"Do you ever worry about the future?" Tiger Lily said as she looked over her shoulder at Rob.

He sighed, a puff of steam emanating from his mouth. "Not sure worry's the right word. Think about it sometimes." He tugged his jacket closer around his shoulders.

Tiger Lily looked down at the path before them. Steep banks rose up on either side, topped with a tangle of ferns and brambles. In some places the dirt had crumbled away to reveal the stone wall underneath, long ago reclaimed by the land. To her, this was incomprehensible. To think about the future without worrying…

"What do you think about?" she said.

"Uh…" He grimaced. "It's stupid."

Tiger Lily looked askance at him. Now he was the one staring at the ground and the points of his ears had gone red. "I'm sure it's not."

He shrugged. "Reckon I'd like to be a farmer."

"I thought you were a farmer now."

"I'm a farmhand, it's different. Being a farmer'd mean I'd have my own land, not just be working someone else's. I mean, I wouldn't own the land proper like, but I'd pay rent on my own fields," he added, as though owning the land himself was too outlandish even in this idealised, hypothetical future. "Mayhap I'll have my own farmhands. An' I'll keep dogs. The big ones what growl at trespassers but turn soft in front of the fire."

"That's nice."

Rob made a mumbling sound through which Tiger Lily could just make out a thanks.

"Do you like dogs?" she said, hoping this would perk him up.

"Mm. You?"

She tensed her shoulders uncomfortably. "They're nice, I suppose. A little servile for my taste."

"Oh." Rob looked away and sniffed disdainfully. "Cats are your favourites then?"

"I don't really like them either," Tiger Lily said. "They always look at you like they're barely tolerating your presence."

He snorted. "Sounds about right. We had a cat once, for the mice. Bloody vicious, it was. Took a dislike to Martin—wouldn't leave him be."

"What happened?"

"Gave it to Widow Stabler. All her little'uns've left home."

"What else? On your farm, I mean."

"Why'd you want to know?" Rob said, kicking a pebble. "It's stupid."

"Why do you think that?"

"Well, it's not going to happen, is it?"

She opened her mouth to object to this, but closed it again. "It might happen," she said carefully. "But it's not stupid if it has meaning to you. It doesn't matter how likely it is to happen."

He shrugged and put his hands in his pockets. "I'll have a wife, I s'pose. Little'uns."

Tiger Lily frowned, studying the grass that pushed between her toes. "How can you be looking forward to marriage and children when you're still so young? I thought lads our age dreaded all that."

"I don't want 'em yet," Rob said with a snort. "But I reckon I'll be getting wed one day. An' once you're wed little'uns just sort of happen. Or afore, if you're unlucky."

Tiger Lily tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and wordlessly squeaked her agreement. Rob didn't seem to notice her reaction as he continued.

"I'm good with my little brothers and sisters, so I don't reckon being a dad'd be too much harder, given a year or… ten." He sighed again, and his face relaxed into a grin. "What about you, then?"

"What about me?"

"You was the one what started talking about all this. Can't tell me you don't have an answer."

"Um…" Tiger Lily started to massage her hand. "I asked about worries. I have plenty of those. But I can't…" She cleared her throat. "I don't want to say them out loud."

"But if none of the worries happen. What then?"

Tiger Lily frowned. This was only a little easier to talk about. It was less likely to come true. "I suppose I'll still be friends with Rowley. I'll have other friends too. And a husband. A nice one."

There was a pause.

"That it?" Rob said.

"Yes."

He laughed gruffly. "How? I thought you was learned."

Tiger Lily half-smiled. "I am… learned. I can't help how I feel."

"But you was going on at me for wanting to get wed."

"Sorry. I didn't mean t-to go on at you." She hesitated. The words felt unfamiliar on her tongue. "I just wanted to understand."

"So you want to get wed?"

Tiger Lily shrugged. "I suppose so. I don't want to die an old maid. I'd be alone, and I'd be letting the family down. Not to mention that I would have to live with Bandobold for the rest of my life." She scowled. "Or he could send me away to the Maids' Quarters in the Great Smials if he gets sick of me."

Rob frowned. "Why're you worrying about that now? You're not even of age yet."

