Author's note: I was exhausted when I wrote this so I hope you enjoy it as much as the other chapters. Again I thank you all for your reviews and encouragement!

Disclaimer: Don't own Tolkien's characters or anything in Middle-earth. He's the genius behind all this, not me. I only own Tansy and Calla.

Chapter three: Home

The October air had been still. And yet, the four hobbits felt its chill, especially when the sun would hide momentarily behind numerous clouds. They rode on their ponies toward the Mill Bridge, toward Hobbiton. They peeked at one another and anticipating the stunned reactions from the folk. They would look very queer in the velvet tunics and cloaks they wore. But looking queer was far from their minds. Rather, they felt quite regal...well, Merry, Pippin and Sam that is. Frodo on the other hand, his mind had been occupied with other things besides what he was wearing.

Tansy...

Will I see your beautiful smile when you see me?

The strawberries, I remember them now. Will I smell them on your skin?

Frodo peeked sorrowfully at his missing finger.

Will you want to touch me or hold my hand again?

Just as they were about to cross the bridge, Frodo halted on his pony.

The three hobbits, when they noticed Frodo lagged behind, also hesitated.

"Frodo?" said Pippin.

He examined Frodo's reluctant expression and comforted him with a warm, reassuring grin.

That's all Frodo needed, just a smile to gently nudge him out of the fright that held him prisoner for a moment. He dearly appreciated his cousin's support by smiling back and when Frodo continued onward to the bridge, the three hobbits followed behind him.

"You like it don't you?" Tansy asked Calla.

She sat on the floor, legs crossed beneath her pink and burgundy dress.

Calla sat in front of her. The seven-month old wobbled, struggling to sit up while shaking a spoon shaped rattle in her tiny hand.

Tansy made sure she wasn't too far and caught Calla every time her daughter swayed to the side or teetered backwards.

Calla's hair, no longer a thin layer of waves had morphed into fiery curls that spiraled down to the nape of her neck. Some twined themselves around her ears. Her wide Caribbean blue eyes gleamed and her cheeks radiated a healthy pink glow. Tansy could not believe she was staring at her daughter born prematurely, recalling the time when she had been emaciated and near death. But Calla held on. She survived.

Now here she was, giggling at Tansy and joyfully shaking the rattle.

"Yes, I see you like it very much," said Tansy about the rattle she brought at the market a few days ago.

Calla stopped shaking the rattle. Something distracted her. Calla's demure fingers stretched toward the pendant around Tansy's neck. And when Calla accomplished what she struggled to do, her fingers grasped onto the rose pendant.

Tansy sniffed back her tears and smiled. "Yes, it's something your father gave me. I see you like that, too."

Calla looked up at Tansy and giggled again.

The doorbell...several frantic chimes startled Tansy from playtime she enjoyed with her daughter. Tansy swept Calla into her arms, dashed out of the room and scuttled toward the door.

"Who is it?" she shouted harshly for a reason. Tansy needed to protect herself when alone, especially when Lobeila snooped around. And so she wondered who stood outside, ringing the bell like a maniac.

"Who is it?" Tansy repeated.

"It's me, Tansy!"

"Rosie?"

With her right hand, Tansy opened the door and when Rosie barged inside, Mrs. Baggins could not help but question Rosie's urgent visit.

"Rosie, what—what's wrong?" she asked the panting, wide-eyed barmaid. "You're shaking. What's happened?"

"Tansy," Rosie began breathlessly. "They're back."

"Rosie, what are you babbling about?"

"Merry, Pippin, Sam...and...Frodo."

Tansy's heart felt like it suddenly froze; as a matter of fact, her entire body stiffened where she stood. Very slowly, Tansy shook her head in disbelief.

"No," she whispered.

Rosie nodded excitedly. "Yes, he's back. They stopped by the farm and at first I thought me eyes were tricking me. I said to myself, Rosie you're seeing things now?" She paused and shook her head with a smile. "Then I said, no, you're not seeing things. They're home! I had to rush here to tell you!"

Tansy turned away from Rosie and stumbled into the parlor.

"They're home," she muttered. "Frodo?"

Tansy plopped down into the chair by the fireplace. Shocked by the incredible news, she gazed down at Calla whose hand clung onto the ruffled collar of her dress. Then her teary eyes looked up, staring ahead at the fireplace. Her thoughts still processing the news that Frodo was indeed home.

An hour had passed, and during that hour, Tansy sat inside the bedroom. Waiting anxiously. Her sweaty hands clenched together upon her lap.

