You're My Light in the Dark

Chapter 17 : Moments of Passing Years — Lithe

Summers in the Shire, we found, were not much different than in New England. The heat was about the same, with the sun gloriously bright. The humidity was a little less, though, and thanks to great cooling winds, it made the heat a little more bearable. Lauren had been worried about the heat in particular. Being a figure skater, most of her summers back home were spent in refrigerated ice rinks, and when she wasn't at the rink, she was either in an air-conditioned car or house. And these were facts she didn't let me forget as the summer heat kicked into full gear.

We were in the back yard hanging laundry out to dry on the line around midday, the sun bearing down directly above our heads. It was truly a day to enjoy, as not only was it a holiday, but the skies were clear and Sam's gorgeous flowers were blooming in a sea of purples, reds, and yellows – the plants seeming, almost, to have personalities all their own as the wind blew whistling through them, giving the illusion the flowers were singing. The only downside of the day was that it was hot. If I had to hazard a guess, it was probably in the high 90's temperature-wise. And Lauren was only making things worse by complaining about it.

"I've got sweat dripping in places I didn't even know existed," she whined, hanging up the last shirt. After pinning it in place on the line, she then proceeded to shove a hand down the front of her dress to swipe at the sweat that collected in her cleavage. In the corner of my eye I could see Frodo – from his place in the shade – turn his face away in embarrassment, his expression clearly displaying the shock at such an unexpected action, especially in front of him. I couldn't help but laugh a bit at the whole exchange, feeling an appreciation for the old-world modesty and mindsets that Lauren (apparently) still hasn't grasped.

It's times like this that make me wonder why exactly Frodo enjoys hanging around us. After taking a walk with Bilbo this morning, spending much needed time alone with his uncle, he came back to find us out in the yard busy with our chore and had decided to sit and keep us company – an action I wouldn't doubt he now regretted. Maybe one day he'll finally be used to Lauren and I behaving in untactful ways unbecoming of ladies, but I doubt it. Sometimes our cultures are just a little too different… and old habits are hard to break. It also doesn't help that Lauren seems to enjoy deliberately acting out in order to get a rise out of Frodo, like in this instance.

I wrinkled my nose at my sister and her cleavage diving, giving her a reproachful glance as I motioned toward Frodo and his embarrassment. "Well that's charming," I said sarcastically.

"I know, right?" she replied with a wry, ain't life just something kind of grin and she wiped her hand off on her skirt. "Self-groping aside, it's not my fault I'm not used to staying out in this sort of heat."

I only shook my head at that. Frodo had recovered from his shock, it seemed, as he turned to face us once more, and was now looking on with interest. "Do you not have summers in New Hampshire?"

"Oh no, we do," I assured him. "It's a lot like here, actually. Thing is, our society developed a machine to help cool the inside of houses to keep things comfortable."

He nodded a bit as he took that in. "Your people have a lot of machines for comfort," he commented, no doubt thinking back to the other things Lauren and I explained to him, such as cars, planes, and appliances around the house like refrigerators, dishwashers, and washing machines. We've been explaining things in small chunks, usually whenever we said something that seemed strange to him, and he wanted clarification on what we were talking about. It's made explaining our world and our culture much more do-able. I've long since lost track of what exactly we've explained him, but it's not like it really matters, as we always tell him the truth to the best of our ability.

"Yeah, we were a bit spoiled, I guess," I replied.

Lauren gave a snort as she picked up the empty laundry basket, grabbing one end by the wooden handle and balancing the other side against her hip. "A bit? Please. We always took shit like that for granted. But then again, we grew up with that technology so it was just a normal part of our lives. So much for that, though," she said before stalking across the yard to bring the basket back inside.

As we watched her retreating form, I added contemplatively, "She's right, you know. It's weird but I appreciate that advanced technology a lot more now that I don't have access to it." Frodo shifted his gaze to me as I spoke, and as I looked down at him sitting on the grass I noticed then just how pointy his features were – with his high, protruding cheekbones and angular jawline which was so smooth it was only disturbed by the small cleft in his chin. Even after all this time, Lauren and I can't help but be fascinated by male hobbits' baby-like faces. Hobbits don't grow facial hair – a fact Lauren found particularly hilarious because of their hairy feet.

"Who'da thunk it?" she had said when she figured that out.

Even still, I had to marvel at just how Elven he looked, or at least, how I had pictured Elven features would be like back when I was reading through Tolkien's works.

Frodo then started to bite the inside of his cheek, those large, expressive blue eyes cast downward, as if he had something on his mind but was trying valiantly to hide it. I stooped down in front of him, hands on my knees, my braid falling forward over my shoulder with the motion. I didn't even have to ask what was wrong; he knew the question was on the tip of my tongue. "You must miss it – where you're from," he said finally, contemplatively.