"It's not as long as it seems. Most ladies get married in their thirties, and if you're not married by the time you're fifty then that's it. And everyone I know has already started courting—not that I know many people." She realised she was rambling but was somehow unable to stop herself. "Though I think they sometimes marry older ladies in Buckland. They have funny ideas out there. But I have a cousin called Erbard, he's in his sixties or seventies, I think," she tried to recall his entry on the family tree, "and his wife is still in her thirties."

Rob wrinkled his nose. "Ugh."

"It wasn't considered a good match, but she's plain, so it was good for her. Older hobbits don't tend to be as fussy when it comes to looks. I imagine I'll marry one, if I do marry. They have a son now, so I suppose it must all be all right. But what I meant to say was…" She drew in a deep breath to bring herself to a stop, and interlaced her fingers. "Because lads don't marry until they're a little bit older, I assumed you wouldn't have thought about it yet."

The sound of Rob's footfall behind her stopped. Tiger Lily came to a halt and turned to see what the matter was. His arms were folded across his chest, though his expression and stance weren't confrontational.

"You're not plain, lass."

Tiger Lily looked at the ground and smiled uncertainly. "That's kind of you to say."

"An' if you're worried about having to live off your family you could always find yourself a job."

She looked up at him sharply. This had never come up as a possibility before. "No, I couldn't."

"Why?"

Her mouth hung open as she searched for an answer, dumbfounded. "Well… because it's… it's not proper…" She shook her head as a much more solid obstacle presented itself. "And anyway, I can't do anything." She brightened, and grinned. "I suppose I could just dig ditches for you on your farm."

Rob laughed again. "Depends if you're good enough. Good ditches're worth more than gold."

"I've been taught well."

"Ditching can't be taught. It needs to be lived."

Tiger Lily snickered. By this point the banks has sloped downwards to nothing, leaving two fences as their only shield against the world. Ahead, she could see the Pool. The trailing leaves of the weeping willow that grew on the south bank were stirring in the wind.

"I need to get home," Tiger Lily said. "Sango and I are going camping this evening—I need to prepare." There was some reluctance to admitting this.

"Right. I'll be off that way," Rob said, pointing to the squat hill into which East Warren Lane was dug.

"Yes. Very good." She went to take the shortcut over the fields, but Rob caught her hand before she could.

"See you again?" He grinned. "For the las time. Obviously."

She looked at their hands and Sango's warning clanged in her ears like a death knell. She swallowed. "Yes, if you like," she said, withdrawing her hand quickly. "For the last time."

"Right." He was confused. "Same time next week?"

"Yes. That's fine." She was looking along the length of the fence. There wasn't a gate or stile anywhere…

"You know aught about the pipe-weed?"

Tiger Lily looked over her shoulder at Rob, frowning. She hadn't been expecting this. "I'm sorry?"

He shook his head. "Just my sister was going on about the lack of leaf, an' was wondering if you knew anyone who owns plantations. It's nothing, don't trouble yourself."

Tiger Lily shook her head vacantly, her mouth hanging slack. "Uh… I have some uncles in Longbottom. One of them grows pipe-weed."

"Heard anything about the harvest…?" Rob said with a vagueness that showed he didn't really know what he was looking for.

"I haven't spoken to him since Lithe. But I could ask, I suppose."

"Aye. Thank'ee."

Tiger Lily nodded. She was getting too flustered to try and find an easy way into the field. Sighing, she hitched up her skirt and climbed over the fence. Jumping down on the other side she found Rob had been watching. Feeling embarrassed and not knowing what else to do, she curtseyed.

"Master Delver."

With that she spun around and started to run back towards the Pool.

Tiger Lily followed the sound of voices to her father's study. The door was ajar, and through the gap she could see her mother sat at the spare desk, shuffling through papers.

"But I'd feel guilty," she said.

"He can't manage the land properly. It's a kindness," Uncle Hortenbold said.

"Couldn't I defer it until Aferbold returns? I'm only maintaining affairs, I don't want to interfere."

"And when he returns he'll come to me for counsel, and I'll advise him to end the tenancy."

Tiger Lily hesitantly knocked on the door. "Mother?"

Her mother's head snapped around towards her. "Yes? Are you all right?"

