"

Merry motioned to Pippin. Sam and Frodo looked over to find him swigging hard and tight.

They waited quietly, patiently. Nobody interrupted his thoughts. Nobody would have been surprised if he said nothing at all. But Pippin could have drank alone if he wanted to be silent. He looked up at Frodo. "Lauren is so lucky."

Sam's flicked at that one. He'd totally forgotten about the girl tonight. What did one have to do with the other. "What?"

"She has no memory of it," Frodo explained to Sam and gave Pippin a weak, understanding grin.

"Neither does Rosie." Sam pointed out. "She wasn't even there."

"But she knows about it." Pippin insisted. "She knows the stories. She knows what it all meant. What it was all about. . .  Bailey does too. They all get this sullen look in their eyes every time it comes up. . . ." His eyes drifted to the rippling water. His voice died a little. "They feel sorry for us."

Merry's brows knitted. "Are you sure that's coming from them?"

Pippin kicked him in the shoulder. "A few weeks ago you were insisting that some parts we'd never get over, and now you're telling me to get over it!? You didn't see what I saw!"

Merry lifted angrily on his hands and knees to crawl closer, but clearly was only going to yell at Pip. "No, lad, you're right. I didn't. But I was in it too. Down on the battlefield. What I saw wasn't any less and I've recovered better than any of you. Frodo and Sam I understand, but you. You had Gandalf, for cryin' out loud. You have to stop feeling sorry for yourself!"

Sam put a hand on Merry's arm to get him to back off. Frodo dropped his arm and spoke soberly. "Pipe down, Merry."

"And so do you!" Merry hissed up at Frodo. "You have to get over it too!"

Sam pressed his mouth, grabbed Merry by the thick layers on his collar and yanked him back down the hill without needing to get up and do it. Merry slid down a foot with Sam, and looked over as if the man had called him out for a fight.

"Don't you get it?" Sam yelled. "You're the only one that didn't touch it!"

Merry looked wide-eyed into Sam's angry ones for a moment. He looked at Frodo, who's sad gaze had dropped to the ground, then to Pippin who'd pinched at his eyes with thumb and forefinger. Pippin never held the ring in his hand, but he had the palantir long enough to feel the same heavy horror.

Merry's eyes died with regret. He crawled slowly and humbly back up the hill until he was parallel with his friend.

Pip's eyes were slammed shut. His mouth was drawn tight. His throat quivered.

Merry lowered down and put his face on his forearms. Pippin patted him once on the shoulder, accepting the apology.

Sam sighed slowly and crawled back up to where he was before.

"What was it," Merry muttered, "that shook you up tonight?"

Pippin didn't open his eyes. "Babies crying."

Frodo folded his arms on his knees and tucked his mouth behind them. Sam stared up at the stars and saw none of them.

"Bet you didn't hear that on your battlefield." Pippin told him and sniffed awake.

Merry kept his head down and sighed guiltily.

"He was screaming," Pippin whispered with his eyes closed. "For his mum. Lost in the ruckus." Pippin's face was dumbstruck. His is eyes opened at nothing, red and watery. "And then he was quiet."

The crickets sang and the river moved deep and gentle, but the moon said nothing.

Merry pushed to sit on his knees and took the bottle gently from Pippin. Then he took the other's free hand backwards and held it strong.

Pippin rolled onto his back and looked up at Merry. "And tonight I dreamt he was mine," he tried to grin. "I couldn't even see him. Didn't know where he was, but that baby was screaming for me."

Frodo opened his eyes and looked over to listen. Sam took a long slow drink and savored the dose of a numbing soul.

Pippin continued. "I would have taken whatever death that came to him. . .  just so he'd have a chance to laugh again. . .  since I never would."

"But you do." Merry reminded. "You laugh all the time, Pip. It's just. . .  some moments in life aren't so funny anymore. There's nothing wrong with that."

"Bailey doesn't understand." Pippin explained, now beginning to recover from the intense image. "She asked me if I wanted babies someday and I had to say no. She doesn't understand. She remembers me from before, even though I wasn't courting her then. She remembers what I was like."

Pippin took a deep breath and sigh out the rest of his tears instead of crying them. "She's afraid of me, Merry. That's why she gets so angry when I go off drinkin'. I don't want to talk to her about it because it'll change her eyes when she looks at me. But. . . " Pippin's face rippled. He rubbed his forehead with his palm and sat up, suddenly able to put the problem into words. "But I think she's starting to imagine that it was worse than it was. Like I was one of the orcs killing babies, instead of the ones trying to fight them off."

Sam glanced over at that and nodded, understanding exactly what he meant. "Women aren't stupid, they're just worry warts."

Merry leaned back and let go. He took the bottle for a swig.

Pippin sat up fully looking to Sam for answers. "But there's nothing more to worry about." Pippin insisted, "We got him. Sauron's dead. The war is over."

"She's not worried about the war, Pip." Sam sat up, explaining. "She's worried about you."

Frodo's eyes slid back and forth to whomever was talking. They had nearly teared up for a moment, but they were looking warmly at Pippin, happy for him even if Pippin didn't understand why.

"What should I do?" As if Sam was the master just because he was married.

"Talk to her." Sam told him. "Tell her your stories. Tell her what haunts you. She'll understand."

Pippin's face wrinkled madly. "They like that?"

"Well that depends," Sam said and grinned over at Pippin knowing the man was probably not ready to admit it yet. "Do you love her?"

Pippin sat up a little straighter and looked down his nose as Sam's impropriety. "Don't you think that's a little personal?"

Frodo was still tucked behind his forearms, practically forgotten, but his hidden chuckle made him known again.

Pippin put a palm up, "You see? He agrees with me. Don't yeh, Frodo."

Frodo finally lifted his head and unfolded his arms with a serious nod. "Sure, Pip. Whatever you say." It, of course, mattered not that Pippin was groveling to her when she was angry, nor that they were talking about babies someday. It mattered not that no topic was off limits here,  in this group, in this place. The 'L' word was personal and that was final.

Pippin crawled up and sat his bum on the hill right next to Frodo and helifted his head as if the allegiances had turned completely around. "Just because a man has a woman in his life doesn't mean he's falling in love with her." He lifted his chin boldly and elbowed Frodo. "Isn't that right?"

But Frodo would be the last to point that finger. Frodo smiled and nodded succinctly. "Absofuckinlutely."

 Pippin got whiplash looking at Frodo's smug grin. Merry snickered at it. Sam chuckled as he handed up the bottle and pointed out. "Them aren't steady defenses you're standing on, laddie."

Pippin tucked in to whisper a question. "What'd I miss? Have you been getting fresh with your housemaid?"

"She blushed!" Merry reported loudly.

Frodo squeezed his eyes shut as he took a swig. His shoulders curled up defensively and his cheeks puffed with a tight laughter he couldn't stop.

"Ah ha!" Pippin grinned out at Merry and whispered to Frodo, tacitly asking for other details. "So? Just how pink did she get?"

Frodo licked his mouth closed and drew it in small. He inhaled a sigh through his nose and flicked his eyes to Pippin. "She blushed enough."

Pippin adjusted to sit taller, even if his legs were folded in front of him, and wrapped an arm around Frodo's shoulders. "All right lads, now I have something to work with. Frodo won't even tell Lauren what happened. Why should I give over the gory details to Bailey?"

Sam rolled his head with exasperation. "Look, I'm not ordering you to do it. I'm just saying it worked for Rose. Once I gave in the details, it wasn't such a mystery anymore." He shrugged, lifting a palm in the air. "It was either that or argue with her every time I wanted to come out with you guys. What are you gonna do?"

Pippin settled in, thinking. His shoulders slumped. Frodo handed over the bottle, but Pippin shook his head and waved it off. So Frodo took another swig and passed it back down to Sam.

Pippin elbowed Frodo again. "Would you tell Lauren?"

Frodo stretched his legs out and leaned back on locked elbows. His face twisted strangely as if the question was absurd. "She's my housemaid!"

"You're blushing housemaid," Sam insisted.

Frodo's flattened his mouth.

Pippin was serious. "C'mon, Frodo. I'm speaking hypothetically of course. Say you were banging her regularly and the future started looking up for the two of you-"

"Isn't it supposed to be the other way around?"

"-if you're a Baggins. . . " Pippin pointed out but got back on topic. "Would you tell her about the Ring?"

Frodo fell into deep thought about it. The butterflies came into his stomach again the whispers fluttered back into his head. His eyes fell on Sam, who was staring seriously back. There were still a few things that even Pippin and Merry didn't know.

"Everything?" Frodo whispered and started shaking his head. There were some things the women would never get to know. They just wouldn't understand. His eyes rolled over to Pippin, big and scared all over again, and shook his head once more. "I wouldn't tell her everything."

Pippin nodded at his lap, feeling it for another quick moment, and dropped his elbows on his knees. "See there, Sam? You got a good woman. But they're not all like that."

Sam shrugged and fiddled with a twig on the ground. "I guess it's different when you're in love with them."

Two pairs of blue eyes flicked up at that.

"I didn't tell Rosie everything." Sam continued as he watched his twig spin between his fingers. "Not like Frodo's thinking, but I told her enough to explain things."

