Chapter Seven: Surprises

Rosie pauses in the road and glances at the yellow door behind a small fence. She rocks on the balls of her feet as she debates with herself. She looks down the road and then back towards the door. She really should keep on going. She feels the heavy basket on her arm remind her further of the need to return home. She will need to start fixing dinner very soon. But... Rosie tosses her head, a decision made. She will take a few minutes. With a sure step she crosses to the fence and swings open a gate. She then walks up the dirt path a little way to the door. She is just about to raise her hand to knock when the round door swings open. A head and then a body pop out from behind the door. They step forth from the shadows, and sunlight kisses the old wrinkled face. But Rosie thinks them beautiful, with their sparkling eyes and always ready smile. They are a couple of inches shorter than the lass. But even in their good old age they are filled with spirit, not wanting to be fussed over but fussing over those whom they call friends. Rosie smiles in return and now is thankful she decided to spare a couple of minutes.

"Hello, Rose. I was hoping you would visit today."

A returning smile spreads over Rosie's face. "Good day, Miss Willow."

"Come in, come in!" the hobbitess says excitedly, beckoning her guest to enter. Rosie steps inside and follows the hobbitess through the hallway and into the kitchen. She sits herself on a bench at the table, setting down her basket at her feet. She folds her hands and smiles happily, contentedly, as her gaze wanders around the room. The small kitchen is clean and cheerful-feeling. Sunlight pours through the window. Being here is a taste of what her old home was like when she had a real family... Rosie shakes her head. Here she feels a little freedom. The loneliness and rejection and lack of love seem a little lighter. And the memories are more cheerful.

"May I help you...?" Rosie inquires, finally noticing her hostess fluttering about the kitchen like a butterfly free from its cocoon.

She starts to rise from her seat only to have Miss Willow put both of her hands on the younger one's shoulders and firmly push her back down.

"There is nothing you can do better than just to relax and allow me to prepare some tea," she answers in a kind tone which welcomes no arguing. Rosie complies. She watches Miss Willow work. She is such a gentle soul, though filled with spirit, Rosie muses, smiling to herself.


She walks to the stand and shifts the basket from one arm, which is growing numb, to the other. She tries to ignore the fact that those also at the stand have grown silent and watch her with curiosity, while trying not to stare. She has been here many times, and the reactions are just about the same as the first time she came. Only now instead of just stares, there are laughs -- and rudeness. But there is also more attention because of that stir her aunt caused last week over how she was being charged more than was fair. Now all knew that they should not try to get more out of her servant, or there would be a storm.

She peers with a sharp eye at the mushrooms and taters. She nods, slightly pleased at the freshness of the vegetables. She waits until two other customers have gotten their purchases before approaching the hobbitess and lad who stand behind the stand. She recognizes the lad, for he is the son of the woman who runs the stand. But the lass does not recognize the woman who is with the lad today, for she is not his mother. The hobbitess looks and smiles at her with a real smile -- not a forced or nervous one like others give to her.

"Good morning!"

"Good morning," the lass greets in a low, shy voice.

The lad only openly stares at the lass with an unkind expression on his face. She quickly looks away and simply asks for how many mushrooms and potatoes she wants. She then hands the woman some silver pieces. The lad is asked to give the lass change. The lass extends her hand. For a moment the lad and lass look each other in the eye before he dumps the change in her hand; some falls short and clatters to the floor. He smirks. Her face burning, though no one can tell, the lass kneels and picks up the coins. She blinks in surprise as the lad is scolded for his behavior. The woman then turns to the lass.

"I apologize. Sometimes he just needs to use his manners more often."

The lass raises an eyebrow in doubt, for he appears to be no younger than herself. But she simply nods and lets the incident pass; she has had worse experiences. She then puts her purchases in the basket. She is about to turn away when a voice stops her.

"What is your name, child?"

The lass is silent for a moment, then looks the hobbitess in the eye, and says, "Rose."

The woman smiles and nods her head in approval. "A lovely name," and gives her another smile.

Both the lad and lass blink in shock. She gives a hesitant nod of thanks, stunned. Those are the first truly kind words that have been spoken to her in this place. She is touched.

"Thank you," the lass says aloud.

"I hope perhaps to see you again," the older one says.

"I hope so, too." And the lass means every word.


Rosie drains the last of her tea. She savors the sweet, yet slightly bitter taste, as it smoothly goes down her throat. She smiles at the old hobbitess, who returns to the table, and at the bittersweet memory of their first meeting.

"Thank you again, Miss Willow," Rosie says, "for, well, everything."

"I am delighted you stopped by, child," the woman answers, setting a plate of cookies on the table. "And you are welcome," she says with understanding.

Widow Willow has been without her husband for over five years now; they never had children. This is why she opened her arms to Rosie -- not only because she was like a daughter, but also because she seemed to be alone. She insists on Rosie calling her "Miss" Willow. "It makes me feel younger," she says with a clear laugh.

Widow Willow helps once in a while at her sisters fruit stand in the market. That is where she and Rosie met and became friends. She is the only one who looked on her with kindness and pity.

Only recently has Rosie started paying Widow Willow a visit once in a while on her way home from the market. She sees her as a mother figure to her. She unknowingly gives Rosie a little of what she received before she was separated from her brothers and before her parents died.

Widow Willow only knows as much as everyone else does about Rosie, namely, that she is a servant to the Cotton family. As far as anyone can tell, she does not have any family. And she goes by "Cinder-Rose." Widow Willow prefers to simply call her Rose, as she had first introduced herself that day at the market.

And having Rose visit brings some cheer into Widow Willow's own life.

"Help yourself," she adds, motioning to the cookies.

Rosie takes one, bites off a piece, and chews slowly. She lets the texture and flavor melt in her mouth. She smiles.

"This is wonderful," she praises.

"Thank you," the woman says, a slight blush coloring her cheeks, which makes Rosie love her all the more, and sits across from her. Soon there is merry laughter floating out the open kitchen window.


Rosie rises from table. It is later than she thought. She must go home.

"Thank you again, Miss Willow," she says, smiling.

Widow Willow cleans the table of the now empty plate and saucers and cups.

"Thank you for stopping by, Rose. You are welcomed here anytime," she answers.

Rosie picks up the basket full of the items she bought at the market and makes her way to the door. Widow Willow hands her another slightly large basket. Rosie takes it with a questioningly look.

"This is for you. Since I have no daughters to dote on..."

"Thank you," Rosie breathes, wondering greatly what's inside.

Widow Willow smiles and opens the door for Rosie. "Take care, dear."


Sam hums a song under his breath as he trudges down the road. It is a song that he heard Frodo sing soon after he, Frodo, and Pippin left Hobbiton for Crickhollow. When they did not know what they would face on their journey, nor how long they would be gone.

He absently glances at the surrounding view. Rolling hills are starting to darken as the sun sets. The forest grows quiet as animals scurry to their homes. Sam smiles, but it lacks emotion. He is home, back to the place he loves and missed. But now that he is here, he wonders if he really is home. For his heart feels empty. Was it really the Shire I always looked forward to returning to? To seeing again? he wonders to himself. He starts humming again before trailing off. What road am I following? What is there for me? I thought I knew where I would travel, but things are different now...and some which I wish were not so.

Sam sighs deeply and raises his eyes. Coming toward him is a figure. It is a lad, he realizes. As they get closer, Sam smiles, though he cannot clearly see the others features.

"Good evening," he says politely when they have almost passed each other.

"Good evening," is the low reply. The lad nods his head.

Sam returns the nod and softly starts to sing.

"The road goes ever on and on..."


*grins broadly*