A/N: So since FF.N has started putting ads in the middle of chapters I'm now posting this fic on AO3 too. I'll continue to upload chapters on this site as well, so you can choose whichever platform you prefer. The Little People is being uploaded to AO3 under the username Simbeline_the_Merchant.

Also, I wrote this chapter in September of last year. Nothing here is meant as a commentary on the current situation.

Disclaimer: Do not use any remedies mentioned to treat yourself or anyone else.

"You don't know where he's gone, do you?"

"No, sorry."

Meg scowled. "Three bloody weeks it's been and I've not seen 'im for five minutes together. You sure he's not dead?"

"I think I'd notice if our Nick'd died," Lavender said, taking a sip of her tea. "I did try an' say he wasn't the lad for you."

"Oh, right," Meg said, getting indignant. "So it's my fault for being stupid, ain't it?"

"Not stupid, but you can be bloody bull-headed sometimes."

They were sat on Lavender's bed so that they could speak in confidence. Meg had arrived at the Hobbles' house immediately after work, hoping to see Nick, but had only found Lavender and Mr Hobble at home.

Lavender tapped on her cup with a fingernail. "So are you an' Nick actually courting, or…?"

"Yes!"

"All right! Just thought it might be more of an understanding."

Meg flushed. "I don't have understandings."

"Well, I don't know! Reckon if I was you I'd only go in for understandings for a while, after getting out of a long-term thing like that."

"You only go in for understandings anyway."

"Not at the moment. I'm an honest lass now, remember?" Lavender said and grinned.

"Mmm… How're things with Master Sango?"

"Relaxing," Lavender said after a brief reflection. "He's sweet enough. But it's also getting a bit boring. Don't know how much longer I'll stick with him. But I'm sure you'd think worse of me if I did break with him."

"You can do whatever you like, Lav. I'm a bit hurt that you'd think I'd pass judgement like that," Meg said, but her mind flitted inevitably back to the situation with Nickon. It would be easier if he could just be straight with her. In a way 'Bugger off and never talk to me again' would be easier to deal with than this half-interest he seemed to have.

"I don't think I'll ever go in for understandings," Meg murmered. "All I ever really wanted was to get wed and be a mum. Understandings won't get me that."

"Neither will Nick."

Meg glared at hard as she could at Lavender, but her friend remained unconcerned.

"Mark me. It's not right that you're sat here complaining about 'im when you've only been courting… how long?"

Meg didn't look Lavender in the eye as she mumbled her answer.

"What's that?"

"Near four weeks."

"Right. So my advice is to cut 'im loose and find someone better. Send my pay to the usual address."

"It can't be that he never wants to wed," Meg said. "He just han't found the right lass yet."

"Trying to change lads is folly, Meg. You can give 'em the opportunity, but it's up to them whether or not they take it."

Meg scowled. "Nick can change. Winden did."

Lavender scoffed. "Oh, aye. Proper gentlehobbit he is, abandoning you the way he did."

Meg's face became hot with anger. That Lavender was making light of it, when she knew. She knew more than anyone…

Meg stood up and grabbed her cloak from where it was draped over the bedpost. "I'm going."

Lavender groaned and leaned back against the headboard. "Meg…"

"They probably need me at home. It's our Hender's birthday. They'll need me for… for… something!"

"I'm sorry I made fun of Winden. It's just I'm getting a bit weary of talking about Nick every time I see you."

"It's not every time," Meg muttered as she fiddled with her cloak ties.

"As you say," Lavender said. "But if I was you I'd ask your Jack whether he's seen aught of Nick. Or you could try Atkin Button."

Meg hesitated by the door, and nodded her thanks to Lavender before leaving. When she reached home it was to find that the byrding and most of the other Delvers were out, as was usual.

The only people in the kitchen were Mrs Delver and Rob, trying to bring down the never-ending pile of dirty laundry. The rest of the smial was unusually quiet.

"Smoothly does it, lad," Mrs Delver said, addressing Rob, who was ponderously running the clean clothes through the mangle. His eyebrows were knitted together in concentration. "Did you get to see Nick, love?" she said, turning her eyes towards Meg.

