Clover stood outside the Grubb's hole and stared at the sign on the lawn. It took her a long time to draw her eyes away from the meaningless lettering, and actually focus on the smial itself. Mostly this was a delaying tactic, something to look at before she had to go in. Eventually she smoothed down her skirt, gathered her wits, and walked to the door. It was answered by the maid almost immediately. From the sound of it, there was an argument going on inside. "Yes?"
Clover did her best not to react to the noise. "I was here to ask about the maid job. Should I come back later?"
The maid raised her eyebrows. "That was quick. I'll just go and tell Mrs Grubb. Step inside."
The maid left Clover in the entrance hall. Every second listening to the argument in the other room was painful. It was impossible not to hear. There were three voices, two male and one female.
"It's my money and I can spend it how I like!"
"It's my money, I bloody earn it!"
"Why can't you both just act like civilised Hobbits?"
Occasionally a fourth voice, croaky with age, would join in with, "I'm an old lady, and I want everyone to listen to me."
A broad-shouldered young gentlehobbit emerged from the room. "Excuse me," he said, barely looking at Clover as he left through the front door.
"You get back here, Monno!" the elderly voice called out.
Eventually the lady of the smial came to see Clover, carrying a small pile of papers and a pencil. She tried to smile. "I understand you're here about the maid position?"
"Yes, madam." Clover said, bobbing a curtsey.
"Odd. I hadn't even put the word out yet."
The noise from the other room cut into the conversation. "Don't you have any sense of decorum?"
"Ha! Have you looked at yourself lately?"
"Why isn't anyone listening to me?"
Young Mrs Grubb removed her spectacles to rub her eyes. "I'm sorry, you've come at rather a bad time."
"Sorry, madam. Would you like me to come back on a different day?"
"No, no. You're here now. Could I take your name and address?"
"Clover Delver. 12 East Warren Lane."
"Thank you," Young Mrs Grubb said, scribbling on the paper.
"Excuse me, madam, but when are the interviews?" Clover said.
"Oh, just as and when really. Would next Wednesday do for you?" she said, looking through the papers she'd brought with her.
"Aye, madam. But my current work don't finish 'til the evening. That all right?"
"Yes, yes."
"Campanula!" the elderly voice shouted.
Mrs Grubb winced. "I think that's everything," she said with false brightness.
"Thank you, madam," Clover said, curtseying again. She nodded at the door. "I'll just be off."
Mrs Grubb smiled gratefully, and opened the door for Clover. "Thank you. And I'm sorry about the noise."
"Ain't nothing. My family fights worse 'n this, when we've a mind to," she said.
"Yes. I'll see you next Wednesday."
"Aye, madam. Thank you, madam."
The door closed, cutting the noise of the argument off with it. Clover exhaled, and got a final look at the sign as she made her way westwards.
Buffo Bunce was a large Hobbit with a sluggish manner, an old-fashioned taste in waistcoats, and a tendency to drawl. This last trait in particular drove Tiger Lily to distraction. She scratched into the fabric of her armchair as he spoke. The air in Uncle Hortenbold's drawing room was stale with smoke from the pipes of the Misters Took and Bunce. Out of the corner of her eye Tiger Lily could see Bandobold lying limply over the arm of his chair. He looked how she felt. It was a struggle to keep her mind from straying back to the woods, and the hunt. One of her fletchings had been partially torn away from the arrow when she had shot that pheasant. It needed repairing. Only it didn't because she most definitely wasn't going shooting again.
"The properties in Oatbarton have done splendidly this year as well. In all, I think 1418 will be remembered as one of the best," Buffo said, emptying his pipe. "This is good leaf, Hortenbold. You wouldn't believe how difficult it's been getting any in Overhill."
"It's not as good as I'd like," Uncle Hortenbold said, momentarily removing his own pipe from his mouth. "This was all they had left."
"Your taste is obviously more sophisticated than mine. Longbottom is doing less well, evidently. Would you pour some tea, my dear?"
This last comment was directed at Opal, who was sat beside him, and who he always called 'my dear'. Opal leaned forward on the settee to pour him a cup, which she then handed to him.
"There we are." She sat back, leaning against his shoulder.
"Thank you." He took a sip, and returned his attention to Uncle Hortenbold. "I'll have to bring you some leaf back from Michel Delving. They'll have some good stuff there."
"I hope we won't just be spending time in the tobacconist's," Opal said. "You promised I could get some sheet music."
"Oh, if we must," he smiled at her in a way that made Tiger Lily dig her nails further into her seat. He nodded at Opal's mother. "And I'm sure Mistress Mertensia won't allow me to neglect you, in any case."
"I won't. And I won't let you get too affectionate either," Aunt Mertensia said.
Opal scowled. "Mother!"
"Well, that's really the only reason I'm going with you, my girl."
Tiger Lily had stopped listening. She had let her mind wander away from the smoke and the smial, and even the fletching, to return to the woods. There, nothing mattered besides her aim, and the world existed only in shades of blue and black. She ran light-footed over the earth, barely touching the ground at all. The air on her neck. The moonlight on her limbs. No one else need know she existed. She was nothing but shadow between the trees. An elven huntress.
