FrodoBaggins87: Thank you for your review, and for the suggestion. Description has always been my week point. I'll keep that in mind as I work on the rest of the chapters. Hope you enjoy. Think you'd be able to help with the next chapter? Well, either i/m me on msn messenger (gigglygirl88 at msn dot com -- trying to bypass the removal of links) or on AIM, or e-mail me, and I'll give you the details. Can't let the cat out of the bag on here. :-)

Marpessa: If you still read this, are there any suggestions on how to make it not a Mary Sue? You see, I don't mind people saying that if they point out how it is a Mary Sue. Neither of the girls are based upon me, neither are excessively beautiful, and they're both from the Shire, not tossed in to Middle Earth from the real world. I'm trying to look for what may have made you think that, but I honestly don't see it. Could you help me out in understanding? Thank you, if you do.

Canadian Coco Chick: Thanks for reviewing! Had to laugh at your review. Could tell it was a sugar overload of some sort. :-)

A/N: The next chapter is in progress. Some quirks need tobe worked out of what I have before I can go on with it. School's been really busy (staying up until 1:30 a.m. practically every night because of hw), so I cannot guarantee anything soon. Lord willing, I will behomeschooled next year (my last year of school -sighof relief-),but I will get a job, too, if thatis the case,but I will be free to do fics more often.

But Is It the Right One?

October 23, 1388 S.R., 7:15 p.m.

Frodo ducked around the corner toward Dahlia Bywater's window. He had walked endlessly through Buckland that afternoon, trying to clear his head, and he had come to a conclusion. He had to see Dahlia. He loved her. He could not let her go to a lad she and he both did not like, one who was more concerned with his own wellbeing than a lass' and would sacrifice one's life for his own in an instant. He picked a stone off of the ground and threw it softly at her window. Almost instantaneously, Dahlia's head peeked out from the curtains. She smiled and mouthed, 'I'll be right out.'

Frodo nodded his recognition, and moments later Dahlia was outside. She sat on the bench outside her bedroom window. "Good evening," she said to him.

"Good evening. Mind if I –?" he began to ask.

"No, sit." She looked at him head to toe. "You were with her," she said dully.

"With who?" Frodo asked.

"Primrose Brandybuck," she answered, her voice saddened.

"Yes, but only because I had to be."

"You bought her flowers," she relayed to him.

"Yes, because my uncle had asked me to. Dahlia, I don't care anything for her. I thought for a fleeting moment that maybe I did, but I do not."

"Oh." She looked away, and Frodo tried to get her to look back at him, but she would not.

"What did I say wrong?" he asked.

"You thought you cared for 'er, did you not say so?"

"I did."

"Well, that is it."

"But I do not care for her," he protested gently. She still would not look.

"You must have had some feelings enough for you to have –"

Frodo turned her head gently toward him. "I do not care for Primrose Brandybuck at all."

"Frodo, I want to believe you, but Ma says you will break my heart in the end." She looked at him, eyes sparkling in earnest. "And Pa…Pa says I must marry Will."

"Dahlia, we are not speaking of anything more than friendship right now. I came here to talk to you as a friend. You are the only one I feel I can speak to of what I was told. Merry – well, he's too young, and his father will have no say in this even if I do tell him. I was hoping you would know what to do." He longed for her to say it was alright, even though she could do nothing. He longed for all this to be a dream, that he was not going to be forced to marry Primrose Brandybuck. He loved the lass before him, not the one he had ran out on hours before.

Dahlia turned to face him. "Alright, fair enough. What do ye want to speak of? Tell me, Frodo."

Frodo smiled waningly. "I was told but a few hours ago that I have been promised to Primrose. And she was the one to tell me! She expected that my evening plans had to do with a surprise for her, which they did not. She told me to propose to her then and there! I had to leave; I had to get out of there. Was I foolish?"

Dahlia hid her desire to laugh at his earnest speech, for it struck her as odd for a lad to come to her on this matter. "No, ye weren't foolish at all, Frodo Baggins. Ye just was yourself's all. The question is, why did you run out on her?"

