Clover's heart throbbed in her mouth.

Dalgo was still on both knees, looking at her earnestly and holding up the clover blossom, awaiting her answer. Clover realised she was still holding a candlestick behind her back, from the brief moment she thought Dalgo had gone mad and she might need to defend herself. She slowly released her grip, only to find her hands were shaking.

"Um…" She sidled around Dalgo, trying not to make her turmoil obvious. "Y-your mother was worried. You need to tell her you're home."

"Have I done something wrong?" he said, pulling himself to his feet.

"It's time for me to retire, sir. Good night."

"I'm sorr—"

She shut the door on him. Next thing she knew, she was in her room, pacing up and down, her skin burning.

She hadn't planned for this. She hadn't predicted this. It was only supposed to be a game and now he had gone and done that. There was no way to go back now, she was going to have to make a decision one way or the other.

That was the problem with people, they could do anything at any time, and there was nothing you could do to stop them. It had all gotten away with her and she had no other choice but to give him an answer. This wasn't devastating. She wasn't sad as such, but the emotions she was experiencing (shock, anger, elation, confusion, fear) were too many and too intense to manage all at once. She sat on her bed and cried.

Why would he do this? Who proposed marriage to someone they had never even kissed properly? She wanted to pretend it had never happened, but that wasn't really an option. All the time there was the fear that he might knock on her door, to try and comfort her and make it better in the same tactless way he had thought proposing would solve all their problems.

She wiped the last of her tears away and took deep breaths to get her heart rate back to a normal speed.

So what now?

She could refuse him. What would that mean? At the very least she would go down in his esteem. There would be no more books, and she would lose her last true ally in this smial. It would make working in the smial very awkward and she wouldn't be able to tell any of the other Grubbs why. Another possible result would be that he would dismiss her. He did care about her, but she wasn't sure his pride would allow him to live with someone who had rejected him so thoroughly. Would there still be a reference for her to get a clerking job? She wasn't sure.

What if she accepted him? Clover hadn't considered marriage much. She had never really understood Meg's desire to wed and be a mother. But marrying a wealthy hobbit from an old family with his own smial, the head of his household and the owner of his own business… That she could do. It would immediately give her all the money, status and opportunities she could ever want. But would she? Dalgo's mother had already threatened to turn him out of the smial for arguing with Abelia. What would she do if he became betrothed to a maidservant? What was the point of being married to a gentlehobbit if he had no home or business? Was he strong enough to stand by her regardless?

Clover stopped, breathing heavily. There were too many uncertainties. She couldn't put her happiness into the hands of anything so unreliable as another person. It was too late in the night to think coherently about any of this. She tried to sleep but nothing would stop turning in her head as her mind spiralled into increasingly distorted visions of the future. The hardest part was deciding what she would do in the morning. That was the fire walk. After that everything else would fall into its place. But she had to face it first, and she spent most of the night hoping, in vain she knew, that the sun would never rise.

There was only a slight rustle as Tiger Lily and Rob passed over the grassland together. They moved as fleetly as any pair of animals, walking a dangerous world together. She was more used to moving over uncultivated ground, in addition to being smaller, and had to take Rob's hand to guide him over some of the more tangled undergrowth. There was a flash of feather from within a patch of gorse some distance off, and Tiger Lily placed a hand on his arm as a signal for him to stop.

She drew an arrow from her quiver, felt the string silently vibrate as she nocked it, and took aim. The arrow whizzed into the bush. A pheasant ran out, head bend low to the ground. Tiger Lily nocked another arrow and let it fly through the bird's neck.

Tiger Lily went to retrieve her lost arrow while Rob tied the pheasant up with the hares they'd already caught. She got on her hands and knees and started pushing branches aside to get a better look inside the bush.

"I think we should head back now," he said from somewhere behind her. "Don't want the Big Folk finding us."

"Mm."

"It's just one arrow, you've got loads."

"But it's such a waste." Tiger Lily saw the arrow implanted in the ground. She got on all fours to climb inside the bush, and tugged it out of the compact earth. She shimmied backwards out of the hedge, untangling her hair from the branches as she went.

"I have conquered!" she said, holding the arrow up.

"Well done," Rob said, helping her to her feet. "Your skirt's torn."

"It can be mended," she said, brushing herself down. "A lost arrow's lost forever."

"You're cheerful."

"It's nice to come out again."

"Din't you come while we were broken?"

"Occasionally, with my uncle and brother, but it's not the same. I have to pretend when I'm around them, I don't need to do that with you."

"Pretend what?" he said.

"I don't know, just… pruning off the parts of myself my family don't like, you know?"

"Everyone does that a little bit I guess."

"Do you?"

"Guess so. Don't really think about it."

This was partly admirable and partly annoying, for Rob to put no thought into something that dictated so much of Tiger Lily's life. Maybe that was why they got on: they balanced each other out.