"Will you stop it?" her mother said in a harsh whisper.
Tiger Lily snapped back into reality and looked at her mother in bewilderment. "What?"
"You'll tear the upholstery."
She looked down at her hands, and realised she was still picking at the armchair. "Sorry," she mumbled, and placed her hands in her lap.
This seemed to catch Buffo's attention, because he said, "And how have you been, Miss Tiger Lily?"
"Fine, thank you," she said weakly.
"Yes?" He rested the side of his head in his hand. "Any interesting outings?"
"Uh… Yesterday I went to the harvest festival. At the Boffin's Farm, you know?"
"Really? With the rustics?" He raised an eyebrow and a corner of his mouth twitched. He looked over at her father, who occupied the seat to Tiger Lily's left. "I'm surprised you allowed it."
Aferbold, who had been in his own personal world filled with elves and fairies, sat up sharply. "I saw no harm in it. The Boffins are a good family."
Tiger Lily sometimes wished she had his ability to immediately join in with a conversation he hadn't been listening to. It obviously wasn't passed down in the blood.
"Yes, I suppose you're right." Buffo glanced up at the clock on the mantelpiece. "Is that the time?" He got to his feet inelegantly. "I won't intrude on your hospitality any longer, sir." He bowed to Uncle Hortenbold, who nodded back. "I'll see you all soon." He gave another slight bow to the room in general.
"I'll walk with you to the door," Opal said, following him from the room.
When Buffo and Opal had left, Tiger Lily's mother leaned over to speak to Aunt Mertensia. "I'm sorry about the chair," she said quietly, as though lowering her voice slightly would make it impossible for Tiger Lily to hear.
"Quite all right," Aunt Mertensia said. "I doubt there's any lasting damage." She smiled at Tiger Lily in the way one smiles at a child.
Bandobold, who hadn't moved since Tiger Lily had last looked at him, said, "Can we go home now?"
"So impatient," Aferbold said, rousing himself from his chair. "I suppose we should, once Mr Bunce has gone. Brother?"
Uncle Hortenbold drew deeply from his pipe. "It's not that I dislike your company, but do return my home to me at the earliest opportunity."
"Look what I found," Opal said, walking back into the room, followed closely by Sango. She was surreptitiously dabbing at the beeswax she'd coloured her lips with. It had become mysteriously smudged since she'd left the room with Buffo.
"Hello, Tooks," he said, grinning sheepishly, and bowing. "Could I borrow you, Tills? Preferably for the rest of the evening."
Tiger Lily's father returned the smile. "Do. You can keep her, if you like."
"She's not a stray cat," his wife said. "Even if she does destroy the furniture," she added under her breath.
Tiger Lily kept her head bowed as she followed Sango out of the room. "Is everything all right?" she whispered while they walked down the main passage of the smial.
"I went to the wheelwright's," he said. "Lavender wasn't there, but her brother said she'd gone to the Green Dragon with their little sister." He held the front door open for Tiger Lily.
A chill went down her spine as the night air hit her. She hadn't bothered to bring a cloak with her, and was regretting it. "Yes?"
"So I'm going too."
"All right." They crossed the bridge over the Water. "Why do you need me to go with you?"
"I can't go by myself, she'll think I'm only going to see her," Sango said.
"But you are," Tiger Lily said, surprised.
"But she mustn't know that. I don't want to seem too keen."
"So, to be clear," she said slowly. "You want me to go with you not for my company, but so you can trick a lass into believing you're not following her."
"It's not like that," Sango said lightly.
"It is a little." She shivered and rubbed her hands up and down her bare arms, though at the moment the temperature wasn't her biggest concern. The thought of the inn, or more accurately all the people in it, was making her heart rate quicken. Sweat was forming on her palms.
Sango watched her from the corner of his eye. "Here." He took off his jacket, and placed it around her shoulders.
"Thank you," she said, and snuggled down between the lapels. It smelled of Sango, which meant rose-water and hay. Her heart started to slow back down into its normal rhythm. "It was so sunny yesterday."
"Every year we're taken by surprise when it starts to get colder or warmer. You think we'd get used to it," he said.
"It's the same with when the nights draw in and out," Tiger Lily said from the folds of the jacket. "Father always comments on how quickly it changes."
He laughed. "Maybe we never get used to it because we never really grow up. We're all just very tall children pretending we know what we're doing."
"I hope that's how everyone feels," she said. "Then I'm not the only one."
Meg arrived at the Green Dragon a few moments after Clover, who waited at the door for her. She had expected her sister to have gone in at the same time as the others. Groaning internally, she smiled. "I'd've thought you'd been in a while ago," she said.
Clover watched her intently. "Could say the same of you."
"Yes."
"Yes."
They locked eyes, each daring the other to surrender first. In the end it was Clover who first turned her eyes downwards and pushed the door to the inn open, Meg following after her. She decided not to ask why Meg's eyes were so red.