"I told you, I do not care for her."

"Yes, but ye could mean that you more than care for her."

"I do not love her or care for her. I can't! I won't!" He stood, running his hand through his hair in frustration. "She's the most stubborn lass in the Shire, apt to getting her own way. There's no way I could love a lass who's like that."

Dahlia smiled warmly and gave an understanding nod. "I know what ye are going through, Frodo; indeed, I do. It's like that with Will and I, but at the same time a bit different, him being a lad and all. There's times when I absolutely abhor him, but there are some moments, when he opens up, that I think I could learn to love him." Her face softened. "But those moments are rare," she continued quietly. "Too often does he talk of other lasses; too often does he act as though I am not going to be his wife. I don't know if I'll ever understand why my pa is forcing us to wed…" Her voice trailed off, and there were a few moments of silence. "Well, anyhow, this was about you and Primrose."

Frodo looked at her, longing in his eyes. He wanted to hold her close, to let her know he cared, that he could be there for her when times were tough. But he knew by all rights he could not, for people would suspect things. He could not start a scandal that would not only affect him but also the one he truly loved. He knew they were in the same hopeless situation – both were promised to one whom they did not love, and they were crying out silently, hoping to be freed but to no avail. "No," he told her softly. "Not anymore. You need someone to talk to more than I. I was wrong to come to you to speak of my own problems when you have some more pressing than mine."

"Thank you, Frodo," she answered, eyes sparkling. He was the first lad in her life to take her feelings, her needs, her desires into consideration. Her father never did, and neither did Wilcome. The two looked at each other silently for a few moments. She suddenly felt that she was being watched. "I must go back inside. Pa will be wondering about me." She walked away, but then came back and took him in her arms. "Thank you, Frodo, for caring." Before Frodo could say anything, she was back inside.

8:00 p.m.

"Dahlia, in here!" Tom Bywater beckoned, an edge to his voice.

"Yes, Pa!" Dahlia called back, making her way from her the kitchen where she was with her mother to the sitting room.

"Sit down," he said gruffly. "What took you so long outside to fetch wood?"

Dahlia looked at her mother who stood in the hall between the sitting room and kitchen. Her mother smiled sadly at her.

"Someone was outside and I paused to talk with him for a moment," she answered honestly. She only hoped her pa did not find out it was Frodo Baggins.

"Who was it? It most certainly was not Wilcome, for he is not in Buckland but in his hometown of Tuckborough." Tom tapped his foot and crossed his arms impatiently waiting for her answer.

She tried to remember a day, a time, or place when her father had not treated her so, but she found none. As far back as she dared remember, he had always tried to control her, make sure she only went out when beckoned, make sure she was always where she was supposed to be.

Rose's heart went out to her daughter. Tom had not always been like this. When Dahlia was first born, he had acted as though he owned the lot of Middle Earth. Why! He had gone around town on walks, proudly telling every passerby who stopped to admire the baby that she was his daughter, Dahlia Bywater. She remembered those days sadly. Ever since Dahlia had mentioned the name 'Baggins' in their home things had changed. He tightened his hold, took away privileges, even.

"It was Frodo, Frodo Baggins," she answered at last, and her mother drew nearer to intervene if need be.

"Ah, Frodo," Tom said, and for a moment Rose thought all would be well as his voice remained calm. "How is that Baggins lad?" Tom was not against his daughter breaking the promise to be wed to Wilcome Took; in fact, he was for it. The lad had turned out to be a brat, stuck up and set in his ways, and Tom did not approve of his ways. But, he did not want his daughter marrying a Baggins. He was not quite sure why, only a distant memory of his father repeating what his grandfather said, "Never marry a Baggins." He was not quite sure why – if it was a long-running vendetta that the families had long since forgotten about, or if it was one that had started but two generations before him. He certainly had nothing against Frodo, for he was a hard-working lad, worthy of his daughter's love in his opinion, but he was also of the upper class, and he was afraid his daughter would marry him and end up suffering for the rest of her life, being laughed for her lower social standing previously.