Tiger Lily stepped through and cast her gaze over the desks. The papers were all in neat piles. The varnished wood was shining—free of dust. She folded her hands behind her back and leaned against the doorframe. "You've tidied."

"Of course we did," Uncle Hortenbold said. He was sat at the desk that was usually occupied by her father. "We've not got any use for his rubbish."

Her mother smiled kindly at her. "Just think how glad he'll be to return to a nice tidy study."

"I suppose so," Tiger Lily said.

The neatness was disconcerting. It was like her father had never been there at all. She had rather liked the idea of keeping it as he liked it. Somehow that felt more optimistic, like there wouldn't be any point in tidying because he would be home soon. She banished these thoughts from her head. She hadn't come here to ask about her father.

"Mother, have you heard from Uncle Winto recently?"

Her mother raised an amused eyebrow and shuffled the papers in front of her. "I received a letter from him a fortnight ago."

"How was his pipe-weed harvest?"

Mrs Took fixed her with a questioning look. "Now, why do you want to know about that?"

"It's just that with the shortages, I thought his harvest might have been poor. Will he be all right? Has he made enough to tide him over to next year?" This was at least half-true. She wouldn't want Uncle Winto to suffer if the harvests had been bad. So it wasn't a real lie.

Mrs Took half-smiled. "Sweetheart, he sold the plantation. Months ago."

Tiger Lily widened her eyes. "Why?"

Her mother sighed and shook her head, looking down at her paperwork again. "The offer was right, I suppose. I don't ask about business matters. I was sad to see it go, but I suppose business takes priority over sentiment. He's got the lads to think of."

Tiger Lily fidgeted with her fingers. She didn't suppose she knew the person who had bought the plantations to ask them how the harvest had been. But if she could give Rob a name, that was better than nothing. "Do you know who he sold to?"

"If memory serves," Mrs Took said, dipping her quill into the inkpot, "it was to Mr Sackville-Baggins."

Tiger Lily frowned. "Are you sure?"

"It's quite a distinctive name, dear."

"He bought Mr Boffin's farm."

"What's that to the point?"

Tiger Lily wrung her hands. "If one person owns everything… isn't that bad?"

"Two plantations and a farm hardly qualify as 'everything'."

"And Bag End."

"He's had his eye on that for years," Uncle Hortenbold said, not looking up from his work. "Everyone knows it." He saw Tiger Lily's anxious face and sighed. "If a gentlehobbit has money to spend, and chooses to spend that money on land, then that's his right. Don't get yourself into a state over pipe-weed of all things."

Tiger Lily closed her eyes. She felt like she was on the edge of something important. "But— but if he's bought all the plantations and now the pipe-weed's gone, does that mean that now he's bought the farm all the wheat will—"

"Why don't you go and get ready for your outing with Sango?" Mrs Took said.

Uncle Hortenbold looked at her sharply. "Surely they're not going out at this time. It's getting dark."

"They're staying out in a field somewhere. I did my best to talk them out of it," Mrs Took said with a roll of the eyes.

"I see." Uncle Hortenbold looked at Tiger Lily, his quill frozen on the paper. He pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth as he placed it in the inkpot. "Do as your mother says, Tiger Lily."

Tiger Lily hesitated before obeying. He was going to complain about her going. Reluctantly she stepped out of the study, closing the door behind her. Curiosity kept her hovering by the door.

"You can't let her sleep out in the wild, alone, with a lad. Think of her reputation," he said.

"They're only children," her mother said dismissively.

"Just because you believe it, that doesn't make it true. Marriages have happened at younger, if you take my meaning."

"Not my Tiger Lily. I've protected her from such vulgarities."

"Ignorance is not protection."

The door opened and Uncle Hortenbold stepped out. He scowled down at Tiger Lily as he shut the door behind him. "Eavesdropping, were we?"

She turned her face towards the ground. "No, sir."

"A shame. Perhaps you would have learned something if you were." He took her jaw in his hand and forced her to tilt her head up to look him in the eye. "I will not have a hussy in this family, do you understand me?"

She swallowed and did her best to hold her gaze. "Yes, Uncle."

"Good." He released her and made to walk away.

"I really would like to go camping, Uncle," she said before he had a chance to escape. "I've felt so miserable since Father left, and Mother said I wasn't to go on my own, what with the disappearances and Black Riders… And we shan't be able to see as much of each other once the Boffins go away."