"I'll sell the hares at the butcher for you," she said.

"You take one of the hares, we'll have a hare and a pheasant."

"We don't need it, there's only three of us. I'll give you the money tomorrow."

"Aye. Thank'ee." He twined his fingers in with hers as they walked. "Mayhap I could come to your chamber to pick it up?"

"Oh. Yes. That would be nice," she said, trying to sound convincing.

"I don't have to, I just thought that since we're seeing each other tomorrow and I can't come to you tonight—"

"No, I want you to."

"What's wrong then?"

She sighed. "Are we being immoral?"

"Nah. Don't think many people wait 'til they're married. Not really."

"I don't mean because we're not married, I mean because we're not doing anything else. It feels wrong to take pleasure in each other when there are people suffering."

"We're suffering. Might as well get whatever pleasures we can."

"Very opportunistic of you."

"I have to work for the Big Folk all day, I'm allowed to take refuge in your chamber," he said.

"But I haven't done anything to deserve refuge," she said.

"Then you're very lucky."

They had reached the Pool now. A flat, dark plain. They skirted around it to keep out of the sight of Tiger Lily's neighbours.

"I could go to Tookland," she said.

"What?"

"I'm worried about my father."

"Everyone's saying Tookland's the best place to be at the moment."

"We don't know that. It could be much worse. And he's always hated the Great Smials and he's stuck over there without anyone he loves. Or he might be hurt or worse. If I could just get to Tookland I could bring him home, then at least we'd all be together."

"So no one's been able to get through to Tookland for near a month—not the post service, not tradeshobbits, no one—but you reckon you can just slip past all the Big Folk without 'em noticing?"

"I know I can't do it really."

Rob didn't say anything, and his face looked so grim that Tiger Lily felt a responsibility to be more jovial.

"But since according to you, the most venerable of Hobbits, Tookland is so safe, I might try smuggling Mother and Bandobold in rather than smuggling my father out. Of course I would have to take you with me. And Sango. And if I took you I'd have to take the rest of your family and by that point we might as well be taking all of Bywater and someone would be bound to notice"

He watched her from the corner of his eye. "What about Master Sango's family?" he said.

"Oh, we can leave them behind. And you needn't call him 'Master' Sango, he's not master of anything."

"But you'd still be taking him?"

"I'm worried about him. He and Lavender have broken, I need to keep an eye on him."

"He's an adult, he can keep an eye on himself."

"You don't like him?"

"Never said that. He's just lacking in sense."

"No!" she said defensively. Rob raised an eyebrow and she pulled herself back. "Have you ever known someone so well they feel like a part of you?"

"No."

They had passed along the outside of the Took's smial, and reached Tiger Lily's window. She leaned against the fence, looking back at him and waiting for the inevitable goodbyes. Rob took the game that was strung up over his shoulder and handed them to her.

"Should I be worried?" he said.

She frowned at him. "Assuredly not. But he's my only friend and if I were, theoretically, to make a break for Tookland I would need to take him with me. He's a necessity. Like porridge."

Rob snorted. It was supposed to be a sign of amusement, but something still wasn't right. "That's not what I meant," he said.

She put her hand into his. "Please come to my chamber tomorrow."

He smiled, and ran his thumb over her knuckles. "You won't do nothing stupid, will you?"

"No."

"Promise me."

"I'm not going to fly away to Tookland. It was childish talk. Like a joke."

"Good. It's not worth it." He placed a final, chaste kiss on her lips. "I'll bring some thread to fix your skirt," he said.

Tiger Lily watched him leave. Once he was gone she awkwardly climbed over the fence with the game, bow and arrows, and entered the smial through her bedroom window. Now came the task of gutting the game to prepare them for the butcher. It was boring and unpleasant but there were worse jobs. It wasn't actually difficult, not in the way talking to people was. She laid her hunting knives on the kitchen table with a clatter.

The smial was dark and quiet. She relaxed as she walked to the kitchen, knowing she wouldn't be disturbed. As long as she was alone, she was herself.

Clover went about her work quickly and quietly the following morning. She was functioning on little sleep and even less certainty. She had slept sporadically through the night, with uneasy dreams acting as her only refuge between her waking anxieties. Unable to stand this anymore, she had risen earlier than usual, and gotten to work. She had swept and mopped the floors, dusted the curtains, tidied the rooms started on first breakfast before it was even time for her to get Old Mrs Grubb up and dressed.

"You're keen today," Young Mrs Grubb had said, looking over the steaming bowls of porridge Clover laid out on the table. "You don't usually make breakfast yourself."

"Sorry, mistress. I rose early and wanted to make myself useful."

"Very good. But do wait until I've risen next time."

"Yes, mistress."

