To My Dear Ones,

I was so glad to receive a letter from each of you! I'm afraid you shall have to settle for this one alone, as I lack the time to write to each of you individually.

Thank you for wishing me a happy birthday, and I hope that the dried daisies I have sent will be well received. I know they are meagre and more than a little late but I hope you can forgive me, considering the circumstances. I will give you grander presents at Yule to make up for it. I have recovered from my cold and am feeling much better, though I don't expect it shall be long until the next one. Father always said I had a talent for picking up coughs.

There have been some changes to the search parties. Young Hildiwin was not getting along well under his father's command, and Ebbold offered to take his place. I feel sorry for the lad, being stuck with us old fogeys, but he seems to have settled well.

We have still found no sign of the missing Hobbits.

Cousin Theodand and his party have gone to Bree-land to see if there's any news, while a contingency of Brandybucks are searching the downs. I am not sure what will happen if there is nothing is found.

Peony: My bed is too wide and cold without you. I am glad to hear you're managing; I knew you would. As of yet, there has been no mention of us returning home, but I will send word to you as soon as there is. Please thank Hortenbold for his kinship gift. Is there any sign of a betrothal for Opal yet?

Tiger Lily: I was sorry to hear that your young gentlehobbit is leaving Bywater. I hope you are not too grieved. There are a handful of other Took ladies who came here from the Smials, besides Ivy and Trefoil. Two of Frondebold's unmarried daughters are here, as are Adelard's middle daughter, the Thain's youngest lass and Hantmar's youngest, though I'm not sure why you wanted to know.

Bandobold: I am sorry you're finding your lessons dull. I did too (my tutor loathed me, but then I was a very poor student). I have seen no Mewlips yet, though I confess I'm not sure what they look like. If I come across any I will be sure to inform you, provided I am not eaten up. I have enclosed a handful of stories concerning Mewlips which I have heard since coming here. These are my birthday gift to you, in lieu of the new bow I promised.

Keep your hearts light. I await your reply.

Yours,

Father

Tiger Lily creased her brow as she hacked the axe into the stave again and again, each blow landing with a satisfying thunk. She had tied a scarf around her mouth to keep the dust out. At the moment, the thing of most concern was a knot in the wood that was making the stave difficult to shape. She considered starting on a new piece of wood, but dismissed the idea. Bandobold was going through a growth spurt, so he probably wouldn't be using this bow for very long, and as she'd already cut the length down to size it wouldn't do anyone else any good. Oh well…

The door to the woodworking shed opened, and Tiger Lily found herself blinking up at the light that came pouring in. Sango was there with a bunch of flowers and a displeased expression.

"Your mother said I'd find you here." His eyes lingered on the axe. "Should I be concerned?"

Tiger Lily brought the axe down onto the stout log she had been resting the stave on, leaving it stuck in the wood. She tugged the scarf away from her mouth. "No more than usual." She turned to lean the stave against the wall.

"You said you were finished with all this," Sango said pleadingly. "Tills, you promised."

"I am. It's for Bandobold, not me."

"I'm sure your uncle would have—"

"How are you finding Overhill?" she said, walking past him into the outside.

"It's odd waking up without the smell of manure." He grinned. "I suppose I could muck out your stables if I start to miss it too much."

"Yes." Tiger Lily glanced at the flowers in his hand as she beat the wood dust out of her skirt. "What are those?"

"Asters, I think. Or azaleas. Something beginning with 'A'." He held them out to her. "They're to say sorry."

She took them hesitantly. "Thank you." She fixed her eyes on him meaningfully. "Can you remember what you're apologising for?"

He flushed a little. "I remember we fought. And I knew I must have said something to upset you because you didn't come to see us off."

"I might have been busy."

He smiled uncertainly. "You always come to see me if I'm going away somewhere."

She frowned into the flowers as she started to walk towards the gate. Was she really that predictable? "I'm just a bit upset at some of the things you said."

"I've said I'm sorry."

She shut the gate forcefully. "I know."

"You're being short with me."

"No, I'm not."

"What did I say?"

She winced at the recollections. "I'd rather not go over it."

"I've said I'm sorry, and I am," he said, falling into step beside her. "What else would you have me do?"

"Nothing."

"You can't resent me for things I said when I was drunk. I didn't mean any of it."

By this time they had reached the front of the smial. Tiger Lily closed her eyes as she sighed. He had said at the time that he didn't mean it, and he was trying to make up for it now…

"You're right. I'm being unreasonable." She took his hand and started to lead him inside. "What do you want to do? We could stay in and read, but the weather's fine enough to go walking, and I think I'd like to walk. I'll put the flowers in water before we go. Bandobold should be finished with his lessons by now, so he could accompany us."

