"And you asked him, just like that?"

"Yes."

"How?"

Tiger Lily looked up from the flowers in her hands and shrugged. She and Sango were sat by a shallow stream, and had been there for most of the afternoon. Now the sun was setting, touching the tops of the trees with gold, and they would have to go home soon. But there was still a few more minutes to be spent in this Arcadia.

He was crouched atop the opposite bank with a fishing net, which he had been intending to use to catch frogs, but so far his efforts had been fruitless. A large glass jar sat on the grass beside him. Tiger Lily had also brought a net, but it lay discarded beside her. Instead she had gone to collect wildflowers, and now she was weaving the fading poppies, cornflowers and cow parsley into a loop. She had already made one earlier in the afternoon, and was now wearing it as a crown. Her feet were nestled among the reeds. Sango's waistcoat lay beside her to keep it safe from the water. He only ever wore a jacket if the temperature or social situation made it essential, and today it was pleasant enough to be without one.

"I don't know, really. I can't tell you how frightened I was," she said. There was a little stone bridge to her left, which lent an echo to her voice.

"And more to the point," Sango said, and wiped his damp hands on his breeches. "Why?" He made an unsuccessful swoop for a frog that was sat among the reeds. "Blast!"

Tiger Lily lay back on the bank and closed her eyes, flowers strewn across her lap. "I refer you to my previous answer." She lazily brushed her fingertips across the ends of the wild grass. The gurgling of the stream was slightly distorted by the bridge. Somewhere there were birds singing.

"You will be careful, won't you?"

She opened her eyes again and propped herself up on her elbows to look at Sango. He was watching her with an uncharacteristic look of worry.

"Of what?" she said.

He looked away. "Oh, I don't know. Ignore me."

"Please tell me," she said softly.

"Honestly, don't worry about it."

"Please."

Sango set his net down and shuffled down the bank so he could look level with her. He sat with his elbows resting on his knees. "It probably won't be necessary, but if you ever feel uncomfortable when you're with him, just say you've got an engagement elsewhere. Tell him you're meeting me."

She turned her eyes downwards to continue making her wreath, well-practiced fingers looping the stems together. "If I'm shy, you mean?"

"I— if it's that bad then yes, by all means, but what I really meant was… You know…" He sighed at her blank expression. "Never mind. You see, this is why I said to ignore me."

"Well, you've started now, so you should finish."

"I just meant that low-born Hobbits can be a bit… coarse."

"With their language?"

"No. Actually, yes, but that's not—" He groaned. "Please, just forget I said anything."

"Well, that's impossible." She paused for a moment in silent contemplation, and then said, "Do you think he's a cad?"

"I don't know him well enough to make that judgement."

"Really?" She glanced up at him. "How long has he worked at the farm for?"

Sango rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Well, we don't take on any children under nine, and as far as I know his family have always worked for us. But there are so many of them they all get mixed up in my head."

By now Tiger Lily had finished her wreath. Her petticoats dragged in the water as she went to place it on Sango's head. "There."

"Thank you." It was slightly too big for him, and he had to push it up out of his eyes. "Do I look beautiful?"

"Very." She grinned and sat down in the depression she'd left in the grass. "Why are you worried, if you don't have any reason to doubt his character?"

He smiled blithely. "Because you're young and innocent."

Tiger Lily rested her jaw in her hand. "Now, what do you expect me to say to that? You're only a year older than me, for a start."

"I know, I know. But you don't have any experience of lads, and he might have very different ideas about what going for fish and chips means than you do. You take my meaning?"

She swallowed. "I think so."

The comment about her inexperience had shaken her, mostly because she knew it to be true. She was only aware of the facts of life through overhearing hushed conversations between married female relatives who had assumed she was too young to understand. Her mother had refused to provide further details, and she had instead spent too much time going through her family's extensive collection of books until she'd found one on anatomy, which had proved helpful. She suspected it was something like this that Sango was hinting at. There was a sickly feeling she shouldn't have made the offer to walk with Rob.