It seemed that most of Bywater and Hobbiton had decided that the Dragon was the best place to go to hear of the stranger who'd ridden through the night before, because there were crowds of Hobbits around every table. The blazing fire, combined with the uncountable candles and Hobbits, made the room almost unbearably hot. A cool layer of steam covered every window. Maizey waved to her older sisters when they entered, and they managed to shuffle their way past the other patrons to reach the table Maizey and the others had somehow managed to find.
"All right, you two? Been scheming?"
"That's right," Meg said, settling down in a free chair. "We're planning to lose you in the woods."
"I'll help if you like," Jack said.
"What's up with him?" Clover said, nodding at Jonson, who was glowering out into the crowd.
"Lavender's here," Jack said, "trying to make 'im jealous. Is it working?" he asked Jonson innocently.
"Shut it."
"Where is she?" Meg said, turning in her chair and straining to see through the crowd.
"Over there, with Ripon Westcott."
Meg eventually caught sight of Lavender, who was sat in Ripon's lap and wearing a bodice that was much too small for her.
"I don't think I'll bother her just now," Meg said quietly. She turned back to her siblings.
"It ain't fair," Jonson whined, burying his head in his hands.
"You did go off with Bluebell Ansley," Jack said. "Really you brought this on yourself."
Jonson groaned and hunched down further. "She seduced me. With 'er charms."
"Ha!"
"Please stop," Maizey said, grimacing.
"So what've you learned about the big person?" Meg said, in an attempt to keep the peace.
Maizey leaned forward and placed her hands on the table. "Apparently he headed up to Hobbiton, and then he went off east. And they say there were more, a hundred maybe."
"But why?" Clover said.
"Well, I think they were heading for Tuckborough," Maizey said, obviously relishing her role as storyteller. "The Tooks are always meeting with fairies and demons aren't they?"
"Are they?" Clover said. Her tone of voice made it clear that she thought they didn't.
"Of course they are," Maizey said. "Everyone knows they do."
Meg felt someone lean against the back of her chair, and twisted around to see Primrose standing over her.
"Hello. Sorry for the intrusion, I just came here to escape Bosed Yardley." She looked warily back at the lad, who was still watching her with a dejected expression.
"Another spurned suitor, eh?" Jack said, grinning. "What's wrong with this one?"
"Oh, nothing," Primrose said quickly. "He seemed lovely. But for someone else, not for me."
"Mmm."
Primrose was considered a great beauty in Bywater, to go with her sweet temper. Her lips were plump and inclined to smiling, her hazel eyes were merry and heavily lashed. She hadn't had a lad for a few years, though this was not for want of offers. "How are you all doing, then?" she said.
"Well enough," Maizey said. "How's everyone your end?"
"Good, thanks. Lavender's around here somewhere. Lavender!" She beckoned for her sister to come over.
"No, don't—" Jonson began.
But Lavender was already disentangling herself from Master Westcott and making her way over, hips swaying. She mimicked her sister, leaning against the back of Rob's chair. "Busy in here today, ain't it? Usually it's right quiet the night after harvest."
"Um, Lavender," Meg said as quietly as she could. "You might want to stand up a bit straighter."
"What?"
Meg cast a meaningful look at Rob, and then back at her friend. Lavender looked down and realised that Rob was hunching forward as far as possible to avoid making contact with her bosom. She grinned and nudged his shoulder playfully. "All right, lad? Fancy a tumble in the bushes later?"
"No thank you, miss," he said, hunching his shoulders more.
She laughed. "You don't need to be afeard of me, I'm only teasing. There, now." She stood up straight and moved away from his chair. "You can sit up proper again."
"Lavender," Jonson said, "I'm sitting right here."
She gave him a haughty look from the corner of her eye. "Yes, I know."
"Look at you all," Primrose said, flustered. "Got nearly the full set here. What's the occasion?"
The siblings glanced around at each other, reluctant to say anything. It was Meg who spoke first, smiling as she did. "My new found freedom."
Lavender's brow creased. "Eh? How's that then?"
"Winden and me've parted ways."
One of Primrose's hands flew to her open mouth. "Oh, no!"
Lavender's mouth hung in an 'o' shape, while she tried to formulate what to say next. "Right," she said eventually. "You seem to 've taken it well."
Meg shrugged. "It's like you said, ain't no point getting upset over a lad."
Lavender glanced at Jonson. "Aye. Quite right too. Come on, let me buy you a drink."
Jonson rose to his feet as they left, and went to grasp Primrose's hand.
"Primrose, have I told you of late that you are the prettiest lass in Bywater and beyond?"
She laughed uncertainly, and withdrew her hand. "Away with you, Jonson. I'll not dishonour my sister."
"Primrose, please—"
"No." She perched on Meg's vacated seat.
Jonson sighed. "All right. But I'll pine for you." He searched the crowd.
Clover followed his gaze to a comely lass. "Tansy Atterton. Really, Jonson? She's such a gossip."