Uncle Hortenbold covered his mouth with a hand as she spoke, a thoughtful expression on his face. Now he put his hands in his pockets, and seemed to come to a decision. "Very well. I will accompany you and Master Sango."

This took Tiger Lily by surprise. "You?"

He folded his arms. "And what's wrong with me?"

"Nothing," she said quickly. "But as you were unable to go to Buckland, I would have assume—"

"One night of camping is not the same as travelling fifty miles to slog through the Old Forest, though I don't imagine either would do my joints any good. And shocking as this may seem, Tiger Lily, I am a Took. I do have some sense of adventure."

Tiger Lily grinned. "Are you a Took, Uncle? I had no idea."

He made a brief, amused mumble. "Go on. Off with you."

Tiger Lily walked to her room with a light, springing step, the pipe-weed plantations forgotten for the time being.

Sango whistled to himself as he pushed another rolled-up blanket into his pack. He was hoping the cold wouldn't be too bad if they had enough of these, as well as a nice fire. He needed matches… He walked over to the mantelpiece to search for some. Bottles of rose-water, candles, handkerchiefs, pens, empty inkbottles, plenty of burnt-out matches… Glancing at the dresser he caught sight of a book, left face-down to keep his page number. He'd almost forgotten.

He padded over to the dresser and picked the book up while he remembered. He wedged it into the overflowing sack.

"Sango."

He stopped whistling and glanced over his shoulder at the doorway, where his father stood. "Hello," he said brightly.

Mr Boffin sighed. "Your mother tells me you're going camping tonight. With Tiger Lily."

"That's right. Did I not tell you?"

"No." He covered his eyes with his hand. "You know it's not appropriate anymore."

Sango went back to trying to get the book in the pack. "Oh, well. A promise is a promise."

"Sango."

"What?" He turned around angrily, slinging the pack onto one shoulder.

"Don't speak to me in that tone."

Sango huffed. "Sorry, Father. I just think it's a little regressive that we need to be shepherded around like faunts again. If Tiger Lily were a lad—"

"If she were we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"Could go through, please?"

Mr Boffin reluctantly stepped out of the doorway, letting Sango brush past.

"Rico went off alone with Citrine Lightfoot last year, and you didn't give him this much grief," Sango said as his father followed him down the corridor.

"Frankly, I find Rico's behaviour more understandable. He knew what he did was improper, the problem was that he didn't care. You don't seem to see the problem."

"Do we have any biscuits left?"

"I'm not going to let you divert—"

"I think I saw some in the pantry," Sango said, trotting off towards the kitchen.

Mr Boffin stopped where he stood and threw his hands up in despair. "I give up."

"We said we'd meet at the east gate of the farm, and carry on from there to the Common."

"Very good."

Tiger Lily and her uncle walked side by side down the dirt path to Boffin's Farm. Each had a pack on their back, containing blankets and not a great deal else. Tiger Lily had also put on two of her heavy wool petticoats.

"I would have thought you'd outgrown this nonsense," Uncle Hortenbold said after a time. "Since you gave up your bow."

Tiger Lily groaned internally. She wondered how long he'd been waiting to close the trap. "Please don't say you're still angry with me."

"Of course I'm bloody angry," he snapped. "We put decades into teaching you, and for what?"

"Opal gave it up too," she said weakly.

"And I said the same to her when she did."

"You're the one who cares about respectability," she muttered. "Not wanting a hussy in the family."

"That is not at all the same thing. You're a Took. Hunting with a longbow is your inheritance and now you've tossed it away like a broken toy."

"But I would have needed to give it up anyway when I married. Or would you have me die a spinster?" Tiger Lily said bitterly.

"Don't be ridiculous," Uncle Hortenbold said wearily. "Where's this venom come from? What have I done?"

"You made me an oddity." Tiger Lily said. "You taught me to use a bow. You encouraged me."

Uncle Hortenbold regarded her, and drew in a hissing breath through his teeth. "I see. If you were to ask my opinion—"

"I haven't."

"If you were to ask my opinion," he said again, "I think you're not as much of an oddity as you believe yourself to be."