Serving the family at breakfast, Clover awaited Dalgo's arrival at the table with a mix of anxiety and anticipation. He arrived only slightly after the others, well turned out. He was quiet, though not in his usual sullen way. There was a peace in his expression, his tone of voice was soft, and he didn't rise to Abelia's jibes.

When the family finished their meal and went to pursue their various occupations, Clover was left to clear the table alone. She hoped and feared he would come and see her. She wanted the confrontation over with, while simultaneously dreading the outcome. She hadn't anticipated Dalgo's proposal, and she was equally blind to how he would respond to her answer.

He didn't seek her out—either too cowardly or too embarrassed to try and resolve the situation he'd made. Possibly he expected her to fix it, not appreciating that she had less freedom than him to fix it. Clover spent the rest of her day trying to get an opportunity to speak with him alone, but it wasn't easy to find one.

He was with a client when she served him his mid-morning tea, so she wasn't able to see him alone until later in the day. While the Grubbs were eating their lunch she left to tidy the rest of the house and immediately went to Dalgo's study, ostensibly to collect his used teacup. He would return once he'd finished eating, and more likely than not he would be alone. So she waited.

He wasn't expecting her to be there, and as he entered the room she got a glimpse of his face in the moment before he was aware of her presence. Neither his usual haughtiness nor the subdued air he'd had at the breakfast table, he looked washed out. His expression wasn't dissimilar to that of Lotho's workers after a day of hard labour. It disappeared the moment he saw her sat in his chair.

"My apologies, I thought you would be finished in here," he said.

"I wanted to see you."

"Clover—"

"Dalgo—"

They hesitated and fell silent.

"I wanted to say I'm sorry for running out last night," she said. "It was just a bit of a shock."

"Don't think of it. I behaved improperly. At the time I regarded it as the most honourable course of action but I see now that…" He swallowed and placed a hand in front of his eyes. "Forgive me, I haven't a great deal of experience with regards to… t-to courtship and so forth."

"Don't start using your posh talk again," Clover said. "You only do that when you're unsure."

"Nevertheless—"

"You're doing it again." Clover stood up, fidgeting with her dusting rag despite wanting to remain calm. "I've thought on your offer—"

"Please, forget it," Dalgo said, adjusting his spectacles with shaking hands. "It will be as if it never happened."

Clover watched, shocked, as Dalgo went to stand behind his desk and started sorting through his papers as though she weren't there. This was what she had wanted, but now given the hours she'd spent thinking about it… How could he want to just leave it unresolved like this? It needed an ending.

"You don't want to hear my answer?" she said, out of surprise as much as anything.

He hesitated, and looked at her over the top of his spectacles. He wanted to know. Even if he wasn't going to say it; he wanted to know. He did. If she didn't tell him now he would never know. And not knowing something—never mind something with the power to shape every facet of his life—would kill him, every day for the rest of his life.

"It was yes," Clover said.

Slowly slowly, his muscles began to unclench, as if moving through treacle. His face relaxed into blank, uncomprehending shock. He stared at her, more open and tender than he had ever been before. "Yes?" he said, as though still trying to understand.

"Yes," Clover said. "Yes. If the offer's still there."

His mouth opened slowly into a smile as though only just realising what this meant. "Truly?"

"Yes."

He looked so confused, like he hadn't been expecting to be accepted and now that she had he wasn't sure what to do. He came forward and carefully took her hands in his, like he was handling a rare trinket.

"I-I haven't spoken to your parents. I know I should have but I don't remember where your family lives."

"Don't," Clover said. "Dad'd deny you anyhow. He don't hold with the gentry."

"Not even when my intentions are honourable? Surely he'd realise you won't get another offer as good as mine. What of the life he would be denying you?"

Clover decided there was no point in trying to explain that sentiments like that were exactly the reason why her father hated the gentry. That was one of the things Dalgo Grubb wouldn't be able to understand, and would never understand why he didn't understand.

"He's proud. And he's not my master so I don't reckon I should need his permission to wed."

Dalgo looked down, uncertain on something.

"What?" Clover said.

"That's the proper way to do things, to my understanding. Father didn't give me a great deal of advice in this area but that's one thing I do know."

Clover grinned. "You're betrothed to a maidservant, you're past proper."

"I should at least like to ask for their blessing, if not their permission. They'll have to know at some point regardless."

"My dad won't give it, I know he won't." She inhaled. "And I'm not thirty-three yet so I can't marry without his or Mum's permission, and she won't give hers without his."

Dalgo hesitated. "You said you were thirty-three when you interviewed for the job here."

"I thought I wouldn't get it unless you thought I was of age." She shrugged. "I needed the job."

Dalgo was looking at her blankly. "Oh," he said.

"I'm thirty next month," she said, folding her arms. "Plenty marry younger."

"I know. I can speak to your parents."

