Author's Note: Yes, an update! And it was quick compared to some of the last ones. Please see June '04 news on my profile to see what my status is for updating stories – and my attempt to put up one that does not have a category here. :(  

I have revised chapter five, so please go back and reread it.

Thank you all who have been impatiently waiting for the next chapter. We are slowly but surely drawing closer to the end.

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Chapter Sixteen: The Afterglow Extinguished?

A heavy rain is falling when Rosie breathlessly returns to her aunt's hole. Tracking mud across the floor, she makes her way to her room. Quickly she changes out of the dress back into her old clothes. She puts the dress on a hook to dry a bit before she will return it to the basket. She removes the ribbon in her hair. Going back into the hall, Rosie studies herself intently in the mirror. She needs to do something so her hair will have its usual appearance…and her face. And she should act quickly, not knowing how soon the others will return.

Rosie hurries through the hole, assessing what else must be done before her aunt and cousins arrive. Some of the fires have died out and need to be relit; and she has to clean the mud from the floor, requiring her to go outside to the well to get water for that, and to make any wanted tea.

She goes to the fireplace in the parlor, with its blackened logs, and scoops up handfuls of ashes, rubbing them on her face and in her damp hair. She returns to the mirror in the hall to inspect her work. The result is satisfying: the face staring back at Rosie is the same one she has looked at every day, smeared with ash, as is her wild untamed hair in tangles and covered with soot. She nods to herself and proceeds to put her hair in two braids. Before worrying about the other things that she has to take care of, Rosie goes to her room, puts the now dry dress and ribbon in the basket, and hides it under her bed.

Rosie then goes through the rooms, adding wood to the fires and lighting the ones that went out in the fireplaces. Next, she gets a bucket from the kitchen and ventures outside. The rain has not lightened up as she trudges to the well and fills the bucket with water. She sneezes as she enters through the door and shivers from the coolness. Sniffing, she fills a kettle with water and puts it on the fire, grabs a cloth, and starts cleaning the mud prints from the wooden floor. A few minutes later, she pauses in her scrubbing to take the kettle off the fire. Swiftly she pours the hot water into three cups and adds tea leaves before returning to her work. As she works, Rosie keeps an alert ear toward the door, anxiously searching for any telltale noises warning of the hobbitesses approaching. When she finally sits back on her haunches and wipes the gathering sweat from her brow at completing her task – the floor shines from her cleaning – she breathes a sigh of relief. Slowly she rises to her feet, her body aching from her work. She dumps out the dirty water and does a final inspection, making sure that the hole is in fine shape. Seeing that she is safe, Rosie sinks onto the floor of the drawing room – she is forbidden from sitting in any of the seats, for then she would dirty them with her clothes – close to the nice warm fire. Now that the fear of her being caught has passed, Rosie at last allows her body to relax, and slowly she lies down on the floor. She thinks about the festival, which she finally experienced.  

The last thing she had expected was to be of so much attention there -- which she was! Everyone, staring in awe, seemed to have noticed her. Quite self-conscious and embarrassed by it all, she had hoped to blend in with the crowds there; yet those same crowds had nearly always parted when she passed by. She couldn't understand what was so fascinating about herself to be noticed so. She was not dressed in finery compared to some of the wealthier and high-society hobbitesses; her hair was not done fancily; and she had worn no makeup or jewelry. So what was it that made everyone admire her?

She had wandered over to the dance floor merely to watch. But oh! She did not get to follow through with her plan. She had been talking with a group of hobbits when one of them asked her to dance, and she did so out of politeness. She was nervous as she became aware of the many hobbits who watched her and her partner. Rosie discovered herself being claimed by one hobbit after another for a dance, and so she did not get to sit out any at all.

She had eventually retired to get something to eat, escorted by quite a few of her partners to the food tent. She was even more surprised by how overfilled the table at which she sat down to eat became with many interested in meeting and socializing with her: young and old, hobbit and hobbitess. Because of all the talking she engaged in, it took Rosie a long time to finish her supper. It was an hour later before she excused herself from her visitors and wandered around the field to see what else was going on that night. She came to expect the many stares and lingering looks she received – some of wonder, others of envy – though she did not understand why. And not to think she walked with her head held high and proud the rest of the time she was there, far from it! She was so uneasy and modest about the looks bestowed upon her that she many a time cast her eyes to the ground in hopes that this gesture would hide her and her flushed cheeks from the others' view.