Her face grew hot with indignation and she stopped dead. "But you've never ruddy lived in Tookland," she said. "You must have known that it wouldn't bring me anything good. You should have known better."

"Well, perhaps if any of my sons had lived more than a week we wouldn't have bothered," Hortenbold snapped. "But the fact is they didn't, and you and Opal were the only grandchildren my father knew. What else were we to do?"

Tiger Lily's mouth hung open. She had been completely unprepared for this.

He turned away and set off again at a brisk pace. She trailed behind, not daring to say anything more. They walked the rest of the way in silence, and it wasn't until they had been waiting by the gate for some time that Uncle Hortenbold gave an exhausted sigh.

He fiddled with one of his cufflinks. "Now, I don't believe in giving praise too freely, so I'm only going to say this once. You were a good archer. You could have become better in time but now you never shall, and I think that's a shame. That's why I'm angry."

As the word sunk in she could feel the tears threatening to well up, and hated herself for it.

Uncle Hortenbold scowled at her as she sniffed. "What's wrong with you now?"

"Nothing." She wiped her nose with the back of her hand.

"Do you need a handkerchief?" he said, bringing his hand to one of his pockets.

"No. Thank you." She took a deep breath to try and compose herself.

"Tills?"

Sango was strolling towards them, a pack on his back and a distinctly puzzled look on his face. "Mr Took," he said as he reached them.

"Master Boffin."

Sango stood with his eyes narrowed in confusion and his lips parted and slack, obviously trying to work out how to ask 'Why are you here?' politely.

"I thought to join you," Uncle Hortenbold said amiably. "Better than sitting at home with no company or smoke."

"Oh. Yes. Certainly. The more the merrier." Sango smiled and came through the gate. "Shall we be off?"

Tiger Lily trailed after Uncle Hortenbold and Sango as they set off towards the Common.

"Have your family found a new property yet?" Uncle Hortenbold said.

"Oh, yes. Well, sort of. It's a little place called The Rookery, up in Overhill, but it's only temporary," Sango said. "It's not a farm you see—Father couldn't get one—so we're only living there until we can find something more appropriate."

"Will your family be able to manage?" Uncle Hortenbold said.

"Father said we should be all right for the time being. Lotho gave us a fair price for the farm, and we do have a couple of tenants. We're still having a farewell party next Tuesday, so I don't think he's too worried. You're invited, by the way, Mr Took. Will Opal and your wife be back from Michel Delving by then?"

"They will."

"And you?" Sango said, looking over at Tiger Lily. "You will be coming, won't you?"

Tiger Lily sighed. "I suppose so."

"I glad," he said, smiling gently. "It won't be scary, I promise. Some of my other friends will be coming. I can introduce you. They're all very nice, very friendly…"

"All right, all right."

When they reached the Common they started to make their way up a steady hill, Uncle Hortenbold and Sango having somehow agreed on the best direction to go without having said anything.

"It seems everyone is leaving, by one means or another," Uncle Hortenbold said, a little breathlessly, "with poor old Dorso in the ground, Aferbold away, and now your family moving, Master Sango. Soon I'll be the only gentlehobbit left in Bywater."

"I didn't realise you were so fond of me, Mr Took." Sango came to a stop at the peak of the hill. "Here, do you think?"

"It seems as good a place as any."

Sango knelt down, and took his pack off his back. "Let's get a fire started, shall we?"

Tiger Lily settled down on the grass while Sango searched through his pack. He started to frantically pull blankets out onto the grass.

"What's wrong?" she said.

Sango sat back, chewing his lip. "Did you bring any matches? Or a tinderbox?"

"No."

"Me neither."

Uncle Hortenbold heaved a heavy sigh. "And I was worried you'd grown up." He took his own pack off and after some rummaging brought out an old hunting knife, and handed it to Tiger Lily. "I'll need dry bark, some large stones, and kindling, if you please."

There was an oak tree in the adjacent meadow, and Sango and Tiger Lily went together.

"Why did he have a knife with him?" Sango said as they reached the foot of the tree.

Tiger Lily shrugged. "I suppose he thought it might be useful."

"Well, he was right, I suppose. This feels dry." He picked up a slim fallen branch and tried to jerk the knife out of her hand.

