A/N: Hopefully this will turn into a multi-chapter thing. That's what I'm planning, anyway. Reviews are appreciated and constructive criticism is welcome.

And now for the legal bit; characters, places and events are the inventings of J.R.R. Tolkien, not me. Pity.

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Oh, but he had grown. She had thought he was grown before and he had been, in body, intellect and sensibility. But she looked at him now, and saw that there was something there, in the way he held his head, in his voice, strong but still sweet. Something that hadn't been there last she saw him.

Last she saw him... That had been little over a year ago now. To think, her little boy, more precious to her than anything she could ever buy with money, more precious than stones and gems and metals...

To think that she had almost given him up for dead, only to see him riding into the courtyard, all clothed in leather and brass buckles and a sword at his side. A sword! Where had he been, what had he done, what had he faced to warrant such a blade on his belt? She hadn't cared, of course, not at that moment. She had only wanted to hold him and rock him like the small child he had been, like the child he would always be in his mother's eyes, the child she had missed so much. Wanted to scold him, skin him, send him to his room without dinner and supper for scaring her so. To ask him question after question after question; where did you go, why did you go, why were you away so long, did you think of us at all, did we upset you... Don't you love us like we love you? Oh, she had been so happy to have her son back, but she couldn't help wondering...

It was only now, while she stood aside to let his father greet him, that she saw he wasn't her lad. Not the same lad. Not the same lad she knew about a year ago. She was his mother; doubtless she would be the only one (besides, perhaps, her husband) who would ever notice the difference, small as it was. She couldn't even tell what the change was, but she knew it was there, whatever it was. Thinking about it though, there was a certain... grimness about him. Well, that was to be expected. After all, the only thing that had stopped him returning sooner was the battle over in Bywater. At least a dozen hobbits killed, she had heard, more than three times that, she had heard from others. Such tragedy, such devastation was bound to make any hobbit feel the same way. But still...

She would just have to ponder over it, maybe ask her husband, or her son himself once he'd settled in a bit.

Her happy tears were still damp on her cheeks, leaving a sting in the cold. Esmerelda followed as her husband led Merry into the Hall amid a cheering, whistling crowd, all turned out to hail the great hero of the Shire and Buckland, Captain Meriadoc. She watched and smiled as he bent to embrace a couple of favourite relations that were desperate to welcome him back. Then she had a thought.

'My goodness!' her memory exclaimed. 'He's grown taller!'