I felt my mouth run dry as the whole conversation played itself out in my head once more. There had been some complaints about differences in lifestyles, sarcastic comments, and reminiscing about things now lost to us. Oh, what jerks we've been – so insensitive. We must've sounded so ungrateful…

I licked my lips a bit and took a hesitant breath. "Sometimes," I said truthfully, "But if I had the choice, I wouldn't want to go back."

"Why not?" The wind was ruffling his dark brown hair, and he was looking at me with such intensity – as if he was hoping I'd answer with something in particular, though I couldn't for the life of me think of what he wanted to hear. All that was passing through my mind was the reality I'd left behind – the exhaustion of practicing six hours a day with school and ballet in between. The so little sleep. The injuries. The diets that, at 110 pounds, I never really needed. The coaches and their anger. My mother and how she cared more about me doing gymnastics than what the sport was doing to me. And how with what little free time I had, I spent it reading fantasy novels to escape my living hell.

I never thought I would be able to literally escape it all – and by waking up to find myself in a fictional fantasy world, no less.

"For the longest time I was stuck in a life I hated," I said, kneeling down to sit beside him. The grass was springy and surprisingly soft to the touch, feeling more like velvet than plant, and I skimmed my fingers along the top of the blades. "I couldn't do anything but watch as life passed me by. I always waited for the day I would have a say in how I lived out my life. I finally found that here.

"Besides," I added, giving him a small smile, "I've made a few friends here I would be sad to leave behind."

Frodo returned the smile at that last comment. "Your friends would miss you as well," he said with surety, then frowned suddenly, as if something just occurred to him. "What of your friends and family back in New Hampshire? You must miss them too, I imagine." There was a hint of a question in his tone, as if he wondered why I don't talk about the people I knew back home.

I shrugged. "Lauren is the only person in my family that really matters to me. I know it sounds horrible, it's just… our mother was going a little crazy in the end. My father leaving put her through a lot and after a while her priorities weren't where they should have been. And as for friends, well – I didn't have a lot of those, just one really good friend. Her name is Jill. She's like family so I miss her, of course, but… even still, I wouldn't give up this life here in Middle Earth for all the world."

He reached out to grasp my braid. My hair has grown considerably since we arrived last fall, and has developed a slightly more golden hue as it's become increasingly more sun-kissed. I tend to leave a long tail at the end of my braid, and he wove his fingers through the loose hair at the braid's end. Hobbit women usually leave their hair down, curls bouncing around their shoulders – if anything they put it up in small ponytails or loose buns. It must be why he's so fascinated by my braid. It's the only reason I can think of for why the corners of his mouth were pulling upward in a soft, easy smile, bolstered by a new spark of life settling in his gaze. A comfortable stretch of silence fell between us then, with just the sounds of the birds singing and trees rustling as the wind passed by.

I could live forever like this, in this moment with its tranquility. A warm sort of numbness circled around my heart, seeping down to my very bones – a peace I had never felt before. Children were yelling happily down the lane as they played their games, their cute little voices carrying on the wind to float around us. Glancing over my shoulder at the green rolling hills leading into the center of town, I could just make out the hobbit children's tiny figures in the street, the sunlight shining on the flower wreaths in their hair in such a beautiful and vibrant way.

As he followed my line of sight, Frodo's smile matched my own. "Today's the first day of Lithe," he remarked.

"It's the holiday for Midsummer's, right?"

Frodo gave a nod, suddenly seeming a bit nervous, fingers stumbling a bit as he continued fiddling with my hair, a motion that was oddly soothing. "There's a festival tonight – a party more like. I was wondering if you'd like to accompany me."

He'd asked me to accompany him other places loads of times before, so I didn't think twice when I replied, "Of course."

His grin then was huge, brilliant, relieved. Somehow his question this time was different from all the other times he'd asked before.

That's when I realized he'd just asked me out.

And that I had said yes.

"What are you so nervous about?" Lauren asked. She was sitting in the bathtub having, as she put it, a much-needed soak after sitting outside all day sweating her ass off.

I'd been pacing the length of the small bathroom for the better part of an hour. But I stopped then to pin her with a you know what my problem is kind of look. I've already explained it to her about a million times: Relationships only complicate things.

She smirked at me. "You have to loosen up a little."

"No, I don't."

"Kat, what in the world is going to happen? It's just a date."

"You know very well what might happen." I left the dark possibilities hanging in the air, leaving her imagination to fill the void as to how everything we know about the Lord of the Rings may turn horribly wrong.

"We've already decided to change things – to try and make things better. Do I have to remind you that was all your idea?"

"Of course not! But Laur I was talking about necessary changes on the journey during the war. Not just flying through this without thinking about the consequences. And definitely not by getting romantically involved."

"What are you going to do – stand the poor guy up?"

"No! But I can't let it go any farther than this."

Her pale blue eyes held such disappointment; the wet curls hanging sodden and long around her face only contributed to the dejected look. She was curled up in the tub, hugging her knees to her chest for some semblance of modesty. "Kat, I know you're afraid. There's so much that might happen, or might not. But the fact is: we live here now. Why don't you start acting like it?" She leaned over the tub, reaching out with wiggling fingers to grab my hand as I walked by. "Who knows how long we'll be here. So just enjoy the time we do have."