"He was fine before, but now he's being forced to marry, and the lass is telling him to propose to her, not waiting for him t'. Y' see, he isn't feeling very happy right now. I – well, that is why I took a little longer, Pa." Dahlia had been standing, but at last she heeded to her father's initial command of "Sit down."

"Well, I hope all goes well for him, but I told ye, ye ain't t' see him unless in a dire emergency he be the only one t' take ye to fetch help." He looked at his daughter's sad demeanor and his eyes softened. "I know ye don't understand it all right now, but it'll be better for ye, ye'll see. I dun' want y' getting hurt." By the end of his statement, his hand was on his daughter's shoulder. "I love you too much for that, Dahlia. Ye must understand that."

Dahlia's face fell. "Pa, I want to see him, at least be his friend. I know I must marry Will, but he doesn't love me."

"I know, Dah, I know, but I can't allow it. I won't allow it."

Rose walked in. She could not allow this to go on any longer. "Tom," she said softly.

"Yes, me love?"

"Can't you let Dahlia be his friend? How bad could it be for them t' just be friends?" She lay her hand on his arm gently and pleaded with her eyes.

His face grew hard again. "I can't," he murmured in a quiet voice.

"And why not, love? Weren't we denied the right t' see each other before, but then finally they conceeded after much begging on both our parts? She could just continue behind our backs seein' him, like we almost did, and it could be worse." She spoke in a whisper, and Dahlia sat wondering what her mum was saying to her Pa.

"Alright, alright," Tom conceeded. "You may see him, as a friend – no more."

"Really, Pa?" she exclaimed, jumping up to hug him.

"Really."

"Thank you!"

"Now, y' needn't be so emotional about gettin' a new friend, especially one who's a lad." He pulled out of her embrace. "Time for ye t' git to bed."

"Yes, Pa," she said jovially. "Goodnight, Mum." She and Rose shared a smile before Dahlia headed toward her room.

8:15 p.m.

Frodo sat in his quarters, head in hands. How could Uncle Merimac force him into this? He groaned loudly in frustration. He wanted to save Dahlia. He wanted to be there for her. For a moment, he wondered if he only felt pity for her, but No, he resolved, I love her. He heard the sound of feet falling nearby and sat up straight, sure they were headed toward his quarters.

With strict precision in timing, a knock sounded on his door. He stood and went to the door. His uncle barged through the moment it was opened. "Hullo," Frodo greeted.

"Hello, Frodo. Sit," commanded Merimac.

"Of course, Uncle. Shall you sit, too?"

"Yes, thank you." He sat in the chair across from Frodo who was seated on his bed. "Well, my lad, this morning Primrose's parents came by, and we have arranged for the two of you to be wed when you come of age."

Frodo groaned. "Then she was telling the truth. Why, Uncle? You have to have seen how she acts! She's stuck up and used to getting what she wants when she wants it. I've tried spending time with her, Uncle. I cannot bear to spend my life with her." Frodo leaned against the wall after his honest dispensation.

"Frodo Baggins, you will marry Primrose. Now, you must do the respectable thing and not cause any problems. I expect to see Primrose flaunting a ring very soon; you are seeing her again tomorrow. Perhaps then would be a good time." Merimac stood and left before there could be anymore discussion.

"Uncle!" Frodo called as Merimac closed the door, but his uncle did not return. He lay back on his pillow, frustrated. "Why?" he asked the air before sleep stole him away.

October 24, 1388 S.R., 6:00 a.m.

Frodo pulled on his shirt, tried to tame his hair, and grabbing a book, he stretched. He wanted to finish his chores quickly today before anyone else rose. He passed a servant or two in the halls but that was all. At last, he reached the stalls where the ponies were kept. One, a small brown filly, whinnied as he came in. "Hullo, Beauty! Nice to see you full of life this fine morning." He began to take the food out, bringing it to each container and filling it up, but for Beauty he left a sugar cube, giving her a pat on the cheek. He proceeded to get the rake and shovel to muck out the stalls, putting the manure in a wooden wheelbarrow, and finally dumping it all in the rich soil of the soon-to-be vegetable patch.

