Author's note: Thank you, thank you for the wonderful reviews! At first I was reluctant about writing this story but now, after all this encouraging feedback, I feel more confident than I did before and I enjoy writing this. Again, you guys are great ((hugs))
Disclaimer: Don't own Tolkien's characters, only Tansy.
Rating: PG
Chapter Five: Rain
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
There was no time to stand around. The storm clearly insisted on wreaking its fury on the Shire. Frodo thought about staying at Farmer Cotton's home, but he knew Bilbo and Sam would be worried about him. He leaped into the wagon and tugged the reigns. The horse, as if it had sensed something ominous, bounded down the lane. Ferocious winds slammed against Frodo as the wagon speeded onward. Fear was like a dark shadow along with the brutal clouds that swelled above him.
His heart hammered against his chest.
*Please, I must make it back*
Frodo regretted his first decision, which was to stay at the farm. Although he wasn't far from Hobbiton, the storm unleashed a full-scale war upon the land. Several raindrops, deceptively innocent had now become a torrential menace. Relentless thunder tore through the sky and boomed around him. Bolts of red and white lightening resembling tree branches had danced from one cloud to another.
A drenched Frodo tightened his grip on the reigns. Ahead, he managed to glimpse the Mill Bridge through the blinding rain.
*Almost there...*
___________________________________________________________
Bilbo anxiously paced around the parlor. He stopped and hurried over to the window. Outside was dark, as if night had already come.
"Frodo," he mumbled to himself. "Where are you?"
He continued to watch the rain as it streamed down the window. That only made him worry more and then Bilbo walked back toward the fireplace. He hesitated again, crossing his arms behind him.
He drew in a deep breath, despising the helplessness he felt. There was absolutely nothing he could do. Bilbo couldn't go out and search for him, not in that kind of rain.
And then...
Bilbo was startled by three desperate knocks pounding on the door. Hoping it was Frodo, he hastened toward it.
"Who is it?" asked Bilbo before opening the door.
"Frodo!" he heard his nephew scream outside.
Swiftly, Bilbo grabbed the knob, yanking the door open.
Windswept rain barged inside along with a soaked Frodo.
"My goodness!" said Bilbo as he forced the door against the wind and slammed it shut.
Frodo panted while standing in the parlor. Disgusted, he let go the wicker basket that tumbled onto the floor. Rainwater dripped profusely from his limp curly hair. His white shirt and trousers were drenched so much that they stuck miserably against his skin.
"I was so worried," admitted Bilbo. "I thought something terrible had happened to you."
"Well," Frodo began, still trying to catch his breath. "I thought I wouldn't make it back either. The roads are very treacherous now."
Relieved to see his nephew home, Bilbo sighed. "You're soaked but at least you're safe. You must get out of those clothes, quickly!"
Frodo hurried to his room where he undressed, dried himself and slipped into a warm, comforting nightshirt. He picked up a towel from off the bed and continued to dry his hair. After he made sure he was thoroughly dry, the aroma of chicken and mushrooms beckoned him to leave his room and so he joined his uncle at the kitchen table.
"Frodo, It was such a beautiful day for a picnic. I hope you and Tansy had fun before this storm arrived."
At the moment, he thought about the fun they had together and smiled. Frodo looked down at one of the sliced mushrooms that had been marinated in broth. He picked it up with the fork but before he ate it, he hesitated and looked at Bilbo sitting across from him.
"Yes, we had fun."
Bilbo arched his brow and with an impish grin on his lips, he leaned slightly across the table, making sure he had Frodo's undivided attention.
"If I didn't know any better, it seems to me that you've taken a fancy to her?"
Frodo hoped his uncle didn't see him blush and he immediately refuted Bilbo's comment.
"Oh, uncle, we're just friends."
Bilbo smiled again and Frodo wondered if what he said was indeed convincing.
"I must say," Frodo added, "There's something different about her than the other lasses. At first I thought she was strange, but...I was wrong. She's not at all like what the folk gossip about around here. I get so tired of the gossip, uncle. And I have a feeling Lobeila started all this. Talk about Tansy being poor and having no good intentions, just looking for trouble and for someone wealthy who can take care of her."
Frodo stopped himself and noticed he was suddenly flustered.
Concerned, Bilbo replied, "Pay no attention to the Sackville-Baggines and the other folk who gossip...unless...you believe what they're saying?"
Frodo met his uncle's concerned expression and again he refuted Bilbo's suspicions.
He shook his head. "No, I--I don't believe their lies."
Frodo's eyes left his uncle and drifted slowly down onto the table. The question he asked her replayed in his mind...
*"Tansy, what happened at home with your family?"*
*Why wouldn't she tell me?*
Thunder roared and jarred him out of his thoughts. He solemnly looked out past the parlor and his gaze settled on the window. Every moment or so, lightening flared, intruding their home.
Frodo hated the rain.
___________________________________________________________
It's been two days since the rain began. Tansy awoke to another morning without the sun. She walked over to the window of her bedroom and watched in contempt at the storm that refused to leave Bywater. She knew if it wasn't for the rain, she would be with Frodo right now, having another picnic together. She remembered what he told her the last time they saw each other, would she mind if they had a picnic with Sam, Merry and Pippin. Tansy thought it would be fun and she could get to know them better.
But not on this day.
