Chapter Eleven: All Your Life You'll Dream of This Lovely -- Though Not for All -- Night
The sun sets, its last rays disappearing over the rolling hills. Swirling colors of purple, orange, and pink fill the sky before night claims its turn to look down on the Shire. The stars twinkle forth and gaze delightfully down on the festival getting into full swing.
The paper lanterns of a variety of colors are lit, lighting up the Party Field. There are dozens of tents set up. There are games at some, food at others, products for buying at others, and some just for hobbits to sit and enjoy pleasant talk with some ale. A huge makeshift dance floor is near the young oak tree that stands where the old Party Tree once did. Under the tree are tables at which the important families of the Brandybucks, Tooks, and the Mayor and, of course, the guests of honor -- the Travelers -- are to eat.
Hobbits have been arriving all day, but the waves of them appear as the cool air of the evening is felt, as summer hints of creeping away. They come in groups of five to as large as forty. From near and far they skip along to the tune the festive music the band plays.
Lily and Rosemary are in awe by the sights, noises, and smells around them.
"I cannot believe we are finally here!" Rosemary whispers in astonished joy, holding onto her mother's arm as they make their way past several hobbits, stationed to greet all the arrivals, and step onto the field.
"So long have I waited for this to come! It is almost too beautiful to be real," Lily breathes, eyes wide as she soaks up everything around her.
Indeed, it seems to all the hobbits gathered here that they see the Party Field in a new light. Everything seems more...fresh, bright, alive, new. Why it seems this way, they do not know, perhaps because before there was no freshness, brightness, aliveness, newness. Maybe this is part of the reason...but the Travelers know there is more. For did not the soil which Sam used to restore the Shire come from the Lady of Lorien's own garden? But, sadly, many of the folks of the Shire will never completely know or understand all that the Travelers endured for them -- for all Middle Earth -- and how much they owe them.
May is also taken in but brings her daughters back down to earth.
"Now remember what I told you," May says.
Both girls nod knowingly. "Shall we find you when the festival ends for the night?" Lily asks. After receiving a nod of consent from her mother, she then grabs her sister by the arm and drags her toward the dance floor.
They look around for a glimpse of the four famous hobbits as they go.
"They should be here," Rosemary muses aloud.
"I'm so glad Mother did not let Cinder-Rose come," Lily softly says.
"Do not speak that one's name! It would be a complete disgrace if she came here."
"Aye," Lily agrees.
"Look!" Rosemary gasps, pointing. "There!"
A swarm of lasses huddle near tables set under the "new" party tree. Frodo Baggins is leading a pretty young hobbitess off the dance floor and bows politely to her before taking the arm of another waiting girl. Upon further investigation, Lily spots Samwise Gamgee with a lass on the dance floor.
"Come on!" She drags her sister by the arm toward all the excitement. Soon they reach the edge of the large group.
"What is going on?" she inquires of one hobbitess.
"Everyone is waiting for a dance with Mister Frodo or Samwise the Brave," the plump lass answers.
"How long is the waiting?" Lily wonders
"Who knows? When your number is called, then it is your turn."
"Number?" Rosemary repeats blankly.
"Aye." An older looking gentle-hobbit holding a large jar steps forward. "If you are here for wanting a dance, young ladies, I ask you to take a number from here and wait until it is called." He holds the jar out towards them.
"I think Ill wait until later," Rosemary decides, trying to wiggle free from Lily's grip on her arm.
"I figure there will be long waits every night," the hobbit warns.
"Rosemary, surely, you want a chance to dance with one of the Travelers!" Lily scolds her sister.
"No, you go on. I will try another way." And with that, Rosemary pulls herself away and disappears into the thickening crowds.
Lily shrugs and takes a number. She scowls. #39, she silently reads to herself. And she has no idea how long she has to wait. For now she decides to stay close by until it is her turn. Sighing, she tries to take interest in some of the conversations flowing around her and watches with great interest the two famous most-sought after hobbits in the Shire.
May relaxes and smiles, a very rare event indeed. That large meal really did her in. And being in a festive atmosphere and away from the hole...and...other things, she feels in a brighter mood.
And she is certain that her daughters are among the -- if not the -- prettiest hobbitesses here tonight. She has faith in her two angels. They will do well tonight.
A conversation near the end of the table she sits at catches her attention as she hears her old home, Deephallow, mentioned.
"Mister Gamgee has not come to Deephallow for two months. I saw him the last time he was there. And he wasn't checking on seeing if everything he had planted was growing," a hobbit says, puffing on his pipe.
"So what was he wanting?" another hobbit asks while several heads nod.
"It seemed he was looking for information concerning a certain lass, now what was her name? Laura? Camellia? Hilda? Daisy? Rose?" The hobbit shakes his head. "Oh, well, it has slipped my mind. But he seemed quite upset when no one could help him."
Some murmur, giving pity to Sam. Others, particularly some of the hobbitesses, grumble, fearing that it is in vain that their daughters will try to catch his eye.
May, for her part, is in deep thought. It does not seem possible. But what if it is? Their little Cinder-Rose? Samwise the Brave searching for their Cinder-Rose...? If it is true...she must leave at once. Take them all away. Never let their faces or name be remembered here. Wait. Has not Cinders walked freely about Hobbiton? And she has not been recognized. So why should she fear one hobbit if the whole town is in the dark?
May relaxes again, shaking her head. What is she worrying about...?
Rosemary absently listens to the conversation which flows around her like waves. She has spent the last two hours being quite bored and miserable. She had been to at least ten of the tents and had had some refreshment. She had gone and found Lily, who was still waiting for a turn; the waiting was now longer, for Mister Baggins was taking a break on the advice of Samwise and his two cousins, leaving Sam to go through the long line of girls. And Lily, descending into a sour mood, lashed out at her sister. Rosemary dejectedly left and wandered around aimlessly for a little while more.