He brought each pony in turn to the corral, save Beauty, who he prepared to mount, putting on a saddle his uncle had bought for him in the market to use when riding. "Ready, Beauty?" he asked with a smile and a pat. Beauty nickered, and Frodo mounted. "Hyah!" he commanded, and off they were.

7:15 a.m.

Frodo reached the marketplace quickly. His aunt had given him the task of choosing some material for his new outfit – an easy task, save for the fact that he would be in a store only lasses would be in. He dismounted his horse in front of the store and tied her to the post. "Stay here, Beauty." He walked into the dress shop. "Good morning," he said to announce his presence.

"Oh, good afternoon, Frodo. What a pleasant surprise! What brings you here?" Mrs. Bolger asked, bustling toward him with a grin.

"Well, Mrs. Bolger, I'm here to pick up a dress for my aunt, and she also wants me to pick out some material for a new outfit for myself," he explained, as his eyes noted Dahlia's presence.

"I shall get right on it," Lily Bolger said.

"Thank you," Frodo replied absently. His mind was already upon Dahlia.

It seemed she had the same train of thought, for she walked over carrying some fine silk material. "Hello, Frodo."

"Dahlia, it's nice to see you. Did I get you in trouble with your father last night?" He sincerely hoped he had not.

"Yes, I was in trouble, but mum saved me. Pa says ye and me could be friends now." She said the last part very cheerfully.

"Really?" he asked and she nodded fervently. "That is wonderful! I'm glad you aren't in trouble." There was a brief period of silence. "So, what are you making with that fine silk?"

"Nothin'. I'm just dreamin'. I would love havin' a dress made o' silk, ye know? But Pa would say it isn't becoming on a lass o' my age to dream such dreams, and the cost shows it!" She laughed. "Couldn't ye just see me paradin' through town, dressed better than all those Brandybucks, and perhaps even the exquisite Tooks?"

"Keep dreaming, Dahlia. If no one dreamed, then there would not be anything we have today." He smiled. "I could see you in that dress, surely, for I shall buy the material for you. Mrs. Bolger, add some of this fine material to my tab, as much as she needs, please."

"It'd be my pleasure, lad!" She chuckled to herself.

"But Frodo, I couldn't impose!"

"Well, if you're coming with me to the party this Friday, you will need a new dress, won't you?" He paused to wait for a response, but all he got was tears. "Did I say something incorrectly?" he asked with concern, not exactly sure how to handle the situation.

"No, ye said it perfect. I couldn't ask fer a better friend, Frodo Baggins. No one has ever been so kind to me in my life, not even Will." She brushed a tear away. "Thank ye, but I cannot accept it."

"I insist. I believe this material was made for you. Put anything else you need to complete it on my tab, as well."

"Frodo, a stubborn lad ye are. What can I do t' repay ye?" She shifted her weight.

"A smile and allowing me to see the finished product on you will be quite enough."

"Alright. Thank ye." She smiled blithely and curtsied.

"You're welcome, and I shall pick you up at 6:30 on Friday." Dahlia nodded her agreement.

Mrs. Bolger walked up to Frodo. "How are these materials?"

"Splendid!"

"I was thinkin' the white material be for the shirt, of course. The cream color could be for your vest, an' the light brown for your jacket and your pants."

"And you thought just perfectly. It will look wonderful!" Frodo did like the colors, but he was not exactly as excited as he was pretending to be. He looked at Dahlia and winked.

"Now, over to the chair so I could get your measurements."

"One would think you would have my measurements on record as often as Aunt Esmeralda comes up with a new reason for me to have a new one," Frodo complained but said as though he were jesting.