Merry fell down on his side, propped a head in his palm and deepened his voice to pervert depth. "What kind of things did you explain?"

Sam faced it with a grin on his brow. "That's between a man and his wife."

Pippin leaned down with a flick of attitude on his chin. "In other words, it's personal."

Sam turned up to laugh at him. "At least I'll admit that I'm in love with her!"

"But you have to," Pippin insisted that this was obvious. "You're already married!"

Frodo shook his head. "Sam was obvious long before he married her."

Merry rolled onto his stomach and elbows to peer up at them. "And where do you think we got the idea that you two may have been put under the spell?"

Frodo leered down to Merry. "Why is the Womanless One asking us these questions?"

"Ah don't worry bout him," Pippin waved Merry off and whispered loudly to Frodo. "He's just a poof."

Sam sputtered wine out of his mouth. Frodo ducked away with red-faced laughter. Merry hissed and gritted teeth as he started scattering hands and knees up the hill. Pippin cackled as he got up and ran.

Sam was wiping the wine from his mouth when Pippin and Merry came tearing back down the hill. Pippin was laughing and screaming like a hyena and Merry was growling and gaining on him even though he wasn't angry. He grabbed him by the collar and yanked Pippin to the ground.

The feisty Hobbit was still giggling madly, teary-eyed, red-faced, and tried to block the expected punch with his forearms. "Please don't hurt me."

Frodo was laughing so hard he held his aching stomach with one hand and rolled up onto the other elbow. Sam was still giggling as he slid down to the scene and tried to diffuse the situation with a bottle in front of Merry's nose, but he slid into them as he did it.

"Watch it!" Pippin suddenly said. "That water is cold."

The rippling stream of melted snow was already dabbing against Pippin's feet. Merry's brows lifted at the blunt truth as the idea rolled into his head.

Pippin's eyes widened. "Don't."

Sam was having too much fun. He crawled to his knees and helped Merry pick Pippin up by the arms.

"Frodo!?"

Frodo came skidding down to try to keep Pippin's from being thrown in, but Frodo still laughing as he went and lost his grip on the hill. He fell into Pippin's back, who pushed Merry forward, and kicked off Sam's balance. The three went tumbling ungracefully into the water. Not deep or far, just enough to get wet on their clothes and hair and faces. As soon as the splash settled and the faces were pushed from the water, all eyes glared over.

Frodo was left on the bank with wider eyes and louder laughter at his mistake. His body curled over and his leg curled up as he cackled madly at them.

Six arms came out of nowhere, grabbing Frodo on limbs and clothes and yanked him in.

They splashed a moment, and made certain Frodo and Pippin got thoroughly wet and cold before crawling hands and knees and incredibly drunk back to the lonely bottle that was left behind.

Sam got to it first and took a swig, only to roll over on his back and stare up at nothing. Pippin was right behind him, falling down right next to him. Frodo crawled over top of both of them to the other side, and he sipped quickly and saved the last to pass down to Merry, who was so weary that he lay like a wet rag over Pippin's legs.

Dizzy, tired and cold, all four stared up at the stars in a knot, still grinning a little, still sad a little, and two deep breaths away from passing out.

Pippin sighed deep, "You're right, Sam." His voice was far away and a light shined deep in his battle-scarred eyes. "I must love her."

Frodo's eyes turned.

Merry closed his eyes with a wise, content grin.

"She's the only one I can imagine ever telling," Pippin whispered.

Sam closed his eyes and patted Pippin's face, though he meant to pat his head. "Glad we could help, Pip."

~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~

Master Likes Us

Nobody remembered details about leaving the riverbank. It wasn't surprising that the wet hair and midnight breeze droved them back to shelter instead of sleeping it off where they fell. But they did remember stumbling together into the front door of Bag End and finding a person they completely forgot would be there.

Lauren's only real question, so intense that she repeated it loudly enough for them to remember it, was to Sam, "Does Rosie know where you are?!"

Sam winced and tried to wave her off like a fly. "Yes, yes, of course she does." With that he was pushed backwards into a chair. Pippin remembered nothing about being half-carried to Lauren's old bed. Merry remembered enough to know that he thanked her for the blanket on his shoulder. And Frodo remembered more than he wanted to.

He was giggling too much because he was scared witless about the combination of her presence and his condition. As she pulled him by the wrist, fretting worriedly to get him to pass out on his own bed, he started making fun and teasing where he probably shouldn't have been. "What deep dark cave are you leading me into?"

Lauren looked at him with pain and fear and tried to shove him to the bed like one would shove a cow. She stepped where she could control his fall if necessary, so he wouldn't hit his head on a piece of furniture as he went down.

Frodo bumped into her and reached so he wouldn't spill, but then put an arm around her neck in a one armed hug. He took a deep breath and started to fall asleep in her hair. "Stay with me," he whispered sadly.

Lauren took him by the collar, came nose to nose with his sleeping face and told him softly but firmly. Her eyes were tearing up. "Frodo. Lay down."

He followed where the tethers on his shirt took him and rolled onto the bed until his back was to her, but his hand, the one that was missing the tip of its index, kept a grip like it was snagged onto her wrist.

Lauren's brows ripple sadly at him, worried sick, and completely unsure what to do. She saw the damaged finger and pealed it off her arm as she sat down beside him. She looked over his shoulder at his face to see if he'd passed out, but Frodo's eyes were wide open, sad, scared, and shocked as if it were all brand new.

Lauren took his hand and put it in front of him where it was supposed to be. She sat behind his back and pulled a blanket over his shoulder. Nervously, she reached down and kissed his temple.

Frodo closed his eyes.

She tried to console him, but her voice wavered with worry. She petted his hair to shush him to sleep. "It's just hound dogs. . .  baying at the moon. . . ."

Pippin consciousness came to him like spring. A window was open. There was a gentle breeze and sunshine on his face, a soft bed under him, a warm blanket over him, his face was in a cozy pillow that smelled like girls and jasmine soap, and as he rolled to smile and open his eyes, he heard the sizzle and drank in the smell. . .

of breakfast.

Pippin never smiled so big.

Sam was still snoring in the big chair in front of the fireplace. Merry was waking slowly on the thick rug in the smial, complete with pillow and blanket over him. Pippin stepped over Merry like he was a bump in the road, tripped a little, bumped his ass into Sam's face, and just kept following his nose to the kitchen.

Lauren saw him come in from the corner of her eye and giggled wickedly. "I was right."

Pippin sat down at the table and pulled over a clean plate and fork. "Right about what, luv?"

"Which one of you would wake to breakfast first." She turned around and served him three deliciously cooked eggs, a few thick slabs of bacon, and a hunk of fresh cheese.

Pippin wasn't even looking at her. "Lauren, you are the most beautiful thing I've ever woken up to."

Frodo was coming out of his bedroom on the other end, pulling up his suspenders and wincing at the brightness of the day. His tone grated like a raw millstone. "Where precisely did you sleep?"

Pippin looked up without realizing what he was saying, and pointed. "Her bed."

Lauren was already smiling when Frodo glanced questionably over. "My old bed," she explained. "I slept in my bedroom."

He didn't respond, but seemed satisfied. Frodo stepped over to see breakfast over her shoulder. He meant to whisper an apology, but she ignored him, giving him too much of a cold shoulder at first.

He closed his mouth and eyes with a silent curse.

Lauren looked over her shoulder at him, her mouth was tucked behind her long straight hair and her eyes were gentle. "Sit down." She offered quietly as if only he were supposed to hear it. "I'll serve it to you."

He opened his eyes.

Brown eyes were kind on him. "How many eggs do you want?"

Blue eyes lightened a little. "Three."

She smiled back, touched the necklace at the hollow of her throat, and nodded. "Okay. Sit down."

Frodo sat down just as Sam was lumbering in. "How did we get back here?"

"Tea." Merry shuffled in just as sleepily. "Tell me there's tea."

Lauren served them up full breakfasts without adding anything to their grumbling conversation. They muttered to each other about how late it probably was and where they had been expected. When the serving was done, they were deep into eating and talking to each other, so she slipped out of the kitchen without a word, disappearing into the back of the house.

The four fell silent as she left, finishing their bites as they looked at each other, and waited until they were certain she was out of earshot.

"Is she mad?" Merry asked.

"It sure doesn't taste like she's mad." Sam commented, shoveling in another bite.

"It doesn't matter if she's mad," Pippin insisted, "She's only his housemaid." Pippin elbowed Merry.

"She's not mad," Frodo told them, his eyes still on the back of the house where he sensed exactly what was going on. He looked over at them again, understanding now how right Sam was last night. "She's worried."

On the other side of the house, at the open back door, Lauren listened as if scientifically taking notes until there was the sound of laughter in the kitchen, tired as it may have been.

Rose started nodding at what the ladies heard. "See? They're fine."

The quartet began to snicker at each other in loud whispers, making fun as they ate.

Lauren nodded and sighed with a little relief. "They certainly sound better than they did yesterday."

Rose shrugged a shoulder, consoling the woman. "They're safer together than they are apart, Lauren. It's when they start drinking alone that you should worry."

Lauren glanced up at Rosie. "It was a war, wasn't it?"

Rose cocked her head and smiled curiously, "How-"

"What the hell are you telling her?!" Sam spat from the hall. He was angry enough to startle Rose with his tone. "Where's Elanor? Why aren't you looking after her?"