Tiger Lily instinctively tightened her grip, and drew her hand away from him. He glanced at her, surprised.

"I need it to get the bark off," he said. He looked like a dog who didn't understand what their master had just said.

"I can do it," Tiger Lily said, and held her free hand out for the branch. She was feeling irrationally put-out. Uncle Hortenbold had given the knife to her.

Sango hesitated. "Are you sure?"

"I can skin a rabbit, I can certainly strip a branch."

Sango winced, but handed her the branch without further comment.

They returned to the camp with the bark and kindling, Tiger Lily carrying the stones in her skirt. Sango put the stones into a ring and started to build up the sticks. While he did this Tiger Lily watched with interest as Uncle Hortenbold selected one of the thicker sticks, and made a groove along it with the knife. He started to run a twig up and down the groove over a bed of bark.

"Can I try?" Tiger Lily said.

The corner of Uncle Hortenbold's mouth twitched into a brief smile. "If you like. Hold it like this. Keep your fingers out of the way." He moved her hands into the correct position.

"Is that right?" Tiger Lily said as she tried to mimic him.

"A little more firmly. Like you're striking a match."

She frowned as she continued. Her fingers were starting to burn from the friction.

Her heart pounded as a thin, white stream of smoke started to pour up from the bark. "What do I do now?" she said in a panicked voice.

"It's all right." He picked the bark up in his cupped hands and gently blew into it. "You mustn't let it go out…" He murmured. He blew into it again and a little yellow flame rose up. He carefully deposited it at the bottom of the wood pile. "There we are. Well done," he said, turning his eyes to Tiger Lily.

She smiled as the kindling started to take light. "Thank you."

"Where did you learn how to do that?" Sango said.

"My father taught me," Uncle Hortenbold said. "And he was taught by one of the Old Took's sons, I think. Isumbras. Or was it Isengar? I don't remember."

"Father would know," Tiger Lily said, hugging her knees.

"Yes, I imagine he would," Hortenbold said with a sigh. "He was always useful for that sort of thing."

"Do you remember the Old Took at all?" Sango said, sitting cross-legged and watching Uncle Hortenbold like a child being told a story.

Hortenbold scowled and rested a hand on his leg. "Remember him? How old do you believe I am, Master Sango?"

Tiger Lily smiled as Sango's expression glazed over. "I'm not sure 'old' is the right word, Mr Took. Experienced. Venerable." His expression brightened as though he had seen the escape route. "Vintage! Like a fine wine—"

"I suggest you stop talking now."

"Yes, sir."

"You would attach yourself to one such as him?" Mr Darkwater said, taking confident steps towards our heroine.

"Mr Milton has the kindest nature of any Hobbit I've ever met, and I declare that I do love him," Miss Brite said, turning her head to conceal a blush, surprised at the passion with which she spoke.

"And I declare that I cannot take any other of your sex to wife; strange, lightsome thing that you are." he said and took her delicate little hand in his. "My Rosalind."

A gasp escaped her quivering lips, but she found she could not escape his mighty hold. Her bosom rose and fell with every breath she took. "Mr Darkwater!"

"…"

"Why have you stopped?"

Tiger Lily looked up at Sango. "That's the end of the chapter. Can we stop for a bit? My throat hurts."

She sat back and let Sango's copy of Miss Brite and the Increasingly Improbable Series of Events lie open on her lap as she took a draw of water from the wineskin. It was about a spirited-yet-proper young lady of moderate wealth, who had fallen in love with both a sensitive painter and a broodingly passionate gentlehobbit. Things were only complicated further by her mother's cruel landlord Mr Goldfoot, who had (unfortunately) also fallen in love with her.

"Alternatively, you could start wearing your spectacles so you could read it yourself," she said.

"But you're so good at reading," he said cajolingly.

"Wear your spectacles."

He huffed and rolled onto his stomach. "What's the title of the next chapter?"

Tiger Lily flicked to the next page. "In Which Miss Brite Receives a Most Vexing Note and Mr Goldfoot Makes His Intentions Clear." She saw Sango's wide eyes and sighed. "Don't worry yourself, I'm sure she won't marry Mr Goldfoot."

"I hope she marries Mr Darkwater," Sango said, his voice muffled by his pillow.

