Author's note: good gracious, I'm finally back. Sorry for my long absence, but among Christmas shopping, trying to pull up my AP economics grade, watching ROTK, applying for college, and saving the world, I lost track of time and had little to devote to the development of this chapter. However, it is finally here, for your viewing pleasure. Imagine my surprise when my review list went from three to fifteen! Thank you again, readers, and I hope this chapter continues as well as the others. It gave me some trouble to write. It's also the longest chapter you'll see for a while—hope you don't mind lots of words J.
Aemilia Rose: and spending too much time with Sam is a bad thing? *wink* Hurray for blankets and tea, for stories would never be the same without them J
Danielle of Airls: thank you so much for your two reviews (I love long reviewers J) I'm so glad you are enjoying the story. Sorry to keep you waiting, I hope you haven't given up on me...
Rosa Cotton: Muchas gracias. I hope I reach ten chapters anyway J
Rowen: Thank you! Tissues for Sam!
crimson dawn 123: Hurray! I made someone's day!
Lady of Ithilien: Yes, Rosie is hardly mentioned, but that gives room to play J I loved writing little Rose. Growing up in a house of boys was a good tip off for her character.
Mint Sauce: I hope that after my absence you have woken up from passing out. Thanks! *Huggles Sam* I know, he's the best!
kalika-child-of-twilight: hey, bunny. I see you to often to care anymore. j/k Thanks for stopping by.
ENTr Imperceptus: wow, thanks. I love the spoon!
Danny Barefoot: Down with sexist rubbish! I'm glad you approve of Rosie's apprehensions. Yes, Sam is rather confident...but this story isn't all about Sam's fears. Don't worry, I know where this is going; it's the details that keep me tied up most often. As I say, if all goes according to plan, I'll reach ten. Unfortunately, things seldom go according to plan for me :) "but they might meet by accident..." well aren't you a sneaky little plot predictor...I guess you'll just have to keep reading to find out J
Wow, that was tiring. Once again, many thanks to all the readers. On with the story! @--- luv, luck, and really long author's notes, ~Lemondrop~
* * *
"Not over there! Not over there!"
Master Peregrin's cry was carried away with the wind that had just caught one of the tents and pulled it from the hands of some unsuspecting Hobbits. They had been trying to peg it to the ground, but a swift breeze had been just enough to pull it from their grasp. Pippin shook his head in dismay as the group went crowding after it, a swarm of arms and legs and strings and hammers. The hobbit children laughed gleefully as they watched their parents chasing the gracefully floating tent across the lawn. With his hands on his hips, Pippin turned away from the chaotic scene and focused his attention toward New Row. He spotted a Hobbit lad walking along the clean dirt path, and almost disregarded him as a passerby. But he knew that stride. Again, Pippin shook his head. That lad was supposed to be getting ready for his wedding, and here he was, strolling in the morning sun...
* * *
Sam chuckled to himself as the memory of his first meeting with Rosie played across his mind. He could still see her stubborn little face, the scrutiny in her eyes, as clear as yesterday's sky. She had just been a little thing back then, all curls and Hobbit feet, with bright blue eyes peeking between thick lashes. A child so full of innocence, but at the same time saturated with a kind of sure wisdom, for she had been in the time of her life when everything she did was right, and not even her brothers could tell her otherwise.
It had been the first of many meetings with Rose. As Tolman had said that day, Rose spent most of her time in the company of her brothers, whether they liked it or no. But she was never a shadow. She was surefooted and proud, always ready to take the lead, always ready to jump when her brothers were still apprehensive. Sam himself had spent numerous sunny (and rainy) days with the Cotton clan, playing games and singing songs as Hobbit children like to do.
Sam stopped in his tracks for a moment, lost in a pocket of thought. When exactly had Rose gone from friend to more? They had always been close, even from their first meeting by the fireside. But where was the end of little Rose Cotton and the beginning of his Rosie?
Hands in his pockets, Sam continued his journey down New Row. Perhaps it had not been one moment, but a series of moments. A time of friendship slowly changing into a time of love. As he meandered past the commotion of the party field, his eyes fell upon the mallorn tree, growing tall and proud above the preoccupied Hobbits that surrounded it. It marked the site of the original party tree, which had stood there for many years before it's premature demise. A smile crossed Sam's face. Perhaps there hadn't been a specific moment when he had fallen in love with Rose. But there had been a specific moment when he had realized it.
