Author's note: Hey everyone, again I'm very grateful for your reviews. They are most appreciated from the bottom of my heart!!! Here's the next chapter you've been waiting for.

Disclaimer: I own nothing in Tolkien's world. But...I own Tansy, Calla and Rory.

They were jarred by a sudden crash outside the hobbit hole. What followed next...a deafening scream that roared through their ears and raised the hairs on their legs.

Sam raced to the door, yanked it open and looked out to see what had happened. His eyes wide, he yelled...

"Mr. Hortlebower!"

Chapter three: Homebound

Sam rushed down the steps and through the white gate. Frodo wasn't far behind, catching up to his gardener as he sped toward Rory's cart. Surprisingly, the pony hadn't galloped away but remained where it stood. The cart lay lopsided on the ground with a missing wheel. Frodo looked for the wheel and when he found it, it lay a few feet from where Rory's body had been sprawled on the grass.

"Mr. Hortlebower!" shouted Sam and knelt beside Rory.

Rory grimaced. "My leg! I think it's broken."

"Mr. Frodo," said Sam, "help me lift him up. We have to get him back inside."

Frodo took Rory's arm, slinging it around his shoulder. Sam had done the same and then both hobbits carefully hoisted Rory from the ground. They carried him up the steps and inside the house. Rosie and Tansy hurried toward them.

Tansy gasped.

Mrs. Gamgee's lips fell. "What happened?"

Sam peeked briefly at Rory who seemed to drift in and out of unconsciousness. His face, sickly pale and glossed with sweat.

Sam answered his wife. "The wheel gave way from Mr. Hortlebower's cart."

Rory moaned and then he screamed again from the pain that relentlessly assaulted his right leg.

"Mr. Hortlebower," said Sam. "We're taking you to one of the guest rooms where you'll rest. Then we'll see if we can get the doctor--,"

"M-my doctor," Rory stammered. "Please..."

Sam nodded. "Alright, your doctor."

"He'll come at this hour?" said Tansy.

"He has to," Frodo replied. "Rory's in a lot of pain and his leg may be broken."

Sam and Frodo carried Rory down another hall where there were more guest rooms. Once inside, they gently lowered him on the bed. Worried about the hobbit from Staddle, Frodo watched Rory's head fall on to the pillow. He could see Rory had been relieved and thankful for their help. They gazed at one another and then Rory surrendered to unconsciousness that took him.

Frodo stood by the window and immersed in sunlight embracing him. He peered outside at Calla and Elanor frolicking on the field in back of the hobbit hole. Frodo smiled lovingly at his daughter and happy to see how close she was to Elanor, like sisters. And then...

"Wh—where am I?"

Frodo spun around to see Rory had awakened. "You're in my home. This is Bag End."

Nothing made sense to Rory at the moment until finally he won the battle over his temporary memory loss.

"Frodo?" Mr. Hortlebower whispered while he lay on the bed and tucked comfortably beneath thin layers of white linen.

Frodo took a few steps toward the bed and stood beside it. He crossed his arms behind his back. "Do you remember anything what happened?"

Rory's eyes leapt down to his leg hidden under the covers, and when he attempted to move it, he grimaced from the throbbing pain.

"Yes, I remember. How--," Rory faltered and wet his dry, cracked lips. "How long have I been here?"

"Three days," answered Frodo. "We were able to reach your doctor."

"My leg?"

Frodo nodded. "Yes, it's broken. The doctor braced it with some wood. I'm afraid it'll be some time before you can walk again. You may need to stay here for a few months so that your leg can mend properly."

Rory slowly shook his head. "Frodo, I don't want to be a burden--,"

"Rory," Frodo gently interrupted, "you're not a burden. What happened wasn't your fault. And besides, you've been very kind to us." Frodo ended those words with a smile he hoped had comforted Mr. Hortlebower.

Rory managed a weak smile that told Frodo how gracious he was and accepted their warm hospitality.

Frodo added, "Now, we have decided on taking turns when serving your meals. Are you hungry?"

Rory shook his head again. "No."

"You must eat."

"What time is it?"

"Time for dinner soon. It would be best if you have chicken soup. You need your strength while you get better."

"Alright," Rory uttered weakly.