"I hear she and Artie have broken. And she's always been very fond of me." He grinned, and started to make his way through the crowd. "Things could always be worse."
"Please don't go," Jack said. "I was having fun."
"I hate you."
Maizey gestured at the table, "Why do I bother if you're all going to wander off as soon as you get here?"
Jonson didn't reply. "Tansy! Lass!" He waved to her.
"They're as bad as each other," Clover said in weary resignation.
"Reckon so. They're perfect for each other, really. But Lavender don't go back to lads she's finished with," Primrose said. She looked at Clover. "I suppose you was right about the wedding, then."
"What?" Rob said.
"Nothing," Clover said quickly. "Just we was talking about the wedding yesterday. Bloody awful, ain't it?"
Jack shrugged. "I never liked Winden. I reckon she's well rid of 'im."
"But she liked Winden," Rob said miserably.
"Am I allowed to ask what happened?" Primrose said.
"We don't know either. She says they just decided to end it, but I don't believe her. I reckon he saw he'd have to make good on his promises in a fortnight, and got out while he could," Jack said.
"Do you really think he'd do that?" Primrose said, wide eyed. "Just throw her away at a moment's notice?"
"Yes," Maizey said. "Definitely."
Primrose turned her eyes to the ground. "I can't imagine. To be getting wed one minute and the next…"
No one said anything until Primrose stood from her seat. "I think I'll head off now. Free up this seat for someone else. Give my love to Meg won't you?"
"Will do," Clover said, leaning back. "See you later."
At the bar Meg was draining her tankard, while Lavender watched, eyebrows raised. She brought the tankard down on the bar with a heavy thump.
"You might want to slow down," Lavender said. "I ain't rich enough to keep you going all night, if that's how fast you down 'em."
"I've made such a mess of things, Lav," Meg said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Such a bloody mess."
"What, with Winden?" Lavender said.
Meg nodded, and gave a single sob.
"Hey now." Lavender made to pull her into a hug, but Meg stepped away.
"Don't touch me!"
Lavender hung back, frowning. "Sorry… Ain't no need to get snippy with me."
Meg did her best to compose herself. "Sorry, Lavender. I'm all right really."
"You don't seem that 'all right'," Lavender said. "What's actually going on?"
Meg started tugging at her hair. "Could— could I talk to you? Not now. Tomorrow?"
"Course you can, I've known you since I was born. Come round after work."
"Where's my lusty lass, then?" Ripon's voice called out from the din that made up the background noise.
"Not now, Ripon!" Lavender shouted back.
"Go," Meg said, brushing down her skirt.
"I'm not leaving you when you're upset," Lavender said.
"I said 'go'. He'll be much better company than me," Meg said, taking Lavender by the shoulders and turning her around to face Ripon.
"Meg—"
At this Meg gave her a little shove forward. Lavender reluctantly returned to her swain, giving Meg a concerned look over her shoulder as she did. She let herself be pulled back into his lap without any enthusiasm. Meg watched them. Clover watched Meg. She looked completely lost. Clover knew that look. To be completely alone, regardless of how many people are around you. She got to her feet, made her excuses to the increasingly annoyed Maizey, and pushed her way through to the bar. When Meg saw her, the relief shone through in a smile.
"What can I do for you, little'un?"
"I know I've only just got here. But I was thinking of going home now," Clover said.
"You never did like inns," Meg said. "Ain't natural for a Hobbit."
"I know, sorry. But, I was wondering if you'd go home with me? Don't fancy walking out at night by myself, with all this talk of Mewlips and demons."
Meg closed her eyes. "Course I can. That's what I'm here for." She perked up suddenly and started leading Clover to the door. "Can't have you walking home all afraid."
Clover smiled faintly to herself as they walked out into the night. Outside they passed Sango and Tiger Lily, who were sat side-by-side on a bench by the door.
"It's all right. There's no rush," he said.
Tiger Lily was hunched over, trembling, and hugging Sango's jacket so tightly the seams were in danger of tearing. They hadn't made it inside yet.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry," she half-sobbed.
"Stop," Sango said, rubbing his forehead. "Look, I think you should go back. It's not worth all of this."
"But then I'll have failed. I'll have failed and let you down. Mother said—" Tiger Lily straightened up her posture, and tried to slow her breathing. "Mother says that the more I do things, the easier things will be. I wish I could skip this part and go straight to it being easier." She managed a little laugh.
"Wouldn't we all?" Sango said, and smiled lopsidedly.
Tiger Lily covered her face with her hands and made on odd whimpering noise into them. When she removed her hands she got to her feet and said, "That's it. I think I need to go in now. Or run away, either one would suit me. But I need to do one of them right this moment." She held Sango's jacket out for him to put on.
"Good," he said brightly, and sprung up onto his feet. "Let's do the first, and if it's too much you can try the second instead." He pushed his arms through the sleeves, and straightened his lapels.
"You're so good," Tiger Lily said just as he opened the door. "I don't know how you can stand to be around me."