I know she only has the best intentions for me, so I gave her hand a reassuring squeeze before pulling away. But how can I possibly toss the fate of Middle Earth to the wind just because I like a boy? (And a hobbit no less.) It seems so irresponsible. Especially since Frodo will play such an important part in what's to come.

When I reached the door I could hear her voice lull a song I vaguely remember hearing on the radio way back when. "When you get the choice to sit it out or dance, I hope you dance, I hope you dance…"

The party tree was lit up in such a magnificent way. Paper lanterns in a wide array of colors were placed throughout the branches, a spectacle that not only was the main focal point of the whole party but also served as the primary source of light in the area as the sun went down. My breath caught at the gorgeous sight as Frodo led the way down the hill and toward the party.

The party tree, towering above us – huge in its splendor of paper lanterns, cast down colorful light. I held out an arm, admiring how there were red and purple spots. To my left, Frodo's face was awash with blue.

"How are the lanterns lit?" I asked in wonder.

He gave a small laugh. "Nothing as fanciful as your E… E-let…" he trailed off as the foreign word gave him trouble.

"Electricity," I supplied.

"Yes, that." He smiled good-naturedly, cocking his head to the side. "I'm glad that our simple ways can still offer such marvel."

"It's beautiful," I reiterated, wanting to turn the conversation away from my past life. "I was just wondering because – well – it doesn't look like they're lit by candles."

He bobbed a nod before explaining, "Children catch fireflies in the lanterns to light them."

"I would've never thought of that," I replied, glancing up at the tree's branches to admire the work it must've taken to set up for the party. A wind blew then, sending lanterns out of the tree and soaring into the air. The music stopped abruptly and there was a chorus of joyous yells, then a mob of running hobbits as they came from around the party and tried their damnedest to get closer to the tree – hands all in the air reaching for the lanterns. Frodo and I were already standing directly under the tree, so Frodo caught a pink one with ease as it drifted down to us.

"This should be yours, I think," he said as he held it out to me. At my questioning look he motioned to the hobbits swiping the colorful lanterns out of the air, holding the lights triumphantly. "It's good luck to catch one," he explained, "And at the end of the night, after the last dance, it's tradition to make a wish on the lantern before opening it and placing it on the lake. As the fireflies fly up to the stars, they take your wish with them."

It wasn't hard to notice how his fingers lingered as I reached to take it from him. "I like the sound of that," I said, hugging it to my chest gently. Amidst the general commotion and bustle of the party, as lanterns were quickly snatched up, hobbits soon turned back to their other festivities. That was when I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. After a second glance I could see that it was Lauren holding back a determined Pippin, who was busy reaching out in our direction. She somehow managed to turn him around, pointed off in the distance at one of the food carts, and he was off. She glanced over her shoulder, noticed I had seen the whole exchange, and gave a daring wink before slipping further into the crowds and out of sight.

It seems Frodo had seen it as well, for he then gave a hearty laugh. "I wonder what trouble they are getting themselves into," he commented.

Several popular vendors throughout town set up booths and carts, offering food, drink, and pipeweed. The preferred treat of the evening was fresh fruit, as it was only available in the summer months. "There is nothing better than midsummer strawberries," Frodo insisted. And as we stood in line, in front of us was a group of young hobbits who couldn't have been older than seven or eight years old. Three girls and two boys, the lot of them dressed up in what looked to be their best party clothes, all fidgeting around impatiently and talking kid talk as they waited to receive their treats.

"I bet that's what you were like when you were younger," I said, nudging Frodo, pointing out one of the young boys – the one who was well behaved and admonishing the others for misbehaving, such as the other boy who was busy occupying himself by kicking stones and pulling the girls' hair.

Frodo looked rather sheepish as I said it, scrunching his face up, then shook his head a little. "I was more immature at that age than you'd think."

Quiet, polite Frodo being anything but quiet and polite? Sure, Bilbo has mentioned to me on more than one occasion that Frodo had been a little rascal when he was younger. But it just doesn't match up with his current disposition. "I don't see it."

"In the town square, you know the rock wall that surrounds the flower garden and the Maypole?"

"What about it?"

"Surely you've heard stories about it – about the fire in the square?" he prodded.

"I've heard some older hobbits bringing it up and complaining about it," I admitted slowly, in a now that you mention it sort of way. "How troublemakers nearly ruined the square and burnt the town down."

"At midsummer's when I was nine years old Gandalf the wizard had visited and joined our festivities," Frodo began. Oh no. I could see exactly where this story was going but kept silent as he continued. "Gandalf always has the best fireworks, you see. And, well… I stole one, snuck away from the midsummer party to play with it, and nearly set the whole town square ablaze. That's why most of the rocks in the rock wall are blackened."

Frodo was clearly ashamed of this fact – eyes cast downward, rubbing the back of his head in a defeated manner – and it probably doesn't help that people still harped about it nearly twenty years later.