Rose lifted her chin. "Elanor's sleeping. Lauren has concerns."

Sam stomped across the room just as Pippin and Merry came tumbling out from behind him. Sam took his wife by the elbow and looked at Lauren. "I'm sorry to be so rude. But you're new here. There are some questions you just don't ask."

Lauren stepped back and nodded obediently. Sam led his wife out of the back door by the elbow. The chickens ruffled up with they bumped into the coop on their way out. Rose was already talking back to him, trying to defend herself without the others overhearing.

Pippin stepped up to Lauren with a smile, put his arms on her shoulders and kissed her cheek. "Can we come back for Elevensies?"

Merry's eyes shifted, "It's time for us to be moving along, Pippin."

Pippin slumped and stepped out the back door with Merry. "Yeah. It's time for me to get in a fight with my own girl now." He grinned back at Lauren and whispered loudly, "Merry doesn't have to worry about that, you see. He's a poof."

Merry yanked. Pippin yelped. And the two disappeared around the corner.

Sam brows were hard, "Go on home," he ordered Rosie with a hard point past her shoulders. "I'll be down in a minute."

Rose lifted her chin and flicked around like there was going to be a set of claws at the other end of that conversation.

Sam turned hard and stomped once into the house at Lauren. "What did she tell you?"

Lauren took another step back and bumped into the bookshelf, shaking her head frantically. "Nothing. She didn't tell me nothin'."

Sam didn't move to her, but his scowl was aggressive enough. There were too many similarities. "Don't give me that helpless look."

Worry touched Frodo's brow. "Sam."

Lauren braced herself against the bookshelf. Her brows were angled pathetically. "She didn't say anything, Sam. I swear! I asked if there was a war. But she didn't answer me. I swear that was it. Rose didn't tell me anything."

We swears. . .

Frodo took a step up behind Sam, but he was unsure if he should back Sam up or pull Sam off. His eyes were watching Lauren to start seeing the same thing that was making Sam jump so quickly to the offensive.

Lauren glanced over at Frodo for help. "Frodo? Tell him I didn't do anything wrong. I asked her over this morning because I was worried. That's all. I swear I was just trying to take care of you."

Master likes us. . . .

Frodo sighed soberly and put a hand on Sam's shoulder.

Fat hobbit. . . .

Sam's scowl faded, but his face twisted in pain. He turned away.

No. Not everything. There were some things the women would never understand.

"Lauren?" Frodo said quietly and instantly had her hopeful attention, but what he had to say wasn't going to make her feel any better. "Go clean up the kitchen."

Lauren didn't give any expression on her mouth, but her eyes changed like he'd just slapped her across the face. She rapidly disappeared from the room.

They waited until she was out of earshot again.

Sam turned only enough to look at Frodo over his shoulder. "You get to tell her. No one else does. I won't let Rose take that away from you."

To Frodo, this was idiotic, "Why?"

Sam started and stopped, closing his mouth and letting the sigh out of his nose. He muttered something else instead. "Just trust me."

Frodo grinned sadly and nodded. "All right."

Sam shook his head and curled his lip at Frodo. "And do us all a favor and take that bloody ring off her neck!"

"Aye," Frodo mumbled, having already figured that out even if he hadn't yet given it conscious thought.

The two weren't looking at each other as they slapped each other's shoulders. They turned away just as quickly. Sam closed the back door behind him and jogged down the hill to make up with Rose, and Frodo sucked his lower lip as he turned around in the hall to find Lauren.

He slipped by her in the kitchen, putting a hand on her side to keep her from bumping into him. She stopped in the middle of a turn with a soapy skillet in her hand. She stayed there, eyes down to politely let him pass, but was a stiff about it.

"Breakfast was delicious," Frodo complimented quietly. "Thank you for tending to us."

She didn't try to meet his eyes, but her shoulders softened. "You're welcome."

He stepped on, disappearing into the study, and listened to the pots and pans clank quietly in the kitchen. He pulled open the shutters to let the day in and shook up the ink before opening it.

Almost thoughtlessly now, he shuffled through several fresh letters on the table. He'd been working on them for a week. "To: Sir Legolas of Rivendell" was written on the front of an envelope, "To: Queen Eowyn of Rohan," on another and even, "To: King Aragorn of Gondor," There were a few others, to Gimli, to Galadriel. . .  And they were all written with fairly the same verbiage and level of detail, but some how Frodo knew nothing would come of them.

He pulled out a fresh few sheets and put them on the writing board. He could hear Lauren pouring a new bucket of water into the dry sink and he rubbed his stubby finger on his lip as he thought about it. This is the letter that would produce results. This is the one that would bring the fastest response and the most thorough investigation. Maybe that's why he was writing it last. He decided he'd add more detail this time, just for good effort. Maybe the man would be able to do something without even having to make the trip.

Frodo wet the plume with ink the color of orc-blood, and put the nib to paper. He scratched it out in the neatest letters he could manage:

Dear Gandalf. . . .

~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~

The Power of Pippin's Grin

Bailey Bracegirdle was beautiful when she was angry.

Her dress was baby blue with white ruffles everywhere. Her raven hair was pinned up on top of her head, revealing every bit of her tastily pointed ears, and a few curls would always slip out and dribble against her slim white neck. Her eyes were the clear blue of a warm sky, framed with curly lashes and clean eyebrows. Her mouth was red and kissable, even when she was yelling at him.

Pippin paid attention to everything about her, except what she said. "You're so beautiful."

She stepped back deeper into the trees with fists and her sides. "Peregrin! Haven't you been listening to me?!"

He took another long step forward. "Is it any different than the last time you were angry with me?"

"No!" She hissed and huffed and sighed and started to cry. "That's why I'm so angry! You never listen, Pippin!" She turned away and stormed off another few steps.

"I do too listen," he defended as he took another long step closer to her.

She turned back to him and stomped back to his face. "If you listened to me then you'd stop! I don't care what happened out there anymore! You can't just drink it all away like that!" She crossed her arms and stood her ground. "Not if you're going to be with me."

She had a way of storming away and stomping back to him, which worked well enough for him. As long as he kept closing the distance in a particular direction, he could herd her like a cat into a lonely spot where they could talk, and he could grin, and it would be all better again.

By now, they were a far cry from Bailey's backyard, surrounded by old trees and new grass. Pippin took the last step to her, but this time Bailey wasn't going to storm away.

He stopped in front of her, toe to toe. He stuffed his fists in his front pockets and locked his elbows.

"You're all fun and games, Pip," she looked up sadly at him, begging him to change. "I can't go through life with nothing but fun and games."

He looked deep into her eyes as if she hadn't yet answered this question. "What else do you want me to do?"

 She blinked and opened her mouth wide with insult. Palms went into his face and she turned to take a few more steps back. "You need the doctor to check your ears!"

Pippin leaned forward. "You want me to stop drinking." He said, proving he heard her. "You want me to stop smoking."

She turned and crossed her arms again, lifting her chin to face him down. "A good man would for his girl." Bailey had a habit of quoting her father as if the statement and passion were hers alone.

"You want me to stop picking crops." He grinned at all this and lowered his voice to tease about it. "You want me to get a job, a house, a respectable wardrobe. . . ."

The lines of her brows tilted. "You're not a kid anymore."

He stepped up toe to toe with her again and tilted his face with a sweet grin.

"Come on, Pip." She started to wince, trying to stay mad.

He tucked in with pride in his eyes, keeping his smile in her line of sight. His hands found her slim little waist.

She tried to duck out of it, putting her hands on his arms as if to push him away, but was giggling by the time he kissed her. Bailey didn't blush too much. This was hardly the first time they'd been here, but he managed a good giggling flush out of her when he dipped her so deep he sent them tumbling onto the thick grass.

 "Oof," he faked as he shifted his body and trapped her snugly against the blanket of grass. "That was an accident."

"Oh sure," Bailey smiled.

Pippin propped his temple into the palm of his hand. He looked at her like there was nothing else in the world worth looking at. "You're not complaining," he pointed out.

She sighed deep and depressed and flopped her head onto the ground. She was sad and sweet about it at the same time. "You're never going to grow up are you?"

Half of his mouth smiled weakly, strangely starting to look grown up about it. "You don't want me to."

Feeling as stabbed as if he'd just broken up with her, she pushed him off and started to get up.

Peregrin rose to his hip, leaning on his hand and tried to stop her from going. "Bailey."

She stayed where she sat up. Her skirts were in a ruffle around her, her head was bowed like she was about to cry. "I can't do this anymore, Pippin."

"Yes, you can." He told her quietly. "It's what we've been doing, isn't it? We have fun together. Sure, when I'm off, I drink and I smoke and I play. That's not going to change. I won't lie to you by pretending I can change it just because you're angry with me about it."

Bailey sniffed, but she didn't look up at him.

"I do it all too much. That much is true. But only when I'm not around you." He looked up into the trees, and swallowed the lump in his throat. "I don't like talking about it. That's true too. But when I'm ready, you're the only one I'm going to tell."

She sniffed again and glanced over.

Pippin pointed away, hard and loud. "And it took me drinking with them last week to figure that out."

A brow arched, strangely honored. "You talked about me?"