As she continued to watch what seemed to be a never-ending storm, Tansy rolled her fingers into clenched fists.
"When will it stop?" she grumbled. "When?"
_____________________________________________________________
Frodo had never felt so terrible. His usual cheerful mood had been impaired by weakness and muscle aches. His head ached miserably and his skin felt hot to the touch. He barely managed to dress himself. Usually his stomach begged for first breakfast, this time, just the thought of food and the smell of it made him queasy. Frodo shuffled down the hall and into the kitchen. He would have a cup of tea, hoping to feel better once he drank something soothing.
"Good morning!" cheered Bilbo while he carried a plate of pancakes and settled it gently onto the middle of the table.
"Good morning," his nephew replied flatly.
Bilbo's smile vanished when he saw his nephew dragging toward the kettle that sat on the table. He wondered what had happened to the glow on Frodo's face-the glow that always brought joy to Bilbo's heart. Instead he saw a face; pasty white, so pale one would shiver at the thought of possible death coming for the lad. Bilbo shrugged away such thoughts, though it did alarm him as to why Frodo looked drained.
"Are you all right, Frodo?" asked Bilbo.
"Yes, I'm fine," Frodo pretended. He stood at the table, lifting the kettle over a cup.
Bilbo knew something was wrong and that Frodo didn't want to alarm him. But no matter how hard his nephew tried to hide what he really felt, it was evident by his lethargic demeanor.
Bilbo attempted to convince himself that it was something else.
"This rain," Bilbo paused with a grin he forced to disguise his worry. "I've never seen so much. I do hope this passes soon. It can make anyone feel, well, you know...tired."
Bilbo continued to watch Frodo carefully.
Something was indeed wrong.
Frodo poured the tea unsteadily into the cup. Some splattered onto the table. And then...the entire kettle crashed against the oak wood surface.
"Frodo!" shouted Bilbo as he rushed toward his nephew who slumped onto the floor.
Bilbo lifted him from the floor and cradled Frodo in his arms. He saw that he was semi-conscious and moaned a few times.
Bilbo slid his hand beneath Frodo's bangs.
He gasped. "My goodness, you're burning up!"
__________________________________________________________________
Frodo slowly opened his eyes, but only halfway.
As he lay in bed, he noticed darkness outside his bedroom window. Flashes of lightening. Explosions of thunder sent waves of shivers through his weak body.
"What's happening?" whispered Frodo.
He saw Bilbo sitting beside him and patting his forehead with a cloth. But Bilbo didn't answer.
"Uncle, can you hear me?" Frodo uttered faintly.
And still, Bilbo remained silent.
Frodo turned his head slightly to the right and there standing over him was Sam. Sam...his beloved friend stared back at him. His face wrought with concern and fright.
"Mr. Frodo..." he heard Sam say and his words seemed to echo from a vast distance.
"You have to get better..."
"Can you hear me? What's going on?"
Bilbo and Sam began to fade from his sight.
No. Don't go...
Frodo slipped into the arms of unconsciousness.
____________________________________________________________
Thunder jolted Frodo awake. He bolted upright from the bed. His face spun at the sound of the window cracking as a result of pressure from the wind. And then, the window exploded, spewing fragmented glass onto the floor. Frodo's eyes widened in fear at the hurricane force winds that barraged through the gap where the glass had been. The wind found its prey--a dimly lit lantern sitting on the desk, maliciously knocking it over.
"Noooo!" screamed Frodo and horror gripped him at the sight of the lantern crashing to the floor.
Bitter flames rolled out from where it was once imprisoned and ignited the tiles. For that moment, Frodo had forgotten how awful he felt from being sick. The situation enabled him with a sudden rush of adrenaline, prompting him to leap out of bed. The flames grew into a fire that had already become monstrous. It spread across the floor, blocking Frodo's path and his only way of getting out.
Suddenly, Sam barged his way inside along with Bilbo. Sam stumbled backwards. With the back of his right hand, he shielded his face from the immense heat of the flames.
"Mr. Frodo!"
Terrified, Frodo watched as his friend attempted to reach for him.
"No, Sam, go back!"
"We're not leaving without you," shouted Sam.
The gardener refused to give up, waiting for the moment when he could jump past the flames. But when he persisted with another effort, heat singed his arm.
Sam screamed, grabbed his arm and collapsed onto the floor.
Frodo could still see Sam and Bilbo through the wall of flames. He wasn't sure for how long. The heat had become unbearable and his lungs begged desperately for air.
"Go back!" He pleaded. "Go!"
____________________________________________________________
Frodo gasped and sprang from the pillow.
"Sam!"
"Mr. Frodo," said Sam sitting beside him on the bed.
Frodo panted and bewildered as to what was going on. His face was bathed in sweat while he stared frantically at Sam.
"It's all right." His friend soothed him with those words. "You just had one of those night terrors that's all."
Relieved, Frodo leaned back. His head slumped back onto the pillow.
He wet his lips that were miserably dry and crusty.
"Sam, it was horrible," he paused and winced. "And I feel so hot."
"That's because you have a fever. The doctor was here not long ago. He said you have a cold, probably caught it when you were out in that rain."
"Rain," Frodo mumbled. "Is it still raining?"