"Well I think it looks nice, despite how people complain about it," I said encouragingly. "It gives the square a rustic look, don't you think? I mean, they would have rebuilt the square if it was such a disaster…"

That was not the sort of reaction he was expecting, it seems. He raised an eyebrow and gave a thin smile. "We did have to rebuild a couple of shops."

Well, crap. Foot. In. Mouth. At least I gave it a shot. "Ah—well. I didn't hear that part. Still… kids will be kids, I guess."

And of course, just as I said that, the misbehaving boy yanked on one of the girls' hair especially hard, causing her to retaliate by smacking him in the nose. Before I could even fully process what had happened, Frodo was kneeling down at their level, and quickly gave a pull on the boy's hair, then bopped the girl on the nose. They both yelped in surprise and slight pain. "Never do something you would not want done to yourself," was all Frodo said pointedly, getting back to his feet once more. As the children shifted their gazes toward us, the lot of them looked remorseful at the reprimand – even the well-behaved child, as if he was disappointed he could not keep his friends in line.

It wasn't the first time I've seen something like this since coming to the Shire – with children being reprimanded by someone other than their parents. It was, however, the first time I've seen it be a physical reprimand. Frodo didn't hurt the children, he had just done it to make a point – but even still, I was a little put off by it even if I understood why he did it.

"Is something wrong?" Frodo asked, bringing me back to the present. I was so caught up in my thoughts I hadn't noticed the children had long gone, and he had gotten us a share of the strawberries, all plump, red, and delicious. He was holding the small basket out to me, offering me one as we stepped aside so the hobbits in line behind us could get their own share.

I shook my head, not wanting to bring up my brief bit of culture shock. "No, just thinking."

Frodo motioned toward the pink lantern I was twirling between my hands. "About your wish, I'll bet. Any ideas on what you'll wish for?"

"Not a clue," I replied. "Besides, even if I did, I can't be telling you – the wish can't come true if I tell."

He gave a bright smile as he bit into a strawberry. "Can't blame me for trying."

I couldn't help but laugh a bit at that. "You're just too curious for your own good. You can't help yourself."

He shrugged, holding his hands up in a modest gesture. "So it seems, lass." His eyes were darting to something behind me as he said it, showing he was only paying half a mind to our conversation. Flashing him a questioning glance, he only smiled wider when the object of his attention made itself known to me by tugging on my skirts – it was a gaggle of little hobbit girls armed with a collection of flowers.

There were about five or six girls crowding around, the lot of them not coming up any higher than my hip. They couldn't have been any older than five years old, all with their dresses and ponytails adorned with flowers of every color. They almost looked like a walking garden. "Miss, Miss!" they called, their little voices high pitched and sweet. "Where are your flowers, Miss?"

It hadn't escaped my notice that most of the women at the festival had at least one flower in their hair. I just didn't make much of it. Besides, I couldn't bear to clip any of Sam's gorgeous handiwork in Bag End's garden. "I don't have any, I'm afraid."

The girls all gave collective gasps, as if I had done some unbelievable thing.

"But every lady needs flowers!"

"We'll have to fix it!"

The baskets of flowers they were all holding were held up triumphantly, like an important prize. They tugged on my skirts with renewed vigor, requesting that I kneel down to their level – though perhaps 'request' is too lenient of a word, since they weren't taking 'no' for an answer. I complied, thoroughly confused at their enthusiasm. Frodo only watched on with a small smile tugging at his lips and an amused glint dancing about in his eyes. It was obvious he was enjoying the situation a bit too much. When the girls were done weaving flowers in my hair, after much poking and prodding at the foreign braid, they went about their way through the crowd to find other flower-less lasses, no doubt.

"What just happened?" I couldn't help but ask, reaching up to touch the girls' handiwork gingerly, as to not ruin it.

"It's tradition," Frodo explained through a mouthful of strawberries.

"It's tradition for girls to be attacked with flowers?"

The grin he gave me then was huge. "No," he said cheekily, "It's tradition for girls to wear flowers on Lithe. Many lasses, when they are young, believe that they will find their future husbands at the festival, and they try to look as much like a bride as possible. So little lasses tend to carry around flowers to pin up on other girls they don't think are taking the idea seriously enough."

"Interesting," I murmured in response. Even back home girls liked to dream about their wedding day. But this Lithe tradition just takes it to the extreme. Then again, indulging little kids must be a universal thing, I guess – after all, what's Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny if not indulgence to little kids' imaginations. "After living here for almost a year now, it's amazing how much there is still to learn," I said.

He stooped down to meet me at eye level… and I felt my breath hitch a bit at just how close he was. I was struck by the way the lanterns of the party tree reflected in those blue eyes of his. "Just you wait," he assured, "Give it time – you'll come to know everything there is to know around here."

I know it's just a silly thing, like wishing on a star or blowing out candles on a birthday cake, but I just had to try using my wish for something worthwhile.

I wish that when the war comes we'll be ready for it and that our efforts will help instead of harm.