"She'll marry Milton," Tiger Lily said wearily. "That's how these stories always go."

"Don't say that, I hate Milton."

She flicked through the pages idly. "How can you hate Milton when you are Milton?"

Sango sat up, scowling indignantly. "I am not Milton."

She glanced up at him. "You rather are, I'm afraid. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you."

"I'm not Milton," he said again.

A smile tugged at the corner of Tiger Lily's lips. "A good-hearted, wide-eyed young artist who becomes utterly devoted his lady upon seeing her for the first time. Probably a tenor."

"I'm not an artist."

"How's the poetry?"

Sango considered this in silence as prickly realisation dawned. "But I don't want to be Milton," he groaned and buried his face in his pillow.

Tiger Lily started laughing silently, covering her mouth with the book and peering over the top at Sango. He lifted his head and scowled at her. "Oh, be quiet," he said, throwing his pillow at her.

She could only laugh harder at this, dropping the book beside her on the ground. Sango sighed and stood over her, arms folded. "I retract my previous statement. You're a terrible reader."

"It's not my fault I don't like the same stories as you," Tiger Lily said, wiping her tears away.

He snatched his book and pillow back up. "I'll be glad when I have a wife to read with me."

"What if she doesn't like them either?"

"My wife will have much better taste than you," he said and gave her a light tap on the head with the book.

"Ow!"

"That didn't hurt, chicken-heart." He returned to his pile of blankets and pulled them up over his legs. "Who would you choose, then? Mr Darkwater or Mr Milton?"

"I'm sure I don't know."

"Oh, come. Say you have two suitors, both will die if you don't give them your hand—"

Tiger Lily laughed. "I've never had such power, and I don't think I ever shall."

"Who do you choose: the boring painter, or the dashing, roguish gentlehobbit?"

She picked at a hole in one of her blankets. "Must I choose either of them?"

"You can't have both."

"That's not what I…" She trailed off when she saw Sango's expectant expression. "I suppose there's something romantic about running away with a painter," she conceded.

"No!"

"And Mr Darkwater's so nasty to everyone. Including Miss Brite."

"He's not nasty. He just acts like that on the outside because his brother married his childhood sweetheart and then she died and—"

"I believe I would find that of little comfort if I were married to him." She rested her jaw on her fist. "I'm sorry, Rowley, but Mr Milton has it."

He sniffed. "Well, I think you're an anomaly."

"I don't think you're in a position to decide what young ladies want in a husband." She grinned. "Besides which, if all ladies prefer Darkwater over Milton, you'll never find a wife."

"Blast." Sango rubbed his jaw. "I shall have to transform myself into a rogue."

She smiled affectionately at him. "I don't think you're quite capable of that, dear heart."

"I can have a go, at least."

"But if what makes Mr Darkwarter's roguery—"

"Is that a word?"

"I think it is. It is now, anyway. If what makes his roguery permissible is the terribly tragic events in his past with his brother and so forth, then what will make yours permissible?"

"Huh…" He tilted his head back to look at the sky. The moonlight was on his hair. "That's true. Perhaps I won't, then. I don't think it's necessary anyway, since I'll probably marry Lavender."

Tiger Lily raised her eyebrows. "Gosh. Does she know that?"

Sango grinned at her. "I haven't proposed yet, I'm not that silly. But in a few years… I can see myself marrying her. She has eyes like opals."

Tiger Lily frowned. "Opal's?"

"Yes. It's that kind of bluey-green. I think they must be the same colour as the sea."

Opal's eyes were brown, but Tiger Lily decided not to pursue this point. "Your mother doesn't like her."

He shrugged. "What's that to me?"

"She asked me to spy on you and Lavender for her," she said.

Sango's head snapped around to face her. "Oh." His eyes darted away for a moment.

"Sorry. But I thought you'd like to know."

He nodded vaguely. "Will you?"

Tiger Lily cocooned herself in her blankets. "I don't think so."

"Thank you." He smiled warmly at her. "I'm fond of her, Tilly."

"I know. But if you do marry her you'll be stuck with me to read to you."

"Ah well. I'll cope." He lay back. "I invited her to the farewell party. I'm not sure what Mother will think of that. Or Father, for that matter." He groaned and covered his face with his hands. "He's started saying I need to grow up. But we only have a few years left before we come of age. I think I'd like to carry on being a child while I still can."

