Four days before leaving.

Frodo blinked in the sunlight at the hobbitess, surprised and a little unnerved that she had been watching him. "Good afternoon, Arabella," said Frodo as he stood, straightening his vest.

Arabella smiled knowingly. "Good afternoon, Frodo," she replied.

Frodo noticed her hair was done up in a single braid that trailed over her shoulder; a few wisps had freed themselves and swayed in the breeze around her face. Her cheeks were slightly pink from the minor September chill and stood out against the cobalt blue dress she wore. She was quite stunning.

"Well?" she asked impatiently, looking irritated, though her eyes twinkled.

"Well, what?" Frodo asked, looking both confused and embarrassed.

Arabella put her hands on her hips. "Are you going to invite me in for tea or not?"

Frodo's mouth opened wordlessly. She was so forward!

"Um...yes, of course," he stuttered as he stepped up and opened the gate. He gave an awkward bow and silently kicked himself for acting so foolishly as he led the way into Bag End and to his kitchen. Frodo helped her to her seat, trying to remember his manners, before moving to get the fire going so he could make the tea; once that was done he grabbed some cheese and apples and began preparing those as well.

"You have a lovely home," Arabella remarked as he was getting everything ready. "There is an air of," she paused, thinking of the right words, "magic about this place."

"Thank you," Frodo replied, unsure of what else to say. He was still trying to figure out how he had gone from writing story earlier in the day to suddenly having tea with this strange, yet intriguing, hobbitess.

"Would it be to forward to ask if I might look around?"

*She thinks that is too forward?* thought Frodo. "Please, feel free," he said, slicing into another apple.

Arabella stood and walked into the next room where two high-backed chairs sat quietly opposite each other before a cold hearth. Pictures hung above the mantel and on either side and she inspected each one before turning around to investigate the table covered in maps and books that were set next to the garden window. Everywhere Arabella looked there were books, trinkets and other bobbles that had been given to him after the War had ended. "You've been a great many places," she stated, looking at a Gondorian vase that sat in one of the windows.

"I have," Frodo agreed. He looked down at his hands as he went to cut the last apple and saw they had begun to tremble. Not now!

Arabella entered the hall and saw another small room with yet another hearth, a writing desk, and piles upon piles of notes and books, one in particular, catching her eye. Bound in red leather and with golden inlays running along the edges of the books, framing it in. She ran her fingers along the lines, tracing the patterns with her eyes; there was something about this book that drew her in, something that captivated her. She opened it up to where it the bookmark was placed.

Into Depravity

by

Frodo Baggins

Her brows drew up in surprise. Was Frodo an author?

A sudden crash sounded from the kitchen, and she jerked her head around. "Frodo? Is everything alright?" she asked as she walked back to where she'd left him. As she entered she saw no sign of him at first, then she saw his foot sticking out from the other side of the table. It was shaking.

"Frodo!" she cried, rounding the table to see him lying on the floor convulsing. Arabella felt his forehead, and it was burning up with fever. She looked around and quickly grabbed a nearby towel, dipped into some cold water from the basin, and placed it gently on his brow. Taking his hand in hers, she hummed a song to try and soothe him.

Finally, after several tense minutes, Frodo calmed down and slowly opened his eyes. He looked at Arabella, "I'm...afraid I...dropped your tea," he mumbled, smiling weakly.

Arabella gave a nervous laugh and returned the smile. "Then I suppose you owe me another," she teased.

Frodo chuckled softly as he tried to sit up. "Then I promise to honor that. For now though, would you please help me to my bed? I must rest."

She helped him to his feet and helped steady him as he guided her to his room. "Does this happen often?" she asked quizzically.

Frodo nodded. "A couple of times a year, though these are mild in comparison to some of the others."

Arabella wanted to ask more, but Frodo looked as if he was going to pass out any second, so she made a note to ask him about it later. They walked in silence until she eased him down into his bed, which he sank into gratefully.

Frodo heaved a sigh. "Soon I won't have to deal with this anymore," he mumbled to himself.

Arabella was going to ask him what he meant, but he was already asleep. She backed out of the room and quietly closed the door.

Three days before leaving

Frodo awoke the next morning feeling considerably better, and thankfully the fit had been a short one. He rubbed his eyes and ran his fingers through his curly black hair and stretched. He suspected he'd scared off poor Arabella and that he wouldn't be seeing her again. Frodo sighed. He was only going to be here a few days longer anyway, he really shouldn't get attached to anyone.

Frodo swung his feet out of bed, a strange smell hitting his nose. Suddenly he realized it was smoke. Something was on fire!

He rushed out of his room, following the smoky trail as it wafted through the halls until he finally reached the kitchen where he found Arabella attempting to put out the fire in the pan.