"Nay, laddie." She laughed. "That would be wise o' me. Then, I could start workin' on your next outfit as soon as I finish your other. Now, come on over to the chair for me to measure you."

Frodo obeyed, and soon they were done, so Mrs. Bolger began to cut the material. "I shall have this ready by Friday, then?"

"Yes, please, and thank you." He leaned in as though to tell her a secret. He whispered, "When you measure Dahlia, tell her to let you make the dress. I want her to feel like a princess on Friday, silk and all. That lace over there is especially nice to go with a dress made out of that peach silk, does it not? Make it special; don't mind the cost. It shall all go on my tab. I have money to pay for anything."

"Yes, Frodo. I know it is none of my business, but are you sweet on her?"

"Maybe," he answered shortly. "Now, also, when she picks it up Thursday or Friday, please tell her to go to the shoemaker's. I shall ask your husband to make a pair of dress shoes to go with the material that you can show him."

"I shall," she said, smiling. "Good day, Frodo." She handed him a box with his aunt's dress in it.

"Good day, Mrs. Bolger." He made his way to where Dahlia was standing. "Good day, Dahlia."

"Frodo," she acknowledged. "Thank ye."

"You are welcome. It was my pleasure."

As soon as Frodo walked out of the store, he headed to the shoemaker's. "Hullo, Master Bolger!"

"Why, Frodo, how good to see ye!" The two embraced, being good friends despite their age difference. "What brings ye here today?"

"Oh, well, I wanted to visit you, and I wanted to ask you to make a pair of dress shoes for Miss Dahlia Bywater to go with the dress your wife is making. I doubt Mis Bywater has any proper dress shoes to go with the dress."

"Aye, indeed, Frodo, I will. And to be put on your tab, I assume from the way you speak of the dress?"

"Yes, Mr. Bolger," he answered with a smile. "She will be princess for a day!"

"Ah, good, good! Isn't a lass in the Shire more deserving of it than her," Mr. Bolger commented. "Which style?"

"Well, I deem you and your wife worthy and knowledgeable enough to decide that."

"Thank you, Frodo." He made note of the order and proceeded to make conversation with Frodo. "How are you feeling with the party being on the date it is and all?"

"That part does not make it too pleasurable in sound, but I am doing well despite it." He leaned back against the wall.

"That is good. And your Aunt Esmeralda? I know how hard she took it."

"She's doing amazingly well! Sometimes I wonder, though, when I see her dab her eyes during talk of the party at miniscule pauses between her answers."

"Ah, yes, she is thinking of it and remembering it, too. Remember, lad, if you need someone to talk to about it, ye may talk to me. It's been eight years, but even then it is difficult. I remember when me own dear parents passed away. It still aches at times."

Frodo smiled. "Thank you, Mr. Bolger. You are a good friend, the best I have ever had. I need to get back to Brandy Hall before they wonder about me. I woke before everyone and did my chores before leaving for town. They always worry about my eating since my parents passed away, and I have most likely missed first breakfast the way my stomach is growling."

"Aye, it is nearly second breakfast. Good day, lad!"

"Good day, Mr. Bolger." Frodo exited the store and headed for his pony. "Hullo, Beauty!" he greeted, and he received a nicker in reply. "That's a good girl." He mounted her. "Home, Beauty."

9:30 a.m.

Frodo entered the dining hall after letting Beauty loose in the pasture with the rest of the ponies, changing his clothes, and washing up.

"Oh, Frodo, there you are!" his Aunt Esmeralda exclaimed. "Come, join us. You missed first breakfast already."

"Thank you, Aunt," he said, sitting down after giving her a hug, as she had open arms. "I have your dress for you, if you remind me to get it after this meal."

"So that is where you were?" Frodo nodded. "Thank you all the more, lad, missing first breakfast just for me."

"Well, I did visit with Mr. Bolger afterwards, and you know how his wife can be after measuring you."

"Aye, I do." She smiled at the young hobbit before continuing. "Now, eat."

Frodo willingly obeyed.

