You're My Light in the Dark

Chapter 16 : Moments of Passing Years — April

After weeks of hustle and bustle, of dress and trouser orders coming in almost non-stop, for the first time in what seemed like forever the Proudfoot tailoring shop was surprisingly devoid of customers. When I walked in I couldn't help but look around in surprise at how quiet it was. The shop was already swept, the windows noticeably clean and glistening as the morning sun shone in, and there were none of the usual swatches of cloth in sight. Angelica was seated behind the counter with a cup of tea, her dark curls hanging freely around her shoulders, leaning back in her chair with a pleased, yet tired smile. It was the most relaxed I'd seen her in a while.

"Why didn't you wait for me?" I prompted. "I would've cleaned the shop for you."

"I know you would've, Katherine," she said gently, her pretty hazel eyes following me as I hung my travel bag up on the coat rack. I couldn't help but smile at the use of my full name, something that only my mother used to do – and somehow it was much more pleasant coming from Angelica than it ever was coming from my mother. "Cleaning up the shop after the spring rush is my little tradition. Besides, I couldn't let you. You do more than enough with dropping off orders, especially these past few weeks." She sat forward in the chair, placing her cup back in its saucer on the counter – a move showing she was all business – before continuing, "I don't know how you do it. The order drop off yesterday was at the tip of the North Farthing – a good two day's journey. How are you back already?"

I gave a shrug. "I like to run. It's no big deal."

At that Angelica stood up and moved around the counter, then reached up to touch my hair. Only when she pulled her hand back, she was holding a twig that, apparently, had been stuck in my ponytail without me noticing. She held it out with a pointed look. "The Longfellows came in about a week ago to place an order. Lucy said you only stayed at their home once. You've been camping instead, I see."

I ducked my head, feeling ashamed for going behind Angelica's back. Part of the deal with traveling far was for me to stay at her friend's homes during overnight trips. "I'm sorry. The Longfellow's are wonderful hobbits… it's just quicker when I stay on my own."

Motioning to the twig, she commented, "You didn't even go home before coming here again."

"I thought you might need me," I replied.

Giving a small sigh, she placed the twig in a pocket of her apron, and then stepped forward, cupping my face with both her hands. It was a rather maternal gesture, one that took me by surprise. "I do need you," she said, "But not like this. Go home, relax, and get some sleep."

"But—"

"No buts!" she insisted, gently but firmly, and with a laugh spun me around and led me out the door. As the door shut and the lock clicked behind me, I had to marvel at my luck — to have such good, caring people in my life – even if they have no idea why I push myself so hard. I guess this is what I get for trying to use my work as a training device.

April 23rd is Lauren's birthday.

She's always a hyper girl, but birthdays make her especially so. And she gets wicked irritated when she thinks people forget about her special day. So naturally, unbeknownst to her, I made plans for a secret surprise party with our friends.

I woke up early that morning, slipping out of bed as dawn broke over the horizon. Tea steeping, eggs made, I was nibbling on some toast when Frodo made his bleary-eyed appearance.

Frodo isn't a morning person. At all. So it didn't surprise me when he shuffled into the kitchen looking distinctly rumpled: shirt wrinkled and untucked, shirt cuffs unbuttoned and rolled half-haphazardly up near his elbows, and hair sticking up in weird ways. It's so at odds with his normally prim bearing that even after months of knowing him it still makes me smile.

He took his normal seat at the table across from me, and like I did every morning, I slid a mug of tea in his direction. "Thanks," he murmured, as he always did.

Honestly, and I'm a little ashamed to admit it, but this is my favorite part of the day. He's never quite woken up fully yet, and those blue eyes, usually so large and observant, are always half-lidded and a bit distant as he blinks away sleep while sipping on caffeine. It's these moments in the morning that I get to truly look at him without his noticing – to see the real Frodo Baggins. No raised eyebrows or questioning looks when he catches me watching him – he's too out of it to notice. It's also amusing because while he is usually quite reserved, he becomes much more vocal when he's still half-asleep. It's as if his filter still hasn't kicked into full gear.

