Chapter Eighteen: The End of a Dream

"Be sure to make the part center!"

"Yes, Lily," Rosie answers wearily.

As she does her cousin's hair for the night, Rosie sneaks glances at the girl's reflection and frowns slightly. Even now, after returning from the festival over an hour ago, Lily still has a strange, piercing look in her eyes, and a tiny smile touches her mouth.

Victorious, Rosie suddenly realizes. She looks victorious. She almost jumps in surprise when Lily meets her gaze in the mirror, bestowing on her a chilly grin.

"Are you sorry the festival ends tomorrow?" Rosie asks, returning her attention to her task.

Lily sighs. "Of course, but all good things eventually come to an end. But I have several memories I shall treasure." An air of thoughtfulness coming over her, Lily absently sweeps a finger across her lips.

Rosie wonders at her cousin's answer and behavior but does not ask about it, and no more is said between the two.

-

Rosie quietly enters Rosemary's room and has just shut the door behind her when her cousin draws her into a long and tight hug and bursts into uncontrollable sobbing. Rosie's eyes widen in shock at this display, but she does not pull away. She simply returns the embrace and smoothes her cousin's hair. She does not know how many minutes pass before Rosemary's tears are spent and she draws a haggard breath. Stepping back, she wipes her cheeks dry and meets Rosie's concerned gaze.

"Thank you," she says quietly.

Rosie smiles at her sadly and remains silent, following the girl to her dresser and helping her undress. While combing the tangles out of Rosemary's hair, Rosie hears her heartbreaking tale.

"How could I have been so blind?" she asks brokenly. "I should have realized he was a playboy. He comes from a wealthy, well-known, and respected family. He no doubt has lasses throwing themselves at his feet." Her distress suddenly turns to calm determination. Wiping the last of her tears away, she stares at her reflection. "Well, I shall not be the fool any longer. Mark my words. He can have Lily for all it matters to me. He only deceived me into believing he was my friend. I have learned my lesson and am much wiser. I shall simply forget him; there are plenty of other lads out there," she states.

She meets Rosie's shocked gaze in the mirror. Speechless, Rosie can only hug her cousin in comfort, tears welling up in her own eyes. She can easily see behind her cousin's words. Rosemary does care about Fosco being with Lily, and it will no doubt be a while before she forgets about him. Obviously she has become quite fond of him.

"It will be all right in the end," Rosie whispers in her cousin's ear.

Rosemary clings to her, her mask of calmness, confidence, and uncaring cracking, and she shakes with sadness, betrayal, and heartache.

-

Rosemary holds onto her mother's arm as they stroll about the field. She peers anxiously about for any sign of Fosco; she desires to avoid running into him at all costs. She absently wonders where Lily has gotten off to and what schemes she has planned for tonight.

Rosemary cannot get caught up in the excitement of the final festival. Her heart is heavy, and no smile lights her face, despite the music, laughter, and jugglers.

"Rosemary, please! You could try to appear just a little cheerful, instead of acting like you are going to your own funeral. People are looking. And please don't squeeze my arm so!" May scolds her daughter.

But Rosemary hardly takes note of her mother's words. Looking about again like a trapped deer, she almost lets out a startled yelp when her eyes clash with Brandy's, Fosco's cousin, whom she had met a couple of nights before. In a moment his eyes widen in recognition and victory before he hurries off. Her stomach does a flip-flop, and she becomes suspicious. Afraid he is going to report to Fosco, Rosemary shakes off her mother's hand and steals away to hide.

-

Sam cranes his neck, searching the endless sea of faces with growing impatience. The last night of the festival has been in swing for nearly three hours, and the crowds have never been so thick all week as they are tonight, and he has still not come upon the mysterious lass. He is beginning to fear she will not come or perhaps – there she is! She is alone, dressed in a pale purple grown with her hair flowing about her as she makes her way through the crowd. Her gaze roams about and meets Sam's. A small smile touches her face, and she makes her way to him. Sam sighs in relief as she stops before him.

"Evening, Sam," she greets him.

Sam smiles down at her. "I feared you weren't coming," he confesses, blushing.

"But it was not true: I'm here now."

"Yes, you are," he agrees happily. "You look wonderful," he adds admiringly. She lowers her head to hide her blush. He offers her his arm. "May I have the honor of escorting you to the dance floor?"

"Of course, my good sir," the girl replies, dropping a curtsy before taking his arm.

They share a light laugh and move off.

-

Pippin slides a mug of ale across the table to his moping cousin. "Come now, you have never been like this before. It isn't like you! Cheer up. You'll see her and be able to explain everything," he tries to encourage.

Fosco looks dejectedly at the tempting mug for a long moment before he accepts it and takes a small sip. "And if she does not let me, suppose I never see her again?" he despairs.

"Well, there are plenty of other lasses here," Polly says. "Don't forget Mother liked Ruby. I overheard her say last month she thought Ruby would make an acceptable daughter-in-law."