"I'm a very patient Hobbit," he said, "and you're not as hard to put up with as you sometimes think."
The wall of noise hit Tiger Lily so hard that it might have been a solid structure. Instinctively, she reached out to grasp Sango's arm. Something soft and familiar in a room full of strangers and eyes.
"You're all right," he said gently as he led her through the crowd to the bar.
Without warning her grip tightened and she pulled him around to face her. "I've changed my mind," she said. "I think we should go."
Sango raised his eyebrows. "Tills, if you want to go then do, but I'm staying."
Tiger Lily said nothing. She was trying to keep her face blank, and was doing too good a job.
"What's wrong?" he said.
"Nothing." Her line of gaze momentarily flickered to something happening off to the side.
When he made to turn around Tiger Lily grasped his arm, saying, "No, Rowley, don't—"
He ignored her and froze when he saw Lavender in Ripon's lap, her arms draped around his shoulders.
"Sorry," Tiger Lily said quietly.
Sango said nothing, but stared at Lavender, his lips slightly parted. Eventually he said, "Do you mind if I…?" His voice was on the edge of tears.
"Go," Tiger Lily said. "I'll stay, if you need me."
Sango didn't look back at Tiger Lily, or ever take his eyes off Lavender as he approached. When she saw him, she smiled and stood. "Evening, young master." When she saw his expression her smile faded. "You look like a kicked whelp."
Sango held his breath for a moment. Her eyelashes caught the light from the candles, and a flush bloomed in her cheeks from the heat of the inn. He tried to gather his thoughts. "We're…" he said helplessly. "That is, I thought that we were courting."
She raised her eyebrows, "You sent me away."
Sango felt his face going very warm. "Yes. Well. That didn't mean— Could we speak outside, please? Alone."
"If we must." She picked up her tankard as they left.
Outside, she sat on a bench and looked at Sango expectantly. "What did you want talk about, then?"
"You don't know?" He was thrown off by how calm she was. He had expected her to be angry, defensive, but she only sat, perfectly at ease, and watched him impassively. Like she was only passing through, and not involved with the events personally. "I don't understand," he said. "Surely you know why I'm upset."
She shrugged, unconcerned. "I reckon I do. But I want t' hear you say it. So I knows we're thinking the same."
Sango sat next to her and stared at the shadowy hills that filled the view ahead. "Why were you with that lad? I thought we were courting."
"Why?" She took a sip from her tankard. "Did I tell you we were?"
He hesitated. "Not as such. But the things you said and did led me to believe—"
"And you sending me from your house led me to believe you din't want to see me again." She rested her tankard on the bench beside her. "So I went in search of someone who would."
Sango kept his eyes to the ground and twisted his fingers together. "I'm sorry I hurt you."
"You didn't." When she saw his confused expression she laughed. "You're only a lad. Plenty more just like you." She watched as he squirmed. "Have I upset you?"
"A little." He looked at Lavender. "Do you really think that?"
"Aye." She slouched back, and spread her arms out flat over the back of the bench. "It's not just you, all lads are only lads."
Sango ran his tongue over his teeth. "What about Jonson Delver? Didn't you feel any tenderness for him?"
"Not much."
"Then why were you upset that he betrayed you?" Sango wailed. "I want to understand."
Lavender huffed and got up from the bench. "I don't 'ave to explain myself to you. I don't know you." She folded her arms.
"I would very much like to know you," Sango said.
She raised a critical eyebrow. "Usually when lads say that they mean something else."
"What do they usually mean?" He watched her with wide, innocent eyes.
An amused smile quirked Lavender's lips. "Sweet lad." She sat back next to him, and looked on him more tenderly than before. "You don't want me. Not really."
"I do," he said earnestly, and took her hands.
"I think you don't understand me." She withdrew her hands, but not with anger. "And that you wouldn't like it if you did."
"Can't you let me find out for myself?" Sango said. "Let me court you. Please."
She groaned and threw her head back. "But what's the point if I can't bed you?" Even in the half-light she could see the colour touching his face. "Aw, bless," she said, and reached out to stroke his hair. "You're not like most of the lads I know."
"Is that good or bad?"
She leaned forward, and rested her chin on her balled fist. "A little of both, I reckon. You're more tender 'n them." She seemed to reach a decision and sat up. "All right then, young master— Can I call you 'Sango'?"
"Certainly."
"Then, Sango, you can court me."
The effect was immediate. Sango sat up straight, beaming. "Truly?"
"I said so, din't I?"
He laughed a little in his excitement. "I do it all properly," he said quickly. "I'll be the perfect gentlehobbit, and tomorrow I'll call on your father to ask for his permission to woo you."
"You what?" Lavender said, taking up her tankard again.
"Well, that's what you do," Sango said, recalling the things his father had told him on this subject.
"You don't 'ave to," she said, giving him a withering look. "Honestly."
"But I want to," he clasped her hands again. "I want to do it all properly. I know you're not from a…" He sought for the right words. "An old family, but I want to treat you like a lady." He pressed his lips to her hand, and looked up at her.