Pippin dropped his arm. His eyes were serious and his words were true. The words just seemed to fall out of his mouth. "I love you, Bailey."

Her chest heaved with a new breath. Those words didn't often tumble off Pippin's tongue, and even when they did, they had never been uttered quite so richly.

Peregrin shook his head a little. "There are some things I can't change, but I think you like the rest of it well enough." He licked his lips and his voice was lighter, but he didn't yet smile. "You know I'm true to you. You know I'd never run out on you. I'll simmer down some if I can. I'd even marry you if you'd let me." He took a deep breath. "But good or bad, Bailey, I love you, and I can promise you that is not going to change either."

Bailey's eyes flared with a new fire. She walked her hands over and stretched to reach and kiss him. Pippin blinked as if her action woke him up. He twitched a grin as he kissed her back, and then shuffled his legs so he could pull her in by the waist and kiss her again. Her hands were pulling in his face, and his hands were pulling her in by the hips.

"Do you have any idea what you just said to me?" She whispered into his mouth.

Pippin's eyes shifted one direction and then the other before moving back down to her. His mouth flicked a grin again. "Not really."

She yanked him back by the shoulders and rolled him over, pinning him roughly down on the ground with her elbows across his chest. Pippin didn't pretend to fight it, so there was no point in yielding. He flopped flat on his back with arms and legs out like sticks in odd directions.

"Did you mean it or not?" Bailey sneered down at him. "Do you remember what you said or don't you?"

At first, he had panicked enough about his words to deny the entire declaration, but something about her reaction made his eyes shine like stars. "I do."

Her cool blue eyes filled with love like he'd never seen, and Pippin smiled with an explosive compound of elation and terror. Poor Pip was defenseless. Bailey took him by the face and kissed him so hard he wasn't able to come up for air for a whole minute, but by that time, he was kissing her back just as passionately.

There was something about her kiss that was a little different today; something about the way she wrapped her arms around his neck. A set of sneaky fingers slipped up from her hip and started fumbling with the ribbon lacing that kept the bodice to her bodice, and a hand reached around to smooth away the elastic hem of her collar. Puffs of skin started to escape her clothing.

She didn't stop kissing him. She just reached in and grabbed his hand.

He smiled into her mouth. "Just a peak?"

She smiled wide and kissed him again but somehow held his one hand out of trouble. He kissed her cheek and her ear and her neck and tried to get his hand free so he could continue. She giggled and snickered and held his hand hard, locked with an elbow an arm's length away.

So, Pippin started sneaking in his other hand up her calf and under the white ruffles to her naked knee.

Bailey tossed her head back with laughter and tried to grab his other hand before it slipped into trouble too. She scrambled to her feet and yanked him up by his wandering hand. She was already marching away.

He coughed as he stumbled to his feet, pulling grass and leaves out of her hair with the other. "Where are we going?"

"We have to go tell my father."

This much, apparently, should have been obvious.

Pippin's eyes flashed wide. "W- wait!" He tried to slow her down but her grip was firm on his hand and she wasn't in the mood to argue anymore. "Can I take it back?"

It was at that moment that Bailey stopped listening to him.

"I didn't know that was apart of the deal!"

~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~

Ball and Chain

Frodo had one hand on his hip and the other on the handle of an axe. "Lauren," he tried to be patient with her. "You have to pick a chicken."

Lauren pursed her lips at him and slid her gaze to the new chicken coop, already starting to darken with weather. The chicks were now teenagers it seemed. The big coop was looking rather small, and it was one of the hens that had to go.

She sighed heavily and curled her long straight hair behind her ear. "Just don't pick Maela," she said.

Frodo pressed his mouth and closed his eyes, trying not to chuckle about it. "I won't hurt Maela. I promise."

She disappeared back into the house so she wouldn't have to face the murder. Frodo looked at the chicken coop. Which chicken would break her heart less?

He shook his head and laughed. "Now, I can't even do it!"

Dusk was falling, so he gave up and decided to thin out the coop tomorrow.

Frodo was still shaking his head at himself when he moved into the front room, but Lauren was already opening the door for a visitor.

It was Dalia, Rosie's little sister. "Frodo! Come down to the pub! Peregrin Took and Bailey Bracegirdle are announcing their engagement!"

Frodo's eyes warmed instantly. He grinned to Lauren with a question in his smile. "Wanna come?"

Lauren face blossomed. He handed a cape over to her and he took his coat. Dalia skipped back out to the street. "I'm off to get Rosie and Sam!"

The pub was louder than its usual loudness. On the top of a table, Pippin and Bailey were holding hands and carrying on two different conversations to those who came to inquire. The usual crowd was getting thicker, and Frodo took Lauren's hand to get her through the mess, just so she wouldn't get lost along the way.

Bailey's family were already dancing and starting to drink, and a few of Pippin's cousins dribbled in. Merry was just then hopping up to sit on top of the table next to Pip with a half eaten apple in his hand and a scowl on his face. "What's this you telling the whole town before me?"

Frodo was came up right behind Merry, and Lauren was still on Frodo's hand.

Pippin turned and smiled, welcoming them with a single open arm. He turned defensively to Merry. "I only asked her a thirty minutes ago! And most of that time was spent listening to her father."

Frodo laughed at this.

Pippin pleaded for Merry's forgiveness. "I tried to break away, but I've been tethered ever since." He held up his left hand to show them the white skin, long nails, and bracelet-adorned wrist that was attached firmly to it. Her palm was firmly affixed to his whether he was holding hers or not. He smiled and tried to shake it off like some clingy piece of dirt, but it wouldn't go. "You see?" He smiled bigger and brighter than usual and closed his fingers around hers as he lowered the evidence. "It's hopeless."

Bailey spun on her bum to turn around to that side of the table, now that Pip's friends were showing up. She batted her eyes with victory at Rose and Lauren too. Sam stepped up behind Lauren's shoulder, with Rose behind his, smiling as wide as the rest of them. "This deserves a whole pint!" Sam offered across the distance.

Pippin's eyes started to light up at the thought of whole pint, but then he felt the woman curling up into his left shoulder. Pippin's delight faded strangely, still locked eyes at Sam, and winced a little as he said it. "Perhaps just a half would be better."

The silence of shock fell among the gang like the last symbol crash of a joke.

Bailey looked more surprised than anyone else did. She tucked in to his ear and whispered through a white smile.

Pippin's blue eyes brightened again. "Except on special occasions!"

Frodo's brows lifted into his forehead and his mouth opened for a full laugh. He turned to Sam who shared the same surprise and delight. Merry tucked in to ask Pippin a secret question. Sam and Frodo moved off, only now letting go of the hands they were holding, and moved like an evilly planning pair to the bar.

Lauren watched Frodo go and rubbed her palms together. Rose pointed up to Bailey, mouthed the words, and touched her own breast bone. "Tie your bodice back up, luv. You're boobs are fallin' out."

Bailey freaked and let go of his hand to tie her bodice back up. Lauren slapped her hand over her mouth. Rose threw her head back and laughed.

There was a lot of loud laughter that night, a lot of loving accusations, innocent stories, and sniggers in beer. They all sat at the same table, save for an empty spot just for Pippin and Bailey when they were able to come by. Other townsfolk stopped by often to talk to them, telling stories and making comments about Peregrin Took, or Bailey Bracegirdle, or both.

For the first hour, Frodo sat sitting at the table with his elbows around his beer and with Lauren right next to him. He was having a good time tonight. The delight he felt for Pippin's happiness was pouring out of his soul in smiles and laughter, but he kept tucking back to glow at the woman by his side under the guise of asking her a calm question or two.

Then Sam stood up tall. "I think it's time to start dancing." He slapped his hand on the table top, put down his beer and picked up his wife's hand. They moved to the lantern-lit patio that was already bouncing with skirts and work shirts.

Frodo's eyes flared frightened at Sam's back. Don't leave me?!  At a complete loss, Frodo ducked to swig at his half pint and glanced back at Lauren to see if she expected a dance too.

Lauren tried to smile, already radiating the disappointment on her face.

Merry saw the problem and stood up to lean across the table at her. "Lauren, my love." He put a hand out, "Would you permit me?"

Frodo's eyes went even wider. He sat up.

Lauren took Merry's hand and moved around the table with him, but fiddled with the bone ring on her neck. She flicked her middle finger at it and gave Frodo a taunting glare.

Frodo huffed and took a pouting swig of his beer, but soon fell into a daydream as he watched Merry teach her how to do the dance. She kept glancing over at Frodo though and he'd just smile quietly back at her. She'd watch her feet as she jumped and laughed as Merry pretended his foot was smashed beyond recognition. Soon enough, they were jumping around the grassy, lantern-lit patio as fast and as wildly as everyone else and Lauren was moving too fast to pause and look back to Frodo anymore.

He blinked out of his daze and gazed the big loud pub, surprised that he'd been sitting by himself for a while without someone approaching him. He stretched his arms and saw Pippin and Bailey off at the other end of the bar. Bailey was in front of him, he had his arms around her shoulders, and they were both talking to Mrs. Bracegirdle about things they didn't want to have to worry about tonight. Sam was off in another corner with Rose. Their dancing had settled to a slow cuddle. Sam had his palm on her abdomen and his forehead on hers with sparkling eyes.