"No…" She sighed. "There anything I can do here, Mum?"

"You could take those over to Widow Stabler for me," Mrs Delver said, nodding to a pile of dry laundry. Widow Stabler had been found collapsed in her smial a few days earlier, and the residents of East Warren Lane had been dropping in on her multiple times a day to check in and do various jobs for her.

Meg found herself staring at the clothes. Widow Stabler had helped look after her and her siblings when they were too young to work and there were too many of them for their mother to handle on her own. She wasn't the only neighbour who'd helped in that respect, and they'd had their grandmother, but Widow Stabler had been one of their most regular carers.

"I can go if you'll find it too upsetting," Mrs Delver said, smiling gently at Meg.

She shook her head. "No. I want to. Least I can do." She scooped the washing up and awkwardly shuffled her way out of the smial and down the lane.

When Meg knocked on Widow Stabler's door she heard an indistinct call in resonse and let herself in.

"Who's that?" the voice called from the depths of the smial.

"It's me, Mrs Stabler," Meg called back as she undid her cloak with one hand. "I've got your washing."

"Is that little Nutmeg?"

Meg smiled to herself as she hung her cloak up. She was somewhat taller than Widow Stabler. "Aye, mistress. Where'd you like your clothes?"

"Just in here, if you please."

Meg followed the voice to the kitchen where she found the widow stood on a rickety stool and stretching up to reach a jar on a high shelf.

"I'll get that, mistress," Meg said, putting the washing on the table and taking Mrs Stabler's hand to help her down. "You should've sent for someone."

"I don't like to," Widow Stabler said, easing herself down into a chair.

Meg retrieved the jar, and opened it unthinkingly. She raised her eyebrows. "Willow bark."

"Just a little. Takes the edge off my rheumatism."

Meg couldn't bring herself to comment, but left the jar on the dresser where it could be easily reached. She noticed for the first time that there was a handbasket on the table, in which a large cat had made itself at home. It was much too large to be in there, with rolls of fur spilling over the sides. Meg was at a loss for how it had managed to squeeze itself under the handle.

It looked at Meg like there was nothing even remotely comical about this and she was foolish to think there might be.

"I think your cat's stuck in the handbasket," Meg said.

"Oh, no. He loves it in there. I leave it out for 'im."

"Mrerow," the cat said.

Meg started pottering about the kitchen, tidying up. "Have you got everything you need? You've not been going short, have you?"

"Oh, no, lass. Everyone's been so kind. Mr Hayes dug my potatoes up for me the other day. There's some in a bowl there for your family."

"We can't take 'em," Meg said from where she was knelt by the hearth.

"Don't be silly. I don't need all of 'em for myself. The Hayeses had their share."

Meg wanted to protest further, but knew they weren't in a position to refuse.

There was a sharp, cold breeze, the smell of frost, and Jack entered the kitchen, a pile of logs cradled in his arms. He started when he saw Meg sweeping out the hearth.

"I got your kindling, mistress," he said, putting wood in a basket by the fireplace.

"Is there anything else while I'm here?" Meg said, standing and dusting the cinders off her skirt.

"No. Be on your way, lass. Don't forget the potatoes."

Meg heaved the bowel up, and she and Jack left the smial together.

"Let me take that," he said, making to relieve her of the potatoes.

"I'm fine," she said, but she was straining to keep a hold of them and had to adjust her grip to stop them from falling. "You've been taking up tree stumps. You must be spent."

"We're nearly done with that," Jack said. "But I reckon we'll be there a bit longer. There's talk of building being done."

Meg raised an eyebrow. "But you can't build. None of us can build."

"But I've been listening to the Big Folk, see, an' Mr Sackville-Baggins came down to where we was working. I reckon there's plans afoot an' they need all the help they can find."

"What sort of buildings?"

"I don't know."

"But you can't build," Meg said again. "You're lots of lovely things, Jack, but a mason isn't one of 'em. What sort of person puts all that effort into buildings that won't be no good?"

"A rich one," he said darkly.

A chill went down Meg's spine.