Frodo crossed around the bed and toward the door.

"Frodo?"

Mr. Baggins halted at the circle and then he turned around. "Yes?"

"What happened?" asked Rory, quite irritated at how he struggled to speak.

Puzzled, Frodo scrunched his brows. "You don't remember?"

"I mean, what happened when—when you left Bag End?"

All Frodo could do was stare at him. Speechless despite what he wanted to say. And again, he scolded himself for his foolish thinking. Rory wasn't a stupid man. Why wouldn't he notice he only had four fingers? And if he didn't notice with his eyes, news travels fast into most hobbits' ears in the Shire.

"Your hand," Rory continued, "it must have been dreadful."

Frodo nervously clenched his four fingers into a fist. "You need to rest. When you're better I promise we will talk then." He hurried out of the room, closing the door behind him. Frodo collapsed against it and squeezed his eyes shut.

I wish I could forget. I wish none of it had ever happened.

And before he gave in to the tears that threatened to seep from the corners of his eyes, Frodo composed himself and solemnly walked down the tunneled hall.

The next few days at the end of June, a bedridden Rory Hortlebower had been very well taken care of. He appreciated every kind thing they had done for him. Still, it made him uncomfortable to be homebound. Rory never depended on anyone and now he had absolutely no choice but to rely on someone to help.

Inside the Baggins and Gamgee kitchen, they all sat around the table feasting on chicken with mushrooms and lots of potatoes. Tea was what they drank. For dessert were seed cakes, strawberry cakes (of course) and other delectable delicacies.

Calla sat in her seat always beside Elanor. "Daddy, when can we see Mr. Hortlebower?"

Frodo looked around at his daughter so inquisitive but in a quiet way.

"You can see him when he's awake and after he's had something to eat." Frodo peeked at Tansy, then at Sam and Rosie. "Whose turn is it to give Rory his dinner?"

Sam and Rosie glanced at one another.

Tansy knew it wouldn't be long before all eyes were on her and now she was spotlighted, something she never liked. Even now, after all she had endured and matured because of it, the shy Tansy Puddifoot would show herself again during those moments.

"It's my turn," said Tansy with a strained smile on her lips. And despite feeling apprehensive, she took her turn as Rory's nurse that evening.

Tansy knocked twice upon the door. She listened for his voice. Hearing only silence, she assumed he was sleeping. Tansy had to make sure. She gently turned the knob with her left hand. With the other, she carried a tray that held a bowl of warm chicken soup and one piece of bread cut from the loaf. She stepped inside and eased toward the chair next to Rory's bed. Tansy stopped suddenly. She watched him while he slept. A restless sleep. His face thrashed from side to side. In her mind, she asked the question...

Bad dreams? What could they be?

Uncanny it was, how he reminded her of Frodo.

Rory sprang from the pillow. "Holly!" he shouted. His face damp with a hot sweat. He turned to see Tansy at his bedside and catching his breath as if he had been running a long way. "Holly?" he repeated, dazed and unaware of his surroundings at the moment.

"It's Tansy," she gently reminded him.

Realizing where he had been and who she was, Rory greeted her with a weak, lopsided grin. "Tansy," he whispered.

She smiled back. "Mr. Hortlebower."

"When will you ever call me, Rory?"

Tansy smiled again. "Rory...I have chicken soup for you."

"Ah, thank you."

Tansy placed the tray on to the night table. After she had done that, she propped the two pillows so Rory would be comfortable as he lay his back against them. Tansy sat down and carefully reached for the bowl.

"Here's your soup." She said and handed it to him.

"Thank you," Rory graciously replied and cradled the bowl in his hands. He stirred the broth and sipped a little from off the spoon. "Mmm...delicious."

"Sam cooked it. His soups are very delicious. He's a wonderful cook. Everything he cooks...it's...delicious!" Tansy halted and sighed. "I'm sorry to babble like that."

"Do I make you nervous?" Rory asked, taking another sip of the broth. When she hesitated in replying, he looked at her.

Tansy shook her head. "No."

"Really?" Rory dunked the spoon back into the soup. "I remember the day we met in Bree. You were nervous then. And when we met again at the market."

"I was only surprised to see you is all."

"I was surprised to see you too—with Frodo."