"We'll walk, if that's what you want."

"Good." She smiled at him. "I am glad to see you."

"No, because sometimes it's an 'uh' sound and sometimes it's an 'ooh' sound."

"Why? How'd you know which is which?"

"Well… usually it's an 'ooh' sound when it's at the end of a word, which isn't often. Or if it's before an 'E'."

Clover frowned down at the page in front of her. There were so many rules with writing that she wasn't sure how anyone managed to keep track of them all. For that matter, she wasn't sure who had made the rules up in the first place, or for what purpose. Had they purposely made it as complicated as possible to keep the likes of her from learning? Very possibly.

Her first attempt at writing her own name hadn't gone well. Abelia had laughed when she had first seen 'Klowvu Delvu'.

"So what is it instead of a 'U'?" Clover said.

"'E-R'. It's the same for your family name." Abelia marked out the letters on the paper as she spoke.

Old Mrs Grubb had retired an hour or two ago, Monno had gone out somewhere (as he usually did in the afternoons) and the other Grubbs were elsewhere in the smial. The only sound was the gentle crackling of the fire. A rare moment of calm.

Technically Clover was meant to be out as well. She had told her family she would visit them today, but this was more important. Her family would wait for her. There was no guaranteeing Abelia would do the same.

Clover watched the light on the glistening ink as it dried on the page. "That's the end, then?"

"Yes."

She had thought that seeing her given name written out properly would feel somehow special, but it was just more lines on the page. Now she could name the lines, and knew how they were pronounced individually (sometimes). "Can I try?"

"Mm-hm."

Clover took the quill and dipped it in the inkwell, dripping a trail of ink over the paper. Clover muttered a curse and reached for the blotting paper.

"I spill ink all the time," Abelia said. "It used to irritate Father so."

Clover watched Abelia from the corner of her eye. The deceased Mr Grubb seemed to haunt the smial in obscure references and words shouted in anger. But for someone who had been such an integral piece of the household, Clover knew almost nothing about him. It was surreal.

"Dads can be like that. Mine's an old goat at the best of times."

"Mm…"

She removed the blotting paper and started to carefully copy out the letters Abelia had written at the top of the page. The quill still felt alien in her hand. The smooth, intricate movements that Abelia seemed to find so easy were almost impossible for her. Her script was clunky and childish. Clover wasn't used to struggling like this. She finished off the final 'r' with meticulous attention to detail. "Is that right?"

"Yes."

Clover re-dipped the quill and wrote it out a second time. Looking over at Abelia when she was finished, she found her young teacher looking more melancholy than she had ever seen her before. This wasn't the raw, angry hurt she wore after an argument with Dalgo. It was something deeper and emptier. Something partially healed—on the surface, at least. Clover smiled gently at her. "How do your write your name, miss?"

Abelia smiled back as she took the quill and easily wrote it out. Clover looked at it, trying to make sense of the syllables. "There's only one 'E'."

Abelia raised an eyebrow. "How many did you think there would be?"

"Four-ish?"

The door to the parlour opened and Dalgo strode in, searching through the bookcases without even a glance at the lasses. "Abelia, have you seen my copy of Family Histories in Bree-land?"

"No. Why would I bother with any of that dull stuff?"

He spun around. "I'll have you know—" The indignant scowl on his face gave way to blank confusion when he saw Abelia and Clover sitting together at the writing desk. "What are you doing?"

"I'm teaching Clover to read."

"Why?"

Abelia huffed and looked back down at the paper. "It's called being nice, Dalgo, I don't know if you're familiar." She handed the quill back to Clover. "There. Would you like to try and copy it out?"

Clover took the quill, but couldn't bring it to the paper, torn between which employer to heed. After what felt like a very long time Dalgo cleared his throat. "Leave us, Abelia. I need to have a word with Clover."

Abelia scowled at him. "No."

"I am master of this smial," Dalgo said, raising his voice, "and I am ordering you to leave us."

Abelia closed her eyes in frustration and stood from her chair, the legs scraping harshly against the floor tiles. Her skirts swished as she turned around to leave. She paused as she passed Dalgo.

"I hate you!" she cried as she slammed the door behind her.

Dalgo said nothing, but deliberately turned his head towards Clover. "I know what you're doing."

Clover watched him intently, and tilted her head to one side. "What I'm doing, sir?"

"Will you stop it?" he said as he started to pace back and forth. "You're always going about with that excruciating look on your face, pretending you don't having anything going on in your head."

"I'm only a servant, sir. There's nothing in my head of value. I'm sure you know that," she said, keeping her voice soft and steady.

"Will you stop?" He grasped the back of an armchair to steady himself. "I've seen you smirking to yourself when you think no one's looking. You've weaselled your way into this smial and now you're lording it over us, taking delight in our absurdity."