They reached Number 12 and Meg waited while he opened the gate for her. The matter of Nickon had been playing on her mind while they talked, but it all seemed a bit frivolous now. "You seen aught of Nick?" she said wearily.

He seemed surprised at the abrupt change of subject. "Aye."

"Will you see aught of him this week?"

"Probably."

"Tell him I'm angry with him."

Jack frowned. "For what?"

Meg brushed past him into the smial. "He shouldn't need telling."

Dearest Father,

I'm sure Mother or Uncle Hortenbold will have told you that we are all well, though some Men have settled in Bywater. They have been causing a little trouble, but nothing unforgivable. You don't really think all hope for our kin and Master Gamgee is lost, do you?

Please take care. I know you told me not to worry (I'm not worrying an excessive amount) but I can't help but be a little troubled by all the goings on. I know there are good things in the world and I do not despair, so don't trouble yourself on my account. I feel sure that we will be safe if we do not cause troubles, but with Buckland being as wild as it is and so close to the boarders, I fear for you, if not for myself.

Tiger Lily tapped her finger against the desk. She wasn't sure if she should add anything else, or just to sign off there. There were other things she wanted to say, but nothing her mother would allow. She was already skirting close to the line with what she was comfortable with her mother reading.

"Tiger Lily, could you read my letter for me?" Bandobold said, opening the door and plumping himself down on her bed. "I need someone to check the spelling."

"Why don't you ask Mother?" she said irritably. "She'll have to read it before it's sent, anyway."

"Why?"

"Because she always reads our letters before they're sent off."

"Not mine."

Tiger Lily stopped tapping and stared at the wall. "Is that right?" she murmured.

"She's busy with dinner," he said, swinging his legs back and forth. "And she wanted them sent off today."

"All right. In a moment."

"Do you have any feathers?" he said. "I need to replace some of my fletchings."

"Yes…" She didn't think about this properly until he started laughing. She looked around to find that Bandobold had opened her wardrobe and taken out the arrow-repair box. "I didn't give you permission to go in there," Tiger Lily said, scowling.

"Why do you have all these tatty feathers?" he said. "They're useless. Look, this one's dirty!"

She took a deep breath, doing her best not to look flustered. "They were a present from a friend."

"Rowley?"

"No."

He grinned. "You don't have any other friends."

Tiger Lily rose from her seat as her face became hot. "Get out, you little brat!"

He threw the box onto her bed and ran from the room, a wicked grin on his face. Tiger Lily sighed and went to tidy up the spilled bottles and feathers. There was a loud thump on the wall that separated her room and Bandobold's.

"You'll crack the panelling," she called.

She was only answered by two more thumps.

Tiger Lily returned the box to its place in the wardrobe and went back to the writing desk. She gave up on trying to add more to the letter and simply signed it off:

Your Loving Daughter,

Tiger Lily

Dinner came and went. Tiger Lily sat perfectly still as a maidservant cleared the plates away.

"Mother, I'm hungry," Bandobold said.

"I can't conjure more food, dear, this is all they had at the market," Mrs Took said as she read Tiger Lily's letter.

"But what's happened to the food?"

"A poor harvest, I imagine."

While her mother still insisted on six meals being served a day, the amount of food in each had dwindled considerably over the last few weeks. It wasn't unusual for Tiger Lily to skip meals when she was spending the day outside somewhere (another Tookish irregularity), but this change was concerning.

"Is everything going to be all right, Mother?" she said. "Are we going to have enough to eat through the winter?"

Bandobold paled and turned to their mother, who looked up from the letter and frowned.

"You're making it sound worse than it is."

"We've had bad harvests before, but I don't remember it ever being like this."

Mrs Took sighed and put the letter down. "We might have to tighten our belts a little but there's no question that we'll be 'all right'. Perhaps this is what we need. It will teach us to be grateful for the times of plenty and help people come together, as happened in the Fell Winter."

"But the Fell Winter was before you were born," Tiger Lily said. "How can you make a comparison?"

"My mother spoke of it on occasion."

"I'd rather not live through the Fell Winter," Tiger Lily said carefully. "Even if it would bring out the best in people."

"Will there be snow?" Bandobold said.