Irritated, Tansy sighed again. "Mr. Hortlebower, you can be very brash at times, like now."

"I'm sorry. I don't mean to upset you. It surprised me to see you with Frodo because, well, that day when you told me he was gone, I assumed he had died."

Tansy clasped her tense hands together upon her lap. "I could not tell you everything. So I understand why you thought he was dead. But he came back."

"Back from where?"

"From the Grey Havens. He was to sail off with the elves to Valinor."

Rory scrunched his thick brows. "Where?"

"To—oh, you don't know?"

"Elves? Valinor? I'm not one who knows much about elves or Valinor you speak of. I haven't gone on any adventures like Frodo and Bilbo, though I would like to hear about their adventures one day. Well, after Frodo came back, that explains why you never returned. Remember? I promised to show you the hobbit holes when you felt better?"

"Even before Frodo returned, I didn't come back because I—I felt I needed to stay here in Bag End. I guess you can say, hope kept me from leaving...the hope of seeing Frodo again."

No words were uttered from his lips. He only smiled, and then came the awkward silence—silence Tansy despised when it crept between her and someone she chatted with. She broke the annoying silence with questions of her own.

"How is the pain?"

"Right now it isn't so bad. The herbs are very helpful. But in the middle of the night, the pain comes again."

"When I came in, you were having a bad dream."

"You dream many strange things when you're not well, Tansy."

"Was it about Holly? You called me Holly. Who is she?"

Rory looked away from Tansy. He swallowed hard against his dry throat while solemnly staring into the soup. "Holly...she was my wife. And...I had a daughter, Lea."

"Where are they now?"

Rory shook his head and then silence fell heavily in the atmosphere around them. Mr. Hortlebower kept his eyes on the soup but this time he had broken the silence.

"You have a beautiful daughter, Tansy, and Frodo...he loves you. Anyone can see that. You're a devoted wife to him...like Holly. You remind me of her."

And when his gaze fleeted back to her, Tansy wondered if he could see her tremble a little. She never thought she would see him again, especially not in this situation; never able to forgive herself for the attraction she felt for Rory when they met. It shocked her to feel such a thing.

"But it was only a moment," she thought. "I didn't want it to happen. That day, he reminded me so much of Frodo, not that he looks like him. No, it's something else..." Tansy stopped the rambling in her head. "Mr. Hortlebower, I mean, Rory," she said aloud, "Are you done with your soup?"

"Yes. I'm sorry, I wasn't very hungry."

"Well, at least you're eating more than you had a few days ago." Tansy took the bowl away from him and when she nervously carried the soup back to the table, it slipped and clanked on to the wooden tray. Some broth splattered in the process and when Tansy saw the mess she had made, she berated the 'clumsy' part of her she always hated.

"Hmph!" she murmured.

"It's all right, Tansy," he said in a soothing voice that told her not to worry about the mess.

A little smile sneaked its way into the corner of her lips. She shrugged off the trivial incident and unpropped his pillows so that he could lay his head down. And as she slid the covers up to the open collar of his nightshirt, questions about him taunted her again.

What happened to your family?

"Thank you, Tansy."

Smiling shyly, she answered, "You're very welcome. Rest now."

Tansy opened the door so that candlelight from many sconces inside the hall would be her guide. With one blow Tansy smothered the lantern's flame. She carried the tray, stepping into the subtle path of firelight. Mrs. Baggins glanced over her shoulder at Rory. She couldn't see if he had closed his eyes. And if he was sleeping, she hoped the bad dreams would spare him this night—something she often pleaded for Frodo.

Tansy returned to the kitchen, just in time to hear Sam babbling.

"You know what my Gaffer said about Rory," he gossiped to Frodo and Rosie while Elanor and Calla were playing inside the parlor with their Raggedy Ann style dolls.

"His mother died at a young age from an illness. He was very close to his father and when he died, his father left him all the hobbit holes he owns now--," Sam hesitated, feeling the eyes of someone else and when he looked up, there he saw Tansy holding the tray.

"He's sleeping now," said Tansy and pondered what she heard Sam say about Rory's parents.

"Good," Rosie replied, "He needs all the rest he can get."

Frodo stared at his wife and knowing her so very well, her body language gave it all away—something disturbed Tansy, and he had to find out what it could be.