He nodded and sighed. "It's still raining. I aint seen nothing like it. It's been raining for five days now. I'm afraid if it doesn't stop soon, we're gonna start having problems with flooding. There's been a few leaks in my house. Other folk are getting worried, too."
He sighed again and frowned about his rambling. "Oh, Samwise Gamgee, there you go again. I'm sorry Mr. Frodo. Don't you worry about what I said, you just get better."
Frodo awarded his gardener with a warm smile. "Sam, I'm glad you're here."
Sam returned the smile and gently squeezed Frodo's shoulder.
____________________________________________________________
When the morning arrived, Tansy's eyes fluttered and squinted at a welcoming sight.
*The sun!*
She bounded from the bed and raced toward the window.
Her face brightened with a wide, elated grin. And then she thought about Frodo, eager to see him again. She knew it wouldn't be that day because the roads were still very wet and muddy after a week of constant rain.
*Tomorrow he'll come. I know he will*
_____________________________________________________________
Tansy waited by the fence, staring intently at the road ahead. It was no longer muddy. The sun dried up most of the rain. But...no sound of wagon wheels squeaking. No horse's hoofs galloping in the distance. And when it had been past mid-day, she knew he wouldn't come.
*Tomorrow...I'll see him*
~*~*~*~*~*~*
Tomorrow had come.
She waited again.
No wagon...no Frodo.
~*~*~*~*~*~*
She ran back to the house, afraid and disappointed. Anger burned across her face as she stormed past Rosie and Lily. A door slammed inside the hall.
Rosie glanced at her mother and could see doubt etched deeply on her face. Lily didn't have to utter the words. It was evident to Rosie that her mother wondered if they had made the right decision to let Tansy stay.
"I'll talk to her," said Rosie.
________________________________________________________
Tansy stood at her vanity dresser. Angrily, she raked her hair back and tied a pink sash around her curls. Several curls flowed down from her bangs and lovingly framed her freckled face. She peeked at her dress--soft pink and graced with a burgundy apron. It was one of her favorites, one she wore especially for Frodo.
She spun in the direction of three gentle knocks on the door.
"Tansy?" she heard Rosie call.
She didn't want to see Rosie or anyone, standing there in silence. But then she decided to let her in.
Tansy breathed, crossed her arms and leaned back against the dresser.
"Come in," she said.
Rosie opened the door and after closing it behind her, she eased toward her friend.
"I know what you're thinking--,"
"Hmph, d'you now?" answered Tansy bitterly.
Rosie had been usually patient with Tansy. She ignored her sarcastic remark for the moment and questioned whether she had anymore patience left to offer.
"Tansy, listen to me. Yesterday, I was told by Sam that Mr. Frodo has been very sick. A terrible cold he caught from the rain. That's why he hasn't been here."
"And you believe that story?"
Taken aback by Tansy's selfish attitude, Rosie arched her brows and slowly shook her head.
"You're saying Sam isn't telling the truth or Mr. Frodo? Oh, maybe I'm telling a story?"
"I don't know!" A flustered Tansy replied. "I don't know what to think."
"I'll tell you what you should do," insisted Rosie firmly and a trace of anger was clearly audible in her voice. "Go see Mr. Frodo, then come back and tell me what you believe."
"You won't take me?"
Rosie shook her head. "You know the way now."
"But--I can't ride in that wagon myself?"
"And why not? The horse won't hurt you, why he's as gentle as a cat. Now off with you!"
"All right," snapped Tansy. "I'll go."
Tansy huffed and marched out of the room.
Rosie had no choice but to be firm with Tansy. She knew it was the only way the timid lass would learn anything. Rosie watched her through the window. Tansy marched toward the farm where she would ask Farmer Cotton for a wagon. Then she hesitated and turned back toward the house. Tansy stopped again. This time she turned away and headed down the lane.
Rosie sighed, hoping she would take the wagon. She wouldn't interfere and respected Tansy's decision to walk to Bag End.
___________________________________________________________
Exhausted, Tansy took a momentary break over the Mill Bridge. In the distance, she noticed the busy folk and it appeared to be another market going on. Tansy continued over the bridge. When she arrived in the square, she felt lost and alone in a crowd of jolly hobbits. Quickly, Tansy weaved through the crowd and suddenly startled by a feminine, but shrewd voice.
"You there!"
Slowly, she turned and stared into the harsh face of Lobeila-Sackville Baggins.
"Yes?" whispered Tansy.
"I don't believe we've met," said Lobelia. Her eyes narrowed sharply. "Though I've seen you around here before with Rosie Cotton. I'm Lobeila-Sackville Baggins."
Uneasy, Tansy bit her bottom lip, wanting desperately to get away from Lobeila.
"Well?" demanded Lobeila. "Speak up!"
"Hello, Miss Sackville-uh, Sackville-Baggins. I'm...Tansy Puddifoot."
Lobeila grinned, but Tansy saw past the grin and stared uncomfortably into Lobeila's venomous eyes.
"I'm surprised to see you around here, alone I mean. You're off to see the Bagginses are you?"
Tansy opened her mouth, stuttering a bit as she inched backwards from Lobeila.
"Yes."
Lobeila walked toward one of the vendors. She kept steady eyes on the young lass, taunting her as she continued to speak.
"Mr. Frodo Baggins. What do you think of him?"
Tansy shook her head, stumbling into a few people in the crowd.
