Author's Note: Hello again from the realm of all things Lemondroppy! First of all, I surrender myself to any reprimand I receive for being gone so long, because I deserve whatever I get. I have no excuse for being gone as long as I have, and I apologize. This chapter was tough. And my muse was stubborn. But it's done, it's here, and hopefully the rest of the story will go a bit smoother. A little note to you all: you people make my day, seriously. One of the best parts about writing this story is getting feedback, and I can't thank you enough for taking time to read and review for my story. hugs for all I hope I haven't lost you all as an audience in my absence…Now, for some individual gushing...

Aemilia Rose: Where has Rose gone? Good, I'm glad you liked that quote...I was a little worried when I re-read it, because I thought it might be too soon for Sam to say something like that...but when I'm writing, I have to let the characters do what they want, not what I want, and at that moment, that's what Sam wanted to say. So I let him say it :)

ENTr Imperceptus: "The characters are so alive it's just amazing." faints from ego inflation Wow, I'm so happy you can feel the characters that way! Thank you, too, for your suggestion: constructive criticism rocks, because this is a learning experience for me after all. Truthfully, I am known to get carried away with description, and I wanted the focus in this story to be the characters. So I guess in my effort to cut down on description I almost cut it out entirely...oops. Seriously, I could make this thing an epic, but I wasn't sure what kind of attention span I would be drawing in FFN. Of course, if you're still reading this, then you must have a pretty good attention span :) Anyway, from here on out, there will be more description involved, because the situation has changed...you'll see what I mean in this chapter.

Graciloo: Gee, thanks! Fantasmagorical is my new favorite word :)

Herculeha: Gosh, you think Tolkein would be proud? I hope so...thank you so much! And Jolly thanks you for the food and sends his hugs :)

Rowen: Thanks for clapping! I do that too! I'm glad I'm not the only one :) As I said before, the characters control me, not the other way around, and Jolly just hopped out of my pen and onto the page. He wanted a chapter, and I had to give it to him :)

Danny Barefoot: Many thanks! Yeah, I really liked the Party Tree moment…it's like the turning point for Sam and Rose. Glad to see you back, and hope you enjoy the chapter.

Again: thank you everyone! Enjoy the chapter! --- luv, luck, and spring is finally here, Lemondrop

! ! !

An exasperated Merry trudged down the hill toward Bag End, looking off in the direction Pippin had indicated Sam went off in, but that had been over an hour ago—best to see what Frodo thought of the matter. Around him the inhabitants of Hobbiton milled in utter delight, completely oblivious to the fact that the groom had gone missing. They continued their preparations, occasionally breaking out in song while completing their tasks. Someone had taken the liberty of opening one of the ale barrels, and was now being scolded by a disgruntled looking Hobbitess. Flowers flew through the air as the children tossed stray blossoms about. Merry tried to make his way without a fuss, though he did not miss an opportunity to stop and chat for a moment with a very special lass. He was not in a hurry. Unlike Pippin, he was confident that Sam would not run off for good…would he?

On the opposite side of the field, the Hobbit lad ran to where the tents had finally been set up. He found the Hobbitess who had sent him to check on the cake and told her that he didn't know if it was done or not. When she began to scold him, he stopped her with an intriguing story of a conversation he had heard outside the Cotton's kitchen window...

! ! !

The trees linked arms above Sam's head as he walked further into the heart of Hobbiton. His eyes rested on the ground in front of his traveling feet, not really focusing on anything in particular, for he was lost in the memories that had blanketed him all morning. He had almost forgotten what a trying experience that night at the Cotton's farm had been for him…he, only just past his tweens, standing in front of the Cotton's fireplace…in the exact same spot that he had met Rose so many years ago…scared to death of the Hobbit that sat in the chair before him, of the words he would hear coming from Farmer Cotton's mouth when he finished his request. At that moment in time, it had been the scariest thing he had ever done in his life. The scariest thing…

Unbidden, a thousand pictures flashed across his mind's eye—orcs; arrows; fire; ash—No—marshes; faces; Shelob; darkness—Stop—swords; oliphaunts; wraiths—Please—tears; blood; Frodo—

Sam pinched his eyes shut, trying to stop his tears from escaping. No. He told himself firmly. You're not going to do this now, Sam. Not today.