Her expression was somewhere between bemused and touched. "All right then, Sango," she said. "If it makes you feel better." She stood. "I'm headed back inside. You to join me?"
"If you want me to," he said and watched her. He was completely enthralled.
She smiled and leaned down to kiss him. In her low, velvety voice she said, "Good lad."
In the meantime Tiger Lily had been inside, her back pressed firmly against the wall. She didn't dare move, in case she got in anyone's way, and the heat was starting to make her feel light headed. But deep in her bones she knew she couldn't leave before she knew what was going on with Sango. I have to be here, she thought. In case he needs me. Even if it hurts.
Maizey alone watched her with mild interest. "Ain't that Master Sango's lass?" she said eventually, drawing the attention of her brothers.
"Looks like it," Jack said, squinting. "What's she doing?"
"Not much," Maizey said. She looked at the tankards in the hands of the other patrons and sighed. "I wish I had something to drink."
"No, you don't," Jack said.
"Ain't fair," Maizey said.
Rob was only half-listening to this conversation. The rest of his attention was being directed at Tiger Lily, and everyone around her. They were all drinking and talking amongst themselves, and seemed completely oblivious to her presence. Silently, he willed someone to take pity on her, so that he wouldn't have to. He knew from their meeting that she wasn't the most outgoing Hobbit, but there were so many people there that surely, he thought, there must be someone who knew her. If there was, they didn't come forward. Damn. Rob awkwardly got to his feet. He did most things awkwardly, in consequence of his size.
"You're not leaving too, are you?" Maizey said.
"Nah."
"Where're you off to, then?"
He shrugged wordlessly, too embarrassed to say anything. As Rob approached, he got a better look at Tiger Lily's expression. The look in her eyes put him in mind of a rabbit he once saw caught in a snare, still alive. That of pure, blind terror.
"Hello, Miss Took," he mumbled.
Tiger Lily's head whipped around to look at him. When she saw who it was, her expression changed into something like relief. "Oh, it's you, Master Rob," she said in a tremulous voice. Her fingers were fidgeting with the sash around her waist, and her breast heaved with quick intakes of air. Rob only noticed her hands.
"Just saw you was by yourself," he said. "You looked a little out of sorts."
"Oh, I'm fine," she said, and tried to laugh. "I'm just waiting for Ro— Master Sango. But I'm all right, you needn't worry. Not that you would." She paused for breath. "It was kind of you to ask, though," she finished pathetically.
Rob's eyes were drawn back to her hands. "You're shaking," he said.
"Oh." She wiped her hands on her skirt, seemingly just for something different to do with them. "Sorry. I'm just being silly." She tried to smile.
Rob looked back at the table where Maizey and Jack were still sat. "Look, why don't you sit with us while you wait for Master Sango? Might help you calm down."
"I wouldn't like to intrude," she said.
He shrugged. "Ain't no trouble. It's just there if you want it."
Tiger Lily glanced at the door. It didn't look like Sango would be back any time soon. And she did feel like she might have a turn if she stayed as she was for much longer. "That's so kind," she said.
Maizey and Jack pretended they weren't watching as Rob returned.
"She's the one what was spying on 'im yesterday," Jack said out of the corner of his mouth.
Maizey snorted, carefully keeping her face turned away from the approaching pair.
"It all right if Miss Took sits with us a while?" Rob said.
"It is," Jack said, and nodded at her. "Evening, miss."
"Hello," Tiger Lily said, gingerly taking a seat.
"My brother Jack and sister Maizey," Rob said.
"It's lovely to meet you," she said, smiling nervously.
Maizey tried to repress a smirk, and said, "Taken a liking to our Rob, have you?"
Tiger Lily's smile remained, but her brow creased in confusion. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean."
"Don't pay me no mind." Maizey glanced at Rob, who was scowling at her. "We was just talking about the big person what was in the Shire last night. Know about 'im?"
"Yes. I think I've heard something about that." Tiger Lily had overheard a couple of the maids gossiping about it that morning. She suspected that revealing the particulars of this wouldn't be a good idea.
"D'you know if that had anything to do with your lot?"
"My lot?"
"You know, the Tooks. Wizards and demons and that."
"Maizey," Rob said warningly.
"I don't know about that," Tiger Lily said, looking at her lap. "I don't think we do anything like that anymore."
"Oh." Maizey looked slightly deflated.
"But you do have other quirks, don't you?" Jack said, smiling devilishly. "I heard Tooks even teach their ladyfolk to hunt."
Tiger Lily froze. She tried to speak, but the words choked her. He knew. How did everyone know? Her eyes wandered over the empty table, in search of a way to change the subject. "Are you not drinking?" she asked.
None of the Delvers said anything. They couldn't quite meet each other's eyes.
"No," Jack said, folding his arms.
Tiger Lily sense that she had struck a nerve, and elected not to reply. Neither did anyone else.
"I'm going home," Jack said eventually. "See you lot later."