Frodo grinned and looked back over to the dancers on the patio, but Merry and Lauren were gone.

He sat up alert and looked around more. The worst of visions filled his mind. He pulled his legs out of the bench and stepped away from the table. His mouth parted. His eyes shifted worriedly.

"Frodo?" Kristana asked, "Are you all right?" The champagne blonde had been sitting at the next table most of the evening with a few other young Bracegirdle mothers, but the others had gone off to dance to leave Kristana sitting alone.

Frodo looked at her, alarmed by her presence, and rattled his head. "I'm fine."

Despite his claim, Frodo hopped over another misplaced bench to look around the L-shaped bend of the bar. He caught the eye of a few people, but most turned quickly back to their conversations.

Kristana was the same age as the rest of them, but her dark blue eyes were wiser. "Perhaps you should have danced with her."

The light in Frodo's eyes started to wither away. They turned to the air trying to figure out what to do or how to feel.

"They stepped out front, Frodo," Kristana told him with a sympathetic smile.

Frodo looked Kristana in the eyes that time. She was several feet away and behind a large table cluttered with half-eaten food and mostly empty beer mugs. She had an easy smile of confidence on her face and somehow seemed to know exactly what was going through Frodo's mind.

"I wouldn't worry."

Frodo wasn't sure why he was sharing this moment with her. He hardly knew Bailey's sister-in-law. He turned away without a word. He stepped on the bench, then up on the table, and dashed across the room. He dodged empty beer steins and held onto rafters so they wouldn't bump his head as he went. He said his polite apologies as he passed by and stepped in the middle of occupied tables, but shocked patrons leaned back and gasp, laughed and cursed at him for doing it.

He jumped down with both feet at the door and the cool night air breathed doom on his face as he moved outside. Three street lamps were lit and the stars were out. A small collection sat on crates and empty kegs on the front, smoking pipes and telling old stories. Friends were drinking in pairs and threes near the pond and lover's cuddled as they strolled into the darkness and over the bridge.

Frodo stuffed his hands in his pockets to keep from looking too anxious and out of place. He stepped out a few more paces away from the pub and looked around for a girl with straight hair and a hobbit that was about to have a broken nose.

"Frodo!" Lauren called to him.

He spun around. She and Merry were sitting on the kegs near the end of the building, where the lantern lit back porch of the place was flowing light onto them. She was on one keg, swinging her short peg legs, and he was on the other with his arms crossed so tightly at his chest that his hands were in his armpits. He was explaining things that were far too serious for a night like this.

Lauren was still listening to him even as she waved Frodo over with a weak smile, and turned her attention back to Meriadoc before the other got there.

Merry looked up at Frodo with heaviness in his eyes. "Thank you for the dance, Lauren." Merry stood and was already stepping back away from the whole thing, looking rather thankful that Frodo showed up. He put a hand out to Frodo, yielding before he was even challenged, and dipped around the corner to disappear.

Her eyes had already turned to him long before Merry wholly stepped away. Frodo looked dumbstruck down at her.

She smiled shyly and folded her small hands on her knees. She peaked from under her brows.

With lips parted and breath caught, Frodo sat down on the other beer keg. He looked in his hands for a clue, but found nothing. He glanced over at her.

She grinned uncomfortably.

Frodo didn't know what was said, or what she was expecting. He had no idea what to say. It felt like a conversation had already started; like she was waiting for an answer to a question she hadn't yet asked. 

She tucked her palms to lean on the keg by her knees and locked her elbows nervously. "Pippin and Bailey look happy." She sparked, as if to just start a conversation, any conversation.

Frodo blinked over to her, terrified. His smile never made it to his face. "Yeah, they do." He didn't mean to, but he dropped the end of that rope and let the topic fall to the floor.

Lauren pressed her mouth and slid her eyes away.

She knew he liked her. He knew she liked him. Neither of them had any evil intent. Why was this so insanely impossible? Frodo gritted his teeth and smiled madly at this. Then his eyes fell upon the bone ring resting against her neck. He closed his mouth and swallowed the new lump in his throat.

Lauren's soft sparkle was on him again, but it was sparkle of humor. She smiled outright and leaned over to whisper loudly to him. "Just ask me to dance, you fool!"

Frodo tucked in to laugh about it and lifted a brighter face at her.

He sighed happily. She smiled cautiously back.

Frodo moved to his feet and firmly grabbed her hand. He didn't need to ask after that. He just dragged her back around the building to the dance floor, took her by the hand and waist, and started spinning her around.

The night was a blur there after. The laughter and music felt far away. Pippin's and Bailey's beaming faces came in and out of the scene. Sam was laughing jokes, and like a permanent fixture, Rosie was on his arm. But all Frodo really focused on was Lauren: the way she smiled at him, the way her eyes twinkled when she laughed, and the way the bone ring danced against the hollow of her throat when they spun around in circles.

He couldn't tell if they'd been dancing for two hours or five, and still he would have kept dancing, and she would have let him. She didn't tire or ask for air. The dancing just slowed down. It was like she was afraid it all would shatter if she let him sit down again. Frodo felt much the same way, that if he sat down, if they went home, he'd be too nervous to say anything.

Finally, the bar was emptying whether they liked it or not. Pippin and Bailey had disappeared hours ago. Sam and Rosie slipped quietly away to sneak a tumble in the grass before they went to pick up the baby from Grandma Cotton's. Merry was seen drinking with Kristana once upon a time, but he was also seen going home alone after that.

Frodo spun her around one last time and Lauren tumbled into him, exhausted and gleeful and kept a grip on his fingers even after they stopped twirling. They talked just barely about being tired and thirsty, but even those words echoed away like it was only a dream.

Frodo chuckled and tried to adjust his hand in hers as they made it outside, but it felt weird without an index finger to grip with. He had become accustomed to the missing fingertip, but holding a hand with a girl was a new thing since they'd returned.

She must have sensed it, for she took his hand and weaved her fingers softly into his such that a missing fingertip made no difference. Frodo grinned back at her as he slid it into a comfortable grip, ducked near-blushing smile. She kept up to his side, bumping fondly against his arm from time to time as they climbed over the bridge. They were perfectly silent – too nervous to say anything. The breeze picked up with a chill, and so she kept snuggled into his arm, almost behind it at times, and Frodo held her hand close and cozy the entire walk home.

~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~

The Path Peregrin Took

"Eh, look at that," Pippin commented fondly from behind dark shadows. In the distance, they watched Frodo and Lauren holding hands and strolling like lovebirds across the bridge. "His days are numbered."

Bailey smiled. The back of her raven head was on the front of his shoulder. Her hair had been let down and large, soft curls were draped randomly over his shoulder. His fingers wove into hers around the back of her hands, his arms wrapped her arms around her waist. Pippin leaned against the trunk of the tree, straddling its giant bough as though it was a saddle, and Bailey sat spooned into his body and lap like he was the perfect coat.

"He needs it," Bailey finally said.

"Yeah, but he won't let himself have it." Pippin grumbled wisely.

Bailey would have slapped his knee if she had control of her own hands. "That's not what I meant."

He smirked, but his tone was mature. "That's not what I meant either."

He was holding her as firmly as if he was afraid he was going to drop her. She was nearly balled up in his lap, tucked back into his torso just as desperately. They had been chatting casually, but their bodies were strangely fused together with fear. Behind a gentle curtain of oak leaves, they watched the pub empty, the pond sparkle, and a bunch of happy hobbits drag themselves home.

The pair was twenty feet in the air. No girl got far with Peregrin if they couldn't (or wouldn't) get into a tree. Bailey and he had been orbiting each other for so long now that the tree had turned into almost a secret hide out for them. It was where they would meet if she had to sneak out of her house. It was where they hid to make out while people were looking for them. It was where Pippin drew up the guts to kiss her for the first time. She was wearing a white dress that day.

It felt like a long time ago.

A new thought emerged. His sights dropped to the blackness of the woody brush beneath them. The first time he kissed her was a wild moment because Bailey was the only girl, ever, that made him so nervous he couldn't reach over and just pluck a kiss out of the middle of her sentence. Instead, it took him weeks to scrape up the courage to put his mouth on her.

It made no sense at the time. The word had no meaning in his vocabulary. It was just a word with no definition save for the excuse people used to do things that were really very stupid, things like declare they'd stop drinking so much beer. . .

Pippin grinned and his stomach sank at the irony. It must have been somewhere in Buckland, because he couldn't remember exactly which pub it was at. He had sat on the table with a half in his hand (and a half already spilled over his shirt) and an arm wrapped around Merry's shoulders. They stomped on the bench beneath their feet in a pounding rhythm to go with the heavy hitting song he and Merry screamed.

Put your right hand out!  stomp stomp

Keep a firm handshake! stomp stomp

Talk to me! stomp stomp

About that one big break! stomp stomp

Spread your evolution! stomp stomp

Both far and wide! stomp stomp

Keep your contributions! stomp stomp

By your side! And

Stroke me! Stroke me!

stomp! . . .  stomp!

The fat bar wench stomped over and yelled at them like trumpet that was out of tune. "Get your arses off the tables and quit singing songs you don't know nothing about!"