"It's at seven o'clock tonight, yes?"

I blinked, pausing for a moment before realizing he was talking about Lauren's surprise party. "Yep, seven o'clock. Don't be late."

"Wouldn't dream of it, lass."

I bit down on my grin, strangely thrilled at him calling me 'lass.' I know he doesn't mean anything by it, but still… the fact that we are on a first–name basis makes it seem more like a term of endearment than anything else.

"He's got a thing for you, you know…" That's what Lauren claims, at least. And sometimes during these morning conversations, before he's fully awake, I can almost sense it. But maybe I'm just deluding myself. Of course he wouldn't. He shouldn't.

The day after Yule and the debacle with Esmeralda Brandybuck, with that conversation in the firelight, I thought I had sensed something between us then. But it's been months and nothing's happened since, nothing remotely like that night, so I probably just imagined it. It's hard to believe he'd see me in that way… not that I should encourage it even if he did. There are wars to be fought and rings to destroy.

Some things are just more important.

At the sound of his voice, I turned my thoughts back to the conversation at hand. "Does she know about our birthday customs?" he asked, frowning. "I got her a gift because of your explanation on how you celebrate birthdays—"

"Oh, you didn't have to," I said, feeling a bit sheepish. Hobbits don't give presents to the hobbit having a birthday – if anything, the person having the birthday gets other people gifts. "That's not why I told you about that."

"I know; I wanted to," he said in all seriousness. "I don't want her to be homesick. We do things differently than where you're from, and—" His concern was rather adorable, even if in this instance it was unneeded.

"It's okay, really," I assured him. "I explained this all to her months ago. She'll still act like a brat with me, I'm sure, but… she knows what to expect."

He tilted his head to the side a bit, brow furrowed as he mulled over my words. I've come to know that expression quite well by now: it's the face he makes when we say something he doesn't understand. "What's a brat?"

It's amazing how many of our colloquial terms aren't used here in the Shire. 'Brat', apparently, being one of them. "Um… it's a nuisance, like a child that misbehaves."

Taking a sip of tea, he flashed me a knowing glance over the rim of the mug. "Your sister's excitable, yes, but… I wouldn't say that wanting to follow your customs makes her a nuisance."

"You haven't seen the way she acts on her birthday yet," I pointed out dryly.

"True," he conceded. "But I think there's something more to this. I think you compare our cultures and feel out of place. Your customs are different, yes, but sometimes its like… you try to pretend you're not different. You don't have to worry about that, not with me."

I gave a sigh, I couldn't help it. It was one of those blunt things he wouldn't have ever said had he been fully awake. I dared a glance at him. And sure enough: his eyes, despite still being half-lidded in his tiredness, dared me to argue.

He really is too sweet and understanding for his own good.

I wanted to tell him that he was right. I wanted to ask how he could possibly know. But I never got the chance. Because at that moment Lauren came hopping into the kitchen as she fought with the sleeves of her sweater. "Crap, crap, crap!" she muttered, the word enunciated with every hop she took.

"Morning to you too," I commented. "Something wrong?"

"I'm laaate!" she said in a woe is me sort of voice. "Oh, and no pancakes today?"

Pancakes are typically her birthday breakfast, after all. It was the only day our mother allowed her to have them. Under any normal circumstances, I would've made them for her in a heartbeat – or at least tried to, with my awful cooking skills. But to make it a true surprise, I needed to act oblivious. "I didn't know you placed an order," I commented with an eyebrow raised. Frodo, whose back was to her, was rolling his eyes at me. "Besides, isn't Prim expecting you?"

Sweater now fully on, she gave a mighty sigh. "Don't you feel like you're forgetting something today? This day of all days."