Frodo quickly grabbed a lid and dropped it over the pan, killing the flames. He looked at Arabella, who sported the same dress from yesterday with the same braid, though both were in slight disarray. She was coughing and trying to fan the smoke that was now filling the kitchen with the flames extinguished.

Rushing over to the window Frodo threw it open then turned around, hands on his hips with an irritated look. "What in the name of Arda are you doing!?" he exclaimed.

Arabella crossed her arms, her head inclining ever so slightly. "I was making breakfast." She gave a side glance towards the still smoking pan and gave a small shrug. "More or less."

Frodo could see bits of flour in her hair and on her face; her jade eyes confident despite her disheveled appearance. He felt he should be upset that she probably ruined good cookware and Valar knows what else, but he just started laughing. It was hearty, mirthful, and irresistible for she soon joined him laughing at the ridiculousness of it all.

After they had recovered and wiped the tears from their eyes, Frodo asked, "Would you care to join me for breakfast?"

Arabella's eyes danced merrily. "I'd be delighted," she replied, "but I'm afraid I am not decent enough to go out in my current state."

"I'd be honored to escort you just as you are. You look lovely," state Frodo.

Arabella blushed deeply, and Frodo felt his own face flush with heat. It seemed in her presence that his mouth seemed to move of its own accord. As they stood in awkward silence for a moment, Frodo was struck by a thought and grinned wide before dashing off into the depths of the house, leaving Arabella quite confused.

When he returned a few minutes later he held up a simple, yet elegant earth tone dress. Delicate lace hung gracefully at the ends of the quarter-sleeves and around the bodice. The rich earthy browns of the top half blended beautifully with the soft summer green of the skirt. "What do you think?" asked Frodo, holding it up.

Arabella gave a sly smile. "I don't think it's your color," she teased, walking over to him and looked at the dress more closely. "It is a beautiful dress," she whispered after a moment.

Frodo beamed. "It was my mothers, and now it is yours."

She looked up at him in surprise as she ran her fingers over the soft fabric. "Thank you," she replied tenderly. "Now give me a moment, and I shall try and make myself presentable."

An hour later Frodo's stomach was protesting the lack of a proper morning meal, for by now it was nearing lunchtime. Hopefully, she would be ready soon.

No sooner had the thought crossed his mind Arabella came back to the living room, and his heart skipped a beat. Her reddish hair hung free down past her shoulders save for a single small braid that ran behind her right ear. Her cheeks were flush, giving her a radiant quality; the dress fit her like it had been made for her, though it was just a tad long. To add to it all, she smelled of sweet lavender from the last month's harvest. She was breathtaking.

"Are you going to just stare, or shall we go to breakfast?" she asked, eyes twinkling.

Frodo snapped out of it and cleared his throat. "Um yes...of course." He stood and walked over to the door and offered his arm, smiling. "Shall we?"

Something had come alive in Frodo in spite of his best efforts to try and avoid getting attached. For so long he'd felt numb inside, the pain ever in his heart, mind, and body. He'd come to no longer recognize the hobbit who looked back at him in the mirror. Now the pain seemed to ease, and he almost felt... happy.

That thought alone made it that much harder knowing he would have to leave her three days hence. But he pushed those dark thoughts aside so he could enjoy this time with Arabella.

They walked down from Bag End together, arm in arm, towards the Green Dragon, catching many surprised looks from the hobbits they passed. Frodo didn't care, and Arabella didn't seem to mind either. Talk flowed naturally between them, and they laughed gaily together in the mid-September sun.

After having breakfast and lunch, they strolled about the countryside, Frodo telling her a little of the Fellowship's journey and its members. She hung on every word, and Frodo found it comforting to share it with someone other than Sam.

They sat under the branches of an ancient oak tree watching the last light of day sink towards the horizon. Arabella leaned her head on Frodo's shoulder, content. Frodo smiled, breathing in the scent of the autumn leaves, crisp fall air, and the sweet smell of lavender. He didn't want it to end but knew that it would. It must. "I'm leaving in a few days," he said quietly, hating to disturb the peace that surrounded them.

"I know," she whispered, emotions suddenly tugging at her. "I saw the letter on your table last night."

Silence settled upon them. As the last glimmer of sunlight faded and dipped below the horizon, Arabella spoke in a hushed tone. "Will you do something for me?"

Frodo nodded. "Anything," he replied, his own emotions barely held in check.

Arabella turned and looked at him, eyes glistening in the growing twilight. "Don't forget me."

Frodo's heart felt light it would be torn asunder, and he swallowed past the growing lump in his throat. "You," he said gently, "are impossible to forget."

As the stars came to fill the sky with their crystalline radiance, Frodo and Arabella sealed their 'goodbye' with a kiss.