Tiger Lily started to pick at the grass. "That's odd. I'm beginning to think I'm expected to remain a child until I'm married. But that might be another twenty years. I don't want to wait that long."

Sango smiled puckishly. "Maybe we could swap places. You could learn to do the accounts on the farm, and I could… buy ribbons, or whatever it is lasses do."

"People would notice."

"But if I grew my hair out…"

"I still think they'd suspect."

"It was worth a thought. Here. Payment for your efforts." He opened a brown paper package and handed a biscuit to her.

"Thank you." Tiger Lily looked up at the sky as she nibbled. The stars were flickering above. She wondered vaguely if they would ever go out. "You know… you will be head of the Rollo line one day," she said. "It might be a good idea to prepare yourself for that…"

"Well, there's nothing to that," Sango said, closing his eyes and stretching out on the grass. "Just making sure I send kinship gifts to the right people at the right time."

She sighed. "But, you know… it's not completely out of the question that you could become head of the Boffins."

"Yes, it is," he said flatly.

"It's unlikely," she said. "Very unlikely. But it's not impossible."

"Cousin Folco will have a son."

"I wonder if Thain Paladin thought the same of Ferumbras when he was our age." She looked over at Uncle Hortenbold, who was snoring quietly. "Not everyone has a son."

"If Folco doesn't have one then Tosto will," Sango said, sitting up and looking at her angrily. "Why do you always have to create problems that aren't there?"

"I don't mean to," she said, dismayed, "but I'd hate to think of the headship falling into your lap and you being completely unprepared for it."

"But it's not going to fall into my lap, so what's the point? Should I be counselling you on what to do if your father becomes Thain?"

"Now, that's impossible."

"Unlikely. Not impossible."

She leaned forward, scowling. "Half the Tooks would have to die for Father to become Thain. I think whatever pestilence brought that about would be of most concern in that scenario."

"It could happen."

"It's not the same thing."

"Why?"

"Because even if Father was first in line I couldn't become the Thain." She lay back with her arms folded resolutely. They lay in silence for a time. The stars flickered above.

"What if I never marry?" Tiger Lily said.

"What?"

She rolled onto her side to face him. His expression was open, and innocent. "I've been thinking about it a lot today. It might be another twenty years until I marry, but it could be never."

"You'll marry all right. Everyone does."

"Not everyone. The Thain's eldest sister never married, nor did Cousin Ivy and Cousin Trefoil, and everyone says Cousin Hedera needs to get married soon or she'll have missed her chance."

"All right, all right, I take your point." He rolled onto his side as well. The fire was still just about burning and lent his face a warm, comforting hue. Tiger Lily shifted closed to him.

"I'm frightened that if I never marry I'll be a child my whole life," she said quietly. "And then this whole world of life and possibility and understanding will be closed to me forever. What do I do with the last fifty years of my life if I don't marry in the first fifty?"

Slowly he reached across to her, took one of her hands in his, and squeezed it. "You'll be all right," he said with a gentle resolve.

Tiger Lily ran her thumb over his fingers. "I did the right thing, didn't I?" she said. "When I gave up shooting, did I do the right thing?"

He was startled by this. "I don't know."

"But I thought you were pleased," she said, panicking slightly.

"I was. But asking if it's right implies there's a moral aspect to it, which there isn't. It's just about whether or not it's the best thing for you."

"Is it?"

Sango rolled onto his back and groaned. "I wish you'd ask easier questions. It's not my decision."

"But I'm asking you for advice. Do you think it was the best thing for me?"

He turned his face towards her. His expression was unreadable. "Yes."

Tiger Lily turned away from him. She wasn't sure how she felt about that answer. "Good," she said and put on a smile. "I can start on the next chapter now, if you like."

Sango handed the book to her, and she flicked through to find the right page. Everything would be all right. For now, at least. She would probably marry.

Probably.

She still needed to decide what to do about Master Delver, but that could wait until another day.

And the pipe-weed would come back. The people who worked that sort of thing out knew what they were doing. They wouldn't let anything happen to the wheat, either. They would know how to stop it.

She found the page and cleared her throat before beginning.