A/N: This one's rather short, forgive me...hope you enjoy, and thank you all for reviewing! It really makes my day!

Chapter Seven: Botheration!

"All right, last question," he said slowly, drawing the words out, his brown eyes fixed on mine. "Are you from Middle-earth?"

BOTHERATION!

Looking back on it, I should have realized—if only from the boy's tone and the hard, irritated look in his eyes—that he only asked the question out of sheer frustration with my lack of useful answers. He had one question left, so he asked it out of aggravation. It was something I would've done.

And yet, at the time, I completely missed the annoyed sarcasm in his voice. All I could think was botheration with a few tangents into obscenity for flavor. I stared—of course I stared. I could no longer speak—my jaw had been permanently unhinged. A rather unnerving combination of crickets and a laugh track (you know, like on movies) kept playing in my head like someone had hit the 'repeat' button... oh, yeah, it was that bad.

"Look!" Goldilocks said suddenly, making me jump and swing around in the direction she pointed, heart hammering. I half expected hobbits bearing pitchforks and torches, telling me that I had to amscray, or they'd... I dunno... hand me over to the Uruk-Hai or something.

I almost swore at her for scaring me like that; crossing towards us was none other than Rosie Gamgee, come to visit. "Mrs. Gamgee!" I said delightedly, turning away from Faramir.

His face, like mine, was a study in slack-jawed astonishment, the brown eyes wide, his mouth forming a little 'o'. I could almost see the wheels clicking underneath that curly mop of his, and internally cursed my inability to lie convincingly. He was certain to figure it out now!

"Good day, Gwen!" Rosie said to me, smiling brightly.

"What brings you the whole way to Buckland? Is Master Gamgee with you? And the other children?"

The Gamgees had quite a swarm of littles overrunning their hobbit-hole. The eldest, Elanor, had recently gone to Gondor to be a companion to Lady Arwen; the youngest, Ruby, was only two years old. Rosie's midriff was slightly swollen with another child, and if memory serves, there was at least one more on the way after this one, or so I'd gleaned from the books.

"Only Frodo," she said. Frodo was their second-eldest. "Actually, I've come to find you!"

"Me!"

She nodded. "Goldie, Faramir, you will watch the younger ones, won't you?"

"Yes, Mother," and "Yes, Auntie Rosie," echoed from them as Rosie put her hand on my arm—obviously linking arms was out of the question, even between a hobbit and a short human—and guided me a bit away from the children.

"I'm afraid I have a rather large favor to ask you, Gwen," she began delicately when we were a suitable distance away. I looked over, curious. "My husband's birthday is coming up, and the dear fellow has gone quite mad. The party won't be quite up to old Bilbo's standard, but it will be the nearest that the Shire has seen in seventeen years!"

Here I gave the necessary exclamation—an 'oh, my!' or a 'dear!' or something like that, I don't really remember.

"I was rather hoping that you would come with us back to Hobbiton and stay for a bit—help keep the children in line, and all that. Of course, Merry, Estella, Pippin, and Diamond—along with their assorted littles—will be coming as well. It's an awful lot to do, I know, but it won't be all work for you! We have a few hobbit-lasses in Hobbiton who care for the children as well, and they've had little work lately, what with you having to deal with the terrible three," I smiled at the fact that we had the same name—or very close to the same name—for Glory, Merry, and Pip, "so you can come along as a guest! What say you, dear? I know the children would love you to come!"

"We would, we would!"

Rosie and I both looked down to see that Daisy had followed us.

The little hobbit looked up at me with big eyes. "You will come, won't you, Gwennie?"

I groaned. "She's doing the sad puppy face," I wailed to Rosie, who laughed merrily.

"I'll take that as a yes, then."

Daisy was still pouting appealingly at me. I sighed and grimaced before looking up at her mother.

"I think you'd better."

All I can say is, whoever designed the sets for Hobbiton in the movies must have been channeling Middle-earth or something. It wasn't exactly the same, of course, but it was damn close! The style—clean-cut, cheery old English village—was right on. The thatched roofs of houses and other buildings gleamed in the sunlight, set like drops of gold and rough silver in the brilliant green fields surrounding it. The road was in relatively good shape; the ride there (I had ridden a horse borrowed from Bree, since I'd take up an inordinate amount of room in a hobbit's wagon) was sunny and bright, and didn't take as long as I'd thought; we left after a hearty breakfast, and even allowing for stops in the name of 'calls of nature' or meals, we arrived just in time for supper.