Man, she was laying it on thick. Frodo was giving me that thin-lipped smile of his, clearly trying his best to hold in his laughter.

"Nope. I have no idea what you're talking about."

Another sigh as she quickly came over to grab a slice of toast. "You know, it's days like these that make me wish we had a car."

She was no doubt referencing the fact that it was her sixteenth birthday. I felt for her on that front – she never did get to drive. "Yeah, I can imagine. Maybe you wouldn't be so late if we had one."

Lauren gave a huff at that, storming out. As soon as the front door clicked shut behind her, I immediately turned to Frodo, who was chuckling to himself. "Wow, you really can't lie for beans, can you?" At his confused look I pinched the bridge of my nose in irritation – not at him, but at our different cultures yet again. "One of these days I've got to get the hang of not using idioms."

The better part of the day was spent preparing dinner and the birthday cake. Luckily for me, Lily was kind enough to provide much-needed help. We were pulling ingredients out of the pantry, setting them out on the countertops for quick access when Frodo's voice came from the doorway.

"Can I trust you not to massacre our kitchen again?" he quipped, no doubt remembering the Flour Fiasco the last time Lily helped me cook. He was shrugging into a light jacket, probably off to make some odd errand to assist Bilbo in managing the Baggins' estate.

Lily's lips twisted up into a smile that guaranteed mischief. "I make no promises."

I poked my head out of the pantry at that. "She'll behave, one way or another," I assured him.

Still joking, he said wryly, "I trust you'll do what needs to be done, lass."

From beside me, Lily snorted. His footsteps sounded down the hallway, the front door opened and closed – Frodo was gone. Lily was standing up on her tiptoes trying her damnedest to reach the sugar bin on one of the higher shelves. For all of her effort, pretty much everything else on the shelf we didn't need was falling off to the floor around her. Somehow I managed to catch a glass jar of marmalade before it shattered. "Nice catch," she grinned.

"Scoot, before you break something," I said, giving her a small hip bump out of the way. Despite my new hobbit size – standing at a proud two-foot eight, I'll have you know – I'm a pro at managing the pantry by now. My gymnastics training has served me well. The Bag End pantry is massive; it's a large room – much bigger than the actual kitchen itself – with every wall lined with shelves from floor to ceiling. Hiking up my skirts, I started climbing the shelves and maybe three shelves up I could see the sugar bin. "Here!" I called, giving the metal tin a shake before tossing it down to Lily, who caught it with ease.

"Look at you," she said with something akin to admiration as I made my way back down.

"I've had practice," I replied with a shrug.

Lily bent over to collect a box of oatmeal that had fallen. "I can see that. Mr. Bilbo doesn't have a problem with you climbing his shelves?"

"He hasn't said anything about it. Besides, I've been promised a step-stool that hasn't been supplied yet."

"Who needs a step-stool with that dexterity?"

I had to roll my eyes at that. "It'll make life a little easier, believe me. Sometimes I think Frodo gets a kick watching me do it."

Her grin turned sly. "I can imagine."

"Oh, not you too," I groaned.

"What?" Lily questioned, suddenly the picture of faux innocence. I wasn't buying it.

"There's nothing going on between Frodo and me," I said firmly as I plucked the sugar from her hands. Stalking out of the pantry, I made quick work of putting the sugar with the other ingredients out on the counter.

"I didn't say there was," Lily said, tossing her dark brown hair over her shoulder, "But I'd be a fool not to notice it."

"Well, you're wrong."

"And I think you're in denial," she rebutted, coming to stand beside me. "He's a respectable gentlehobbit. Haven't you thought about it—?"

"No," I lied. Not that she needed to know that. I busied myself with grabbing the mixing bowls and icing bags from the cabinets as she continued to talk.

"Half the Shire thinks you have designs on him, you know."

"Well, I don't."

"What with you living here an' all."