His eyes fell back to the dirt path, this time watching the sunspots that danced like little yellow puddles on the ground, his mind fishing for something else to dwell on. How many times had he walked the length of this road? More than he could count, certainly. He had taken a trip to the Cotton's hole almost every night of his and Rose's courtship…until the night he'd had to leave…

! ! !

Sam rounded the final bend in the road and exited the shade of the trees to find the familiar view of the Cotton's farm spanning before him. The sun was low in the sky, hanging from the clouds like a fat yellow dewdrop and caramelizing the graceful hills of the Cotton hole with golden light. The tendrils of autumn had just begun to take hold of the surrounding trees, so that shocks of orange and red shot through the otherwise green hillsides. Autumn always made Sam feel a bit sad, seeing his beloved plants beginning to recoil for their winter slumber. But it's all a part of life, Sam always reminded himself. Always changing whether you like it or not.

Rose sat at the top of the hill on the sturdy wooden bench in the front yard, curls tumbling around her shoulders, blue skirts spread around her in soft folds. Sam stopped in his tracks as he spotted her, stunned by the beauty that had taken his breath so many times before. She was bathed in the same sunlight that gilded the field, and for a moment Sam was sure she was really glowing with a light that could only belong to the great elves of legend.

Quite a long time had passed since that day beneath the Party Tree, and in that time Sam had been, in a way, rediscovering Rose. He had always known her, but with the heart of a friend; now he was beginning to know her with the heart of a lover. There were little things—her turned up nose, the way she laughed, how her eyes sparkled—that had always been beautiful, but had never before been so…beautiful. Now he watched as she raised a delicate hand to turn a page in the book that rested in her lap; the simple movement entranced him as if he had never seen a hand move before.

Tears bit at the back of Sam's throat as he remembered what business had brought him here; he hadn't thought leaving would be this hard. He had agreed to accompany his master on his journey months ago, but then Frodo's birthday had seemed such a long way away. Now here he stood, on the eve of the 23rd—ready to go, but not ready to leave. You're not going to be gone forever, Sam scolded himself. Still, something tugged at the back of Sam's mind, a silent worry that he wouldn't be back, that this would be the last time he would see her. Again, he pushed the feeling away. Ninnyhammer, he scolded again, you're only going to Rivendell…how long could that take? Mr. Bilbo never seemed to think it was all that far… All the same, he let his eyes trace over every outline of Rose, starting at her feet and following her every curve until he reached her face. He felt the desperate urge to etch that vision of her in his mind, so that no matter how long he would be gone, he would be able to retrieve this picture of her and remember.

"Sam!"

Just as Sam's eyes met Rose's face, she looked up. Her lips broke into a radiant smile, a smile that never failed to make Sam weak. In a flash, she set down her book and ran down the gray stone path to meet him. Before he knew it she was in his arms, placing a warm, welcoming kiss on his lips. "You're early tonight, Sam love," she said joyously, her arms wrapped around his neck.

Sam smiled. "I know. I didn't even have to come to your window."

Rose giggled. A pleasant shiver ran through Sam's body as she slid her hand down his arm, her palm coming to rest against his. "Come inside," she smiled, leading him by the hand up the front stone walk toward the Cotton hole. "I've just finished some baking. There's a pie in the—"

Sam gave a gentle tug on her arm to stop her. "Wait a minute, Rose dear." She turned and looked at him, the look on her face pleasantly inquisitive. A stray curl bounced in front of her eyes, and Sam resisted the urge to reach out and tuck it behind her ear. He had to tell her. Before he lost his nerve. Before he looked at her one more time and changed his mind about leaving. He pushed himself to speak. "I need to talk to you about something."

A grin and a slight blush came to Rosie's cheeks. "Oh?" She raised her eyebrows in surprised question.

Sam shifted his feet uncomfortably. He knew very well that, under normal circumstances, it would soon be time for him to be asking for Rosie's hand. She would be expecting it any day now. And oh, how he wanted to ask her. He took her hand in both of his, felt her softness and her warmth. A vision flashed across his mind—Rose in her wedding dress, then on their wedding night; Rose with a tiny hobbit babe—their hobbit babe—in her arms; sitting by the fire with some after supper tea and a pipe, his arm around her shoulders as she drifted off to sleep—a future that he longed to reach out and take for his own. But these are not normal circumstances, Samwise, he reminded himself. He blinked back a few tears that threatened to fall. He had other obligations, had made other promises, that needed to be fulfilled before new ones could be made; no matter how much he wanted to be in two places at once, he knew that it wasn't possible. He took a deep breath and spoke to their hands. "I have to go away for a while. Mr. Frodo needs me to help him on a trip he's taking, you might say."