He had been so upset to return home to the Shire only to find that the Party Tree had been cut down. Mr. Frodo knew it to be only an anger at the loss of a landmark of Uncle Bilbo's great party. However there was more than one reason that Sam had been angry to see the tree gone. Mr. Frodo did not know that it had been a landmark of a very different sort for Sam...
* * *
Sam lay on his stomach, buried in the sea of brown hay that surrounded him. He waited in silence, wondering where Tom was lurking. The sun's rays pressed down on his back and the silence was broken only when the wind danced with the tall blades of grass. Sam listened carefully during those periods of sound, searching for the almost nonexistent rustle of a Hobbit's tread. He could not afford to be caught first—it happened far too often.
Far to his right, from what he guessed to be the edge of the field, came a sweet, yet teasing, female voice. "Tom, don't you think we're getting to be a bit old for these types of games?" Rose called from her hiding place.
"To old for Dragon in the High Grass?" Tom called back incredulously, off to Sam's left and far too close to where he was hiding. "One's never too old for Dragon in the High Grass! Now be quiet! This dragon is supposed to be finding his prey on his own accord…"
"I've forgotten where Safe Haven is, Tom!" Rosie cried, heedless of his request for her to be quiet.
"Mr. Bilbo's party tree, Rose! You know that's always the Safe Haven when we play in this field!"
In the midst of Tom and Rosie's brief argument, Sam had tried to slither away from Tom unnoticed. However, in a few quick steps Tom was on him, pinning him to the ground and laughing merrily. "Once again, Samwise, you are the first to be caught!"
Sam grumbled to himself as Tom helped him up from the ground. If he was not good at climbing trees, he was no better at hiding during tag games with the Cottons. Now he was a dragon too, and would have to catch someone else. Not that it mattered; he would much rather seek than be sought.
Tom grabbed Sam by the arm and whispered conspiratorially into his ear. "Not that you need any help, dear Sam, but you heard Rose at the other end of the field. Besides, I can't sneak up on her the way you can—she knows what my feet sound like." He looked down at his Hobbit feet, apparently disgusted that they had ruined the fun of catching his younger sister during such games. "Why don't you look for her and I'll find the others?" With that he was off, stepping quietly as a Hobbit can toward a tuft of shaking grass that promised to be little Nibs.
Sam grinned as he turned in the opposite direction. He may not be good at hiding, but when it came to seeking, he was one of the best. He tiptoed off in what he assumed to be Rose's direction, looking carefully at the blades in front of him so as not to miss the slightest movement.
Quite too soon, he arrived at the edge of the field, with no telling of where Rosie lay. With another quiet grumble to himself, he began to make his way back into the field.
Unexpectedly, a hand wrapped around Sam's ankle. Caught off guard, he tumbled to the ground.
Rosie giggled and put a hand over Sam's mouth to quiet him. "Shhhhhh," she whispered, then let go and crept to the edge of her hiding place, parting the blades of grass just enough to track the movements of Tom.
Sam rubbed the elbow he had fallen on. "What are we being quiet for? I'm a dragon, and now so are you. We should be helping Tom catch the others."
Rosie's eyes sparkled. "If I remember correctly, Sam, the dragon is supposed to do the catching. And if I'm not mistaken, it is I that caught you."
"I don't like that look in your eyes, Miss Rose," Sam said with a sideways grin, "What are you plotting?"
Rose opened her mouth to answer, but stopped as a gleeful shriek sounded across the field. She smiled. "I'm tired of Tom winning this game all the time. From the sound of it, he's just caught Marigold." She beckoned Sam to her side.
Sam went and knelt beside his friend, peering through the screen of grass at the moving figures of Tom and Marigold. He nodded in understanding. "So you're waiting for Tom to find everyone," he whispered by her ear.
"Exactly," Rose whispered back, "and then we'll run to the Party Tree. We're the closest—we can get a head start and beat him to the Safe Haven!"
"Wait a minute, Rose…what do you mean 'we'?"