After releasing the top lid, I set the lantern on the water. As it gently floated away the fireflies escaped, flying high into the dark night air. The fireflies' reflections on the lake gave the illusion that the sky never came to an end – that it extended past the horizon and we all, as we crowded the shores of the lake, were standing on the edge of heaven itself.

"It's beautiful," I breathed.

Frodo smiled at that, a proud smile at his homeland inspiring such awe. "It is rather wonderful, isn't it?"

"I wish I had known about this tradition sooner. Then again, even if I did, I don't think what I could have dreamed up would even compare."

With deft fingers he plucked a flower out of my hair. I gave him a sidelong glance. It was about the third time he's done it in the past hour and was one of the numerous times that day he'd made a point in touching my braided hair. "Keep that up and there won't be any more flowers up there for you to pick, Mr. Baggins."

"I'm sorry," he said with a little laugh, holding his hands up in surrender, as if I'd caught him doing something he shouldn't.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "No, you're not," I said lightly.

"Not in the slightest," he returned, all grins. "It's not my fault those lasses did you up rather beautifully," he then added in his defense. Much to my embarrassment, I could feel heat rise to my face at the compliment.

The way he was acting, looking down at me with this warm sort of glow, which was only accentuated by the lanterns and fireflies over the lake…

It was all very… organic, I suppose. Honest. Subtle, yet very straightforward.

His words from earlier came back to me then: "Many lasses, when they are young, believe they will find their future husbands at the festival, and they try to look as much like a bride as possible." He hadn't elaborated on the matter, as to why the girls believe they will find their husbands at the festival… why the girls hype up the occasion so much.

The fireflies, flying farther and farther into the distance, caused the party area to darken considerably. Taking a quick glance around, it wasn't hard to notice that the crowds were slowly dispersing around us. So the grand finale was drawing to a close… it was either now or never – I have to ask before the moment is gone.

"Why did you invite me today?" I asked.

The smile he wore faltered a little. "Why wouldn't I?" he countered, in all seriousness, as if surprised by my question… as if it was only natural he would want to come to the festival with me.

I didn't really know where to begin. Not from that. "You and your uncle have been so good to us – Lauren and me," I said, "From the very beginning, ever since we appeared out of nowhere. And I'm not blind… although I'm pretty sure it only started becoming more obvious to me when my sister and your uncle started hinting and nudging and—"

My train of thought was immediately broken when I caught the look Frodo was giving me. "What?" I couldn't help but ask.

He was giving me that thin-lipped smile then, raising his eyebrows slightly, a laugh bubbling up behind it all. "You're babbling, just a little. I don't think I've seen you do that in some time. Not since I first met you. Or no – maybe not since you told me about New Hampshire."

It's weird, how just a simple observation from him could ease my nerves about the whole situation – and I hadn't realized how nervous I was until he pointed it out. Giving a deep breath I suddenly felt much better – more clear-headed. As we talked the crowds had almost completely dispersed, leaving us pretty much alone in the party fields beside the lake. Frodo was holding out an arm in my direction, indicating that we too should probably start heading home.

I linked my arm through his, and it just felt so right. It was like: This is how it should always be with us. Even still, though, as we started walking back to Bag End, with him expressing some fondness over Gandalf's fireworks – "I wish you could see them," he was saying, "There is truly nothing like it, as they explode through the sky, especially with the Lithe Lanterns…" – I couldn't help but think about Lauren's advice. Maybe I am too much of a scaredy-cat.

"Maybe we'll go back, but maybe we won't. Maybe we can change things, but then again, maybe we can't. Yeah, there's going to be a war, but… do you really want to spend the next few years pretending you don't love him? Especially when there's a chance things may never be the same again after the war?" Lauren had asked.

The expression on Frodo's face was soft, gentle, and even somewhat sad as he continued talking. "I hope Gandalf comes back to visit sometime soon. I know Uncle Bilbo would enjoy company from a friend involved in his old adventure. I mean, he's already 105, who's to know how much longer—"

"I don't think it's anywhere near his time yet," I said with conviction, energy behind my words.

"Aye? Why's that?" Frodo asked, a small smile pulling at his lips.

"He looks too young and is far too spry for anything else to be true," I returned.

"I suppose you're right," he admitted.

An idea came to me then. I unhooked my arm from his, causing him to look down at me questioningly. He still had his arm out in the half circle, so I tugged on his arm a bit, dragging his hand out of his trouser pocket to clasp it within mine. Threading my fingers through his, I said: "Can you promise me something?"

"Of course," he replied without hesitation.

"No more worrying, not tonight."

Giving a brief glance at our joined hands, he pointed out, "I could ask you to promise me the same thing. Something's been on your mind as of late."

The bravado I thought I gained fell away much quicker than I would've liked. I should've known he could see right through me. My smile falling just a bit, I sighed deeply, then said, "I don't think I can keep that promise, but I can try."