Waiting.

Rosie flung the door open. Calla secured in her arms.

Tansy gasped. Her eyes shot up to meet Rosie standing in the hall.

Miss Cotton announced cheerily, "He's here! I saw him outside at the gate."

Tansy took small, timid steps out into the hall.

"Wait inside the room," Tansy instructed. "I don't want him to see Calla yet until it's the right time."

Rosie nodded.

Tansy continued down the tunneled hall—a seemingly never-ending hall. Her hands rolled tightly, so tight they were that the color had been drained, leaving pale fists clinging at her sides.

Her heart raced and hammered against her chest as she entered the parlor and stopped near the window. She peeked through the circle and saw Frodo edging reluctantly toward the steps. Tansy sprang away from the window. She leaned against the wall and shut her eyes.

"No," Tansy whispered aloud. "You're not there. It's happening again. I would see you but you weren't really there. You're not there now."

He is there. Go, Tansy. Go to him.

Tansy's legs refused to cooperate, shaking as if they were about to collapse beneath her. She pushed herself onward to the door and when she slowly opened it, all that anyone could see were her cinnamon eyes peeking through the tiny space.

When he caught a glimpse of Tansy, Frodo halted at the top of the steps. Fear and excitement stirred his heart drumming and pulsating through every vein in his body. He trembled slightly at the sight of her stumbling toward him. Frodo hid his right hand behind his back. And as she stepped closer, he still could not believe his eyes were gazing upon the beautiful face he missed terribly.

Tansy's quivering fingers reached for his face. She snapped her hand away, fearing he was just another illusion. Tansy threw her hand against her lips and on the verge of tears. Then she tried again. This time her hand inched toward his cloak. The tips of her fingers gently touched black velvet. Now both hands glided up the sides of his cloak, along his neck and onto his face.

"Frodo?" her voice wavered, "You're not a—dream?"

"No, Tansy," said Frodo softly. His left hand grasped her wrist and as he laid the side of his face onto her hand, he continued on. "It's real. I'm here. I'm home."

"You won't go away," she rambled, "you—you won't leave again?"

Choked up with tears, Frodo could not speak but only shook his head.

Gingerly, Tansy circled her arms around him and when she realized he wasn't a figment of her imagination, she collapsed against him.

"Frodo!" His name had burst from her lips along with tears steaming down her cheeks.

Frodo tightened his embrace. When her scent wafted into his nostrils, he recalled what Sam asked him.

"Do you remember the taste of strawberries? Do you remember Tansy and how she loved them?"

"Tansy," he cried and held her tighter. Afraid to let go. If he did, he would lose her again. But he let go, just a little to gaze lovingly into her eyes.

A tear snaked its way onto her mouth. He smeared it away and then his finger traced the contour of the full lips he hungered for so long. Frodo caressed her skin with soft kisses along her cheekbone.

His eyes shut. He whispered, "I missed you so much."

Frodo's lips touched the corner of her mouth. "And I love you."

It was no longer just a distant memory...her lips had been devoured into his.

Tansy sobbed and trembled in his arms, savoring his lips she never thought she would feel again. Wanting him. And when it seemed they were getting carried away in the tumultuous moment, she broke the kiss to breathe.

Tansy cupped his face into her hands. "Frodo, there was never a day I didn't miss you, love you or forget you."

Frodo cringed at the rest of the conversation that day at Mount Doom.

"Do you remember Tansy?"

"Tansy? No, Sam, I can't recall...her."

Frodo stared into her eyes and silently he said these words,

"I tried to remember you, but he was there, always there!"

"Frodo? What is it?"

"I—I'm so happy to see you."

Tansy gave him one of her warm, endearing smiles and then her fingers reached for his left hand. They walked toward the door; holding hands like they had often done before he left the Shire, before the madness.

Frodo stepped into the airy parlor. Every nook and cranny he could see was spotless. The smell of oak wood and the sight of earthy colors that warmed his hobbit hole jarred his memories. The cozy fireplace where he sat and enjoyed his chats with Bilbo, then with Tansy after they were married. And for a moment he imagined the aroma of chicken, bacon and mushrooms.

"I--," Tansy began, "I wanted it to be like it was...before you left."

Frodo awarded her efforts with one of his charming smiles.

"I know. You always wanted to make sure everything was in order."

Tansy tried to shrug the uneasiness she felt despite her joy of seeing Frodo. He seemed different, almost distant. Even his face appeared gaunt, not as healthy before he left for the quest. It was as if his life, the simple, happy life of an innocent hobbit had been painfully drained during the time he was gone. She pushed her thoughts aside and would not think about it again. He was home. That's all that mattered now. And there was something else.