"Yes, Miss Puddifoot," Lobeila went on. "I'm sure you'll tell me, because we'll meet again."
She grinned once more, a malicious grin that frightened Tansy. She ran away from her and didn't stop until she reached Bagshot Row. Tansy knew that Lobelia suspected her love for Frodo. She wanted to cry, resenting her intrusion into their lives.
*Go on Tansy. Don't stop now*
And so Tansy sniffed back her tears and continued on to Bag End.
________________________________________________________
"All right, all right!" said Bilbo, slightly annoyed at the constant ringing of the doorbell.
He opened the door and surprised at the visitor standing in front of him.
"Tansy?"
"Can I come in, Mr. Baggins?"
"Yes, you may."
Tansy stepped inside the parlor, then she turned to face Bilbo.
"I'm here to see Frodo," she said nervously.
"Frodo? Oh, yes. I'll tell him you're here."
Tansy sat down at the kitchen table. She rested her hands upon her lap and while waiting, she clenched her fingers together. She wondered what delayed him. Suddenly, her eyes skirted to someone shuffling toward the table.
"Tansy?" said Frodo. His voice sounded dry and raspy.
Her mouth fell when she saw his pale skin. He also appeared frail with sunken, puffy circles beneath his eyes.
"I'm surprised to see you here," said Frodo as he lowered himself weakly in a chair across from where Tansy sat. "Where is Rosie?"
"I--I came alone."
"Alone? Then how did you--,"
"I walked."
"You walked? Tansy, that's a very long walk. Why didn't you wait for Rosie to bring you--," Frodo hesitated and then it occurred to him why she was there. He sighed. "Oh, Tansy, I'm sorry. Were you waiting for me? I know we usually have our picnics together, but I've been sick."
Feeling like she made a fool out of herself again, Tansy nodded. "I know. Rosie told me, and--,"
Her gaze left him and fell shamefully onto her lap.
"Tansy, what's wrong?"
She didn't answer and only shook her head.
Frodo breathed again. "You waited for me and when I didn't come, you thought I had forgotten you?"
Keeping her head down, she nodded.
"Tansy, look at me."
Slowly, her face climbed to meet his beautiful blue eyes--the eyes that drew her in every time she stared into them.
"When will you trust me? I would never do such a thing."
"Frodo...I'm so sorry," she said softly. "And I'm sorry you're not feeling well."
"Actually, I'm feeling better than I had a few days ago. I'm still very weak but the worse is over."
"I'm happy to hear you're feeling better," she answered with a shy smile, but then it quickly faded. "Frodo?"
"Yes?"
"Remember when you asked me about my family?"
He nodded.
"Well...it's true that I left...but they didn't tell me to leave. I--I left without their knowledge."
Frodo watched her for a moment, stunned at what she revealed to him.
"You mean you ran away?"
"I had to. They didn't want me to see the other parts of the Shire. And so, yes, I left."
His fingers slipped beneath his curly bangs and then Frodo rested his forehead on the palm of his hand.
"Well, that explains why they're very upset, and why they don't want you to come back."
"You're angry with me. I--I shouldn't have told you, because it was a stupid thing I've done!"
"Tansy," he replied sluggishly, "I'm not angry. I'm glad you were honest with me. Would you believe me if I told you that when I was younger, I stole mushrooms from Farmer Maggot?"
Tansy's lips fell. "You did?"
"Yes, and I got whipped for it too! I'll never forget that."
She giggled. "You're full of surprises, Frodo Baggins."
Frodo caught an aroma of strawberries, like he did on the first day they had a picnic together. He remembered before they left, he helped her inside the wagon. The scent was strong, too strong to have been the strawberries he had hidden inside the wicker basket.
"I smell strawberries," Frodo chuckled, "Or is it that I'm hungry and imagining it all."
Tansy flattered him with one of her flirty smiles.
"No, you're not imagining it. It's a secret, but I don't mind telling you. You see, I take a bowl of strawberries, then I crush them and smooth them over my skin. I love the way it smells. Do you think it's odd, what I do?"
Frodo dreamily shook his head. The scent, sweet and alluring. He longed to be closer to Tansy and plant soft kisses along her neck laced with freshly picked strawberries.
It's not odd," he whispered, "And you're not odd. I remember when we were at the Green Dragon and said you were strange. I apologize for that. I've met many lasses, always frolicking about, so concerned with how beautiful they look and they gossip about nonsense. But you...you're gentle and kind. I can talk to you. I can be who I am with you."
They held each other's gaze, mesmerized and lost in the moment of a passion long denied and stirring. Tansy could not believe what she heard and found herself struggling with her answer to Frodo's touching words. Her lips trembled, still frightened about what she desperately wanted to express to him. Her cinnamon-brown eyes fell back onto her lap.
"You better go," said Frodo. "I don't want you getting sick. I'll have Sam take you back in the wagon. And...I don't want you walking all that way again."
Tansy looked up to see his charming smile, and then she gave him one of her own.
____________________________________________________
Inside his bedroom, Frodo stood at the window and watched Tansy leave beside Sam in the wagon. He recalled her secret she confessed to him...
*"I take a bowl of strawberries, then I crush them and smooth them over my skin. I love the way it smells..."*
Frodo closed his eyes and imagined he could still smell her.
He never expected this to happen.