Fosco sets the mug back down on the table with such force that some of the ale almost spills. He levels a glare at his sister. "I do not want to hear anything about Ruby or who else Mother would consider a good match," he says through clenched teeth. He then turns his glare on his grinning friends before the innocent mug comes under fire.

Focso does not know whether to cry with despair or roar with rage. He can only imagine what Rosemary had thought when she had seen him and her sister last night… Just remembering what happened causes his blood to boil. How could he have been so stupid? He should have realized it wasn't Rosemary. Had her sister intentionally taken advantage of him? What story had she told Rosemary when she was questioned? Did Rosemary believe her and now despise him? A new cloud of despair falls over the hobbit and he groans. He drains the rest of the ale.

"So you plan to grow to be a very old bachelor?" Merry asks. "Of course, Aunt Poise will let that happen without a fight. She shall allow you to simply be a doting uncle," here Merry winks at a flushed Polly.

Pippin watches his cousin's intense swinging between fury and distress. "No other girl matters? She is that special?" he muses. His face lights with sudden dawning. "You are in love with her." It is more of a statement than a question.

Fosco meets Pippin's gaze in shock, speechless. He has hardly dared consider the thought to himself. He does think Rosemary is special. Could it be possible that he, who claimed he would never settle down, was in love?

Brandy bounds up to the table, out of breath. "Fosco!"

All eyes turn to him.

"I…saw…her!" he wheezes.

Instantly understanding his cousin's words, Fosco is on his feet in a moment, his eyes full of new hope. "When! Where!" he fires the questions as he grips his cousin by the collar.

Still trying to catch his breath, Brandy can only manage to beckon his cousin to come with him.

-

Strings of music drift across the field, barely reaching ears of the hobbits in the quiet stillness. The unoccupied part of the Party field opens up before Sam and the lass as they move farther away from the tents and lights. Tiny stars twinkle in the clear sky. The field is given a silvery appearance by the moon's light. When Sam at last comes to a halt, he continues to hold the girl's hand in his. A long, comfortable, peaceful silence hangs about them.

Sam draws in a deep breath of the cool air, releasing some of the tension he feels as he lets out the air. He cannot, dare not explain the reason for the unusual emotions he had experienced just a little while ago.

He did not know how long he had danced with the girl. He had forgotten everything and everyone when he had gazed into her honey-brown eyes. They had been full of delight, yet he had once again sensed a cloak of bitter sweetness about her; for while her eyes twinkled and she smiled at him, she seemed almost sad. And he had wondered once again.

Sam had been surprised when Frodo had politely cut in to dance with his companion, followed in turn by Merry and then Pippin. Sam had been relieved that the girl seemed to enchant his friends, though he had been unable to hide his great embarrassment when they had sent him broad smiles and winks of approval. But it quickly gave way to irritation when the lass was claimed by one hobbit after another in dance after dance. His jaw had tightened as he watched through narrowed eyes as the girl was sweet-talked by several flattering, hopeful young lads. Finally, Sam had had enough. With as much self-control and politeness as he could muster, he had cut in on the lass and her latest partner and reclaimed her hand. He had been slightly surprised himself when, instead of dancing, he had led her from the dance floor, through the crowds, past the tents, and far away from the lights, music, and laughter.

So here they are.

Sam shifts his weight from one foot to the other nervously as he thinks back on what had led to this present situation. Why had he been so upset at the dance floor? Surely he had been a fool. It was perfectly fine for her to accept dances from whomever she chose. It was not like he had a right to –

Realizing where this dangerous train of thought is heading Sam shakes his head slightly, hoping his flaming cheeks are not visible in the pale light. He fixes his gaze on the stars which glow high above him. Slowly he begins to relax.

"It is peaceful here," she says, breaking the long silence.

Sam nods. "It is," he says. A moment later, he turns to her, his eyes thoughtful. Unexpectedly she looks up at him, and he flushes at being caught staring. She does not question him, though her eyes are puzzled. He is tempted not to answer her silent wondering, to turn his eyes away, a washed in his embarrassment. But he holds her gaze and voices his own wonderings. Subconsciously, he brings his free hand up to her warm cheek. "Your eyes are filled with shadows. What is it that causes you such sadness among such merry making?" He squeezes her hand gently.

Rosie's eyes widen in astonishment. Could Sam really read her that easily? Suddenly uncomfortable with the gentle contact between them, she steps away from him, causing his hand to leave her cheek and his grasp on her hand to fall away. It is she who drops her gaze and tries to gather her whirling thoughts. "I…I am alone in this world," she stammers.

Sam feels pity swell up in him. "Have you no family?"

She shakes her head. "My parents are dead, and I do not know what has become of my siblings."

"Friends?"

She laughs, but there is no humor in it, while shaking her head. "Long has this cloud of despair hung over me," Rosie whispers to herself. "These last few nights have given me some cheer," she says in a clearer voice.