He really is mad, she thought.

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, sir."

"I told you to stop it!" He hesitated, breathing heavily. "Abelia is young, and too frivolous to think about anything in great depth. She doesn't understand that this is not proper. You do know, regardless of what you say."

Clover started to trace abstract shapes on the desk with her fingertips, all the time not taking her eyes away from Dalgo's. "Mistress Campanula has dismissed me for the evening, sir. I can use my time as I please."

"That does not give you leave to cultivate a relationship with my sister, nor does it give you leave to use our ink and paper," he said, gesturing to the desk. He seemed to make up his mind about something and started to take long, quick steps towards Clover. "Give them to me."

"No." Clover slammed her hand down over the paper and rose to her feet. Dalgo stood over her. The dancing firelight reflected off the lenses of his spectacles and obscured his eyes. Clover gazed up at him, unmoved. "I bought them myself, sir, with my own earnings. You've got no right to take them from me. Miss Abelia might be young, but she's old enough to choose her own companions. You cannot tell me how I can or can't spend my own time." She looked at him steadily. "I am not afraid of you."

For the longest time neither of them moved or looked away. The only noise was the crackling in the fireplace. Dalgo eventually turned away, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out a weary sigh. "Tell me what you're thinking," he said.

Clover folder hands neatly, as she usually did when serving the family. "Will you dismiss me if I answer in truth?"

He leaned against the mantelpiece, keeping his head bowed and eyes cast down. "No."

"How can I know you'll keep your word?"

He didn't reply, but his posture sagged further.

It was time to take pity. "I'm wondering why you've taken such a dislike to me, if it's anything to do with my… did you call it my riddle?"

He nodded, still not looking at her. "Yes…"

"Is it to do with that?"

"I don't know."

She looked down at her hands, still slightly bewildered that this conversation was happening at all. "Now I'm wondering why it's bothered you so much."

"What do you think?"

"I'm not sure."

"But if you were to guess?"

Clover drew in a breath. "It might be 'cus you hate to be denied. You're denied so little you don't know how to take it. It might be 'cus you want to know what I saw in you to suggest we were alike, 'cus you want to know how others look at you." She looked down at her feet. "Or it might be 'cus you can't stand the thought that you'd have anything in common with someone as lowly as me."

"Which do you think is more likely?"

"A mix, mayhap."

Dalgo turned his face towards her. His eyes flickered over her, head to toe. "I don't know how to understand you," he said.

"Why's that, sir?"

His only response was to shake his head.

Clover turned away and started to gather up the paper on the desk.

"Tell me," Dalgo said.

She looked over her shoulder at him. His eyes were empty and he seemed to have shrunk in stature. "Tell you what, sir?"

"Tell me why we're the same." He drew in a breath. "Please."

Clover held the paper close to her chest and she turned to face him. Maybe he isn't horrified that we're alike. Maybe he wants it to be true.

She leaned against the desk as she spoke. "We act and speak in the way we do because we can. No one else can think like us and that makes us proud. It makes us forget that we're just fools too."

Dalgo slowly moved away from the fireplace and lowered himself into an armchair, covering his face with his hands. "I'm wretched."

At least he knows it…

"I'm sure I couldn't say." She curtseyed. "I'm taking my leave now, Mr Grubb."

She picked up the ink pot and took noiseless steps towards the door.

"What would you do if I told you to stay?"

She hesitated as she opened the door and looked back at Dalgo. He had raised his head from his hands, which now lay limply in his lap. His expression was one of bleak hopelessness. "I'm sorry, sir?"

"If I ordered you to stay, would you obey me?"

Clover smiled faintly. "Of course, sir. Who am I to defy you?" She nodded at him. "Good evening, Mr Grubb," she said, and closed the door between them.

She was flying. Her feet barely touched the ground as the air whipped past. The field ahead of her was golden from the last of the day's autumn sun.

"Hurry up, we can't let him beat us," Sango called over his shoulder to her.

Tiger Lily grinned, but didn't have the breath to reply.

Bandobold was at the fence long before either of them. "I won!"

Sango slowed to a walk. "Well done," he said breathlessly, pressing a hand to his side.

Tiger Lily didn't slow, but gave one last burst of energy. When she caught up with Sango she jumped up to throw her arms around his shoulders. "Caught you!"

Sango made a strangling noise and buckled forward. "Get off," he said with a laugh.

She released him and he linked arms with her as they followed Bandobold over the fence to the field beyond, towards the tree that was growing in the middle. "We need to go back soon," Sango said as they walked up the steep incline. "The ride back to Overhill is… not insignificant."