He couldn't turn away from it now. Passion had found him...
And now it claimed him.
************************************
TBC
A/N: Like? Don't like? Remember...the button :-)
Disclaimer: Don't own Tolkien's characters, only Tansy.
Rating: PG
Chapter Five: Rain
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
There was no time to stand around. The storm clearly insisted on wreaking its fury on the Shire. Frodo thought about staying at Farmer Cotton's home, but he knew Bilbo and Sam would be worried about him. He leaped into the wagon and tugged the reigns. The horse, as if it had sensed something ominous, bounded down the lane. Ferocious winds slammed against Frodo as the wagon speeded onward. Fear was like a dark shadow along with the brutal clouds that swelled above him.
His heart hammered against his chest.
*Please, I must make it back*
Frodo regretted his first decision, which was to stay at the farm. Although he wasn't far from Hobbiton, the storm unleashed a full-scale war upon the land. Several raindrops, deceptively innocent had now become a torrential menace. Relentless thunder tore through the sky and boomed around him. Bolts of red and white lightening resembling tree branches had danced from one cloud to another.
A drenched Frodo tightened his grip on the reigns. Ahead, he managed to glimpse the Mill Bridge through the blinding rain.
*Almost there...*
___________________________________________________________
Bilbo anxiously paced around the parlor. He stopped and hurried over to the window. Outside was dark, as if night had already come.
"Frodo," he mumbled to himself. "Where are you?"
He continued to watch the rain as it streamed down the window. That only made him worry more and then Bilbo walked back toward the fireplace. He hesitated again, crossing his arms behind him.
He drew in a deep breath, despising the helplessness he felt. There was absolutely nothing he could do. Bilbo couldn't go out and search for him, not in that kind of rain.
And then...
Bilbo was startled by three desperate knocks pounding on the door. Hoping it was Frodo, he hastened toward it.
"Who is it?" asked Bilbo before opening the door.
"Frodo!" he heard his nephew scream outside.
Swiftly, Bilbo grabbed the knob, yanking the door open.
Windswept rain barged inside along with a soaked Frodo.
"My goodness!" said Bilbo as he forced the door against the wind and slammed it shut.
Frodo panted while standing in the parlor. Disgusted, he let go the wicker basket that tumbled onto the floor. Rainwater dripped profusely from his limp curly hair. His white shirt and trousers were drenched so much that they stuck miserably against his skin.
"I was so worried," admitted Bilbo. "I thought something terrible had happened to you."
"Well," Frodo began, still trying to catch his breath. "I thought I wouldn't make it back either. The roads are very treacherous now."
Relieved to see his nephew home, Bilbo sighed. "You're soaked but at least you're safe. You must get out of those clothes, quickly!"
Frodo hurried to his room where he undressed, dried himself and slipped into a warm, comforting nightshirt. He picked up a towel from off the bed and continued to dry his hair. After he made sure he was thoroughly dry, the aroma of chicken and mushrooms beckoned him to leave his room and so he joined his uncle at the kitchen table.
"Frodo, It was such a beautiful day for a picnic. I hope you and Tansy had fun before this storm arrived."
At the moment, he thought about the fun they had together and smiled. Frodo looked down at one of the sliced mushrooms that had been marinated in broth. He picked it up with the fork but before he ate it, he hesitated and looked at Bilbo sitting across from him.
"Yes, we had fun."
Bilbo arched his brow and with an impish grin on his lips, he leaned slightly across the table, making sure he had Frodo's undivided attention.
"If I didn't know any better, it seems to me that you've taken a fancy to her?"
Frodo hoped his uncle didn't see him blush and he immediately refuted Bilbo's comment.
"Oh, uncle, we're just friends."
Bilbo smiled again and Frodo wondered if what he said was indeed convincing.
"I must say," Frodo added, "There's something different about her than the other lasses. At first I thought she was strange, but...I was wrong. She's not at all like what the folk gossip about around here. I get so tired of the gossip, uncle. And I have a feeling Lobeila started all this. Talk about Tansy being poor and having no good intentions, just looking for trouble and for someone wealthy who can take care of her."
Frodo stopped himself and noticed he was suddenly flustered.
Concerned, Bilbo replied, "Pay no attention to the Sackville-Baggines and the other folk who gossip...unless...you believe what they're saying?"
Frodo met his uncle's concerned expression and again he refuted Bilbo's suspicions.
He shook his head. "No, I--I don't believe their lies."
Frodo's eyes left his uncle and drifted slowly down onto the table. The question he asked her replayed in his mind...
*"Tansy, what happened at home with your family?"*
*Why wouldn't she tell me?*
Thunder roared and jarred him out of his thoughts. He solemnly looked out past the parlor and his gaze settled on the window. Every moment or so, lightening flared, intruding their home.
Frodo hated the rain.
___________________________________________________________
It's been two days since the rain began. Tansy awoke to another morning without the sun. She walked over to the window of her bedroom and watched in contempt at the storm that refused to leave Bywater. She knew if it wasn't for the rain, she would be with Frodo right now, having another picnic together. She remembered what he told her the last time they saw each other, would she mind if they had a picnic with Sam, Merry and Pippin. Tansy thought it would be fun and she could get to know them better.
But not on this day.
As she continued to watch what seemed to be a never-ending storm, Tansy rolled her fingers into clenched fists.