He stopped in his tracks then, and with our hands still clasped, it caused me to stop as well. It felt silly, just standing out in the middle of the road. Especially since we were on Bag Shot Row, just in sight of Bag End. But he insisted. "What is it that causes you such worry?"

Squeezing my hand tightly, there was no way he was going to let go. Not without an answer. And I suppose it was an answer he deserved to hear.

"Do you know how you asked me earlier if I ever wanted to go back to my old life?"

Nodding, Frodo replied simply, "You said you wouldn't want to go back."

"Well, it's more the truth to say that I'm afraid to go back. Especially when there is still so much for me here – when there's still so much for me to do."

I could see the question in his eyes, wondering what exactly I was talking about. But the Ring and the war were hardly matters I could get into with him. So I settled for something else: something just as important, at least to me. We've been dancing around it… no, I've been denying it for months now.

And if he wasn't going to do it, maybe I should.

But maybe it will mess things up, with the way things will go with the war.

But you know what, maybe it won't.

Or maybe it doesn't matter at all.

Oh, fuck it.

Before I could talk myself out of it, with my free hand I grabbed him by the front of his shirt, pulling him down to me. For just a quick moment I could see how his eyes widened quite a bit, mouth shaping into a silent O of surprise. But he caught on quickly enough because next thing I knew our lips met. It was a short kiss, hesitant, over before I could really comprehend it – just a brief taste of the strawberries from earlier– and then he was leaning his forehead against mine. My hand – still grasping a fistful of his shirt – was pinned between us, and I could feel just how fast his heart was racing. Those brilliant blue eyes, closer than I had ever seen them before, opened slowly. A gentle spark had settled into his gaze, and I could tell right then that I shouldn't have been so nervous – not when it came to him.

"How is it that you never fail to surprise me?" he asked softly. I could feel his breath, warm on my face in contrast to the cooling summer night air, and I had to giggle slightly at the wonder in his voice, which had made his question just a little raspy.

"Probably because I always tend to surprise myself," I returned.

"Fair enough," was all he said, leaning in to kiss me once more.

The next day as the shop was opening for business, Angelica had me in the back room to go over the deliveries for the day.

"Easy day for you today; only two drop offs and they're both here in Hobbiton," she said, tying up the last package with twine. "This one here is for the Mayweather's. And that one," she said, gesturing to the small package at the end of the table already wrapped in the customary yellow cloth, "Is Frodo's. So you get to take that one home with you and leave early today."

I was about to protest when Angelica held up a hand. "Now no fussing," she said firmly. "You're not missing out on anything since the days after the Lithe party are always slow-going. I've given both you and Lily the afternoon off, so go enjoy it, yeah?" Her tone suggested there was no room for argument – since she very well knew my reluctance to abandon her when there was work to be done.

"If you're sure," I replied.

Just as I was loading the packages in my knapsack, Lily came flying into the room grinning from ear-to-ear. "I knew it!" she said in sing-song, voice trilling high.

"Knew what, my girl?" Angelica asked.

"Rumor has it that a very respected bachelor took Kate to Lithe," Lily said brightly, leaning against the counter with a pleased gleam in her pretty hazel eyes.

"Really now?" Angelica said, a bit stiff, sending a stern look in Lily's direction. Lily immediately froze, as if she was only just remembering her aunt's dislike for town gossip. "But be that as it may," Angelica said while turning to face me with a smile, "Congratulations, my dear."

I couldn't help feeling terribly confused. Her solemnity, the way Lily was pleased as punch, how Frodo ordered something from the shop… it didn't sit right with me. "For what?" I asked with trepidation.

"For your engagement, of course!" Lily said, all grins as if it was obvious. And it probably was – to everyone else, that is.

I felt the blood drain from my face. "My what?" At that, and my no doubt horrified expression, Angelica and Lily didn't look quite as happy anymore.

"My word," Angelica murmured.

Lily, pressing her hands against her cheeks in disbelief, said softly, "You didn't know."

"Know what?" I asked, exasperated. "Will someone please explain to me how in the hell I accidentally got engaged?"

"You're not from here," Angelica said delicately. "Of course you didn't know. Come sit," she said, gesturing to the front room. "Lily, go fetch us a spot of tea, please." Bobbing a nod, Lily dashed over to the small kitchenette, for once without a complaint.

Angelica, meanwhile, took my hand gently, and led me into the front room, guiding me into one of the new lounge chairs we just bought for our queued customers. She turned the open sign on the front door back to closed. "We're not going to get any business today anyhow," she said as she took the seat across from me, no doubt to curb my protests. But for once I didn't really care – all I wanted was some answers.

"Nothing's official if that's what you're worried about," Angelica said immediately, "You've done nothing wrong."

