"Speak of the devil and he will appear," Cearo muttered, spotting the subject of the conversation coming toward her and Rheda. "Is it too late for a sudden bout of projectile vomiting?"

"Did you say something?" Rheda looked deeply concerned, which struck Cearo as highly amusing. What did Rheda think she was doing, calling torment and agony down on Brego? There'd been enough trouble already. The last thing she needed was another reason to have to take refuge in the kitchen.

"Sorry; I didn't realize I was using English. I was thinking out loud about how we were talking about Brego and then I saw him walking over here." She gestured with her head in Brego's direction. "It's a saying we have where I'm from."

Rheda gave Cearo a look like she wasn't quite sure to believe her or not.

"I hope I am not interrupting anything," Brego said as he sat down next to his mother.

"Not at all." Rheda shifted so she didn't have to crane her neck to talk to Brego. "I was telling Cearo Helm insists on having the next dance with her, and Aelfrid the dance after that. Have you been dancing with Freda Hamasdoter? I thought I saw you dancing with her earlier." She smiled fondly at him. "You two look very handsome together. Don't you think so, Cearo?" The look she gave Cearo demanded she agree.

"I guess." Cearo would have been laughing into her mug of apple wine over Rheda's painfully obvious attempt at matchmaking if it wasn't for the fact Rheda had insisted on dragging her into it. Under the pretense of tucking in loose pieces of hair from Wilone's braids, she glanced at Brego's face to see what his reaction to Rheda's comments was and found, to her surprise, a dry, resigned amusement in his expression. She'd thought he'd be upset about it, not finding it funny. She wondered how she'd missed Rheda pestering him about marriage before this.

"You 'guess'?" Brego asked lightly, teasing. "You do not think she would make me a good wife?"

"No worse than any other girl in the village. She's only just turned eighteen, though." Cearo looked up from Wilone's head and met his eyes. "I'm sure there's a blonde beauty who's already turned twenty who'd be a good wife, but if you chose to wait for Freda, you wouldn't be the first. To wait for a woman to come of age, I mean, not the first to wait for her, specifically, but maybe you'll be that, too." She smiled blandly and sat back up. Wherever her wits had gone to, she wanted them back. She sounded like a tongue-tied idiot and Brego was the last person she wanted to look foolish around.

"My friend, Gurda, is not married yet, and she's a very good cook and weaves wonderfully soft cloth."

"Neither are you." Brego's suddenly-serious expression belied the humor in his voice and there was a naked vulnerability in his eyes that threw Cearo off-balance with its foreignness. "If I wanted to marry Gurda, I would have talked to her father already."

"We're not the only two women in the village. I'm sure you'll find someone." She had to get out of here. Where was Helm? What was taking him so long? She craned her neck, hoping to see him, but if he was there, she couldn't pick him out of the sea of equally blond heads. 'I'm trapped with the Children of the Corn,' Cearo thought sourly. 'If they need a human sacrifice, I'm volunteering.' She had no idea what to make of Brego, who was far less irritable and short-tempered than usual. He'd totally caught her off-guard when he hadn't gone on the defensive in response to her comment about Gurda. What was with the Mr. Sensitive act? Was she supposed to be so stunned by the change that she forgot the last three years and suddenly fell in love with the kinder, gentler Brego? Pigs would fly first. She'd seen too many men who were jerks act all sweet and nice when courting a woman and then go right back to being a jerk after the wedding to fall for Brego's act. Deagol had pulled that on Esma and Cearo had never forgiven him for it.

"I am sure I will." He smiled sanguinely after a moment. "Dance with me after Helm and Aelfrid. I am afraid if I do not ask you now, I will never have the chance to dance with you."

"Are you asking me or telling me?" Inwardly, Cearo was smug over how quickly Brego had reverted to his old ways.

"Asking, of course."

"That's not what it sounded like."

He had the good grace to look chagrined. "Would you dance with me?"

