Author's note: I know this chapter is short but there will be more in the next one. Thank you! Thank you! I'm soooo grateful for your reviews that always brings a smile on my face. And I'm glad that so far you're enjoying the sequel as much as "Fragile Choices" You guys are wonderful!

Disclaimer: I don't own Tolkien's characters. Neither do I own some of his dialogue or Peter Jackson's dialogue. Of course I own Tansy and Calla.

Warning: Dark themes and angst


Chapter two: If Only

"What are you thinking about?"

Tansy whispered the words into Frodo's ear.

She expected him to answer, but he remained silent while sitting against the apple tree. For some time now he had been resting the back of his head onto the wood. His eyes closed as if he were sleeping and enjoying a pleasant dream.

Her lips brushed along the tip of his ear.

"Frodo, tell me," she whispered again.

"Tansy," he began softly, keeping his eyes shut. "I'm enjoying the time we have together."

A dreamy smile softened her lips. "So am I."

Frodo continued. "Though I know we don't have much time."

Puzzled, Tansy stared at Frodo. A warm breeze wafted by. Gentle it was, lifting his curly bangs that lay across his forehead. And when the breeze had gone, it kindly released his bangs that fell back onto his skin.

"Frodo, what do you mean by, 'we don't have much time?'"

He opened his eyes that locked onto her worried gaze.

"Oh, Tansy," he uttered regrettably. "I wish I could stay longer."

"You can," she insisted. "Why do you have to leave? Stay with me."

Tansy's forehead fell forward onto his. "Stay."

Frodo cradled the right side of her face in his hand.

"I want to but I can't. Rosie, she's here and now I must go."

"No," Tansy pleaded. "I don't want you to leave again!"

"It's all right," Frodo hesitated, comforting her with one of his reassuring smiles. "Rosie has something to tell you."

Disappointed about him leaving again, Tansy's gaze drifted down onto her lap. When her eyes leapt to meet him once more, he had gone.

"Tansy..."

She heard Rosie's voice calling her in the distance. For that moment Tansy chose to ignore the barmaid while hot tears stung her eyes.

And then she was suddenly nudged by Frodo's words.

"Rosie has something to tell you..."




Very slowly, Tansy turned her head to the left. Sitting on a chair at her bedside was Miss Cotton.

Rosie smiled. "You're awake."

Groggy and bewildered, Tansy squinted at her friend. "I thought you were outside--," Her voice slurred. "In the woods?"

"In the woods?" said Rosie, puzzled, and after realizing what had happened she smiled again. "You had a dream is all."

Tansy's gaze left Rosie. Still very disoriented, she looked around her room as if it was unrecognizable, then her attention fell back onto Rosie.

"How long have I been sleeping?" Tansy asked weakly.

"Actually," Rosie began, "you've been unconscious for a few days now. Mum and I, we were very worried about you."

Suddenly she remembered something...the baby. Her hand rummaged under the covers and glided over her abdomen no longer swollen.

"Rosie has something to tell you..."

Tansy's sunken eyes that were half-closed had now awaken, wide with fear.

"The baby...where--,"

"She's sleeping."

"She?"

Rosie nodded. She leaned forward, brushing away a few matted strands of Tansy's hair that stuck onto the sides of her face.

The barmaid went on to say, "She was born early than expected and for some time we feared she would not make it, but she's holding on!"

Tansy grinned, a weak one she managed to show Rosie. But then her lips quivered and she gave in to the tears that streamed down her pale cheeks.

"I—I thought I lost the baby, but she—she's alive!"

Rosie nodded and again she leaned forward to give Tansy a warm, comforting hug.

"Right now she needs to rest and then you can see her."

Rosie broke away from the embrace. She glanced at Tansy's hair, thinking for a moment.

"Hmm...your hair needs a good brushing."

Miss Cotton moved over to the bed, sitting on its edge. She gently lifted Tansy a little, supporting her back with her left hand while the other propped two pillows. Then Rosie carefully guided Tansy back against the pillows.