"When will it stop?" she grumbled. "When?"
_____________________________________________________________
Frodo had never felt so terrible. His usual cheerful mood had been impaired by weakness and muscle aches. His head ached miserably and his skin felt hot to the touch. He barely managed to dress himself. Usually his stomach begged for first breakfast, this time, just the thought of food and the smell of it made him queasy. Frodo shuffled down the hall and into the kitchen. He would have a cup of tea, hoping to feel better once he drank something soothing.
"Good morning!" cheered Bilbo while he carried a plate of pancakes and settled it gently onto the middle of the table.
"Good morning," his nephew replied flatly.
Bilbo's smile vanished when he saw his nephew dragging toward the kettle that sat on the table. He wondered what had happened to the glow on Frodo's face-the glow that always brought joy to Bilbo's heart. Instead he saw a face; pasty white, so pale one would shiver at the thought of possible death coming for the lad. Bilbo shrugged away such thoughts, though it did alarm him as to why Frodo looked drained.
"Are you all right, Frodo?" asked Bilbo.
"Yes, I'm fine," Frodo pretended. He stood at the table, lifting the kettle over a cup.
Bilbo knew something was wrong and that Frodo didn't want to alarm him. But no matter how hard his nephew tried to hide what he really felt, it was evident by his lethargic demeanor.
Bilbo attempted to convince himself that it was something else.
"This rain," Bilbo paused with a grin he forced to disguise his worry. "I've never seen so much. I do hope this passes soon. It can make anyone feel, well, you know...tired."
Bilbo continued to watch Frodo carefully.
Something was indeed wrong.
Frodo poured the tea unsteadily into the cup. Some splattered onto the table. And then...the entire kettle crashed against the oak wood surface.
"Frodo!" shouted Bilbo as he rushed toward his nephew who slumped onto the floor.
Bilbo lifted him from the floor and cradled Frodo in his arms. He saw that he was semi-conscious and moaned a few times.
Bilbo slid his hand beneath Frodo's bangs.
He gasped. "My goodness, you're burning up!"
__________________________________________________________________
Frodo slowly opened his eyes, but only halfway.
As he lay in bed, he noticed darkness outside his bedroom window. Flashes of lightening. Explosions of thunder sent waves of shivers through his weak body.
"What's happening?" whispered Frodo.
He saw Bilbo sitting beside him and patting his forehead with a cloth. But Bilbo didn't answer.
"Uncle, can you hear me?" Frodo uttered faintly.
And still, Bilbo remained silent.
Frodo turned his head slightly to the right and there standing over him was Sam. Sam...his beloved friend stared back at him. His face wrought with concern and fright.
"Mr. Frodo..." he heard Sam say and his words seemed to echo from a vast distance.
"You have to get better..."
"Can you hear me? What's going on?"
Bilbo and Sam began to fade from his sight.
No. Don't go...
Frodo slipped into the arms of unconsciousness.
____________________________________________________________
Thunder jolted Frodo awake. He bolted upright from the bed. His face spun at the sound of the window cracking as a result of pressure from the wind. And then, the window exploded, spewing fragmented glass onto the floor. Frodo's eyes widened in fear at the hurricane force winds that barraged through the gap where the glass had been. The wind found its prey--a dimly lit lantern sitting on the desk, maliciously knocking it over.
"Noooo!" screamed Frodo and horror gripped him at the sight of the lantern crashing to the floor.
Bitter flames rolled out from where it was once imprisoned and ignited the tiles. For that moment, Frodo had forgotten how awful he felt from being sick. The situation enabled him with a sudden rush of adrenaline, prompting him to leap out of bed. The flames grew into a fire that had already become monstrous. It spread across the floor, blocking Frodo's path and his only way of getting out.
Suddenly, Sam barged his way inside along with Bilbo. Sam stumbled backwards. With the back of his right hand, he shielded his face from the immense heat of the flames.
"Mr. Frodo!"
Terrified, Frodo watched as his friend attempted to reach for him.
"No, Sam, go back!"
"We're not leaving without you," shouted Sam.
The gardener refused to give up, waiting for the moment when he could jump past the flames. But when he persisted with another effort, heat singed his arm.
Sam screamed, grabbed his arm and collapsed onto the floor.
Frodo could still see Sam and Bilbo through the wall of flames. He wasn't sure for how long. The heat had become unbearable and his lungs begged desperately for air.
"Go back!" He pleaded. "Go!"
____________________________________________________________
Frodo gasped and sprang from the pillow.
"Sam!"
"Mr. Frodo," said Sam sitting beside him on the bed.
Frodo panted and bewildered as to what was going on. His face was bathed in sweat while he stared frantically at Sam.
"It's all right." His friend soothed him with those words. "You just had one of those night terrors that's all."
Relieved, Frodo leaned back. His head slumped back onto the pillow.
He wet his lips that were miserably dry and crusty.
"Sam, it was horrible," he paused and winced. "And I feel so hot."
"That's because you have a fever. The doctor was here not long ago. He said you have a cold, probably caught it when you were out in that rain."
"Rain," Frodo mumbled. "Is it still raining?"
He nodded and sighed. "It's still raining. I aint seen nothing like it. It's been raining for five days now. I'm afraid if it doesn't stop soon, we're gonna start having problems with flooding. There's been a few leaks in my house. Other folk are getting worried, too."