"It's strange," Tiger Lily said. "I can't rid myself of the feeling this is temporary and everything will go back to normal soon. I keep on forgetting this is just the way things are now."

"Have you seen anything of Opal?"

"A little. But she has her other friends and Buffo…"

"Yes…" He cleared his throat. "Have you seen much of Master Delver?"

Tiger Lily kept her eyes ahead, not daring to look at him. "A little bit. Don't climb too high, Bully," she said as Bandobold started to clamber up the tree.

"Tooks," Sango said with a tut. "It's not natural to be so keen on heights. Are you going to join him?"

She used her free hand to hold her skirt. "I'm not really dressed for it, dear."

He gave a light little laugh, and looked up at the sky as they walked. Shortly he began to sing.

.

As I walked 'neath a cloudless sky,

O ho o hey o high,

I saw a young maid amidst the rye,

O ho o hey o high.

.

Tiger Lily smiled and started to join in on the repeated refrain.

.

Lush and bright and fair was she,

O ho o hey o high,

She said, 'Come hear the larks with me,'

O ho o hey o high.

.

She led me o'er the fields of green,

O ho o hey o high,

To a glade where we would not be seen,

O ho o hey o high.

.

The running rue covered the ground,

O ho o hey o high,

The wind blew all the leaves around,

O ho o hey o high.

.

We heard the larks' song side by side,

O ho o hey o high,

I asked if she would be my bride,

O ho o hey o high.

.

"Please don't climb any higher," Sango said, looking up at Bandobold as they stepped under the branches of the tree.

"Why?"

"Because I'm the father, and if you fall and break your head open it'll be a bother to clean up."

"Don't say that," Tiger Lily said, sitting down against the trunk.

Sango joined her, and tilted his head back, closing his eyes. The breeze stirred the dark locks that lay over his forehead. "I could stay like this forever."

Tiger Lily hugged her knees close. "I could. Maybe."

Neither said anything for a long while. From here they had a fair view of the East Road and the small figures that were moving along it.

Tiger Lily looked over at Sango. "How does the song end?"

"Hmm?"

"The song about the larks."

Sango stretched his arms out and yawned. "The young lady says she can't marry him because she has listened to the larks with other lads before and will listen with more after. So the lad goes home with his heart broken."

"Oh." Tiger Lily folded her arms and looked out over the fields. "That's quite a sad ending for a song that started out so cheerily."

"Mm… I suppose so."

"There are big people," Bandobold said.

Sango opened his eyes sleepily and looked up into the branches. "Don't be silly."

"It's true! Look…" He pointed at the road.

Tiger Lily and Sango exchanged a confused look. She stood, folding her arms to protect herself against the increasingly chilly wind and squinted in the direction Bandobold was pointing.

There were indeed two unfamiliar figures riding along the road. Their waggon and horse dwarfed the fence that bordered the field. Tiger Lily could just pick up their voices; deep and harsh. She turned to Sango in dismay as he went to stand beside her. Maybe her eyes were wrong and he would tell her that there weren't any big people and everything could go on as before. "It isn't, is it…?"

"They're probably just traders," Sango said. "We have dwarves sometimes, so why shouldn't we have Men on occasion?" But he didn't sound very convinced. He tilted his head up to squint at Bandobold. "I think we should make a move. I'd like to get back to Overhill before it's too dark."

"But if they're just traders there's nothing to worry about," Bandobold said as he dropped down from the lowest branch.

"I don't like riding in the dark, it doesn't matter who's on the road," Sango said, but glanced back at the Men as he did. "Come on."

The walk back to the Tooks' smial was taken mostly in silence. There were no songs or races. Sango retrieved his pony and set off as soon as they got back, with a hurried goodbye.

Tiger Lily kept one eye on the clock all through dinner. Afterwards she went to her bedroom, put on some jasmine oil and climbed out through the window.

The darkness was settling as she reached Rob. He was sat on the tangled knot of roots beneath the oak tree where they had first kissed.

"Are you all right?" she called ahead, gathering up her skirts to break into a run.

He rose from his seat. "Aye. You?" he called back across the field.

"Yes." She slowed as she reached the tree, panting. "It's just that I was out with Sango earlier and we saw… It looked like…" She shook her head. "Never mind."

She pushed one of her hands into his.

"I'm so glad to see you."

A/N: I'm aware that Clover and Abelia's names would not be spelled the same in English as in Westron, but I can barely speak English so I'm not learning Westron.

The song in this chapter is a shameless rip-off of a broadside ballad called 'The Nightingale's Song' (Roud no. 140). There's also a little bit of 'Soldier, Poet, King' by the Oh Hellos in there. The weird full stops between the verses are there because of formatting problems I had with the doc manager.