"Are you hungry?" Rosie inquired while her hand reached onto the night table for the brush and comb.

"A little," said Tansy.

"What about chicken soup?"

"I would like that."

"First," said Rosie, "I need to get these tangles out."

She chose the comb first. Her fingers entwined themselves around the silver handle, then Rosie delicately combed through the tangles.

"Does it hurt?" she asked, trying her best to be gentle.

"No."

After Rosie successfully untangled Tansy's curls, she picked up the brush and started at the hairline.

Tansy's eyes rolled shut. The grooming soothed her. She was thankful for the way Rosie swept the brush from her hairline down to the bottom of her curls.

"Calla," Tansy whispered.

Rosie halted in the middle of brushing. "Did you say something?"

"Calla," she repeated, this time it was more audible. "That will be her name...the baby."

Rosie grinned. "That's a beautiful name."

She continued to brush Tansy's hair for a little while longer until Mrs. Baggins turned her face toward Rosie.

"I know you said she's sleeping but please, I need to see her."

Rosie silently conceded Tansy's request with a smile and nod.

When Miss Cotton left, Tansy waited. Her heart pounded frantically in anticipation of seeing her child. Rosie returned through the open door. Tansy perked at the sight of the baby wrapped in a small, sunflower yellow blanket. She eagerly reached for the baby that had been cradled in her arms. And when she looked up at Rosie, her friend granted her wish to be alone, leaving the room.

Tansy stared at the tiny form—Calla who slept so peacefully in her arms. A thin layer of wavy red hair graced Calla's head and could be seen in the hazy sunlight. Still, it shocked her to be looking at a baby. Something Tansy never dreamed she would have. Never thinking she could have anything. Ecstatic and then her happiness had been snatched away by a deep sorrow that weighed heavily in her heart.

Frodo.

Tansy lay her face against Calla's soft cheek.

"Frodo," she whispered aloud. "If only you can see your child, and you were here with me. I know you would be happy."

At those words, she lovingly rocked Calla in her arms.

A few weeks had passed since that day. Tansy regained her strength, keeping herself busy with crocheting shawls and blankets. And with spring approaching, she even made flower crowns for lasses to wear on special days, events and especially for weddings. Coming out of seclusion, she often sold what she made at the market. And if someone couldn't afford it, she would offer it for free. She was only able to do these things on days when Rosie took care of Calla. At night is when she was alone, sitting in the parlor, holding Calla, desperately holding onto hope that Frodo would return. What terrified her was...she didn't know how long she could hold on.

After a restless night, Tansy begged for the morning to come, and when she saw a splinter of powder blue light through the window, she welcomed it gratefully. At mid-day, Tansy paced nervously around the parlor with Calla in her arms. No matter what she did...feed her, talk to her, rock her, nothing seemed to stop Calla's relentless cries.

"Ohh...what is it?" said Tansy helplessly, wishing Rosie was there to help. But she had other errands to do that day. "Calla, what's wrong? Please, stop crying!"

If only you were here with me. If only...

Over and over she screamed to herself. It was unfair. This trial she never thought she had to endure. A test she did not want. A test she could not pass.

Anger seethed within her, impairing her mind to think rationally.

As if in a daze, Tansy shuffled inside the kitchen. She stopped at the pantry where several knives were stored. She held a whimpering Calla in the cradle of her left arm. With her free hand, Tansy opened the oak wood doors of the pantry and reached for the sharpest knife. She grasped it, holding it up only a few inches from her eyes. Spotless. All the knives were when you looked at them closely. This one reflected bitterness that marred Tansy's face—a face that at one time showed no worries or evidence of a battle weary lass.

It would be quick. No more pain. No more dread and feeling so alone.

What are you doing?

No more trials.

What are you doing?

Those words slapped her hobbit sense back into gear.

The knife trembled in her hand.