Now she is simply sitting at a table and entertaining herself by watching all the hobbits that pass by. She notices that there are many couples and groups of hobbits which go by. Is that why she is not enjoying herself? Because she is alone? Would she enjoy herself more if she was at home with Cinder-Rose? Rosemary nearly laughs at the thought but becomes thoughtful. She would possibly get along better with her cousin at home than here by herself while her mother and sister have a good time. Is this what it feels like to be alone with no family? The question catches her off guard, and she doesnt know the answer.
Gradually, Rosemary becomes aware of the sound of a fiddle as a player makes their way about the tent, entertaining those who are relaxing here. The music is not as festive or happy as what she heard earlier this night. The music is slow and low, slightly sad at being alone. It matches Rosemary's mood perfectly, and she is spellbound by the music as the player draws the bow over the strings and plucks at them with their fingers.
The music draws nearer, and she turns her gaze first one way, then in another direction, searching for the fiddler. Her eyes spot the instrument and she admires it, for it is made of shiny wood and seems to glow in the light. She watches in fascination the knowing fingers which play, creating such haunting, lovely sounds. She then looks at the fiddler, who is a hobbit with rosy cheeks, reddish golden curls, and green eyes. She is surprised when she discovers him watching her and meets her gaze. He smiles as though offering solace. She is taken aback by this gesture, for she not received such kindness before. She smiles back a little uncertainly.
He makes his way to the table where she sits. The table falls completely silent as all listen to the wondrous fiddle. But Rosemary is unaware of this as the lad continues to hold her gaze.
"Number 39!" the old gentle-hobbit calls; he is starting to go hoarse.
Lily jumps forward and pushes her way to the edge of the dance floor to the hobbit and Samwise. She hands the poor hobbit her number; he squints at it for several seconds, then nods and puts it in the jar.
Lily turns her attention to the handsome hobbit who gives her a small bow. She dips into a curtsy. The music starts up again, and they join in the dance.
"I hope you have been enjoying the festival," Sam says politely.
Lily smiles. "It has been wonderful," she replies sweetly. She has not moved far from the dance floor all night. Others had gone off to enjoy all the things offered tonight and would come back occasionally to find out if it was closer for their turn. But Lily had no need. There is only one reason for her coming tonight. And she is dancing with it. That is all that matters. "And it is nice seeing you again," she adds.
Sam simply looks at her blankly. Of course he would not remember! It was weeks ago, and he is always surrounded by many lasses; their faces have probably started running together for him, she decides.
"One day at the market, you were surrounded completely by lasses with no way of escape..."
His eyes light up. Recognition comes over his face. "Was that you who managed to help me to get away?" he asks.
Lily nods and blushes, looking embarrassed. "Yes that was I. Why you cannot be left in peace without being followed around all the time, I do not know. It is the least they could do, after all you have done with uprising the Shire and bringing life back into it." She looks at him with pity.
Sam starts to turn pink. "Well, thank you, but of course it wasn't just me. It was Mister Frodo and Mister Merry and Mister Pippin."
She laughs, "You are too modest sometimes, Samwise."
His cheeks flame a rosy red color. "Well, I don't know Miss..."
"Lily."
"...Lily. It is a lovely name."
"Just as lovely as the flowers," she states wittingly. Sam laughs, and Lily is secretly pleased with herself.
All too soon -- for Lily -- the dance ends, and Sam leads her off the floor.
"Thank you for the dance," he says.
"The pleasure was mine," she returns in a voice dripping with honey.
He gives her a final nod before turning to the next lass waiting. Lily frowns and positions herself by a tent where she can spy on the hobbits under the Party Tree and Sam on the dance floor. All ready, she starts to plot for the next few nights.
"It's not fair! I should be the one floating tonight. I spent half of the night waiting. Less than five minutes dancing with Samwise the Brave -- and he didn't even say anything indicating that he looked forward to possibly seeing me again. And the rest of the time watching him and how he reacted with his other partners... And some of them he actually seemed interested in!" Lily complains.
"I doubt that," May mumbles to herself, the conversation she overheard still fresh in her mind.
"And look at you!" Lily cries, turning to her sister who indeed seems hardly to touch the ground, a white flower pressed to her cheek, a dreamy expression on her face. "You didn't dance with any of the Travelers, and you act as though you have just been in the presence of a prince. And yet it was only a fiddler who you graced with your company," she scuffs.
"You are mistaken." It is the first Rosemary has spoken, as Lily as done nothing but whine since they started for home. "It was he who asked if I would care to walk with him. And I enjoyed myself. How much fun did you have simply standing and staring at Samwise?" she counters.
Lily lifts her chin higher. "Well, at least I spent some time with someone famous. You and a simple fiddler. Fosco." She spits the simple name in disgust.
"Mister Fosco is no simple fiddler," May speaks up. "He is a cousin of Pippin Took," she informs solemnly.
Lily and Rosemary look at their mother in amazement. The older lass is speechless, but only until she draws a breath. She then starts hurling more insults of how unfair it is that while she went to great measures to be noticed by Sam, Rosemary was noticed without so much as lifting a finger.
Rosemary simply smiles in amusement at her sisters fit and quietly walks on with light feet. She wonders if she might see Fosco again as she breathes in deeply the sweet scent of the blossom she holds.
Authors Note: For those who are excited for Rosie to go to the festival, have no fear. We shall see that -- and her reunion with Sam -- all in good time. ;)