"I know all too well what's being said about us." The gossips. How 'the help' fancies her boss. How 'the help' is trying to rise above her station. Growing up, I never really thought much about class status or money. Truly middle class, we hadn't been all that rich, nor did we worry that much about money. Now Lauren and I are paid well for our work, but even still, we're not exactly rich. And we don't right care about it. We get by. And our friends – even those from well-off families like Frodo, Merry, and Pippin – have never seemed to mind it. It's not in their nature. I vaguely noticed my eye twitching.

Lily placed a gentle hand on my shoulder. "Easy, Kat. I tease, is all."

"It's not funny."

"It's obvious you don't think so." I turned to give her a blank stare. She merely smiled, unaffected. She's had lots of practice teasing Sam in these matters, after all. "In all seriousness, though… he hasn't asked to court you yet?"

"We're just friends, Lily."

Lily dumped half the sugar tin in a bowl, and then added some flour and eggs. She huffed some stray hair out of her eyes – her hair was still down, curls bouncing around her shoulders. I quirked an eyebrow at her and took it upon myself to tie her hair back for her since her hands were busy. "I've known Frodo since we were kids. He's never looked at a lass the way he looks at you."

I paused mid ponytail for just a moment, feeling my mouth run dry. "What do you mean?" but even as the words passed my lips, I had a feeling I already knew. That warmth in his gaze – that playful inquisitive light – those eyes that could see right through me…

"He may not say what he truly means at times, but he wears his heart on his sleeve. Always has." Mixing up the cake batter she turned to flash me a pointed look, as I still had my hands in her hair. So I finished the messy pony as fast as I could.

"She's right, you know," Bilbo murmured from the hallway, to my mortification. I spun at his words, and he flashed a lopsided smile, not seeming at all apologetic for eavesdropping on our girl talk.

That's it. I need to busy my hands before I strangle someone.

I turned my back on him as my face flared red. Quick as possible, just to get my mind on something else, I dug into the potato sack to start peeling them for dinner. Bilbo's chuckles floated back to us as he laughed his way down the hall back to his study.

I'm really starting to regret asking for help with this damn cake.

By the time seven o'clock rolled around, we were ready for the festivities to begin. We were all situated in the den in order to pounce on the "Surprise!" the second she opened the door.

Pippin, ever the imp, kept trying to swipe the icing flowers off Lily's masterpiece of a cake. It was far too big for our small party, but it's not like I was complaining – Lauren and I haven't had a birthday cake in years. Lily swatted Pippin's hands away yet again. "Last warning, Took. Next time I'll just smack you upside the head."

Bilbo, who was close enough to overhear her, quickly came up behind Pippin and did just that: slapped him on the back of the head. At Pippin's startled yelp, Bilbo smirked. "Hands off the food until Lauren gets here, lad."

"But she's late to her own party. And I'm hungry."

"You're always hungry, Pip," I commented.

"It's only natural. I'm a growing lad," he said in defense.

Frodo was busying himself by playing with the curtains as he kept an eye out for Merry, our lookout. At Pippin's remark he turned away from the window, his exasperation clear as he rolled his eyes. "The party's a surprise, remember? She doesn't know she's late to anything."

The whole conversation became moot, however, as a moment later found Merry scrambling in through the front door. "She's coming! Hide!"

As planned, Bilbo doused the room's main lamp and Lily and I finished lighting the candles on the cake – we wanted the cake to be the only thing lit in the house when she came in. I was debating whether to grab a spot ducking behind the couch with Bilbo or by the bookcase at the front of the room when I felt a hand grasp mine. Glancing up, by the faint light of the birthday candles I could make out Frodo's kind smile. "Come along, Kat."

We were standing behind the curtains side by side, pressed up against the wall. Hardly the most romantic position – but I'm glad for the darkness, as our joint hiding spot would otherwise serve as fodder for teasing, no doubt. I'm hyper aware of him now… far more than I usually am. Enclosed in the curtain, it was all too easy to feel his body heat at my side, and the heady scent of pipeweed was difficult to ignore. He must've smoked with his uncle earlier, as that's really the only time he smokes.