All was quiet inside the Baggins and Gamgee home. Frodo had taken the usual promenade down the hall and at the moment his hand reached for the brass knob of his bedroom door, another door creaked open.

"Daddy?"

Frodo looked down at the end of the hall where Calla and Elanor slept in their room.

"Calla?"

In her ruffled white night dress, Calla scurried toward Frodo.

"What is it?" he wondered.

"I can't sleep, Daddy."

"No?" Frodo reached down and hoisted her into his arms. As he walked to the end of the hall, he went on to say, "And why can't you sleep?"

"I'm frightened."

Frodo stopped at the door. "Of what?"

Calla circled her little arms around his neck. "I'm afraid if I go to sleep, I won't see you in the morning."

"You'll see me tomorrow. I'm not going anywhere."

"Promise me you won't."

Baffled, Frodo said, "Calla--," Then it dawned on him why she was afraid. Though it had been a long while since his return from the Grey Havens, Calla still had trouble sleeping. Frodo quietly entered the room where Elanor slept soundlessly.

"Calla," he whispered in her ear, "I promise I'll never leave you and mummy. I know I've left before but that won't happen again." Frodo eased toward Calla's bed only a few feet from where Elanor slept. When he attempted to lay her down on to the bed, Calla's arms clung around his neck. "I promise," he repeated with an assurance that lifted her lips into a perky smile.

"I love you, Daddy."

"I love you, too."

Frodo attempted again, and this time Calla loosened her grip around his neck. He gently lowered his daughter on to the bed and lovingly slipped the covers over her small form.

"Good night," he said and gave Calla a warm kiss upon her forehead.

"Good night," she whispered back.

Frodo smiled proudly. He waited until she closed her eyes. That is when he left and had gone to his own room where Tansy sat at her oak-wood vanity table. He stood not far behind his wife, watching her. His eyes followed every movement of her hand as she brushed her shoulder-length curls. Tansy spun around on the paisley cushioned bench, jolting him out of his dreamy trance.

"There you are. I've wondered when you would come to bed."

"Calla couldn't sleep so I tucked her back into bed."

"Oh?" said a worried Tansy.

Frodo took a seat on the bench beside his wife. "You remember what happened when I came back from the Grey Havens. She feared I would leave again. She still does." He paused and let out a deep sigh. "Sometimes I feel like Calla...afraid...afraid of what I've become after the war of the ring. I'm home but nothing has changed."

"What do you mean nothing has changed?" said Tansy while holding the brush in her hands. "The Shire has been saved. You risked your own life to save it."

"Yes," he murmured dejectedly, "but it doesn't seem to matter to most folk. All they see is Frodo Baggins who went off on a cracked adventure like his uncle and returned with four fingers."

"Frodo, it does you no good to be worrying about what the folk are thinking. What matters is that you've done something most would have turned away. And there are those who are very proud of you. Don't forget your friends...and me."

Frodo's face lit up with a wide grin. Desiring to taste her lips, he kissed them tenderly. Breaking away from the kiss, Tansy touched his lips and traced them sensuously with the tips of her fingers.

"I'll be back," she whispered against his ear. "I need to freshen up a bit."

Frodo smiled again. "Alright."

He watched her leave the room. For a short while, he remained on the bench until the bed caught his attention. He left the bench and walked over to the bed. Before he undressed, Frodo peeled back the covers. He knew they would have their usual talks before making love or going to sleep. So he propped Tansy's pillows first. Then Frodo crossed to the left side where he slept and when he propped his pillows, he stumbled backward. Frodo gasped, lips parted, but the words...frozen, he could not utter. There peeking out from beneath the pillow was a long, serrated knife.

Perplexed, Frodo's hand inched carefully toward the knife. Grasping it in his hand, he watched it gleaming, almost evilly in the candlelight that shown upon it. Frightened, his thoughts raced.

How did this get here? I don't remember putting it there. And why should I? Is it possible I did it and don't remember? Is it?

Startled by a click of the door creaking open.

Frodo's eyes leapt from the knife.

"Tansy..."

A/N: I couldn't resist giving you another one of my evil cliffhangers...ducks head at objects thrown at her, LOL...let me know what you think of this chapter!