A/N
Chapter fiiiive. Woo! Thank you for reading. I'm enjoying this, writing something fun and silly. And I'm glad people are reading it! Now I've written the reason why the two are in Bree in the next coming chapters, so hopefully it flows well!

Chapter 5

rosemary

A few days later, Clover awoke to a fiddle playing outside her window. Startled, she stumbled out of bed, almost knocking over her table as she rushed to the window, throwing it open.

On the street below stood a young lad and Bofur. The boy had the fiddle, his face scrunched in concentration as he tried to play along with Bofur's whistle. Clover couldn't help but laugh, not out of malice but out of relief. She thought something awful had happened! The tune was one she recognized from the Shire; however, it was not a tune one played for courtship.

"My dear Mister Bofur!" She called down to him, a big smile on her face. "Where did you learn this song?"

He stopped playing and lowered the whistle, his smile never fading. "Why, from old Sebastian Took! Taught me all I need to know about hobbits, including music!"

She covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. "My dear, dear dwarf..."
"I'm getting the impression I have been led astray by this old hobbit." He replied before nudging the lad. "I think we're done here, Mister Magnus. Run along home to your mum now, you hear?"

The boy held his hand out first. Laughing, Bofur placed a toy - Clover thought perhaps it was a dragon, in the boy's hand. Grinning, Magnus waved to Clover before he took off down the road, fiddle and new toy in hand.

Clover moved away from the window, pulling on her cloak before she made her way down to the street. Bofur was there, waiting for her, as he played a different tune on his whistle. This one she didn't recognize, but she suspected it might have been dwarvish.

"My dear dwarf, that song you had been playing..." She began, shaking her head as she chuckled. "I should not laugh, forgive me, but that song is traditionally played at a burial! What is this old Took telling you about hobbits exactly?"

Bofur looked dumbfounded for a moment before he just shrugged and smiled. "Said hobbits enjoyed a good tune now and then. He taught me a few tunes last night, probably not realizing what songs were what! Dear me, I haven't offended you with my music choice, have I?"
"No, no! Not at all. It was a pleasant surprise to wake up to a song from home, even if I thought someone had passed!" She replied, smiling. "Have you had breakfast yet, Bofur? If not, come inside and I will make you some."

So Bofur followed her into the pub, pleased that she seemed to enjoy the wake up call, even if it was the wrong choice of music. She led him back into the kitchen, where there was a small table and a few chairs set up.

"Have a seat while I start cooking! And... and why not tell me about your family, my dear Mister Bofur?" She suggested as she grabbed a skillet and other things. "Do dwarfs have large families like hobbits, or are they often times small?"

Bofur sat back on his chair as he pulled out his pipe. "Some do, some don't. Myself, it's me and my brother, as well as our cousin. They're still in the Blue Mountains, while I'm here." He said as he puffed on his pipe. "Not many dwarf children in most families, however. Male dwarfs outnumber the ladies quite a bit."

"Mmm, is that why you are seeking a hobbit wife?" She teased as she cracked a few eggs over the skillet. Bofur chuckled softly, but it wasn't his usual joyful laugh. Almost more sad sounding, if Clover had to guess. "Bofur?"

"No, no. I didn't come here to seek a wife, hobbit nor dwarf. I came here because I couldn't bare to be in those mountains any longer. A change, you know?" He said, his smile sad. Clover could feel her heart ache for him, though she wasn't sure why.

"What kind of change? Did something happen there?"

Bofur watched her carefully for a moment before blowing out a few smoke rings. "Nay, nothing happened. I just... wanted to see the land for a bit. I may return to the mountains some day, but for now, I'm content here in Bree." His smile returned, this time bright and happy. "I'm content being here with you. Now, I am curious, why is a hobbit in Bree? I'm to understand you lot love your Shire, and the flowers and land that is around it. There's not much of that here in Bree."

Clover huffed a bit and tossed on some bacon. "Well, I suppose I needed a change of scenery as well. Mostly due to being stubborn."

"A hobbit after my own heart!" Bofur teasingly added. Clover tossed some eggshells at him for that.

"Oh, hush! No, it's because my aunt and uncle thought to marry me off the moment I became of age. My brother supported the idea, saying I would make a fine wife to someone." She growled as she began to stab at the eggs. "The hobbit they wanted me to marry was lovely, but he just was not for me. So while they planned a wedding, I planned my escape! And days before we were to be wed, I left. Took the things I needed and left for Bree."

Bofur stared at her, rather surprised. "Really. You ran away because you did not wish to marry? How long ago was this?"

"Only years ago, dear Bofur. My brother came after me later, trying to talk sense into me." She said with a sigh as she flipped the food onto their plates. "He knew it would be hopeless, though, but I simply refused. He didn't put up much of a fight, knowing that I wouldn't do whatever it was he asked. Dear Hamfast has come to visit me occasionally, bringing his wife and child along. There is no ill feelings towards me, thankfully."

She handed him a plate of food as well as a cup of tea before taking a seat for herself. Bofur watched her for a moment, leaving his food untouched. She smiled at him.

"I have no desire to leave Bree just because you wish to marry me, dear Bofur. Have no fear." She assured him.

"Well, that's good to know, I think." He replied with a smile. "I'd hate to have to chase after you."

Days later, Bofur stood on the street under her window, playing a different tune on his whistle. He played through the song once before he lowered the instrument, awaiting his hobbit lass to open her window. However, she never appeared, half asleep with her curls a mess which was the usual sight that Bofur saw. The window remained shut and he saw no movement. Frowning, he played another tune, one a little sharper than before. Perhaps she had a long night - he wondered if she was just a heavy sleeper today.

After the second, third, and fourth tune were played through, he finally picked up a stone and aimed it at her window. Just as he was about to throw, a voice called out to him, "Are you that dwarf that comes around here all the time?"

Bofur froze, turning his attention to the pub door. There stood one of the employees, who just raised an eyebrow at Bofur.

"You are! Well, Clover says to stop with the racket and to just come upstairs." He announced, opening the door for the dwarf. "And take her this." Bofur was handed a tray of tea and soup. "Poor lass is ill and won't be up and about today."

Bofur's eyes widened as he ran upstairs, being mindful of the tray. He let himself into her room, startled to see her curled up under her blankets, forehead sweaty and cheeks flushed with a fever. He set the tray down on her table and approached her bed.

"Miss Clover?" He asked softly. She grumbled in response, burying herself further into her blankets. He touched her shoulder softly as he chewed on his lip. "Are you all right?"

"I'll be fine." Clover replied, her voice hoarse. A sneeze came, then a cough. "Just a bit under the weather. Shake it off in a few days. Just need sleep." She rubbed her eyes and peeked out from her blankets. "Don't worry, dear Bofur."

But he did worry. Bofur had witnessed all to many deaths to illness while in the Blue Mountains. Most started out as just a normal cold, but it often times turned worse in just days before death took them. He chewed on his fingernails, worry etched on his face. Clover frowned as she started to sit up in her bed.

"Bofur? What's wrong?"

"No, no, just lay back. I'll take care of you!" He insisted, gently pushing her onto her back. "We'll get you some more pillows - you should be propped up to help you breath better, yes? And I'll make sure you have fresh tea! You will be back to yourself in no time!"

Clover sighed and nodded, laying back on her bed as Bofur fretted about. They had barely known each other for a month by now, but she had never seen him so anxious. He was trying to play it off, but she was worried now. She didn't think to long on it before she was dozing back to sleep, reclined upon a pile of pillows; the last thing she remembered was Bofur playing a soft tune on his whistle as he started to pace around her room.