Pippin slithered off the table and onto the bench. His eyes were foggy, and his head rocked like he was at sea, but he was still wide awake and alive. "I don't think she knows what that song is about."

Meriadoc hunched down across the table and shook his head, agreeing.

"Perhaps we should demonstrate."

Merry snorted into his beer. He hunched low behind the mug and shifted mischievous eyes to the fat, middle-aged bar wench.

When she started back their direction, Pippin threw his shoulders back, pushed himself to rise from the table with one palm, and fumbled to rip open his trousers with the other.

Merry dropped his mug and snorted again, reaching instantly to yank Pippin's hand away from his fly. "Oh, shit. Pippin! That's not a good idea."

Pippin's head rolled like a football before he managed to give Merry a confused look in the eyes. "Why not?"

Aside from the usual reasons, "The bartender is her husband."

Pippin's head rocked more when he turned back that way. He was so drunk by then that it was a discovery to find there was a bartender behind the bar. It was as though he was being denied a complimentary napkin with his supper. "We can't boink the barwench?" (Not that Peregrin had ever done that before.)

Pippin was surprised he remembered anything at all about that night. He grinned behind Bailey's ear and soaked in the smile of the memory.

"I'm never getting married!" He had claimed, pounding a fist on the table as he sat down again. "I'm gonna spend the rest of my days drinkin' an' eatin' an' smokin' an' runnin' round with other piple's wimin."

"'Cept mine."

Pippin worked to sound official about it. "You don't have a lady so it is not an issue at this time."

"Yeah, but I hope to change that with a certain blondy tomorrow night."

"Tomorrow night?" Pippin belched and sighed a comfy grin. "What's so special about tomorrow night?"

"Were crashing that birthday bash out in Hobbiton, remember?"

"Oh yeah." Pippin smiled childishly. "Gandalf is bringing fireworks."

Merry grinned devilishly and nodded.

Pippin considered Merry's plan. He leaned in on his elbows to whisper secretly over even if he wasn't looking directly at Merry. His blue eyes lit up with sexually related ideas. "I wonder if that dark-haired kitten'll be there. . . ."

Peregrin smiled full beam into the night and turned his mouth into her hair. He drew in a deep, comfortable breath to absorb the feel and smell of her body. He could physically feel it in his chest again: that weird pressure that felt like a fuzzy bubble, reaching out to the rest of his organs with a sweet, addicting ache. It made him want to laugh and cry and lay her down in the grass all at the same time.

Now that he knew it had a name, it made sense now.

Love. Marriage. Kids.

Oh. My. God.

They had both been quieted by reality tonight, but maintained holding hands with little interruption. Even if Pippin managed to escape so he could draw strength from a pint or Merry's eyes, he gravitated back to her before too long, wanting to hide away and talk and kiss and whisper and hold, but settled for just holding her hand. There were too many people that needed to lecture him, too many with Took jokes with tones that included an underlying crunch of ice, too many neighbors, jealous school friends, and well wishers in general. . .  most of Pippin's family were missing from the festivities. Of all the pub parties Pippin had ever attended, this one was the least amount of fun. As soon as he could manage it, Pippin took control of the applied ball and chain and dragged her out of there so they could hide away in peace.

Bailey snuggled deeper into him. "Are you nervous about getting married?" These kinds of questions were best asked when one wasn't looking Pippin in the eyes, else he would turn it around and change the subject.

Pippin hitched a grin as if it were nothing, but his tone was dead serious. "Only enough to nearly to piss my pants."

She chuckled, "Well try to hold it until I'm not sitting in your lap."

Pippin laughed softly. He tucked in his face next to hers and absentmindedly licked the pointed tip of her ear. "Y'know what I think?"

"What do you think?"

He tucked in a husky whisper. "I think it's going to be a pain in the ass to try to make love you in this tree."

She laughed quietly but draped her head back against his shoulder.

His hands finally let hers go but only so they could slide back to her elbows and grope behind them to her waist. They inched up her sides. "You think I'm kidding."

Although she didn't stop his hands, she hitched to argue his expectations. "You waited this long."

"Hm." He inhaled proudly through his nose and examined the flesh behind her ear as if it were a sandwich he was preparing to bite. "Yeah, but you're father's not gonna let us tie the knot until I have a house to put you in, remember?"

Bailey shriveled a little. She'd already forgotten. She didn't want to have to worry about that tonight.

Pippin hands stopped moving because of the instant turn of mood. He rested the side of his chin on her head and took in the sight of her toes and the white ruffle of her powder blue dress.

Bailey watched and listened to the fading glory of the wild night for a minute longer. "Damnit," she finally huffed.

"Today is not the day to worry yourself with it," he told her gently.

"I know," she smiled a little. . .  and then cuddled deeper into his arms.

Pippin felt her mood soften again and reached his tongue out of his mouth. He suggestively licked the pointed tip of her ear again.

Bailey's eyes fell closed. She turned her head so her ear was easier to reach.

He tried to sit forward a little more so he'd have a wider range of flesh to choose from, but his balance wavered when he leaned to do so. "Let's get out of this tree."

"I think I'm safer in the tree." Bailey smiled, teasing him with her tone.

He took in a long slow breath and whispered it out with such aim that his breath danced across her ear. "Don't want to make love to your future husband, Mrs. Took?"

Her whole body swelled up at that, and he was shining with evil intent by the time she'd shifted sideways on the bough to look him in the eyes. "That's hitting below the belt, Pip."

His head danced to and fro. "That's where I was aiming."

She snickered even as his kiss dove behind her ear. She made a noise as she sighed and slipped her fingers into his hair. In less than a minute, her face was dumbstruck, her mouth was open, and Pippin was still working methodically to arouse every inch of her flesh.

"Pip?" She whispered, "We need to get out of this tree."

~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~--~~

The Other Ring

From this part of the house, it was impossible to see that the sun had already gone done and night covered the sky. A cheery fire crackled in front of him, filling the air with the winter-warm smell of toasting pinewood. The tiny couch looked like it was meant to pose as sleigh. Brick-colored upholstery was dressed with round pillows with big buttons in the center. Frodo was sitting in the middle of the couch as he unfolded the letter. One elbow was his knee so he could keep it in his sights as the other hand took down two buttons of his shirt. He reached his right hand under his collar and rubbed at his aching left shoulder as he read.

Dear Frodo,

What a delight to receive a letter from you! And a delightful topic within it! A girl! Now, that's worth drinking for! I was telling my cousin just the other day that it was fine time you settled down and bred a few dozen hobbits of your own. He agrees with me wholeheartedly! It takes away a bit of fun in the fighting if you can't enjoy a few of the spoils of war.

I took serious note of your predicament, but if you're mining the mountains for clues on this girl, lad, you're digging in the wrong place. The child you describe is far from dwarf, as you so mentioned in your note. I would suggest you inquire the lands of Gondor. I hear they are still visited by smallish men from the southern continent. If nothing comes about however, I dearly suggest you take the opportunity that has befallen you and take what you will. Tell no one I've admitted this, but there are some things war cannot teach a man. Go, young lad, and learn.

Cheers, Gimli

His mouth winced with frustration. He closed his eyes and tossed the single sheet of parchment to a table beside him.

Lauren stepped up with a teacup and saucer. His hand continued to rub absentmindedly as he took it. He glanced up at her. "You're not having any?"

She sat down daintily at the furthest end of the couch and put her hands in her lap. "No. I don't want any."

Frodo slid a grin over to her. "You don't have to stay up for me."

She pulled in a sudden and deep breath. "No. I know. I'm not ready to go to bed yet, I'm just," a touch of a blush kissed her cheeks, "wondering if I should."

He knew what she spoke about. They had accidentally bumped into each other in the garden today. Both stopped cold and stared face to face for several heartbeats before they smiled with shyness and apologized to each other.

Frodo turned his face back to her with a lightened voice. "You've been a guest in my house for nearly two months. Why are you concerned with my restraint now?"

She shrugged a shoulder. "I don't have a lot to go on, Frodo." This was teasing now. "What assurances can you give me that your level of restraint is trustworthy?"

Frodo blinked in amazement at the question. A deep chuckle sounded in his chest. He had a half a million witnesses to confirm he had better restraint than anyone else in Middle Earth, but that would have been too much to explain. He tucked to look back at her again, and this time met her eyes smiling. "I guess I don't have any assurances to give you."

Her head tilted to try to read how expression matched his statement, but came up dry. "Would you like me to get a hot wrap for your shoulder?"

Frodo didn't realize he was still rubbing at it. He pulled his hand out of his collar. "I don't know if that'll help. There's a storm coming tonight."

"Have you ever tried it?" She asked, standing again.

Frodo shook his head.

She stepped out of sight down the hall to the kitchen.

"And get yourself some tea!" He called.

He heard her sighing with loving impatience. "All right, all right."

When she came back, she had the tea and a medium-sized, steaming-hot towel. She stepped in the small space behind his side of the couch. "What kind of an injury was it: a broken bone or a flesh wound?"

Frodo closed his eyes with a sad prayer as he sat up and started unbuttoning his shirt. He knew what topic this would lead to. He wasn't sure if he was ready, but better sooner than later. He never answered her question. She'd figure it out soon enough. "You don't seem to be so nervous this time," He commented as he pealed  the shirt off his shoulders.