Rose was still watching the game. "Marigold's just found Nick!" she gasped excitedly, "Now all Tom has to do is find Jolly."
"Rosie, did you—"
"He's almost found him, get ready, Sam."
"But Rosie, you know I can't run—"
"Oh! He's caught Jolly! Come on, Sam!"
Before he knew it, he was off and running, his hand caught tight in Rosie's. Together they burst from the hay field and made a beeline for the Party Tree, the amused shouts of the Cotton boys and Sam's sister echoing behind them. Rosie dashed this way and that, weaving through passersby and carts and bushes, all the while with Sam in tow. They almost collided with a rather grumpy old Hobbit who yelled something about "reckless tweeners" to their retreating backs. Across Bagshot Row they tore, through puddles and rocks, until they reached the straightaway of the Party Field. Here, Sam looked back over his shoulder. Tom had taken up the chase, and was gaining on them fast. "Um, Rose?!" Sam called to the lass that held his hand.
"I know," Rose called back breathlessly, "Time to pick up the pace, Sam!"
"Pick up the pace?!" Sam cried.
To his surprise, he had little trouble keeping up with Rose, despite her speed. Soon Tom stopped gaining, and the space between them remained steady.
Suddenly, Rose stopped. Caught unawares, Sam toppled into her and they fell to the ground in a heap.
"Rosie, I'm sorry!" Sam gasped franticly, "I told you I couldn't run—"
"Sam, stop jabbering! We made it!"
Confusedly, Sam took in his surroundings. Indeed, there they were, at the base of Mr. Bilbo's Party Tree.
"Look out!"
A crowd of hurrying Hobbits, led by Tom, crashed into Sam and Rose, turning what was once only a Hobbit lad and lass into a twitching, giggling, gasping mass of seven Hobbit lads and lasses. For a long time they lay in a pile, too full of laughter and empty of breath to do much else. Finally, they disentangled themselves and got to their feet.
"Well," breathed Tom, "It's about time someone beat me at this game…I was beginning to think I had lost my competition!"
Rosie smiled radiantly and squeezed Sam's hand gently. It was then that Sam noticed neither of them had let go. On the contrary, their fingers had become entwined. Sam regarded this curiously for a moment, and almost broke the connection, then stopped himself. Something about Rose's hand in his seemed so…natural.
One by one, the Cotton boys turned in the direction of home. Marigold waved goodbye to Rose and reminded Sam before she left that their Gaffer needed help weeding Mr. Bilbo's garden that afternoon. Only Wilcome hesitated a moment, giving his twin sister a curious look before following the others.
Still, Rose's hand remained in Sam's. "I told you not to worry," she said, the ever present hint of laughter dancing in her voice.
Sam caught her eyes with his. "No you didn't! I was trying to tell you I couldn't run fast enough and you pulled me off!"
"Well, if I would have told you, you wouldn't have listened anyway," Rose said light heartedly. "And it looks to me that you can run as fast as me, Samwise Gamgee. You just never gave yourself the chance before." She paused and looked down at their hands, still resting placidly inside each other, then returned her gaze to his face. "There are lots of times when you're too hard on yourself, Sam. No matter what your Gaffer calls you or what my brothers say to you--." She broke off, and Sam thought he saw a glimmer of something deep in her eyes that he had never seen before. What was it? She smiled. "Just don't be afraid to give yourself the chance." She gave his hand a final squeeze, then gently released her fingers from his. Sam watched as she walked back down the hill, the sun bouncing off her brunette curls as she headed toward home.
~~~~~~~~
The next night had found Sam at the Cotton's front doorstep. He had come home the previous day to find his Gaffer's wheelbarrow with a loose tire. He was supposed to finish fertilizing the hills of Bag End early the next morning, and without a wheelbarrow it would be a daunting task indeed. He hadn't had time to fix it, so he had taken a quick trip to the Cotton's farm to see if he could borrow theirs.
When Rose opened the door, Sam couldn't hold back his smile. She returned it warmly, and Sam was surprised to feel a blush rising in his cheeks. Rose had never made him blush before—why was now any different?
"Hullo, Sam. What brings you here at this hour?" Rose asked brightly, her smile never leaving her flushed cheeks.