He sighed again and frowned about his rambling. "Oh, Samwise Gamgee, there you go again. I'm sorry Mr. Frodo. Don't you worry about what I said, you just get better."
Frodo awarded his gardener with a warm smile. "Sam, I'm glad you're here."
Sam returned the smile and gently squeezed Frodo's shoulder.
____________________________________________________________
When the morning arrived, Tansy's eyes fluttered and squinted at a welcoming sight.
*The sun!*
She bounded from the bed and raced toward the window.
Her face brightened with a wide, elated grin. And then she thought about Frodo, eager to see him again. She knew it wouldn't be that day because the roads were still very wet and muddy after a week of constant rain.
*Tomorrow he'll come. I know he will*
_____________________________________________________________
Tansy waited by the fence, staring intently at the road ahead. It was no longer muddy. The sun dried up most of the rain. But...no sound of wagon wheels squeaking. No horse's hoofs galloping in the distance. And when it had been past mid-day, she knew he wouldn't come.
*Tomorrow...I'll see him*
~*~*~*~*~*~*
Tomorrow had come.
She waited again.
No wagon...no Frodo.
~*~*~*~*~*~*
She ran back to the house, afraid and disappointed. Anger burned across her face as she stormed past Rosie and Lily. A door slammed inside the hall.
Rosie glanced at her mother and could see doubt etched deeply on her face. Lily didn't have to utter the words. It was evident to Rosie that her mother wondered if they had made the right decision to let Tansy stay.
"I'll talk to her," said Rosie.
________________________________________________________
Tansy stood at her vanity dresser. Angrily, she raked her hair back and tied a pink sash around her curls. Several curls flowed down from her bangs and lovingly framed her freckled face. She peeked at her dress--soft pink and graced with a burgundy apron. It was one of her favorites, one she wore especially for Frodo.
She spun in the direction of three gentle knocks on the door.
"Tansy?" she heard Rosie call.
She didn't want to see Rosie or anyone, standing there in silence. But then she decided to let her in.
Tansy breathed, crossed her arms and leaned back against the dresser.
"Come in," she said.
Rosie opened the door and after closing it behind her, she eased toward her friend.
"I know what you're thinking--,"
"Hmph, d'you now?" answered Tansy bitterly.
Rosie had been usually patient with Tansy. She ignored her sarcastic remark for the moment and questioned whether she had anymore patience left to offer.
"Tansy, listen to me. Yesterday, I was told by Sam that Mr. Frodo has been very sick. A terrible cold he caught from the rain. That's why he hasn't been here."
"And you believe that story?"
Taken aback by Tansy's selfish attitude, Rosie arched her brows and slowly shook her head.
"You're saying Sam isn't telling the truth or Mr. Frodo? Oh, maybe I'm telling a story?"
"I don't know!" A flustered Tansy replied. "I don't know what to think."
"I'll tell you what you should do," insisted Rosie firmly and a trace of anger was clearly audible in her voice. "Go see Mr. Frodo, then come back and tell me what you believe."
"You won't take me?"
Rosie shook her head. "You know the way now."
"But--I can't ride in that wagon myself?"
"And why not? The horse won't hurt you, why he's as gentle as a cat. Now off with you!"
"All right," snapped Tansy. "I'll go."
Tansy huffed and marched out of the room.
Rosie had no choice but to be firm with Tansy. She knew it was the only way the timid lass would learn anything. Rosie watched her through the window. Tansy marched toward the farm where she would ask Farmer Cotton for a wagon. Then she hesitated and turned back toward the house. Tansy stopped again. This time she turned away and headed down the lane.
Rosie sighed, hoping she would take the wagon. She wouldn't interfere and respected Tansy's decision to walk to Bag End.
___________________________________________________________
Exhausted, Tansy took a momentary break over the Mill Bridge. In the distance, she noticed the busy folk and it appeared to be another market going on. Tansy continued over the bridge. When she arrived in the square, she felt lost and alone in a crowd of jolly hobbits. Quickly, Tansy weaved through the crowd and suddenly startled by a feminine, but shrewd voice.
"You there!"
Slowly, she turned and stared into the harsh face of Lobeila-Sackville Baggins.
"Yes?" whispered Tansy.
"I don't believe we've met," said Lobelia. Her eyes narrowed sharply. "Though I've seen you around here before with Rosie Cotton. I'm Lobeila-Sackville Baggins."
Uneasy, Tansy bit her bottom lip, wanting desperately to get away from Lobeila.
"Well?" demanded Lobeila. "Speak up!"
"Hello, Miss Sackville-uh, Sackville-Baggins. I'm...Tansy Puddifoot."
Lobeila grinned, but Tansy saw past the grin and stared uncomfortably into Lobeila's venomous eyes.
"I'm surprised to see you around here, alone I mean. You're off to see the Bagginses are you?"
Tansy opened her mouth, stuttering a bit as she inched backwards from Lobeila.
"Yes."
Lobeila walked toward one of the vendors. She kept steady eyes on the young lass, taunting her as she continued to speak.
"Mr. Frodo Baggins. What do you think of him?"
Tansy shook her head, stumbling into a few people in the crowd.
"Yes, Miss Puddifoot," Lobeila went on. "I'm sure you'll tell me, because we'll meet again."