"Would you look on me as a friend?" Sam asks quietly as he steps closer to her and is allowed to take her hand once more.

He is rewarded with another smile, though this time there is no masking the deep sadness in it. Am I increasing her sorrow? This thought troubles Sam, but he is not allowed to linger on it.

"Do you think of me, a stranger, as a friend?" she questions, ignoring his own.

"Yes, I do!" Sam answers. "I do not see you as a stranger. I…it is strange, but I feel like I have always known you."

Rosie gawks at Sam at these words, but he does not notice. "Even though you do not know much about me?" she cannot keep back the words.

"Yes. You are not like the other girls. They do not know who I really am; they just see me as the famous Samwise the Brave. But you do not look on me as such. I am just Sam to you. And I thank you for that," he ends in a near whisper.

When Sam searches for her reaction, Rosie turns her attention to the ground and bites her lip, thinking hard.

"Can I help you at all?" Sam asks, full of concern.

Rosie's breath catches in her throat at these words. Should she accept his service? Should she reveal all to him, risk her heart, everything? Would he be glad at knowing it is she, Rosie Cotton? Would he perhaps be embarrassed at knowing it is her company he has kept these last few nights? What would he do, if anything, about Aunt May?

All these uncertainties and questions cause Rosie to feel momentarily at a lost, but then she comes to a decision. She looks back up at Sam.

"I thank –" she begins. A movement at the corner of her eye catches her attention. Quickly turning her gaze to her right, towards the lighted tents, she sees a figure coming in her and Sam's direction. The light from the moon allows to her realize it is a girl. While the girl is too far away for Rosie to see her face, a wave of unease and fear washes over her as she believes she knows who it is. Rosie brings her eyes back to Sam and tries to appear calm.

"No, Mister Gamgee, there is nothing you can do for me. These last few nights have been more wonderful than I dared hope! Now I must face my fate alone," she speaks quickly, unable to keep herself from occasionally glancing toward the ever-approaching lass. She bestows a small smile on Sam, though she can hardly conceal her nervousness.

Sam frowns, aware of her strange mood, wondering what is wrong. "But I…" he objects, also looking about them searchingly.

"Take care, Samwise Gamgee," Rosie says softly, succeeding in drawing Sam's attention back to her for the moment. Hesitating a second, she raises on her tiptoes, places a chaste kiss on Sam's cheek, frees her hand from his, turns, and somehow, forces herself to walk briskly back toward the festival, her heart hammering.

Sam is frozen. He simply watches the girl move farther and farther away. Her step is firm and quick while her head is bowed slightly. His heart beats painfully in his chest.

Go after her! Go after her! A voice tells him.

But Sam hesitates. He hardly knows the girl, as she herself had said, but she has truly moved his heart. She said she cannot accept his help. She said she must go on alone without aid or companion. Sam's heart cries at the thought, but he hushes it. He will respect her request.

Suppose she is in trouble… the voice reasons.

Sam feels uncertain once more.

What if she is in distress and has no means of protection?

He should ask her just once more if he can be of service. At last arriving at a decision, Sam purposely starts after her.

"Mr. Gamgee!" A voice calls out to him.

Sam halts and searches for the source of the voice. He watches, puzzled, as he at last sees a lass come towards him. When she is close enough, he thinks he recognizes her, but he has seen so many girls this week that he cannot be completely sure.

"Mr. Gamgee," the girl says, curtsying deeply to him.

"Is something the matter, Miss…" Sam asks, just a bit impatient.

"Miss Lily," the lass fills in. "No, nothing is wrong." Here she gives her head a toss, causing some of her curls to settle on her shoulder, and gives Sam a pretty smile, fluttering her eyelashes. "I noticed you were here all alone, away from the festival. Are the crowds too many? Are you bored by all the same music and dancing and food? You long for some…excitement?"

Lily knows she is being terribly forward, but it is a talent of hers that she has used to her advantage many times before. She would again be victorious if she wins over Samwise. Never has she dared to make such a catch before. This new challenge thrills her.

Sam shakes his head, watching over Lily's shoulder the girl moving steadily away. He is ill at ease with Lily's questions and wonders what she is getting at.

"Perhaps you would care to take a walk with me?" Lily slowly takes Sam's arm, drawing his eyes to her own. "You will be away from all the noise, the swooning girls, the flattering Mayor. You can relax. And enjoy some different company," Lily purrs.

Though Sam is uncertain of the meaning behind Lily's words, warning bells are going off in his head, and he looks over her shoulder once more. His eyes widen in dismay as he can no longer see the girl. No, no, no…

"I'm sorry…excuse me!" He pulls away from Lily's hold and runs back to the festival.

Lily watches him go, full of angered disbelief. "Well!" she huffs, turning her nose up.

-

Sam collapses on a vacant bench and puts his head in his hands. He has searched everywhere for the girl. But just like the first night he saw her, he has failed in his mission: she is gone. And for some reason he cannot explain, he feels he has let something very important, very dear, slip through his fingers.