Damn you, Lily, for making me notice.

"This is more fun than I anticipated," he whispered. My hand was still enclosed in his, and he gave a gentle squeeze. "We should do these parties more often."

"Shh," I admonished, not having the heart to tell him that if we planned them all the time, they would hardly be surprises anymore.

The front door creaked as it opened and shut. A shuffle as she fumbled around for the oil lamp typically on the side table by the door – which we had moved to prevent her using it – and a choice swear word when she couldn't find it. I could sense Bilbo's disapproval from across the room. Luckily he remained silent.

Her footsteps sounded on the wooden flooring, and we knew she reached the hallway wall lamp – which we also moved – when she cursed again. "What the—"

Our plan was to wait until she reached the doorway of the den before shouting surprise. That way she could actually see the cake and us as we came out of our hiding spots.

But it went wrong, of course. Because at that moment, as she was still fumbling her hand along the wall looking for the second lamp, Pippin decided to jump out from his hiding spot at the doorway – leaping into the hallway and shouting at the top of his lungs.

"SURPRISE!"

I've never heard Lauren shriek in such a high-pitched girly way before. But shriek she did. "Oh no," I groaned, cringing. Pushing aside the curtains, stepping around the couch, all I could see was Lauren standing in the hallway with a hand over her heart.

"You idiot!" she cried, "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!" But she was quick to recover, it seemed, as just a second later she was using her free hand to smack Pippin's shoulder a few times. He accepted the hits with a shrug.

"It's a surprise party; I thought that was the point?"

Lauren's expression was pure gold; completely gobsmacked, jaw going slack as her eyebrows raised. It wasn't hard to figure out what was going through her head: the contrast between the pleasant surprise the party was supposed to be compared to the jump-scare she received courtesy of cultural misunderstanding.

"He does have a point," I said with a laugh. Her attention immediately shifted to me. That was when she noticed it: the giant cake on the coffee table behind me, the lone beacon glowing in the dark house. Her features instantly softened.

"You did this?" she breathed.

"I had lots of help," I assured her. "Happy Birthday."

A chorus of "Happy Birthday!" echoed.

Frodo switched the lamps back on, bathing the room in light. Only then was it obvious she was on the verge of tears, blue eyes gleaming. Before I could even really comprehend it, she had enveloped me in a hug. I eagerly returned it. Sniffling met my ears and I found myself squeezing her tighter.

After all, this is the first time we've properly celebrated a birthday in over seven years.

Looking over her shoulder I could easily see concerned looks from our friends. "Is everything alright, lass?" Bilbo asked worriedly. Lauren pulled back at that, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater.

"Yes, of course," she was a little too quick to say, a smile finally starting to tug at her lips. "This is a party, right? Everything is more than alright. But first things first." And it was Bilbo who found himself in a hug next as she threw herself at him.

He gave a surprised, "Oh!" and let out a hearty laugh, not really understanding why, but accepting it for what it was.

None of this would be possible without Bilbo. And it's appreciated more than he could ever possibly know.

"Truth or dare?" Lauren asked.

It was such a loaded question. After the near-inquisition I had to deal with earlier while cooking, the last thing I wanted was for people to go digging into my business.

"Dare."

Her grin was huge. She had known what my answer was going to be. And she had a task at the ready, which was ordered immediately. "Your beam flight series – the handspring, handspring, full."

I gave a groan. It's been part of our training the past few weeks to do certain things without warming up first – to get used to doing various things cold to study how our bodies reacted. After all, in the war we don't know what kind of stunts we're going to have to pull and under what conditions. Lauren's been having fun taking my end of this training to the extreme because my gymnastics skills deal with a lot of fears. It builds up my mental fortitude, sure, but it doesn't mean I particularly enjoy it. Especially in this instance, as I don't really care for showing off.