"Oh." The disappointment in Rose's voice was slight, but it was enough to make Sam's heart want to break. He kept his eyes down, afraid that if he looked at her he would not be able to stop the tears he was holding back. She quickly recovered; "Well that's lovely," she said, her voice filled with genuine happiness for him, which only made his heart ache more. Never thinking of herself…my dear, sweet Rose. "You'll be going with him to Buckland then, won't you? I think it's terribly sad he's gone and sold Bag End to those Sackville-Bagginses; it's such a pretty place for him to be leaving." Rose led Sam the rest of the way up the path and returned to her spot on the bench, one of their favorite sitting places. "You don't know what's made him do it, do you Sam?"

Still looking at his hands, Sam shook his head feebly, though he knew full well what had made Mr. Frodo take such rash action. "Actually, Rose…he'll be taking me a bit farther than Buckland…"

Rose looked utterly confused. "Farther than Buckland? But…there is no place farther than Buckland. Unless you mean to…"

Sam only nodded.

Rose's eyes widened at the very thought of her Sam venturing into the world outside the Shire…the world of elves and dwarves and men. "When will you be back?" she said in a hushed voice.

Finally, Sam brought his eyes, shining sorrowfully, to meet Rose's. "I don't know," he whispered in return. His face was wrought with confusion and fear, longing and controversy. Rose was reminded of long ago, of a little hobbit lad who cried when he was lost in the market, looking for a familiar hand to take his and lead him home.

Not able to bear the look on Sam's face, Rose did the only thing she could think of to do, the only thing that her heart called her to do; she sprung from the bench and into his arms, placing a quick kiss on his tear splashed cheeks.

For a moment, Sam did nothing but stare into her compassionate blue eyes. Then he took her chin in his hands and kissed her as he never had before. Rose gasped in surprise, but soon pulled herself closer to him, desperately clinging to the lad she loved so much. Her heart was stretched to the breaking point, love and worry and desire pushing at the very walls of her chest until she felt she would burst. All she wanted was to know how to help him—how to make things better, so she would never have to see that look on his face again.

He buried his fingers in her hair as he deepened the kiss, wishing more than anything that this moment could last forever, that he would never have to leave the comfort of Rose's arms. Soon his cheeks were wet with her tears as well as his own. They broke away, and Sam rested his forehead against Rose's. She found his hands and locked her fingers with his, and Sam was transported back to his tweenage years, when Rose had first taken his hand in hers…and with it, his heart.

Rose raised their hands to her lips and kissed his fingers; Sam felt the moisture from her cheeks on his fingertips, while his own tears continued to splash down on their knuckles. Her sparkling blue eyes locked with his, filled with love and understanding and stubborn determination forged from spending so many years in a household of lads.

"You listen to me, Samwise," she whispered, and Sam was surprised to hear that she fought to keep her voice steady. He gave her hands a squeeze as she continued. "I belong to you. Frodo could take you to the Misty Mountains and it wouldn't matter because I will always belong to you. And I'll be waiting for the day when you come strolling back up this front walk to knock on my window and sit on the bench with me like you always do." She smiled softly, reached up to brush his sandy-brown locks from his eyes. "I'll wait for as long as it takes."

Sam pulled her into a gentle embrace, wrapped his arms around her warm shoulders and buried his face into her neck. She rubbed his back soothingly until his tears subsided. Then, for a long while the simply held each other, each taking comfort in the other's silence.

! ! !

Thinking back, Sam could hardly remember how he found the will to leave Rose standing in front of the Cotton hole that evening. All he remembered was turning around for one last look as he reached the end of the stone walk; the setting sun bathing the sky with crimson fury, with Rose sitting alone on the bench the two of them had occupied for so many times before. It was a sight that Sam had often called to mind in the days after, when all hope had seemed to have abandoned him. He knew that Rose would not forget him.

Sam shook his head sadly. The Cotton farm had been razed to the ground during Sharkey's rule. The quiet front lawn with the stone walk and the bench was long gone. Still, it sometimes brought him a sense of comfort to sit in the spot where the bench had once been. As if memory sprung from the ground like an old vine to cradle him when he needed to think.

He rounded the final bend and exited the shade of the trees…