I swear, these hobbits have ridiculously good senses of timing, especially when it comes to meals. You could set a clock by young Merry's stomach!

As promised, there were two hobbits—Dahlia and Lily—waiting for 'the Governess of the Hall' when we reached the Gamgee's hole. It was quite roomy, and soon the two hobbit-lasses—both of them were only a few years shy of their thirty-third—were soon helping me unpack. They seemed slightly in awe of me, which tickled me to no end. After all, I was a good ten years younger than Dahlia, and the difference between Lily's age and my own was even greater.

I didn't bring too much with me—several work dresses, a few nice ones for the festivities, and three pairs of trousers and tunics. Add in my trusty old Birkenstocks, a pair of boots and another of slippers (both purchased in Bree), all of the jewelry given to me in lieu of payment by the mothers of Brandy Hall, and several books that I had borrowed from Master Merry in order to brush up on my Middle-earth history, and it just barely filled a medium-sized trunk. Goldilocks had brought three the same size!

In any event, our unpacking was soon done, and we were gossiping like old friends. I'll say this much about hobbits—it's quite easy to relax in their company. Dahlia was quiet, cheerful, and industrious; Lily was loquacious and a bit on the silly side, but she had quick hands and a quicker eye.

"So, you're the Governess of the Hall?" was the first thing she said to me.

"Taller than I'd expected," Dahlia said with a modest smile.

I laughed. "I get that a lot, actually."

With that, our friendship was cemented.

As it turns out, Lily and Dahlia barely had any contact with the hobbit-children, either. With so many people around (the population of Hobbiton was far greater than that of Buckland), there wasn't too much trouble they could get into, so they were generally given free reign. I thought that it was a mark of my success as governess that Daisy, Goldilocks, and Faramir seemed to enjoy spending time with me even when they didn't have to, though most often they were off with their friends.

In any event, the three of us soon found ourselves with a great deal of free time—most of which was spent either helping prepare everything for the party, or deciding what to wear and how to do our hair. Well, mostly that last bit was Lily and Dahl, while I listened and offered advice.

Three days passed quickly in Hobbiton; most of the time was spent either with the children or with my newfound friends, though I did find some time to study the books that Master Merry had lent me.

The evening of the party (well, the evening of the beginning of the party, since one of this magnitude would most likely last for two days at the least), after I had dressed and prepared, the house was in an uproar. In an attempt to find peace for a few moments before the festivities began, I took a book about the history of Dale and a small lantern and slipped out of the house, nestling into a little corner of Rosie's garden with the book open on my lap and a cool breeze brushing my warm cheeks. I wasn't more than halfway through a rousing account of Bard's tale when I heard hoof beats pounding up the road.

"Ho! The hole!" a voice called through the darkness; even though I couldn't see the rider's face, I could hear the smile in his voice. Frodo and young Merry came out to meet the rider.

"Can we help you, sir?" Frodo asked politely.

"Aye, you certainly can! I've ridden hard for a week to get here—I haven't missed the party, have I?"

"No, it's to begin soon!"

"Good! Here, lad, you take my horse. Is the little master at home?"

"I'll fetch him. What name should I give?" Merry asked as Frodo led the man's horse down to the stables, alongside my own stout mare.

I closed the book, peering through the rosebush behind which I'd hidden. I could see Merry's silhouette clearly, and before him a very, very tall man. Well, I suppose he only looked that tall because he was only the third or so actual Man that I'd seen since I woke up in the Old Forest. He wore a dark cloak and carried a lumpy bundle; the only thing I knew about him was that he had blond hair, because the light from inside the hole caught and flared like gold in the curls around his face.

"Tell him Bowen is here, on behalf of Lord Elessar Telcontar, King of Gondor, to wish him a very happy birthday!"

"I'll do so."

As Merry scampered back inside, bellowing for his father, Bowen of Gondor turned away from the warm hole to glance up into the night sky, blossoming with stars. The light fell across his face, and as the breath caught in my throat, the only thing I could think was...

Botheration.

This one's gonna be hard!