"This is medical." She said simply, "It's differe—

Frodo's eyes fell softly closed.

Several heartbeats passed in silence. He could feel each and every one of them as a mean throb, deep in his shoulder, and stabbing deeper and deeper as he waited for her to say something.

Her fingers touched his shoulder blade, where the sword had come out, but the touch was only tactical. There was more ache than that.

She wrapped the towel over his shoulder so that it hung back to the exit wound as much as it did on the entrance wound above his breast. She had another towel, a dry one, so she could wipe away the few hot dribbles that tried to escape. Then stepped around to the front of him and lowered to her knees, smoothing down the towel as she went until it rested snugly against his skin. She reached in only to wiped off the drops that tried to dribble down to his stomach.

Her eyes flicked to the equally ugly scar on his stomach and then she forced herself to focused only on what she was doing.

Frodo watched the discomfort in her eyes. He could see the questions burn in her throat. He began to understand Pippin's problem about talking to Bailey.

"How does that feel?" She asked.

"Much better," he whispered and put his palm against the hot towel on his breast.  "Thank you."

She stood took up her tea.

Frodo just stared into the fire her body had blocked only a  moment ago. "So," he said with the enforced brightness of casual conversation, "What were you and Mister Meriadoc Brandybuck talking about outside the pub the other night?" He glanced over, "Or is that none of my business?"

"You." She said simply and sipped her tea.

"Is that so?" He sounded indifferent, but his mind flipped.

Her eyes looked back. "You're friends are very protective of you."

"What did he say?" Frodo pushed himself to sit up, yanked out a couple of round pillows from behind him.

"I asked a question I shouldn't have," she admitted. "He told me to be patient."

He settled against the back of the couch, uncaring that he would get the upholstery wet. The heat and position felt good to his shoulder. "You're starting to get into a bad habit of that: asking questions you shouldn't," he grinned at her.

"They were far different questions, about far different things." She took another quiet sip. "I've realized that I'm simply asking the wrong people."

The 'right people' included no one other than him. He scooted a little into the corner so he could rest his head on a throw pillow, lay back, and look at her all at the same time. "I heard about what you asked Rosie. You weren't wrong to ask, but Sam's right, you should have come to me first."

Brown eyes reflected the fire with orange flickers. "Do you know how I figured out it was a war?"

Frodo licked his lips. His eyes dashed down. "How?"

"I shined your silver and steel. It was all tarnished from years without being cleaned. It took me days to get through it all without sacrificing other chores."

Frodo nodded slowly, already knowing the clue she had caught.

Lauren's brown eyes shifted over to him. "But that sword you have hanging in the writing room. It's been used more recently. It's been cared for and shined up. It's even been taken off the wall and put back again several times since I've been here."

Frodo's eyes were still at his lap. His tongue played guiltily with an eye-tooth. "But you never cleaned the sword."

Her chin lifted with pride. Her eyes moved back to the fire. "Well, whatever it was, it's over. So, I decided it was time to shine the silver and let the sword tarnish."

Frodo's eyes opened to her with a soft shine. "I was on the sidelines. Merry and Pippin saw more traditional battles than Sam and I did."

"That's not what your shoulder tells me." She pointed out respectfully. "You were run through."

Frodo swallowed and wondered why this wasn't as difficult as he expected it to be. "It was the worst of my wounds. And in a way, the best of them: It was the only time any of us could have been rushed to a place where we were given sufficient aide plenty of time to heal. . . . "

She was quiet for several long minutes before he realized his eyes had drifted closed and she was just letting the topic lie there. When he opened them again, she was back to watching the fire.

Frodo sat up and reached over the tall armrest for his tea. "So, what did you ask Merry?"

She put her tea down to the saucer in her lap and watched it. She froze a beat, not wanting to bring this up either, but answered him dutifully. "I asked him if you were all right. I've been getting the sense that I'm intruding. . .  I wanted to know if it would be more appropriate if I left and tried to make my own way."

Frodo eyes changed. He started to sit up.

"He said, no, mostly. He reminded me that amnesia is too easy of an excuse to move in and get comfortable, so he told me to be careful with you. He also said that you had been betrayed pretty harshly, in something that had nothing to do with me, so he told me to be patient with you too."

Frodo had pulled up a knee so he could nearly sit sideways and face her. He adjusted a pillow under his elbow and settled in again. He opened his mouth to say it, paused, and then opened his mouth again. "I had to take a cursed ring to a volcano so it could be destroyed, and it tried to curse me too." He rubbed his lips together stiffly. "I called it a camping accident because it was a long trip on foot across country."

It started raining outside. She leaned back almost as sideways and sadly patted the side of his big foot. "So, that's what happened to your poor feet."

Frodo lifted his head.

Lauren grinned weakly, trying to keep him from slipping into the depressing mood he was teetering on.

He sat forward, smiling as much as he tried to sound insulted. "I thought you wanted to hear about all this?"

Smiling eyes rose to meet his. She shook her head. "I do, but not if it's going to send you off lamenting again. It's been such a good day. You've been smiling a lot. And you don't have nightmares on days that you've smiled a lot."

His brows rippled curiously. "I didn't think I was having nightmares that often."

Lauren gave him a friendly grin. "You don't wake up from them most of the time."

Feeling the fear of tremendous exposure, his mouth parted. "Do I say anything?"

He could tell by her eyes that the answer was 'yes'. And it suddenly made sense why she felt she was intruding.

Frodo's eyes fell closed with a curse that never found his lips. A distant sound of thunder rumbled in the silence.

She touched his forearm shyly, rushing to ease her intrusion. "Most of the time you're just tossing and turning. Sometimes I hear you talk, but rarely is it loud enough to understand a word or two."

He opened his dry eyes to the fire. "A word or two," he echoed distantly.

"Sam. . . and 'Smeagol' I think," she answered.

Thoughtfully, he brushed the stump of a finger softly against his lower lip. He couldn't tell her about that. Not yet. Not even close.

She sat quiet and sad, not sure what to say, not sure what it meant, but absentmindedly fiddled with the bone tied to her neck.

Frodo licked his lower lip and sat up again, yanking his mind out of it again. He sighed apologetically at her. "I'm sorry, Lauren. It's not that I don't want you to know. It's just that I don't want to have to relive again to do the telling." I don't want to admit how much of a cretin I was to my best friend.

She tried to interrupt. "I understand."

"I already have to relive it so often," he dropped his head and pulled in a wavering sigh.

She rested her hand on the side of his arm, trying to get him to stop. "Frodo, it's all right."

"No," he squinted and rubbed his shoulder again. "It's not. It's not all right."

She saw his friendliness dribble away rapidly and stood up to take the cooling towel off his shoulder. "Here. Let me—

"It's not all right!" He shouted angrily, but it wasn't aimed at her.

She dropped to sit on her knees in front of him but kept her hands to herself. She didn't seem directly struck by it, but she did realize how many eggshells she was standing on.

He sat up and gritted his teeth at the air. "I did it," he insisted. "It's done. I did what the world needed me to do. I want to go home now. I want to go back." He swallowed through a tight throat. "I've been back for a year and a half and I still don't feel like I'm back. I still don't feel like I'm home."

His voice was already softening again and he stared at nothing in front of him. She rose back to her knees and checked the towel on his shoulder to find it cooling quickly. Another thunderclap sounded through the flue in the fireplace and the rain got heavier outside.

He barely noticed how she was taking it off to wrap his shoulder up in a nearby lap blanket. He just kept complaining. "It's not all right that I'm still trying to figure out what to do next. I'm treated so differently than before, even from my own townsfolk. The estate's running out of estate. I can't sell it and I can't work it, and I can't bring myself to give the news to Sam." He shook his head, "That's not all right."

She rose to her feet.

"I never feel like I'm alone, Lauren." He sat up, angling his eyes to look up at her. His voice rose again, but not with anger. "It's not all right that I can't even sit with a girl without that cursed Ring getting in the way."

She stood up with the cold wet towel in her hand and avoided direct eye contact. "With all due respect, Frodo, it's not that Ring that's getting in the way. It's this one." She thumbed at her necklace and looked him stiffly in the eyes.

He sat dumbstruck for a long minute. She turned away and picked up both saucers. The china sang tiny clanks as she padded quietly back into the kitchen. He watched her moved down the hall and listened to her pour more tea.

He thought for a moment before shooting out of the chair. The small blanket slipped off his shoulders as soon as he let go. He only stepped to a nearby set of shelves where he found a small, dull hunting knife, and pulled it thoughtfully from its intricately decorated sheath.

"You want more heat for your shoulder?" She called from the kitchen.

He studied the blade for the wisdom behind his idea. "If there's any left."

He stepped around and watched the fire flicker against the steal of the short four-inch blade. His brows flitted a little. "You're a lot bolder now than you were when I met you."

Her voice was tucked with dry humor as she returned to the smial. "I spent 24 hours locked in a brothel, Frodo. Did you think my first lesson was reading?"

She stopped as soon as she came into the light of the fireplace with a cup in each hand. Her mouth was open. Her eyes fell carefully on the knife.

He twisted his mouth at what she said, then his mind snagged. "I thought. . . " He closed his mouth and lowered the knife. "Perhaps it's not my business."