"It was a metaphor, Bandobold, I don't actually expect there to be a repeat of the Fell Winter," Mrs Took said. She picked up the letter again as the maid set the remains of yesterday's apple pie on the table. "Tiger Lily… who is Master Gamgee?"

"Frodo Baggins's servant," Tiger Lily said simply, helping herself to a slice. "He went missing with the others."

"How did you come to learn of the name? Your father's never mentioned it."

She shrugged. "I think I heard one of Mr Boffin's farmhands mention it before they moved to Overhill. The Boffins, not the farmhand." Tiger Lily was content with this answer. It was all technically true.

"Ah… It feels like an age since I've seen Sango. You must bring him to see us one day."

"I'll pass on the message, but I'm not sure when that will be. It's been a while since I've seen him myself."

Mrs Took raised her eyebrows. "It's not him you've been spending the evenings with?"

Tiger Lily froze in the process of licking her spoon. "I never said it was…"

"No." Mrs Took turned to her son and smiled. "Bandobold, darling, as a special treat you may have your sweet in your bedroom today."

"I don't mind eating in here."

"Now, please."

When he had gone she returned her attention to Tiger Lily. "I spoke to Uncle Hortenbold yesterday."

"That's nice."

"He said you haven't been joining him on his hunting trips, which brings up the question of where the game in the pantry is coming from."

"Why don't you read Bandobold's letters?" Tiger Lily said.

"Don't change the subject, please."

"But I would like to know."

"My mother—"

"I know that your mother always read your letters," Tiger Lily said, bursting with frustration.

Mrs Took pursed her lips at the interruption. "And she didn't read my brothers'. So." She slid the folded letter across the table. "Rewrite it, with the omission of the servant's name."

"I don't want to."

"Then I'm not sending it to Father."

Tiger Lily reached across the table and snatched the paper back. "Then I'll send it on my own."

Mrs Took looked back at her, her eyebrows raised. "I wish you could have chosen a more convenient time to go through a difficult phase."

Tiger Lily wanted to object to this, but that would only provide further evidence. So she settled for looking away sulkily.

"I know you don't like it, I didn't either, but now I'm glad she protected me like that. And when you're married and have your own daughters you'll feel the same way."

This couldn't be disproved yet, so Tiger Lily smiled sweetly in the hope that if she were compliant enough this conversation would finally end. "I'm sure I will. Is that all, Mother?"

"No. We still haven't settled the matter of you hunting again. Why didn't you tell me?"

Tiger Lily squirmed in her seat, willing herself to be anywhere but here and now. "Because you wouldn't like it."

"I dislike this more. Have you been going alone?"

Tiger Lily curled her toes and looked away from her mother's searching stare. "No."

"Lying is wicked, Tiger Lily."

Tiger Lily steadily brought her eyes up to meet her mother's. "I've not been going alone."

"Then who have you been going with?"

She shuffled her feet. Caught between telling a truth that her mother would disapprove of (not ideal) and telling a lie (wicked), she settled for making a reluctant whining noise.

"I thought so," Mrs Took said with a resigned sigh. "It's a matter of safety."

"I'm not frightened of the Men."

"Don't interrupt me, please. It's not just the Men, I'm not happy with you shooting alone regardless. What would happen if you were hurt? The only reason I allowed you to be taught in the first place was so your father could show you how to shoot safely. I thought it might stop you sneaking off by yourself."

Tiger Lily glared at her mother. When she was very young she'd had a habit of going to the woodworking shed when no one else was there.

"What I'm asking is that you shoot in the company of your uncle or not at all. I think that's quite reasonable."

It was reasonable, and that was what made it impossible to fight against. But she knew that if Rob wasn't comfortable being around her mother he certainly wouldn't be comfortable being around her uncle while he was armed with a longbow. If Rob didn't go on hunting trips with her then he wouldn't accept half the reward.

All rather inconvenient. But she could work something out.

"You're right, Mother," Tiger Lily said, smiling. "I promise I shan't ever go hunting on my own."

She said this with confidence, knowing that no matter what angle you looked at it from, it wasn't a lie.