No one else understood what she was talking about, of course. Lauren, talking through a bite of cake took it upon herself to elaborate: "I mean, you haven't really shown our friends what exactly you can do…" Looks of comprehension dawned on their expressions around the table, as they all came to the realization she was referring to my 'acrobatics.' If Frodo wasn't as tipsy as he was, he'd be a bit more disapproving, I'm sure.

"How did I know this was coming?" I asked dryly as I pushed my chair out from the table to stand up.

"And yet you still played," Lauren was all too quick to remind me. "As for terms: you've got to do it on the rock wall lining Bagshot Row right now."

I held out my hands, gesturing to my skirts. "Can I at least get some pants on?"

"Wouldn't be 'right now' if you could."

I couldn't help but sigh. I should've known she'd say that. My dress is a one-piece slip today, so I don't have to worry about a shirt riding up. Dealing with the skirts, however, and the possibility of them getting caught around my hips while tumbling upside-down is new territory.

But I suppose that's rather the point.

Knowing what I had to do, my body itched for a stretch in preparation. It felt wrong not to. Trying to quell the feeling of necessity, I reached up to redo my messy bun. It gave me something to do, at least, as I wound around the couch on my way out of Bag End.

Behind me, I could hear Lauren round up our friends. "Come on now! You have to see this!"

"Do you know what she's going to do?" Lily asked Frodo excitedly.

"Havn' th' foggiest," Frodo replied, words slurring a bit. "I've seen 'er on 'er hands b'fore. An' seen 'er fall from a tree once. Scared th' blazes outta me."

We approached the rock wall across the street, serving as the divider between Bag Shot Row and the party fields. It was built with some sort of clay or concrete, much like the bridge over by the Old Mill, so luckily the wall seemed sturdy enough to withstand my weight and the added impact of tumbling — at least for this one demonstration anyway. The top of the wall was a flat enough surface to make tumbling possible. With the rocks, it was a little more jagged than I would've liked, but there was no helping that. It was at least a foot wide — and compared to the four-inch beams I used to train with, it would be easy to stay on.

Our friends were lining up on the street, patiently waiting.

"She's said no every time I asked her to show me," Pippin pouted.

"She doesn't like to have an audience," Lauren explained. "Never did. She used to get so nervous before competitions. But it'd be all for naught since she always did well and would win anyway."

"Where did this happen?" Merry asked, excited at the prospect of such a show. "We should go! No need to get nervous with friends to cheer you on, eh?"

"Here and there," she said vaguely, stuttering a little.

At that, I turned away from my inspection of the wall to pin Lauren with a warning look. Gymnastics competitions here in Middle Earth were extremely unlikely, after all. But Lauren hardly took any notice of me, her attention was on Frodo — the two sharing a knowing sort of glance.

"We haven't heard about any new competitions for a while, though," Lauren added.

"That's a shame," Frodo murmured. "I would've liked t' see one."

"Aye," Pippin piped up his agreement. "Been a while since the last one around here. What's it been, six years since the archery competition in Stock?"

A dark expression shadowed Merry's features. "Unlikely they'll have another for some time, yet. What with the accident last time."

Somber nods followed this statement. Not at all liking the sad turn their conversation had taken, Lily crossed her arms and turned her attention to me. "You ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be without a warm-up and in a dress," I said with a sigh, climbing up.

Actually standing up on the wall, with the hardness of the rocks and the slightly uneven surface underfoot, it was clear I couldn't do my typical two-foot landing. Doing so would probably re-injure my feet — my body weight plus the added speed of the flip would be a lot of pressure for a one impact landing. A step-out — landing one foot at a time — would make the landing more gentle. So I explained as much to Lauren, who wanted my regular flight series.

"Can't do the two-foot landing on rocks, Laur. It's too hard of a landing."

From her spot among our friends, she waved a hand. "Don't worry about it. Do what you can safely."

