A.N.: In this chapter will come the moment you've all been waiting for, and that's all I'll say.

Chapter 6: Come Back To Me

Eos had bought a pony from a farmer in Buckland that took her swiftly past the Old Forest. She then had sold it for enough money to buy her one night at the Floating Log. She had been traveling a week and a half, and it was now the third week of December.

On the way, she had inquired about how to reach Frodo Baggins, and an old farmer's wife had directed her to the Cottons. When asked why, she had answered simply, "He's a friend of mine."

"Crystal, I have a present for you," Frodo called to her. Crystal wondered over, with a look of boredom. Frodo chuckled. Gifts were nothing new to her now. He and the Cottons had bedecked her with toys and new clothes over the past few weeks. The blue linen frock she was wearing was among those new things. Now, she probably thought it would be more of the same.

"Close your eyes, that's it," he said. He took her hands and placed a picture book of abridged elvish stories in them. She gasped when she opened her eyes and saw it. "Thank you!" she squeaked. She hugged his waist tightly.

"Do you feel like reading it to me?"

"No."

"No?"

"I wanna read by myself."

"Alright then, suit yourself."

Crystal ran down to her room and flopped onto the bed to read. When Frodo went to check on her, she was propped against the headboard, sucking on the sticks of malt candy Rosie had bought her on market day, and clutching her doll, which she called "Big Opal". He smiled to himself, and closed the door quietly.

Two hours later, Frodo went to bring her to dinner. The last piece of malt candy was jutting out of her mouth like a pipe, and she was still running her fingers over the drawings.

Of course, Crystal loves toys, he thought. But none can inspire her like books can. More books are what she needs, not dolls. Oh, Eos my love, if you saw your little girl now, you would be so proud.

The soles of hobbits' feet are thick enough for them to travel long distances barefoot. Yet Eos's feet were blistered and bleeding, and the pain made worse by the winter's chill.

A few yards from the Tunnellys' farm, there was a hollow at the bottom of a tree, whose roots spread over it, making a crude but sufficient shelter. Eos settled down in it for the evening. Her fingers were too cold to hold the crochet hook, so she kept them inside her cloak, which had a hole in it.

All her clothes were worn, as she had had no means of purchasing new ones during her life with Olo. They were all patched and frayed. Life as seamstress with a drunkard shirriff as a spouse was not an easy one.

When Olo started beating her, Eos had been worried that her constantly tremulous hands would spoil the quality of her work. But business remained steady, though it brought in little money. After Crystal was born, some did business with her out of sympathy. That didn't make life easier, though. That had been the point when Olo had started looking up the legs of other women, the first of which had been Asphodel Fields. She'd thought Asphodel was her friend until that fateful night.

Eos was coming home from work late with Crystal. Mrs. Banks had held her up with the sale of one of her embroidered tablecloths. She had stopped by one of the food stalls that remained open to buy some bread for tomorrow.

She opened the front door of the smial and, balancing the infant on her hip, hung up her cloak and put her basket of bread in the kitchen cupboard. The baby was fretting from tiredness, so she took her to the nursery and tucked her into the crib. Eos hoped not to wake her husband, who was probably in drunken sleep by now and would fly into rage if woken.

Eos was heading toward the bedroom, when she stopped. What were those rhythmic groans and moaning from, those grunts and cries of – pleasure? Was that the squeaking of a bed frame? She walked to the door, and holding her breath, pushed it open.

What a shock she had when she saw her husband's large brown form in their bed, lying prostrate and pushing over and over into a woman's white body below him. There were clothes scattered all over the floor, and the room was rank with the smell of sex and alcohol and foreign pipeweed.

Wait a minute…she knew those stringy red curls, and that rounded body. Then it clicked. Asphodel. That woman was always after one man or another.

Asphodel had heard the door open, and she turned her face in Eos's direction. Eos could not help crying her name in shock. "ASPHODEL!"

That was clearly a mistake, for Olo, hearing her shout, rose in fury from the covers. "Why, you spying little slut!" In three strides, he went and grabbed and threw her out into the hall.

Eos was still recovering from being thrown against the wall when Olo emerged again, this time with his horsewhip. He was a horrifying sight, naked and red with rage. He brought the whip down, and Eos's back burned as it cut into her. She bit her lip to keep from screaming. She would not scream. She would not give Olo the pleasure of seeing her so obviously in pain. Eos was so concentrated on resisting her screams that she even blocked out what Olo was roaring.

"You little slut! Why'd you walk in if you can't even give me a man child? You going to keep from getting one?"

After he had put several whip weals into her back (along with a few older ones), he picked her up and threw her into the nursery. Eos banged her head on the edge of the crib, and Crystal started to wail.

"And get that thing to shut up, you hear?" Olo shouted as he slammed the door behind him. Eos lay there shaking for a few moments, then went to Crystal, rubbing the bruise that was rising in her forehead. She picked up the baby.

"Shh…shh…Mama's here…there, don't cry…"

She had dared not leave the nursery until early morning, when it was time to leave for work. Of course, later in the day, Asphodel had come to pay her respects at the stall.

"So, Eos, who do you think does it better with him, you or me?"

"I think nothing. I just wish you'd done it someplace other than the bed I'm suppose to sleep in."

Asphodel's face seemed to droop a little. "You're not irked to know that your husband beds other women?"

"Take Olo for all I care. But Del," Eos said, using the name all their friends had used when they were girls, "Del, despite your love of men, I thought you had more respect for both yourself and your friends."

Frodo tucked Crystal into bed, as he did every night. As he did every night, he sat on the bed a bit, stroking her hair and admiring her beauty and how much she had grown that day. Always he would wonder how much she would be like her mother when she grew up.

He got up and stood by the window. The winter moon was shining at its fullest tonight. It lit up the tops of the trees, and the barns on other farms beyond. He could even see that figure walking near the fence…

Wait… the figure looked like that of a woman. Frodo saw the outline of a ragged cloak, and disheveled curls. Perhaps she was one of the homeless ones who came by looking for help.

He grabbed his cloak and headed outside the hole. The woman seemed to be holding onto the fence and using it to boost her progress along the road. Was she ill?

"Good evening, miss," he called, "May I be of some service to you?"

The woman looked up at him. Her face was illuminated in the moonlight, and Frodo could see who it was.

"Eos?" he said.

"Frodo," she whispered.

A.N.: Sorry to leave off here, folks, but I thought it'd be fun to expand using a cliff hanger.