"I—" Rheda pinched her side hard. "Yes. After Aelfrid." She tried to keep the confusion she was feeling off her face. What the heck was Rheda thinking? First she'd been pushing Brego toward a girl who was two years from being able to marry, and now she wanted Cearo to dance with him? If Cearo didn't know better, she'd think Rheda was drunk. She would definitely have to talk to her later. Hopefully, all Rheda wanted was to try and keep Brego happy and avoid trouble as long as possible.

The surprised look her answer brought to his face was quickly replaced by a pleased expression.

"I look forward to it," Brego said, and then stood up. "I will go find Freda Hamasdoter and see if she is free for a dance."

Cearo watched after him until she lost track of him in the crowd before turning to Rheda.

"Why did you pinch me to dance with him?"

"Why would I do that?" Rheda looked as if she couldn't believe Cearo would ask such a thing. "I wanted you to say 'no'. I cannot believe you agreed! I thought you did not like him."

"I don't like him. What made you think I'd say 'yes'?"

"I know how you love to dance. I am glad he said he wanted to dance with Freda Hamasdoter again. I hope she will distract him from you."

"Perhaps." Cearo bit the tip of her tongue and made a conscious effort not to let the irritation she was feeling show on her face. Yes, she loved to dance but that hadn't stopped her from refusing men who asked in the past, and Rheda knew that, which she suspected was the reason she'd told both Aelfrid and her they'd be dancing (that, and it was doubtful Aelfrid would have on his own).

When Helm came to claim Cearo for the dance and Cearo tried to give Wilone to Rheda, the little girl tightened her hold around Cearo's neck and began whinging.

"I don't wanna go with Mama! I wanna stay with Ce'ro!"

"She will be back soon, Little Bird," Rheda said soothingly. "She is only going with Helm."

"I'll be back, sweetie, I promise. I'm only going to dance with Helm." Cearo tried to pry Wilone's arms loose from her neck, but the little girl was surprisingly strong. "Why don't you want to go with Ma?"

"I wanna stay with you!" Wilone buried her tear-streaked face in Cearo's shoulder. She spoke again, but the fabric of the overdress muffled the worlds. Cearo asked her to look up and repeat herself.

"Why can't I go with you and Helm? You said he could dance with both of us."

Cearo sighed and glanced up at Helm, who was watching Wilone's fit with muted resignation. Cearo smiled with what she hoped was reassurance and turned her attention back to Wilone.

"Honey, Helm wants to dance with only me right now. You need to go with Ma. You and I can both dance with him later."

"No! I wanna stay with you!"

"Wilone, please, come sit on my lap." Rheda pulled gently on the child's waist. "Let Cearo go dance with Helm."

Before Wilone could protest again, Cearo managed to break Wilone's grip on her neck. Quickly, she pried the girl's arms off her neck and pushed her toward Rheda as she stood up.

"Stop being a brat," Cearo told Wilone sternly. "I know you missed me when I was away, but that's no reason to act like a baby and be mean to Ma. Do you want Pa to hear you were mean to Ma?"

"No! I'll be good!"

"I hope so." Cearo kept her expression stern. "I know Pa wouldn't want to hear his Little Bird wasn't being good." She'd idolized her father the same way when she was Wilone's age and not wanting Daddy to be disappointed or upset with her had been a powerful motivator for good behavior. To Helm, she said, "Shall we dance?"

They joined the other couples dancing only moments before the band started playing a lively song.

"I don't think I've ever seen you smile so much before," Cearo remarked as the dance began. "I don't think I've seen either of you smile so much before. I'm glad. I'd hate to see either of you married to someone who didn't make you happy."

"I am glad she took pity on me and agreed to be my wife." Helm winked at Cearo as circled around each other. "I knew if I pestered her long enough she would agree just to make me stop."

Cearo laughed. "That, or dump a bucket of slops over your head. You are a lucky man, Helm Algarson, to marry such a fine woman and if you do not treat her like a queen and I hear about it, I will save Elfhild the task of smacking sense into you by doing it myself."