"But Lily said—"

"People are gettin' excited, the rumor mill working furiously. The Bagginses are quite popular, after all. There's always been gossip around Frodo, over whether or not…" she glanced away then with a sigh, eyes closing as she worked out what she was trying to say in her mind – probably having some difficulty finding a polite way to explain the unflattering things the town gossips liked saying. "Whether Frodo would be like… If he'd have any inclination…"

"People thought he'd be a bachelor like Mister Bilbo," I realized. And while the gossips probably hadn't had the best of intentions, or meant well with their predictions, it was a fair assessment all things considered – even if it wasn't their business. Frodo takes after Bilbo in many respects, from his foreign interests to his accepting nature. With the solitude those interests tend to bring, I guess it makes sense some hobbits would figure Frodo would remain a bachelor like his uncle. It was even supposed to be that way, right? He'd been a bachelor in the Lord of the Rings.

Angelica nodded quickly, glad that I'd spared her from saying something possibly offensive. "There wasn't a lot of excitement when you and your sister arrived in town, mind you, not at first. But when people heard you'd moved in with the Bagginses, and that you planned on staying long-term, well…"

"People jumped to conclusions," I said dryly.

"It's an old-fashioned tradition," Angelica said, tone soft, trying to soothe my obvious irritation, "That asking a lass to Lithe is announcing intentions. Nothing more. Lily's just happy for you – she's been wanting this for you and him for a long time now."

I sat back in my seat feeling a bit discombobulated, head spinning. I'd kissed him, yes. But to have the entire town know and talk about it behind our backs was daunting. "He didn't tell me that."

He was holding the flower he'd plucked from my hair, twirling it between deft fingers, the fireflies' dim glow floating high above us.

"Why did you invite me today?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

I shut my eyes at the memory, which had come unbidden to the front of my mind. "Why didn't he tell me?"

"He was too nervous, most likely," she said gently. "And wanted to give this to you first." Angelica stood up and grabbed Frodo's order from my knapsack, placing it on my lap. "I probably shouldn't be the one giving you this, but all things considered… open it."

Inside the yellow delivery bag was a wooden box, one I've seen around Bag End before, bearing the ornate carving I've come to know as the Baggins' insignia – a flowered vine twisting its way in a circle around a flowing letter "B." Inside was a gorgeous crochet flower wreath, much like the ones some older girls were wearing at the festival last night – except instead of real flowers it was made of yarn, of course. It consisted of a long, thin white band to wrap around as a headband, with three flowers adorning the side, one of purple, pink, and blue, all with a brass colored bead in the center. It was, in a word, lovely.

As I glanced up at Angelica in askance, wondering what the significance of it was, Lily came back into the room then, carrying a teapot. "Oh," Lily breathed, her face getting wistful. "Look at that wonderful thing. No wonder you didn't know. He didn't do it properly, now did he?"

Angelica shook her head. "Partly my fault, I'm afraid. I hadn't gotten it done in time before the festival."

"That's a shame. Well, not entirely surprising, I suppose," Lily said. At my questioning look she explained, "It's sort of unorthodox – the crochet. Usually when a gentlehobbit asks a girl to Lithe it's supposed to be real flowers. But, well," she grinned then, the fondness for her old friend shining through. "Since when do the Bagginses ever do anything the way they're supposed to?"

I knew something was wrong the second I stepped on Bagshot Row. Distant shouts met my ears, and I knew – just knew – they were coming from Bag End. The Gamgee's lived near the end of the street, and the Gaffer was enjoying a good smoke in his garden when I passed by.

"I hear congratulations are in order, my dear!" he said with a wide grin, leaning against the fence post. "Happy days!"

"Yes, thanks," I said, trying my best to seem cheerful despite my new rising panic. My eyes darted toward Bag End in worry when another shrill shout was heard.

Gaffer smirked knowingly and pointed with his pipe down the lane. "Best be off, lass, before your sister does anythin' drastic to poor Mister Frodo."

With a grateful nod, I turned and high-tailed it up the street, jumping the fence and barreled my way into Bag End.

I opened the door to pure pandemonium. Lauren throws things when she's angry. And today she's apparently fit to be tied.

Papers were strewn about, pictures knocked off walls, and judging by the tomatoes now mucking up the front hall, she'd had herself a go at the pantry. I was able to marvel at the mess for just a moment before Frodo came sprinting at full speed out of the den, then slid around the corner to run back around toward the kitchen. Lauren was on his tail, armed with one of the smaller cast-iron skillets, shouting obscenities after him.

"Jesus Christ," I muttered, sliding my knapsack off my shoulders and tucking it in the corner next to the door for safekeeping. Following them into the kitchen, which was no cleaner than the front hall, I found them at a stalemate. Lauren had cornered him between the table and the counters.

"Everything is going to be fine," Frodo said, clearly winded. He had one hand on the table, bracing himself as he tried desperately to catch his breath – he wasn't in nearly as good a shape as Lauren was. He held his other hand out in front of him in a halting motion, silently pleading with her to stop.

"Fine?" Lauren echoed incredulously. "There's nothing fine about it! Did she even know? What part of 'take it slow' did you not understand, you son of a—"

"Don't call him that," I interrupted.