She grinned once more, a malicious grin that frightened Tansy. She ran away from her and didn't stop until she reached Bagshot Row. Tansy knew that Lobelia suspected her love for Frodo. She wanted to cry, resenting her intrusion into their lives.
*Go on Tansy. Don't stop now*
And so Tansy sniffed back her tears and continued on to Bag End.
________________________________________________________
"All right, all right!" said Bilbo, slightly annoyed at the constant ringing of the doorbell.
He opened the door and surprised at the visitor standing in front of him.
"Tansy?"
"Can I come in, Mr. Baggins?"
"Yes, you may."
Tansy stepped inside the parlor, then she turned to face Bilbo.
"I'm here to see Frodo," she said nervously.
"Frodo? Oh, yes. I'll tell him you're here."
Tansy sat down at the kitchen table. She rested her hands upon her lap and while waiting, she clenched her fingers together. She wondered what delayed him. Suddenly, her eyes skirted to someone shuffling toward the table.
"Tansy?" said Frodo. His voice sounded dry and raspy.
Her mouth fell when she saw his pale skin. He also appeared frail with sunken, puffy circles beneath his eyes.
"I'm surprised to see you here," said Frodo as he lowered himself weakly in a chair across from where Tansy sat. "Where is Rosie?"
"I--I came alone."
"Alone? Then how did you--,"
"I walked."
"You walked? Tansy, that's a very long walk. Why didn't you wait for Rosie to bring you--," Frodo hesitated and then it occurred to him why she was there. He sighed. "Oh, Tansy, I'm sorry. Were you waiting for me? I know we usually have our picnics together, but I've been sick."
Feeling like she made a fool out of herself again, Tansy nodded. "I know. Rosie told me, and--,"
Her gaze left him and fell shamefully onto her lap.
"Tansy, what's wrong?"
She didn't answer and only shook her head.
Frodo breathed again. "You waited for me and when I didn't come, you thought I had forgotten you?"
Keeping her head down, she nodded.
"Tansy, look at me."
Slowly, her face climbed to meet his beautiful blue eyes--the eyes that drew her in every time she stared into them.
"When will you trust me? I would never do such a thing."
"Frodo...I'm so sorry," she said softly. "And I'm sorry you're not feeling well."
"Actually, I'm feeling better than I had a few days ago. I'm still very weak but the worse is over."
"I'm happy to hear you're feeling better," she answered with a shy smile, but then it quickly faded. "Frodo?"
"Yes?"
"Remember when you asked me about my family?"
He nodded.
"Well...it's true that I left...but they didn't tell me to leave. I--I left without their knowledge."
Frodo watched her for a moment, stunned at what she revealed to him.
"You mean you ran away?"
"I had to. They didn't want me to see the other parts of the Shire. And so, yes, I left."
His fingers slipped beneath his curly bangs and then Frodo rested his forehead on the palm of his hand.
"Well, that explains why they're very upset, and why they don't want you to come back."
"You're angry with me. I--I shouldn't have told you, because it was a stupid thing I've done!"
"Tansy," he replied sluggishly, "I'm not angry. I'm glad you were honest with me. Would you believe me if I told you that when I was younger, I stole mushrooms from Farmer Maggot?"
Tansy's lips fell. "You did?"
"Yes, and I got whipped for it too! I'll never forget that."
She giggled. "You're full of surprises, Frodo Baggins."
Frodo caught an aroma of strawberries, like he did on the first day they had a picnic together. He remembered before they left, he helped her inside the wagon. The scent was strong, too strong to have been the strawberries he had hidden inside the wicker basket.
"I smell strawberries," Frodo chuckled, "Or is it that I'm hungry and imagining it all."
Tansy flattered him with one of her flirty smiles.
"No, you're not imagining it. It's a secret, but I don't mind telling you. You see, I take a bowl of strawberries, then I crush them and smooth them over my skin. I love the way it smells. Do you think it's odd, what I do?"
Frodo dreamily shook his head. The scent, sweet and alluring. He longed to be closer to Tansy and plant soft kisses along her neck laced with freshly picked strawberries.
It's not odd," he whispered, "And you're not odd. I remember when we were at the Green Dragon and said you were strange. I apologize for that. I've met many lasses, always frolicking about, so concerned with how beautiful they look and they gossip about nonsense. But you...you're gentle and kind. I can talk to you. I can be who I am with you."
They held each other's gaze, mesmerized and lost in the moment of a passion long denied and stirring. Tansy could not believe what she heard and found herself struggling with her answer to Frodo's touching words. Her lips trembled, still frightened about what she desperately wanted to express to him. Her cinnamon-brown eyes fell back onto her lap.
"You better go," said Frodo. "I don't want you getting sick. I'll have Sam take you back in the wagon. And...I don't want you walking all that way again."
Tansy looked up to see his charming smile, and then she gave him one of her own.
____________________________________________________
Inside his bedroom, Frodo stood at the window and watched Tansy leave beside Sam in the wagon. He recalled her secret she confessed to him...
*"I take a bowl of strawberries, then I crush them and smooth them over my skin. I love the way it smells..."*
Frodo closed his eyes and imagined he could still smell her.
He never expected this to happen.
He couldn't turn away from it now. Passion had found him...
And now it claimed him.
************************************
TBC
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