"Suddenly you give me the right to keep secrets from you?" She watched him sit down and set the knife on his lap. "Of course it's your business." She gave him a cup of tea. "Everything is your business." She explained and sat down again. "I'm in your care. I'm in your employ." She sighed and shrugged motioning for him to lean over. "Ask me anything."

"All right," he said quiet, even and charmed all over again. He looked her in the eye even if she was focused on putting the towel back on his shoulder. "What happened at the brothel that makes you so bold now?"

She leaned forward to him and carefully tucked the towel over his shoulder. She didn't move back though. She gently put her palm against the top of his breast to press the heat into the ache. "Nothing happened to me," she told him. "But I saw things. I heard things. I know what would have happened if Merry hadn't shown up when he did."

His eyes died. He brought up his right hand and found the side of her neck with it. Under his thumb, the smooth skin and strong chords of muscle were taught and clean, save fore a knotted hemp string and a couple of beads. "I'm so sorry." He rested his forehead against her temple and closed his eyes.

She looked beyond his pointed ear and smiled distantly. "I hoped that you would visit the place. I wished all night while I was supposed to be sleeping, that you would get yourself serviced or something." She ducked her chin with a full blush and chuckled tightly. "Because then you'd find me." Her voice got tighter and smaller, "And anything would have been forgivable if you would only come and find me."

His eyes opened to the knotted and frayed hemp string and narrowed in on the small ring of bone. It was slightly shiny, and somehow reflected the flickers of flame. The whispers began to ensnarl his soul. . .

She closed her eyes and grinned anew. "It never crossed my mind to hope for Merry."

Frodo grinned with her. His thumb brushed up her neck and under her ear. His fingers tucked the straight hair deeper behind her shoulder. He wondered if she noticed he was touching her.

"And you know, one of the first things he said to me before we tried to get out of there?" She tucked back to smile at him in the eye. "He said, 'he'd have me back to 'my blushing self' by the time we found you.'"

Frodo smiled thankfully at the image of Merry. He knew now, deep in his soul, that there was nothing to worry about should Lauren and Merry spend time alone.

But Smeagol's voice started whispering with the rest of them. Frodo closed his eyes and scolded himself for not knowing that about Merry all along.

It was raining steadily now, sending a comfortable drum against the hill they snuggled alone under. Lauren chuckled softly and adjusted her palm back to the spot it needed to be on his chest. Her eyes were turned to watch the expression on the side of his face, even at such close quarters. "So I sense you like it when I blush, for you have apparently reported it to the lads."

The whispers were suddenly beaten back into the recesses of his mind. He smiled wide, but his eyes were still affixed on that hemp on her neck. He picked up his left hand and touched her forearm, sliding up to the back of her hand and holding it against the towel. He wanted to kiss her, he wanted to tuck in just a few inches closer and put his lips on her temple, but couldn't take his eyes off the ring.

Frodo flushed. He started to laugh about it.

She tucked in, almost kissing his cheekbone as she looked. "What?"

One blue eye turned over to her. "I need to take your necklace off."

One brown eye smiled back. She closed her eyes and lifted her chin so he could have it.

Frodo leaned back to reach for the knife, deliberately dropping the wet towel along the way, and settled in front of her with it. "Don't move," he whispered.

 He put the point of the knife against her jugular vein and let the blunt side of it slide coolly against her skin. He pulled the blade against the hemp and sawed a little to get it to come loose, but when it did, his whole demeanor slowed like he'd been instantly drugged.

Frodo blindly set aside the knife on the nearest flat surface, but his other hand moved intensely up from her waist. Three fingertips drew gentle lines up her stomach and over her bodice. His thumb dragged slowly up her breastplate to her collarbone. He cupped the string and watched the ring spill from her neck into his palm.

His fingers and palm trapped it against her skin and softly pushed it away. It was like brushing away the dust from the pages of a book, a single sheet of cotton from a naked leg, a sprinkle of autumn leaves from a ripe melon. It wasn't sticky. It didn't look at him. No one screamed. No one fought. Smeagol wasn't there. Sam didn't care. He could have it, or he could get rid of it, and it was nobody's choice but his own. A mountain of fear and anger and struggle was strangely missing. The whispers had silenced. All that pain and all these years, he slid away the weight of the Ring and drop it to the floor. . .  just like that.

The bone clicked quietly against the tile and broke in two.

And all that was left was a trembling woman still offering her naked neck.

His palm returned to her face and pulled it over to him. Lauren turned willingly and blindly reached for his mouth. He pressed his lips against hers the first time, but that only lasted a few seconds. He pulled away for a blind breath, adjusted only enough to get closer and kiss her again. He pushed her mouth open this time, brushing the tip of his tongue against hers until they were both breathless and frozen.

He tried to think, but his mind had stopped functioning.

This was clearly going to be a completely different kind of curse.

As he froze for an extra heartbeat, she leaned forward, just a smidgen, and welcomed him to do it again. There was no thought before he kissed her again. It was deliberate and excruciating. The more tender his mouth, the more intense it felt. So incredibly sweet that his mind had no more senses to scream with.

His fingers went into the hair behind her ear, his thumb brushed against her jaw line. She was already gasping for breath, so he turned his mouth down and tenderly tasted that neck he'd been staring at for so long.

Her fingers slid into his hair to keep him there. Her breath had quickened to the point of making tiny noises into his ear, and he suddenly had the need to bite her, though he managed enough cognitive power not to. He pulled his mouth from the nape of her neck and rested his forehead on hers to calm his breathing. Those noises were bound to escalate things higher than either was prepared to go today.

He bit his lower lip, closed his eyes, and smiled.

Her whisper smiled too, "Does this mean I can stop pretending I'm married?"

His eyes peaked open to look down at her face. "You never really adopted the idea anyway."

Lauren smiled full white teeth at him. She tucked in to look him in the eyes and let her smile fall away only enough to motion a request for another kiss.

One hand traveled around the back of her shoulder and down her arm to clasp with hers. The other dribbled its three fingertips back down her neck and over a swell in her bodice before moving to take control of her other hand. He grabbed her hands and pulled her back as he started to get up.

And she followed him, but her eyes opened as she came to her feet and started to fill with fear when he started to pull her away.

"Trust me." He pulled her gently backwards by her hands.

She kept trying to pause, eyes widened momentarily as she realized where he was leading her. He'd stop just enough to press a soft, caring kiss on the lips, and then he'd pull her back again. It was with those sweet little reminders that taunted her back to her bedroom.

He guided her backwards. "Lay down." He pulled the blankets back behind her.

She started to grin with uncertainty. She looked down at her full skirts, long sleeves pushed to the elbows, and a bodice that had been tied into a double knot.

He chuckled deep in his throat. "We're fully clothed," he agreed with strength of decision in his voice. He glanced at his bare chest and shrugged a shoulder. "Well, clothed enough." Even if he didn't go on assuming she was someone else's wife, he wasn't going to forget that she wasn't his wife either.

Her smile beamed in the darkness, but a nearby thunderclap startled her out of her moment. By the time she turned back, Frodo had climbed into the bed next to her.

She was a little stiff as she tried to find his expression in the darkness. He pulled the blankets over both of them. When his arms wrapped around her, Lauren understood. She melted into his body and smiled into his neck.

The thunderstorm continued to rock and roll outside and rain was coming down in drops the size of cumquats, but Frodo settled in so peacefully around the body of this girl that he drifted off to sleep with a smile literally resting on his mouth.

The fresh rain cleaned the air of its dust and farm smells until only the blossoming flowers and new grass sweetened the breeze. Cardinals sang as the played around in the nest they built yearly outside his bedroom window. The sun was warm and patient, glowing bright green on the back slope of the hill. The bedroom was dark and cluttered. The pillow was soft and familiar. The blankets were gentle and snuggly. Every part of his body was comfortable, even his mind.

Frodo was in no hurry to wake up. His eyes opened slowly. A sleepy smile spread across his face. He didn't know what day it was and he didn't really care. All he knew was that he was home and safe and loved. Nothing was out of place. Nothing was missing.

As his mind became more awake, he felt the pinch of twisted trousers on his waist. He rolled to his back and palm fell onto his breast to find his chest naked. For the moment, it was the only thing uncomfortable in the whole world. He reached his arms out above his head and stretched his muscles to wake up too. When he deeply inhaled the new day he caught a whiff of hot coffee and fresh applebread.

His brows tucked with confusion. Where in hell did Bilbo get fresh applebread?

His stretch stopped. Bilbo's not here.

Frodo sat up in a shot and looked around his bedroom. His shelves weren't cluttered as his mind had imagined. His toys and stones had been replaced with polished silver and sleek glass trinkets. His books weren't stacked on the floor; they were lined up and held together with bookends. On the coat hook, his tobacco pouch had been replaced with braided laces long enough for a woman's bodice.

A pot clanked clumsily in the kitchen. "Youch," Lauren peeped, quickly nursing a pinched finger.

Frodo's breath tumbled out in a big smile. His eyes sparkled like cool, clear water and danced around the room to soak up the little feminine changes in his old bedroom, finally falling onto a dried bar of jasmine soap.

His face filled with wonder at the feeling. He muttered it with serene delight.

"I'm home."

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