Lauren didn't bother to turn around, and she didn't relinquish the hold of her make-shift weapon, either. "I don't care how much you like him or that he's technically one of our landlords, if he thinks he can just trick you into marriage I will kick his ass to kingdom come – so help me God!"

"Marriage?" Frodo parroted disbelievingly. Blue eyes shifted to mine, his new understanding of Lauren's anger evident. And that's when it clicked, what Angelica was trying to tell me. "Nothing's official if that's what you're worried about."

"Don't play dumb with me, Baggins," Lauren all but growled, holding the skillet in front of his nose. "It's the talk of the goddamn town. Your engagement—"

"It doesn't mean what it does back home!" I said quickly, jumping in and reaching over to grab the skillet.

Lauren finally tore her glaring gaze away from poor Frodo. "What?"

"Angelica explained it all to me earlier. It's what they call dating."

A hint of red was creeping up her neck and in her cheeks, anger quickly evaporating and shame welling up in its place. "So… all the engagements we've heard about the last few months…?"

"Not real engagements – none of them are set to be married. Well, except for Nessie Grubb and what's-his-face Chubb. But that's beside the point."

"Oh," she said meekly, drowning in thoughts of her own embarrassment. Taking a long look around the destroyed house, as if only then realizing the colossal mess she'd made terrorizing him, she continued, "Just… fuck. I'm sorry."

It was Frodo's turn to be incredulous now, quirking an eyebrow at her quick switch in attitude and laughing a humorless laugh. "Well then," he said, drawing the words out, seeming to not really know how to handle the situation. "Maybe, next time you should, you know, talk to me about it before trying to bash my head in."

She nodded in a distracted manner, then gestured to the hall. "I – uh – should start cleaning up. Yeah." As she left the room she was muttering, "Why am I such an asshole?" under her breath.

Frodo frowned at her retreat. "Is she going to be alright?" he asked, collapsing into one of the kitchen chairs.

"I really think I'm the one who should be asking you that," I said with concern, putting the skillet on a nearby counter. His breathing was still rather fast, not yet having fully caught his breath. He had cuts on his right cheek – something Lauren had thrown at him probably clipped him at one point – his clothes were splattered with food and some sort of ale, and there was an orange dribble of drying, broken egg yolk in his dark hair.

He shook his head. "Don't worry about it. Just a simple misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding?" I said as I pulled up a chair next to his. "I'll give you that. But certainly not simple."

His glance drifted upward to the crochet flower crown I'd tied up in my hair and gave a small smile at what that meant. "This isn't exactly how I planned to give that to you."

"I know. And I'm sorry about that."

"Did you really think that I was…?"

"Proposing?" I finished for him. "From the festival last night? Of course not!" I gave an awkward laugh. At his raised eyebrows, that knowing glance, I continued, "I was a bit nervous when I heard the gossip, at first," I admitted. "I mean, I was wondering if I'd missed something. Where I'm from engagements are promises of marriage, so…"

"Misunderstanding," Frodo murmured. I nodded. Taking one of my hands, cradling it gently between both of his, he brought it up to his lips and lightly kissed the tips of my fingers. "I would never do that to you," he said.

That caused a spark of warmth to settle around my heart again. "I know. That's how I figured out the difference. That, and how you're not of age. You can't propose even if you wanted to."

His thin, close-mouthed smile was back. "Not legally anyway." He paused for a moment, his fingers ghosting over the scars and callouses marring the palm of my hand. "That is something you want, though, isn't it? Eventually? Marriage, I mean."

He was giving me that same look from yesterday, when he'd asked if I'd go back 'home' if I could – back to gymnastics, the homeschooling… the grind. Back to my insane mother. Back to Jill.

Oh, if Jill could see me now. Would she be as selfish as me and want to stay?

The same intensity was in his gaze, and that same hope for one answer in particular. But now? Now it was more than obvious what he wanted. Me.

While it's all wonderfully sweet, I can't understand it for the life of me, with all the trouble our arrival has caused. And as for me, well… I'm only seventeen. I've never even been in a relationship before. Getting ready for the war and the ring, our training; marriage was the furthest thing from my mind. Then the rumors happened.

"Not that I'm trying to rush things, mind," he said imploringly when I didn't answer right away. "I just want to know where we stand. Where we could end up."

Indeed. Somehow I have the feeling that equating engagements with dating is a bit of a misnomer – that even if engagements here aren't official they certainly set a particular expectation. It's a large part of the reason why Lauren and I confused engagements with betrothals, isn't it? Hobbits don't necessarily date, as we know it. Nothing quite that casual. It's also why Esmeralda Brandybuck tried scaring Lauren away from Merry, is it not? When hobbits make their interest known, it's generally not a passing fancy.

"I don't know," I said honestly. "I've never really given it much thought – such things always seemed so very grown up and far away. But yeah? Maybe. Someday." I placed my free hand on his cheek, brushed some of the flour away from the cuts. "With the right guy, at the right time, when I'm older – yeah, I think I'd like that."

Dimples formed under my hand as his lips quirked up in a soft smile.