"Uh—Frodo?"

"Yes?"

"There's someone you should see," she said carefully, concerned about his reaction at seeing Calla. "I'll be back."

Frodo waited. Curiosity scrunched his brows.

Who is this person she wants me to meet?

He heard her shuffle back into the hall and when she entered the parlor, he noticed Rosie stood in the distance. His puzzled eyes darted back to Tansy coming toward him with what looked like a baby nestled in her arms.

"Who--," Frodo started, looking back at Miss Cotton again.

Is it Rosie's baby? No, it can't be...but...

"Frodo?" said Tansy, gently demanding his attention.

This time he gave her his attention she desperately needed. And sensing what Tansy would say next, he swallowed hard against his throat suddenly dry.

"Tansy, who does the baby belong too?"

Tansy drew in a deep breath. "Her name is Calla. Frodo, she's our daughter."

His eyes widened in shock of what he heard. Overwhelmed and reeling from everything happening too quickly after returning to Bag End.

"No."

"Yes. She's our child."

Tansy turned Calla toward him. He stared in awe at the baby who had been blessed with red hair, a combination of Tansy's auburn locks and his brown curls. Then there were Calla's eyes. He knew those eyes, as if he was staring at a reflection of the past, of himself as a child.

Calla looked up at him. Frightened, she turned away and clung onto Tansy's dress.

Suddenly a flashback seized Frodo. Memories of a dream he had once of a young lass.

He was at the market. He saw her...a young lass left behind while her mother went off to look at what the other vendors were selling.

She stared at him with eyes as blue as the sky on a cloudless summer day.

"I know you," he whispered to her.

She shook her head and stepped backwards.

"Yes," Frodo insisted, "I know you. Don't be frightened."

The lass spun around and ran back to her mother.

"No," shouted Frodo. "Don't go. I won't hurt you..."

"No," he repeated, back to where he stood in the parlor. "I won't hurt you," Frodo said to Calla.

"Calla," Tansy whispered into her ear. "It's all right. Go to daddy."

She peeled Calla's hands away from the collar of her dress and lifted the baby toward Frodo.

Frodo graciously received Calla into his arms. He made sure Tansy didn't see his right hand and tucked it under his other arm while cradling Calla against him.

At first Calla looked at him and pouted as if she would cry any moment from being in the arms of a stranger. Then her bright, wide eyes studied his hair. Her tiny, chubby hand reached up to his curls, playing with them as she twined a few strands around her fingers. She looked up at Frodo again, and it seemed for a second, a little smile formed in the corner of her mouth.

Frodo wondered what she would do next. To his surprise, Calla rested her face against the comforting material of his cloak. His eyes shot up to see Tansy through a blur of hot tears.

"She's beautiful," said Frodo.

Tansy sobbed into her hand that covered her mouth.

"Frodo!" she cried, throwing her arms around both him and Calla.

At the entrance of the hall, Rosie watched them while ecstatic tears trailed down her cheeks. She remembered what Sam told her, why they had to leave. She finally learned the truth...they set out on a quest to save Middle-earth. And now they were home. Merry and Pippin, her Samwise whom she loved dearly, and Frodo...reunited at last with Tansy...and Calla.

Tansy sat on the bed, facing the door. Every moment or so she would slide her hands across her lap, as if to straighten out any annoying wrinkles on her nightdress. But it was an unconscious habit Tansy had often done when feeling uneasy. She wondered what Frodo was doing and when the circle opened, Tansy gave him a puzzled look as he entered in his nightshirt and shut the door behind him.

"Frodo? Since when you're shy about, well, usually you undress here and not outside."

Frodo crossed over to the closet. Not knowing what to say, what he didn't want to tell her, he only shrugged his shoulders while hanging up his clothes.

Tansy bit her bottom lip and resenting the unwelcome silence that wedged between them. She cleared her throat, breaking the silence.

"It's all right. You don't have to answer. I know you're tired."

Frodo walked over to the huge oval wicker basket where Calla lay in a deep sleep. He bent down and smiled a little at his daughter curled up on several comfy blankets that had been tucked inside the basket. Suddenly his smile faded.

"Tansy?" he said while keeping his eyes on Calla.

"Yes?"

"Before I left, why didn't you tell me you were carrying my child?"

Frodo walked away from the basket and sat beside his wife.

Tansy bowed her head, preferring to stare at her lap rather than Frodo.