The whole night she had kept an eye peeled for any of the Travelers, but she had only spotted Frodo Baggins at a table at the dance floor while dancing. She had not approached him, though her heart lifted at seeing such a familiar face again. She did not see Merry Brandybuck or Pippin Took. And she had nearly missed Sam, dear Sam… Rosie had been browsing at a stand when on an impulse she looked about her at the other hobbits wandering about. Her gaze halted on a lone hobbit leaning against a post who was watching her. Their eyes met for a moment and Rosie gasped softly, her eyes widening in shocked, joyful surprise and recognition. Even then she reflexively turned away, knowing she was blushing. Her heart had pounded loudly in her chest. Sam! The brief glance was more than enough for her to know it was he. She chanced a quick glance at him and then, bewildered, fled. She left the festival and headed toward home at a fast pace. She had to convince herself she had not dreamed seeing Sam. It had been such a shock – unexpected, but also wonderful. Her heart gave a great leap of joy and flew to the hobbit. What a way to end her night!

Now as Rosie is able to ponder more on the encounter, she realizes that Sam did not seem to know her. He had caught her gaze with seeming curiosity in his eyes, but nothing more. Rosie smiles a little, torn between being relieved and being disappointed. Relief: for she must have truly looked different in her dress. (If Sam did not know who she was, then surely she had no need to worry about being recognized if she ran into her aunt and cousins.)  Disappointment: She had half-hoped Sam might know her and she be able to talk with such a great…friend. She might be taken away from the lonely, hard life she is trapped in. She would know happiness again, companionship, and, perhaps, finally…love.

But how could she tell him? He does not know her…whether at the festival all dressed up or on the road dressed as a boy all dirty. Perhaps how he remembers her is so different from how she is today that it is impossible he could ever know her. And suppose he is ashamed when he discovers who she was? She, who is called Cinders, not Rosie or Rose, but Cinder-Rose. Rosie sniffs and blinks back tears forming in her eyes.

A loud pounding on the door reaches Rosie's ears. Leaping to her feet, she dashes to the front hall to unbolt and open the door. Through the door appear May, Lily, and Rosemary – all looking like three drowned rats. Water streams down their heads and dresses and cloaks, creating puddles of all shapes and sizes on the floor. They are a miserable sight.

"What took you so long, girl?" May demands as she wipes water from her eyes.

Rosie bows her head and apologizes for displeasing her aunt. She takes their wet cloaks and puts them before the fire to dry. "Did you enjoy yourselves?" she asks attentively.

"The same as every other night," Lily huffs, a scowl on her face.

Rosie rolls her eyes in understanding. But at looking at her other cousin, Rosie sees that despite the wet weather she walked through, Rosemary's eyes are sparkling and a smile blooms on her face. Rosie wonders.

May leads her daughters from the front hall. "I expect you have tea waiting for us?"

"Yes, Aunt May."

"You will help us out of our wet things once you bring our tea." May looks back at Rosie, who watches the three women move on, and frowns at the floor. "Look at this floor! Wet and muddy! You better get a bucket of water and clean the floor." May then sweeps down the hall followed by Lily and Rosemary, who throws a glance over her shoulder to her cousin.

Rosie sighs heavily and then gets to work: it will be another long night.

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"Sam? Sam!"

Sam jolts as he is brought from his thoughts and turns away from gazing out the window, meeting Merry's concerned eyes.

"Hm, oh, Merry! I'm sorry," he apologizes.

"Are you all right?" Merry peers closely at him, a light frown gracing his brow.

"I'm fine," Sam answers quietly, dropping his gaze to his lap.

Merry's face darkens more. "Truly?" he asks skeptically, lifting one eyebrow. "You have been awfully quiet -- more than usual, that is."

"I have just been thinking. But I am fine, my friend," Sam tries to reassure Merry, looking at him for a moment before looking away once more, an emotion in his eye that the other hobbit cannot name, though he sees the distant expression on the gardener's face.

He places a hand on Sam's shoulder and is momentarily silent, simply studying his friend. "Anything you'd like to share?"

Sam remains silent.

Merry sighs in defeat. "Remember we are here for you, Sam." He then retires to the parlor where the others are.

Sam watches Merry leave out of the corner of his eye, then slowly gazes out the window once more, his face full of puzzlement and searching.

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