"They won't give their blessing."

"I think we should try. I'd like to meet them."

"They wouldn't let my sister wed when she was thirty-two, they won't let me wed you now."

"But your sister's husband would surely be a Hobbit of… lesser quality?" Dalgo said tentatively. "Not to speak ill of a beloved brother of course, I'm sure he does very well at his trade."

It was true that Winden had been of lesser quality, though not for the reasons Dalgo was alluding to. Clove sighed. "They never actually got— It doesn't matter. Because I don't want to get married here."

"Not… here?" Dalgo said. "What do you mean 'not here'? Where then?"

"Bree-land."

"What?"

In a panic he glanced around in the expectation of someone coming in to see what the noise was. When no one did he turned back to Clover, bringing his voice to a whisper.

"Out of the Shire? How could you take it into your head to go so far?"

"I can't make my home here, among the mills and the filth and the Big Folk."

"There are Men in Bree-land too," Dalgo hissed. "Probably more. They've been settled there for thousands of years, since before the Shire was made.

"It's not a matter of it being Big Folk, it's a matter of Big Folk that're in Lotho's pay and those that aren't. His arm can't have reached as far as Bree. You can't think this is a safe place to raise a family."

He covered his mouth and paused as he thought. Clover scratched one of her nails against her palm, anxious to hear his answer.

"What of the families we have now?" he said eventually. "We can't take them with us. I'm the master of the smial and I can't abandon Mother to look after the others." He rubbed his hands over his breeches uncertainly. "I'm my father's eldest son. I'm supposed to lead the family and continue the business."

"You can't tell me you're happy here," Clover said. "I've watched your family for months and I've seen how much you all clash with each other." She stopped. She needed to be careful on such a sore point. "They won't like me. Your brother don't like me now and even your grandma don't like people overstepping their place. I can't live here."

Dalgo swallowed. "I don't know if I can do what you're asking. I've never been further than Michel Delving."

Clover put her hand in his. "That's my condition. You can have time to think on it."

He nodded, looking down at their combined hands. Then he turned his eyes back up to hers. "And if I can't accept it?"

"You know." She raised their hands to her mouth and placed a kiss on his knuckles before letting him go.

"I need to get on," she said, picking up her dusting cloth. "You have a think."

"Yes…"

She was nearly to the door when he called after her.

"I love you."

She looked back at him. He was stood in the middle of the room, watching her go like a lost puppy. "Sorry," he said. "But I don't think I've ever actually told you before."

She moved her tongue to try and say it back, knowing that was what was expected of her. But she couldn't quite manage it. Instead she rushed to him, lifted herself onto the desk so her feet lifted from the floor, and kissed him. They held it, though Clover wasn't sure how long for – it could have been anywhere between two seconds and five minutes. Dalgo blinked in surprise as he drew back.

"I've never done that before," he said.

"I've never been betrothed before," Clover said. "We're all learning."

Old Mrs Grubb called her name from the parlour. Clover lowered her feet onto the floor again. "I'm going to see my family this afternoon. I'll try to get a feel for if they'd let us wed."

He visibly relaxed. "Good. Thank you."

"If they can't you know what my price is."

"Yes."

Clover left the study, suddenly changed from the hired help, born in dirt and working in dirt, to the betrothed of a well-respected gentlehobbit.

She was going to astonish them all.

A/N: For context, I've never been able to come up with a system for Hobbit-to-Human age equivalency that I've been 100% happy with, but Clover is supposed to be the human equivalent of someone in their early 20s while Dalgo is in the equivalent of his mid-20s. It's like this mainly because that's the age gap between Elizabeth Bennet and Mr Darcy and when I started conceptualising this fic I was a teenager who hadn't yet questioned the implications of age gap relationships and still saw anyone over the age of 20 as "old". Those were journeys I didn't go on until after I'd started writing this fic four years ago, for which I apologise. A similar apology applies for the romanticisation of employee-employer relationships, though I stand by the idea that we can use fiction to explore subjects we wouldn't necessarily be comfortable with in real life.

I do feel that the age gap wouldn't be considered a big deal to the characters, as hobbits marrying before they were of age appears to have been a normal thing. Of the (I think) four hobbit couples for whom we know their age at marriage, three of the brides were under 33, as was one of the grooms. Whether that's OK or not depends on the ageing system you use.

Dear Guest Reviewer [review left 11th Apr]: Your reaction to the last chapter was more or less the same as Clover's, only much more succinct. As always, thank you for reading and reviewing.

Dear Guest Reviewer [review left 16th April]: I'm glad you're finding the story interesting. I purposely tried to have a good cross-section of classes at various socio-economic levels between the Tooks (sort-of-not-really titled gentry) and the Delvers ("""unskilled""" manual labourers) as well as various other in between. Thank you for reviewing.