Tiger Lily kept her eyes turned down as he left, willing herself to disappear from sight. That was your fault, one half of her mind whispered to the other half. I don't know how, but it was yours fault.
"I'm sorry," she said softly.
"You din't mean nothing," Maizey said. "It's just our coffers won't stretch to it right now."
Tiger Lily took a deep breath. "I'm so sorry, I didn't think. I could buy us some drinks, if you like."
This caused another uncomfortable silence she hadn't anticipated.
"You don't 'ave to," Rob said.
"I don't mind," Tiger Lily said, reaching into a pocket and bringing out a small embroidered coin purse.
Rob studied her expression closely. He was searching for some indication that there was mockery behind this offer. A curl of the lip, an arching of the eyebrows. But he found nothing but open, stupid kindness.
"All right then," Maizey said, "if you're offering."
Tiger Lily smiled, glad to be of help. She looked at Rob. "And you?"
"Go on, Rob," Maizey said, grinning. "Answer the lady."
Rob glared at Maizey as he said, "Thank you, miss." When Tiger Lily had gone to the bar he leaned over to his sister. "Stop being a nuisance. We don't accept charity, you know that."
"If you and her was to wed, we'd be rich," she said. "All you need to do is charm 'er away from Master Sango."
Rob leaned back in his seat and folded his arms. "Don't be stupid."
"I'm sure you could manage it if you talked more."
"I ain't listening to you."
"Jonson could give you some help if you needed it—"
"There we are," Tiger Lily set three tankards of beer on the table.
"Thank you, miss," Maizey said and rose, taking her tankard with her. "I'll just leave you two, then. Alone."
"No. Maizey!" Rob reached out to grab her arm, but she was too quick for him. He and Tiger Lily looked at each other.
Tiger Lily sipped her beer and sought for something to say. "So, you—"
"So did—"
They hesitated.
"I'm sorry—"
"Sorry, you—"
Rob snorted and covered his eyes. Tiger Lily laughed lightly.
"We ain't good at this, are we?" Rob said.
"I'm not. I can't speak for you."
"What was you going to say?"
Tiger Lily rested her jaw on her hands. "Just that you mentioned your brothers yesterday, but not that you had a sister."
He sighed. "Aye, I got some of them as well. Proper mob, we are."
"It must be nice having so much family."
He shrugged. "Is and isn't. Means there's someone there to lend a hand. Has its difficulties." He turned his arm to hide a hole in his sleeve. "It's so messy all the time, and you don't get no peace."
"I think I know what you mean. We stayed in the Great Smials once when I was little, and it was so noisy. I would swear there are hundreds of Tooks in that place." A shiver passed down her spine at the memory of a certain aunt. "Do all of you work at the farm?"
"All 'cept our Mum and the littlest lass. They stay at home to keep everything in order."
"Oh."
Silence descended. Tiger Lily fiddled with her coin purse and tried to think of something to say. "So… Um… What did you do on the farm today, now that the harvest is over?"
He drank from his tankard, and wiped his mouth with a forearm. "Well, I was out ditching. Soil's heavy on the east fields, and we don't want 'em getting flooded over winter."
"Gosh, that sounds hard. How do you know which fields have which soil?"
Rob smiled. He didn't often get a chance to show off his knowledge on the intricacies of field drainage. "Well—"
Tiger Lily sipped her beer and listened. This was so far removed from anything spoken of in drawing rooms that she found herself being drawn in. Real people doing real things out of doors. She watched him like he was the most fascinating Hobbit in the world. When he had finished she said, "I wouldn't know where to start with all that. It must take an awful lot of skill."
Again, he searched for some sign that she was being insincere, but found none. "Guess so."
"It must be nice to do things," Tiger Lily said. "To be able to look at something and know you made a difference today." There was a wistful look in her eyes.
He scratched his head. "Ain't never thought about it before." There was silence again. This time it was Rob who decided to end it. He leaned his elbows on the table, and pointed at the coin purse that was still in Tiger Lily's hands. "You do that sewing yourself?"
"Oh. Yes." She scratched at the stitching. She had been taught to embroider because every well-to-do young lady was taught. Similarly, she could play the piano and paint, but had no talent or passion for either. Her embroidery wasn't any better. When out in public she always tried to keep the embroidered front of her reticule hidden by facing it into her skirt. The coin purse itself was supposed to show a field of buttercups, with a phrase arching over the scene in angular letters. Really though, it looked more like she'd been using it to swat a group of large yellow flies.
"It's nice," he said politely.
She smiled sadly. "Thank you."
"What are the words?" Rob said.
Tiger Lily looked at the text. "It says, 'A maiden is as the spring flowers'." She grinned apologetically. "Mother's idea, not mine."
"Right." He kept his eyes on the stitching. "How's that?"
She blinked at him. "Pardon?"
Rob shifted in his seat uncomfortably. "I was asking how maids are like flowers."
"Oh, of course, sorry. Well, I suppose they're both beautiful, brief…" She had wondered the same thing while she'd been making the embroidery. She giggled. "They both attract bees?"