October 28, 1388 S.R., 5:30 p.m.

Dahlia gasped as she opened the package she had brought home from the dressmaker's. The dress was even more beautiful and exquisite than she had imagined. She lifted it out of the box and held it to herself while she looked at herself in the mirror. She twirled around, humming a waltz. She paused when she noticed the shoes. She touched them. How soft they were! And pretty! She had never seen such a fine pair of shoes. Then, she noticed the ribbon that matched the dress perfectly and the stockings. She looked at the clock: 5:45. She had to get ready. Frodo would be there for her in forty-five minutes.

Her thoughts lingered on Frodo. Why had he bought her all this? Did he pity her or was he sweet on her? She did not know, but she hoped it was the latter.

6:30 p.m.

Six thirty on the dot, Frodo rolled up to the Bywater household. Dahlia watched him get out and head toward the door from her bedroom window. She threw on her long jacket over the pretty dress, hoping her pa would not want her to stop and show him her garments. If he found out – she did not want to think about it! "Bye, Mum! Bye, Pa!" she shouted as she made her way to the door.

"Isn't he goin' t' come in? It ain't proper for a lad t' just pick a lass up and leave without seein' her family." Her father stood out of his chair. "Be careful," he told her before a tapping sounded at the door. He walked to it and answered.

"Hullo, Master Bywater!" Frodo greeted cheerfully. "How are you this fine evening?"

"Doin' well, thank ye!" he answered. "Come in for a moment, won't ye?"

"Yes, sir, I will."

"Good lad."

"I would like to thank you for allowing your daughter to come with me to this party," he told Tom as soon as he was inside. "It was kind and generous of you to allow it."

"I have nothin' against ye, lad, though I will admit I don't fancy y' for my daughter."

Tom was known to speak his mind, and Frodo replied undaunted. "And I am fine with that, sir. I understand that you would want someone better for her."

"Hmph," grunted Tom, unsure whether or not to take Frodo's last statement as being sincere or not. "Well, you two best go now. Don't want ye t' be late."

"Thank you, sir. Good evening."

"Good evening. Take good care of my daughter."

"I will, sir."

Dahlia smiled at her father before walking out with Frodo.

7:00 p.m.

They had been at the party for fifteen minutes, waiting for everyone to join them in Brandy Hall's grandest banquet room and enjoying each others company.

"Frodo?" Dahlia said after they had been silent for a while. "Where's the privy?"

"Oh, I'll have May take you. May!" He called the maid, and she came.

"Yes, Master Baggins?"

"Would you please show Miss Bywater to the privy?"

"Yes, Master Baggins. Right this way, Miss." Dahlia followed after the maidservant.

As soon as she left, Frodo's attention was drawn for the first time to a new and odd location for curtains. Had they installed a new window? He walked slowly toward the burgundy drapes, noting the golden tassel that hung limply on a slick rope.

"Frodo?" called Esmeralda.

He turned quickly. "Yes, Aunt?"

"Please, do not go near that…for now."

"Alright."

Seeing Frodo's puzzled look, she added with a smile, "It is a surprise for the party."

"Oh, of course."

7:03 p.m.

Dahlia examined every item as she passed by. Never had she seen a place more exquisite in her life! Whether it was the intricate detail on the ceiling or baseboards or the antiques that filled the passageway she was going through, she was amazed.

"Here we are, Miss."

"Thank you."

7:20 p.m.

Frodo's eyes widened as he beheld the sight of Dahlia in the dress Mrs. Bywater had made for her. "Welcome back," he said.

Dahlia smiled as she noticed him check her out. "Thank you." They stood silently for a few moments. "How long until the party begins?"

"Well, judging by how few people are here – not for a while." He looked around, glancing again at the "surprise." "That dress looks very becoming on you. What did your father say?"

"Pa didn't see it. He'd have gotten madder than any of them men in those stories pa told me when I was younger." She laughed nervously.

"Why is that?"