I gave a nod, then stood at attention, arms raised above my head, hands clasped. Out of habit my stance shifted to beam feet — one foot slightly in front of the other. (It's impossible to stand with your feet side-by-side on something only four inches wide, after all.) The familiar spike in adrenaline was enough to make my heart pound, to make my palms itch with a sudden sweat. And for a moment I wasn't in the Shire at all. Not on a rock wall, but on a balance beam. Four feet above the ground, blue hard mats all around. It was all too easy to imagine Jill's encouraging smile as she stood at the end of the beam waiting for her turn.

Then there was nothing. Just me and the skill, like it always was. Like it always has been. Now or never. Once you go, you can't stop. Not even for a second. So before I go, I always give myself three.

One, two, three—!

And I let myself go. Arching through the air backwards high, long, and dainty — tumbling backward with step outs isn't so much about power as it is about grace — and when done correctly, you can feel how pretty it is mid-tumble. The skirts fluttering about my legs made it feel prettier than usual. Hands hit the wall, the rocks cutting my palms just a bit — but it was hardly of any consequence because I stepped down to go for the next one. Arching high backwards again, coming down on my hands a second time. It was in that small moment, on my hands before stepping down, that I thought about the set for the twist — the arms up, the straight jump necessary get enough height for the twist.

Faster twist the usual, I remembered, for the step out.

And so I did. It felt odd. I was still upside down at the end of the twist, so to save it I put my hands down to gracefully fall out of it. It was supposed to be a salto — a no-hand flip — but I'd rather do the handspring than stubbornly stick to the salto and face-plant on rocks.

Stepping down for the third and last time, pulling myself upright to finish, I couldn't help the satisfied smile pulling at my lips.

Not bad for no warm-up on a rock wall.

Not bad at all.

It was then, and only then, that I noticed the ruckus our friends were making. Claps, whistles, and hoots. Chancing a glance at our friends, the surprise and awe were palpable and enough to make me embarrassed. Running up to come in close, our friends chatted excitedly.

"You've been hidin' that all this time?" Lily said pointedly, hands on her hips. As Merry and Pippin chirped their agreements, I could only shrug. Frodo was the only one who didn't seem all that surprised. Instead he stepped up right next to the wall, reaching up to place gentle hands at my hips. "Come on down, lass," he murmured. I gave a little hop, and he helped ease the way down.

Luckily, the others were too distracted with a small argument that had sprung up between Pippin and Lauren to pay much attention to Frodo and me.

"Why didn't you tell us!" Pippin was lamenting.

"I did!" Lauren replied. "We both did, actually. It's not my fault you didn't believe us."

"Hearing about it and seeing it are two different things," Lily said, coming to the Took's defense.

Even though my feet were now firmly on the ground, Frodo hadn't pulled away. Not only was he still standing close, but he still had a hand on my hip, his arm around me as he stood at my side. "It's quite impressive, what you can do," he said. Too close, he was. And it was distracting. As was the hand curled around my hipbone.

"It's fun," was all I got to say in response. Because no sooner did the words leave my lips, with an "OI!" Pippin nearly tackled me in a hug and the moment was gone. Frodo helped keep us upright, nearly getting bowled over himself. The Took was all limbs, gangly, and I couldn't help but imagine this is what it felt like to be strangled by an octopus. Pippin gets a bit handsy when he's drunk, so this isn't the first time I've had a drunken Pip hug, and it probably won't be the last. Instead, I resignedly accepted it.

"You'll teach me how t' do tha' right?" he asked excitedly.

"I don't think you have the patience, Pip," I commented.

"Aw, don't say tha'. I want t' fly too."

That was how I found myself trying to teach Merry and Pippin a simple headstand in the party fields the next day. The lesson didn't last long. They got incredibly disheartened when I told them they couldn't try acrobatics after drinking or smoking.

To no one's surprise, that was when they decided it was a little too much work for their tastes.