For a moment, Sam couldn't speak. He gave himself a mental kick. For the Shire's sake, Samwise, it's just Rosie. "Actually, Rose, I came to see if I could borrow your father's wheelbarrow. Mine's in a right state, and I need to be getting on with Mr. Bilbo's backyard tomorrow. If it's not too much trouble," he added hastily.
"Not at all," Rose replied easily. She stepped out next to Sam and closed the door quietly behind her. "Papa's taking his after-supper nap; it would be best not to wake him. I'll just take you to the garden shed."
Without a moment's hesitation, Rose took Sam's hand in hers, her fingers falling comfortably into place between his own. A feeling of deep content settled on Sam, and the butterflies that had been beating against his chest laid to rest. This was where he was meant to be—hand in hand, side by side, with his beloved Rose.
Rosie led him around the back of the farm to a little underground shed built into one of the hills. Here she let go of Sam's hand and opened the door. She rummaged around for a few moments inside, then emerged with the wheelbarrow. "It might need a little oil on the wheel, but it's better than having a loose—" She stopped and looked at Sam, who suddenly realized he had been staring at her for entirely too long. "What's on your mind, Sam?" she asked quietly.
What had been on Sam's mind had been a very radical realization—that he loved this lass, this Rosie Cotton, and maybe always had. He looked into her eyes, those endless pools of dewdrop blue, and an echo of her voice resounded in his mind: don't be afraid to give yourself the chance. Suddenly, a stronger, braver Sam seemed to surface. "Miss Rose? Do you think it would be alright if I kissed you?"
This bold Sam retreated as quickly as he had appeared. In the second of silence that followed he scolded himself with every name his Gaffer had ever invented. Why had he even asked that? He was so—
His thoughts were silenced as Rosie's lips found his. Instantly, he was thrown into a whirlpool of dizzied pleasure, and would have fallen backward had Rose not held him there with her touch. And all the while, a voice played at the back of Sam's mind, quietly telling him that this was it—this was where he was meant to be.
All too soon, Rose pulled away, just enough to look Sam in the eyes, their noses close enough to touch. Her breath was warm on his face as she spoke, her voice painted with the laughter that was Rose: "I think that would be fine, Sam."
All Sam could do was smile.
* * *
"Sam? Sam!"
A hand fell on Sam's shoulder and he was jolted abruptly from his reverie. His eyes were ripped from the Mallorn tree and landed on the face of Peregrin Took, standing in front of him. Sam smiled brightly and gave his companion a quick embrace. "How long have you been standing there, Master Pippin?"
Pippin snorted. "Long enough to know you haven't heard a word I've said, so I'll ask it again: what are you doing here, Sam? You're supposed to be getting ready for a wedding. Sam?"
Sam's eyes had again slid out of focus, as if he were lost in some memory. Pippin sighed.
"You're not getting cold feet, are you?"
"No master Pippin," Sam said cheerfully, returning to their conversation. "My feet have not been cold since our trip up the Misty Mountains, and that's the truth."
Pippin chuckled. "I meant you're not getting nervous? We can't have you running off unless you've got Rose in your arms, and I'm afraid you'll have to wait until after the ceremony for that—Rose got us some of the best ale in the Shire from the Green Dragon, and I'm not about to let your nerves ruin a good reason for me to have a drink."
While Pippin spoke, Sam began to remember some of the feelings that he had woken up with that morning: an unfounded apprehension for what was to come that afternoon. He struggled to remember what Mr. Frodo had said that morning, but he could not recall the exact words. In the end he had to settle for simply pushing his fears to the side, for a time when Master Pippin was not there to distract him from his musings.
"No fears there, Pippin," Sam said, patting Pippin's arm. "But if you'll excuse me, I need to be getting on my way—I need to…um…well, I need to see to some things." Pippin opened his mouth to reply, but Sam looked again to the Party Field. "And it seems you need to see to those tents, or there will be no place for you to drink your ale no how."
Pippin turned to see his crew, now totally wrapped in the unruly tent that had run away so mischievously before. He ran off to aid them, and Sam continued on his journey. For a moment, he wondered to himself what Rose was doing, what she was feeling, while he walked past the scenes of New Row.