Realizing the horror of what she was tempted to do, Tansy dropped the knife that clanked when striking the floor. She stumbled back against the kitchen table and fell down into one of the chairs.

Tansy looked down at Calla whose eyes was a striking resemblance, water-blue like Frodo's eyes.

A glimmer of hope had returned when she stared into those eyes. It was then, Tansy embraced Calla tightly against her chest, sobbing, rocking herself and the baby whose cries were suddenly hushed.

On that same day, Frodo and Sam struggled as they clambered their way up the stifling, rocky terrain of Mount Doom. Weary and disoriented, Frodo collapsed onto the ground. The weight of the ring was like an immense pressure on his chest, pulling him down, down until he could go no further. Once he had been able to resist, now his mind and soul had been consumed by a monstrous evil. Everything he knew and loved seemed to be only a distant memory.

Sam continued toward his master, crawling beside him. He slid his hand beneath Frodo's back and gently lifted his frail, scarred body into the shelter of his arms.

"Do you remember the Shire, Mr. Frodo? It'll be spring soon and the orchids will be in blossom. The birds will be nesting in the hazel thickets and they'll be sowing the summer barley in the lower fields."

Frodo opened his eyes wide with delirium. And though his beloved Sam was there, he stared at him in confusion, as if he no longer recognized his best friend.

Sam continued. "And eating first of the strawberries with cream. Do you remember the taste of strawberries? Do you remember Tansy and how she loved them?"

"Tansy?"

Frodo grimaced, trying desperately to remember his wife. Her sweet smile. The love they shared together. But every time an image of her impressed itself into his mind, it had been replaced with the dreadful flaming eye.

He nodded. "No, Sam. I can't recall...her. I can't recall the taste of food, nor the sound of water or the touch of grass. I'm naked in the dark. There's nothing...no veil between me and the wheel of fire. I can see him with my waking eyes!"

Determined and fed up with the ring, Sam replied, "Then let us be rid of it..."

How can anyone forget something like that?

Sam often asked himself that question, like he did now while sitting on the bed inside a room that was momentarily dark when Sam recalled the horrible memories of Mount Doom. Returning to the present, sunlight chased the darkness away along with that dreadful day. At first, when he had awakened, he did not know where he was until Gandalf reminded him, they were back in Ithilien.

The nightmare was over. The ring is destroyed. But...

Sam looked down at Frodo who lay awake. His head propped against soft, billowy pillows. His right hand atop the covers was clearly seen in the sunlight. The missing third finger.

Sam found himself on the verge of tears despite the joy of the ring gone, out of their lives. Frodo suffered so much, what he wished his master never had to endure.

"Sam," said Frodo dejectedly.

"Yes, Mr. Frodo?"

"I'll never forgive myself for forgetting Tansy."

"Don't go beating up on yourself, Mr. Frodo. It was the ring keeping you from remembering anything, even Tansy."

Frodo appreciated Sam's understanding and his comforting words. Nevertheless, he shook his head.

"Sam," Frodo looked up into his gardener's hazel eyes. "I promised her I would never forget. I promised I would come back soon. No, I can never forgive myself."

"Mr. Frodo--,"

"No, Sam. I can't."

Sam sighed deeply and rested his head onto Frodo's left shoulder.

"I know she still loves you, Mr. Frodo. And when we get back home, I'm gonna tell Rosie how I feel about her."

"Home?" said Frodo, as if the conversation had been a dream, and any moment he would awaken back in the darkness of Mordor.

"Yeah," answered Sam. "We're going back soon."

Frodo swallowed hard against his parched throat.

I'm happy we're going home. But why I'm I afraid?

Frodo forced a smile on his lips. "I never thought we would ever see the Shire again, Sam. Yes, I miss it very much."

He leaned his head against Sam's golden hair.

Frodo whispered, "Home."

TBC

A/N: Hit that button and let me know what you think because there's more to come!