"Hmm? Why, Tansy?"

Tansy breathed. "I was going to tell you that day when you had to leave. I couldn't."

"But why?"

Tansy forced herself to look at him. "I didn't want you to go. And I knew if I would have told you about the child, you wouldn't had gone. But...you had to go. So now do you understand why I decided to be silent?"

Frodo nodded. "Yes, I understand."

He thought about what she sacrificed and imagined what she must had gone through, carrying his child alone, without him. Because if she told him, Frodo knew he wouldn't have gone. And what would have been the fate of Middle-earth? He shuddered, already knowing the answer.

"Tansy, do you hate me?"

She frowned, shaking her head. "What?"

Frodo went on. "I promised you I would come back sooner but I didn't."

"Frodo, I—I don't hate you because of what you had to do. I missed you very, very much and there were times I didn't think you were coming back. I was angry but never once did I hate you."

Frodo nodded again.

Tansy added, "Tell me about your adventure. You were always telling me about Bilbo's adventure. Now I want to hear yours."

Frodo looked away from her, staring solemnly at the floor.

"I'm afraid my adventure is quite different, something you don't want to hear."

Befuddled, Tansy placed her hand onto his shoulder.

"Why wouldn't I want to hear it?"

Frodo let out an exasperated sigh. "Another time. I'm very tired."

Tansy whispered to herself.

Something's wrong. It's not like Frodo to be so snappish.

She took his left hand into her own. And when she reached for his right hand, Frodo jerked away from her and stopped near his desk.

Tansy dashed after him. "Frodo, what's wrong?"

She looked down at his hand hidden behind him.

"Frodo, why are you afraid to show me your hand?"

Silence.

"Frodo!"

Slowly, hesitantly, Frodo unhooked his arm from behind him and held out his hand for her to see.

Tansy's gaze fell onto his hand. Something was different about it. Then a horrible reality struck her...his third finger...gone, nothing but a stump.

She gasped. "What—what happened?"

Frodo realized he could no longer keep everything a secret. Regrettably, he unbuttoned several buttons of his nightshirt.

Tansy feared whatever else she might discover but she had to know. Her fingers peeled back the left side of his shirt. And what had been revealed to her eyes was a deep scar on his shoulder. Down a little further, on his side, she glimpsed another horrendous scar, which looked like the result of a huge whip.

Tansy stumbled backwards, shaking her head frantically.

"Frodo, what happened?" she cried, "Who did this to you!"

He bowed his head in shame.

Tansy's hand sprang against her mouth. Seized by nausea that rose from the pit of her stomach, Tansy raced toward the door. She halted there for a moment when it seemed she regained control and managed to stop herself from being sick. Panting and clutching her stomach, Tansy turned around to see Frodo buttoning his shirt.

"I'm sorry," she said barely audible and raspy.

Frodo moped up to her. "I understand. That's why I didn't want you to see me like this. You want to know what happened but I can't tell you now."

Tansy slipped her arms around the waist of his frail body.

"I love you," she cried.

"Do you?" Tansy heard him say in a shaky voice.

She looked at him, her gaze drifted down to his lips.

"Yes," Tansy answered sincerely, sensuously.

Wanting him.

Her lips touched his.

She remembered the way they kissed under the apple tree.

The intense passion shared between them after they were married, like now.

Frodo tightened his embrace, pulling her against him. The fingers on his left hand slowly unbuttoned the ruffled collar of her nightdress. And then came the badgering voices.

You're a freak now.

She doesn't love you.

Look at your hand. Look at you!

The flaming red eye blazed in his mind.

Sauron.

I see you...

Frodo tore away from her. He panted as if his lungs desperately craved for air.

"I—I'm sorry, Tansy. I want to but—I can't."

Frodo slumped down onto the bed. Tansy rushed beside him.

"It's okay," she said. "You need to rest. Let's go to sleep."

Frodo nodded and then his head fell onto her shoulder.

In the middle of the night, Tansy could not sleep. Instead, she watched Frodo from where she stood a few feet away in the darkness. But it wasn't pitch darkness. Light from the full moon crept through the window and touched Frodo as he slept restlessly. She listened to what he murmured in his sleep.

"No, the ring is mine."

She flinched at the sight of his four-fingered hand that clutched his neck, groping for the chain as if it was still there.

The question replayed itself over and over in her mind.

What happened to you?

Feeling the sting of her burning tears, Tansy shut her eyes.

TBC

A/N: Let me know what you honestly think because I was really tired.