"I would love to watch you try, Lig. Your head just reaches my chin. What would you do, hit my chest and arms a lot?"

"Those and other, lower, areas." She gave a short shriek of surprise when he tickled her sides. "I'm going to tell Elfhild you were being mean to me when we danced! Tickling a woman without her permission! Horrible behavior! Didn't your mother teach you any manners?"

"And you are extremely bold, threatening bodily harm. Did your mother teach you any manners?"

"She tried, but I was too busy planning ways to annoy my brothers to pay attention." Cearo smiled proudly. "Behaving yourself takes too much effort. It's much easier to do whatever you want and apologize afterward if you need to."

Helm tickled her sides again. "I cannot understand why my wife is friends with you. She's so well-behaved and quiet and acts like a proper woman should."

"Even a 'proper woman' wants some excitement in her life and an excuse to be bad sometimes, and I give her both. Don't forget I'm the one who convinced Elfhild it was okay if her brother wasn't always around when you and her met after supper. You should be glad I've been a bad influence on her."

"I never said I was not." He chuckled. "If only she had been more of an influence on you, my dear."

"Oh?" Cearo felt her hackles rise. There was a kind of patronization in Helm's voice that put her immediately on the defensive. "In what ways?" She hoped Helm was only joking, but she had a feeling that underneath the jocular tone he was serious. She exhaled slowly through her nose. She was finally having a good time and everything was settling down. Whatever he meant by his comment, she hoped it had nothing to do with what had happened earlier.

"My brothers are at each other's throats because of you, and Aelfrid is—"

"I know." She counted to ten in her head. Of course that's what he'd meant. What else could it be? "I heard all about how I'm being unreasonable from Ma and Elfhild and Dagmar and most of the women who were in the kitchen earlier, and I don't want to hear it from you, all right?"

"I am sorry. I did not want to upset you."

"After everything that's happened today, did you really think I wanted to hear about it again?" She gave him a look of mild distain. "I'm sure you mean well but I do not want to hear, yet again, about how I'm shirking my rightful duty as a woman to marry and have lots of babies and make sure there's a meal ready when my husband comes in from the fields after a hard day's work. I've never said I do not want to marry and have a family, only that I don't want to rush into it and I don't want to marry until I find a guy I love and can be happy with. Why people take that to mean I don't ever want to marry and have kids, I have no idea. It really irritates me."

"I only want you to be happy, Cearo. I don't want to see you end up alone."

'Think happy thoughts,' Cearo told herself silently. 'Think happy thoughts and remember that there will come a time when he will be glad for women who don't do what they're supposed to.' The best guess in the village was that this was 3017 T.A., which meant it would be another two years before a badly behaved woman and a defiant Hobbit would ensure victory at Pelennor Fields. Two more years of orc raids that could well destroy the livelihoods of her family and thousands of others across the Mark. If she hadn't known what was coming, she would have wondered if Bema had abandoned the Mark the same way he'd abandoned her. 'Him and his sister, may they rot in the Void.'

The sensation of pain coming from her lower left leg brought Cearo out of her thoughts and she realized that Helm had just stepped—rather hard—on her foot. That's what happened when you stopped moving but your partner takes a step to the right.

"Sorry," she said sheepishly. "Bad time to get lost in my thoughts."

Helm said nothing but she could tell he was trying not to laugh.

"I am not going to end up alone, Helm. I'll never be alone as long as I have friends and people who love me, and I am happy working with Ma and helping her and caring for Wilone. Truly."

"I'm glad." It was clear from his tone and expression that whatever he said, he didn't believe her.

Cearo clenched her teeth and smothered the urge to call him on his patronizing attitude. The song was ending, which meant she'd be dancing with Aelfrid in a minute or two and the last thing she wanted was to be stressed out and short-tempered before it even started.

A/N: I apologize if parts of this chapter are weak. I'm beta-less at the moment and I wrote the last few pages when I was tired. If anyone is willing to beta for me, let me know.