He grinned at her. "Sounds about right to me."
It occurred to Tiger Lily that she'd forgotten Sango. She cast her eyes about the inn, and spotted him, sat in the corner with Lavender. He looked happier than she'd seen him for a long time.
"Sango's back, look," she said. "I suppose they worked everything out." An unfamiliar pang of envy struck her. "Good."
Rob took a long drink from his tankard, unsure of how to proceed. "Everyone thinks you're his lass," he said.
She glanced at him, surprised. "Really?"
He nodded.
A slightly confused look crossed her face. "Oh. I suppose I shouldn't be too surprised. Mother thinks we're in love. I've never courted so she's taken that to mean…" A sour expression appeared on Tiger Lily's face. "But I didn't think… Everyone? Really?"
Rob shrugged. "Don't pay no mind to it. Folk'll think what they think."
"That's true," she said, her eyes glazing over for a moment. "Very much true." Tiger Lily pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth. "I think I might go home now. Sango obviously has no need of me," she said, and smiled at Rob. "It was lovely seeing you again."
Rob watched her rise. "You want I should walk you?"
Her brow creased in confusion. "No, why?"
It was his turn to be confused. "Well, you know. With the big folk and all."
She shrugged lightly. "I'm not afraid of them. But it was very kind of you to offer. Goodbye, Master Rob. Thank you for letting me sit with you."
"Don't think nothing of it. Goodbye, Miss Tiger Lily."
She looked back at Sango and Lavender, and stopped. They were laughing. There was the envy again. She turned back to Rob. "Master Rob, would you… Um…" She gripped the back of the chair she'd been sitting in. She was trembling again. "Could we go for a walk one day? Only if you want to. We could walk up to Hobbiton and get fish and chips…" She groaned and passed a hand over her face.
Rob leaned back and shrugged. "All right."
Tiger Lily removed her hand and looked at him questioningly. "Honestly?"
"Yes?"
"Oh!" In her surprise, she began to laugh. "What— what day would be best for you?"
He smiled to himself at her reaction. "I get off work at noon on a Friday."
She smiled brightly. "All right. Should we meet on the main road to Hobbiton?"
"It's as good a place as any."
"Good. See you then, then." She made to leave, but turned back to him again. "Goodbye again."
"And you, miss."
He watched her bid goodbye to Sango, who was preoccupied by Lavender. Before she left, she glanced back at him and grinned broadly, fizzing with excitement. Rob stared at the ceiling and exhaled. He heard someone come and sit in the seat next to him, but didn't turn his head.
"You charmed 'er yet?" Maizey said.
"Push off."
Monno Grubb was sat alone beneath a tree, with his feet in one of the shallower stretches of the Water. He was a good distance away from Bywater and its surrounding villages. Beside him there was a small paper bag. Every few seconds he picked it up and placed it in his lap, or back on the grass curling and uncurling the top. Eventually he turned his head as he became aware of another Hobbit on the road, and stood up. It was Primrose. She had removed the ribbon from her hair, and her lustrous dark curls brushed her neck and shoulders as she walked. Monno broke into a relieved grin.
"I thought you weren't coming," he said.
"Sorry. I was delayed. You'll catch a chill dangling your feet in the water like that."
"Sorry." He kissed her cheek and handed her the bag. A glance inside revealed the contents to be comfits. "Thank you," she said. "Would you like one?"
"I'm fine, thank you." He took her arm and they started to walk. "I'm so glad to see you. Dalgo's been unbearable today."
Primrose winced as Monno continued. She understood he needed someone to talk to, and that things had been difficult since his father died. But she had come to dread the initial few minutes of their meetings, when he would complain about anything and everything his family had done that day.
"Are you all right?" he asked, bringing her out of her reflection. "You seem very distant."
"Sorry. I was thinkin' about a friend of mine. Well, a friend of a friend. And just…" She removed her arm from his so she could face him properly. "You will make things right between us, won't you? Like you promised?"
Monno looked taken aback. "Yes, of course. Why would you think otherwise?"
"Could you please speak to my dad, then?" she said. "I know you want to wait 'til I'm of age, but I'm sure he'd would let us wed now if you asked, he'd be thrilled to 'ave one of us marry into a rich family." The speed with which she spoke revealed the level of her anxiety.
Monno placed his hands on her shoulders. She noticed the ink stains on his shirt cuffs. "I won't shackle you to me so young. What's five years betrothal to a lifetime of marriage?"
She gently pushed his hands away. "It would give me peace of mind if others knew of us."
He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm not sure the time is right yet. Everything's still so fractious at home."
Primrose gave up, and sighed. "No, of course. Sorry, I wasn't thinkin'."
Monno enveloped her in his sturdy arms. "We will marry one day. I promise."
Primrose buried her face in his waistcoat. He smelled of paper and soap, a far cry from the sweat and sawdust of the workshop. She wanted to say, 'I know,' but couldn't quite manage it.