"He doesn't like it when I dress up. Says it makes the lads look too much." She looked away and then looked back hopefully. "Ye don't think so, do ye? Ya wouldn't be mad if ye had a daughter and she dressed up, would y'?"

"No, I do not, nor would I be." Their eyes locked for a moment, but she broke it, glancing away nervously.

This was all the entrance Primrose needed. She walked up haughtily. "Hello, Frodo," she said, making him feel like a dog on a leash by her icy cold glare.

"Prim," he acknowledged.

"What are you doing here – with her?" she said in a harsh whisper.

"I asked her to come with me," he explained. "I wanted her to have a good time tonight."

She glared at him. "And the dress – how ever did she afford that?"

"I bought it for her the other day. Is that wrong to make someone else feel special?"

Primrose grabbed his arm – roughly. She began to walk, and he gave a helpless look at Dahlia. "Yes, it is. When one is promised to someone else, it is wrong for him to do so."

"I have yet to acknowledge that as true, Primrose Brandybuck, and I shall never do so."

She looked over at two lads in the corner, both bigger and stronger in looks than Frodo, who followed her gaze. She began to motion them.

"Primrose Brandybuck, please," he said, his eyes trying to reach the kind side of her he had seen before. "Do you really want a marriage not based on love? Do you really want a marriage based on fear? Prim, I care for you, as a friend and nothing more. You deserve better; really, you do. You deserve one who, when shown your softer side, would love you and not resist letting himself love you."

"Frodo, no one is better than you here in Buckland or Hobbiton or Tuckborough," she protested.

"There is, if you look." He turned and looked at Dahlia who blushed under his gaze. "I have found the one I love, and you will too, in time. There will be a lad who cares about you as more than a friend, but that lad is not me. I truly am sorry. I tried to love you, but I cannot, for I love Dahlia."

Primrose stayed her hand. "Alright, Frodo, I will let you be," she told him. For now, she added in her mind.

"Thank you!" he exclaimed, hugging her happily. "I'm going to go back to Dahlia, alright?"

"Alright, Frodo," she resigned, heading toward the two lads who stood in the corner.

"Ah, free at last," Frodo commented to Dahlia when he had returned to her side.

"Good. I was getting nervous. I don't know this great number of people." She shifted her weight. "Did she really let ye go like that? Any lass wouldn't let ye go so soon, I do not believe."

Frodo smiled. "Are you thirsty?"

"Yes, a little."

"Stay here; I will go get us something to drink."

"Thank ye," she told him.

8:04 p.m.

"Let's go for a walk," suggested Frodo.

"Alright," she answered softly, allowing him to help her stand.

The two walked together hand-in-hand as the moon shone through the shimmering canopy of dark trees above and glistened on the serene lake beside them. There was no one but the two of them, and they continued ever on, neither wanting their time together to end.

They halted beside the pristine lake and Frodo looked down at her; he lifted her chin and behld her beauty. "I –" he began but halted and let his hand drop to his side.

She looked up at him. Why did he not just say it? "You what?" she asked, her eyes glistening in the moonlight.

"I love you," he finished, afraid of being rejected.

"Love me? Oh, Frodo!" She threw her arms around his neck and held him close. Then, she pulled back to look at him. "I love ye, too; I've only been waiting for ye to say it." She smiled at him and he at her.

"Should I speak with your father?"

"Yes, as soon as possible!" she exclaimed.

Frodo looked at her. "That means you shall accept?" At her nod, he lifted her up and twirled her around. She laughed merrily and it sounded as a beautiful melody to his ears.

"I must get home now before Father realizes I am gone," she said, eyeing him wistfully.

"I'll walk you. It is only ten minutes out of my way."

"Thank you." He took her hand once more in his and began down the moonlit path again.

Alas, they made it to the trelis that led to her door. The two embraced and she walked to the door, stopping only to look back and say, "Goodnight."

Frodo answered softly back, "Goodnight, my love." He waved and began his short trek home, but he was lonely without her gentle presence beside him.

TBC...