Nel rose early, as always. Frodo was soundly asleep; she daren't risk waking him with a kiss, so contented herself with brushing one of those silken locks from his dear face. Smiling, she took herself off to the kitchen to begin baking her many loaves.
When Frodo left her bedroom just after sunrise, he seemed better—brighter, more composed. He didn't look rested; Nel supposed that was impossible, given the night they'd had. After a brief greeting, they moved about the kitchen in companionable silence, preparing their morning meal amid the aroma of fresh-baked bread. She couldn't stop stealing glances at him as they worked. He saw what she was doing, of course, and her game of hiding her fond smiles became one of both of them smiling to themselves until at last Frodo took her in his arms from behind and hugged her, planting a good-morning kiss on her ear.
"Sleep well?" he asked.
"It wasn't the sleeping I enjoyed," Nel replied.
Frodo kissed her again, then moved away to carry their breakfast to the table. When she saw his face again, his smile had softened. He looked pensive. A foreboding rose within her.
Nel joined him, bringing butter and jam for their toast. "You must go this morning?"
"Within an hour or two. Although they loaded the wagon yesterday, I imagine it will take some time for the families to get everyone fed and together. Still, I should put in an appearance fairly soon."
"And I, alas, must open shop. In half an hour the bread line will be out the door."
"A fitting tribute to your labors, I'm sure."
Nel buttered her toast thoughtfully. "Waymeet is not so very far from Hobbiton."
He smiled, and Nel saw that the sadness was back, full force. It struck a pang through her heart. "I hope we will meet, from time to time. I will certainly look for you, whenever I'm here."
It was a bland assurance at best. Nel hurriedly fixed her tea, to cover her disappointment.
Frodo interrupted her. "Nel, I'm sorry. I don't want to hurt you again."
Nel looked up with the teapot in her hand. "Hurt me?"
He seemed to search for words. "I'm… failing, Nel. I feel it. These wounds…"
Nel's mind shouted an angry protest: I can help you! But she let him speak on.
"The land is blossoming, the saplings that dear Sam planted last autumn are springing up as if eager to make one year do for six. Everywhere around me I see it and feel it: everything in the Shire is coming back to life—everything but me."
Nel set the pot down briskly. "That's nonsense. You've had a bad time, Frodo, but so did we all. You need time to rest, to heal." To love, she mentally added.
Frodo divided the eggs he'd made between them. It was such a small portion, Nel had thought he'd meant them only for himself. No wonder he was so thin.
Frodo didn't look at her when he spoke. "I've invited Sam and Rosie to live with me at Bag End. They moved in just after their wedding last month."
Nel didn't quite see where this was going. "That was kind of you."
"Bag End has room for loads of children. And I…" He met her eye, held it. "I will never marry, Nel. It… wouldn't be fair."
Nel's anger returned. "You might well let a lass make up her own mind as to what she considers fair! You've been ill, I can see that. What of it? We all have our burdens. No one past the age of tween expects life to be perfect."
"I know. I wouldn't tell you this if I didn't know you'd understand. The Shire is growing. You are growing; I see it in your face, in the glow of your spirit. You—well, I mustn't advise you what to do with your life. But if I could have a wish, it would be to see you happily married at last. You have punished yourself for your past transgressions long enough. I would see your affection returned by someone capable of making a return. Someone who will be here, three years hence."
She didn't understand him. Did he mean to go away again? Where would he go, back to Gondor? Irritably, she said, "Well, you've obviously taken yourself out of the running. Who do you think this mystery husband of mine could be?"
"Filibert."
It was spoken so matter of factly, Nel stared at him. "Filibert!" She hadn't thought of her old beau for years—well, not seriously. "How do you know he's even available?"
"I don't. But he was your first love and… it would please me to know that you were with someone who appreciated you, and the reverse. You are capable of a great deal of love, my dear Nel." His smile warmed. "I am qualified to comment in this regard, I think."
Nel huffed. Filibert! Imagine her looking up Filibert Boffin, after all these years. She spread jam on her toast distractedly. "I believe he's moved up to Little Delving." She froze when she realized she had spoken aloud. At Frodo's smile, she felt her face warm with a blush.
"Interesting." Frodo nibbled at his eggs, but his eyes were bright with mischief. "I believe by road Little Delving is just as close to Waymeet as Hobbiton, if not more so."
Nel clucked her tongue at him, which made him grin. The conversation lightened, and they finished their meal. Every moment the sky was growing lighter, as Nel could well see from her kitchen window.
There came a rap at the front door just as they started clearing the table. Nel leant close to plant a swift kiss on Frodo's lips. He tasted sweet, like blueberry jam. "I must open shop, I fear. And you—"
"Yes. Our public awaits. Sweet Nel." He pulled her in for a deeper kiss. Nel thought nothing could feel as fine as the way she melted against his chest. He broke the kiss and stroked her cheek, gazing deeply into her eyes. Out front, the muffled rap came again.
Nel sighed. "I'd best open up before whoever it is decides to come round back."
Frodo released her. "Quite. I suppose I should make my escape, whilst I have a chance."
Nel caught at his hand. "Don't stay away, Frodo. Please."
"You'll see me again. I promise." He kissed her hand and, with a final, serious look, slipped out the back door into the brightening day.