"Do you not count as a lad?" she said.

"Not in that sense." He tugged at one of his braces that was threatening to slip off his shoulder.

"Would you rather I didn't go?"

Sango gently kicked at the water and shrugged. "It's not my choice."

"Tell me what you think," she said pleadingly.

"If I do you'll just do whatever I tell you. You can be sensible, when you actually put the effort in."

Tiger Lily hugged her knees, and looked at him with soft brown eyes. "I suppose I do need more friends. You and Opal will go off and get your own lives, and I'll be left alone."

"That won't happen."

"It already is," Tiger Lily said. "Opal's expecting Buffo to propose soon, and I might as well not exist when Lavender's in the room."

"That's not true," he said, his brow creasing.

"It is. Yesterday I waited for you when you went outside with her, but when you came back in you didn't think to tell me all was well and I could go home. And you didn't even notice that I snuck away at the harvest festival." She took a breath. "I know why you forgot, I don't blame you. That's just how it is." She rubbed her hands up and down her shins.

Sango scratched his head. "Well, I'm here now, aren't I?"

"Yes, but we can't keep doing this forever."

"Doing what?"

"This!" She threw her arms wide to take in the whole scene. "Running about the country together."

He grinned and climbed back up the bank. "You just try and stop me."

Tiger Lily watched him helplessly. "No, really, we can't. One day you'll have to take over at the farm permanently, and I'll have children to look after. Though whether they're mine or Bandobold's is yet to be seen," she said with a sigh. "But we've been walking together for so long I can't really imagine life without it."

Sango stood very still, staring at something in the grass. "Try not to think about it. That's what I do."

"I wish I could. How old were we when we were allowed to go off by ourselves?"

"Fifteen or sixteen, I think. Then there was the incident with the Three Farthing Stone, and it was a year until we were allowed another go at it." He slowly reached for the net.

Tiger Lily herself had slipped into a reverie. It had occurred to her that her life hadn't changed much in that time. She was only brought back to the stream when Sango suddenly brought his net down in the grass.

"Success!" he cried, grinning wildly. He spilt the contents of the net into the jar and splashed over to Tiger Lily. Inside the jar was a small brown frog, with smooth, speckled skin. Bright black eyes, like buttons, stared out at the world.

"It's quite sweet, isn't it?" she said.

Sango raised an eyebrow. "Frogs aren't sweet, Tills."

"What are they, then?"

"Slimy." He held the jar up and lightly tapped on the glass. "I don't know why I bother, really. I never know what to do with them once I actually catch one. Oh well. Off you go." He opened the jar and let the frog crawl away over the long grass. He looked back at Tiger Lily. "Can you promise me that if he wants to be something other than friends, you can hold your own?"

Tiger Lily wanted to respond by laughing, but found it impossible. His eyes were sincere. "I didn't talk to you like this when you set your sights on Lavender, and she's low-born."

"That's not the same."

"Why?"

He rubbed his hands nervously. "I don't think I'm the person to tell you that."

"Then who is?"

"Your mother maybe? Please stop asking questions, it's making me anxious."

Tiger Lily sighed. "Sorry. How are you feeling about seeing her father?"

He tried to smile. "Frightened. I hope he likes me."

She also smiled, and did a better job. "Everyone likes you. You're dear."

"Not everyone. It depends how gladly they suffer fools." He kicked at the water again.

"You're not a fool," she said quietly.

"That's very loyal of you." He tilted his head at the sound of approaching male voices somewhere on the road behind them.

Tiger Lily frantically tugged at her skirts, which she had allowed to ride up to her knees. As the pair of lads passed over the bridge, their conversation silenced when they became aware of the other two. She suddenly remembered the flowers in her hair and tore the flimsy wreath from her head, burning with embarrassment.

Sango nodded at them as they walked past. "Good afternoon."

"Afternoon."

Tiger Lily kept her eyes on the destroyed wreath as they walked past, but thought she could feel their eyes staring back at her as they continued down the road. She was reminded of her conversation the night before. "Do you know what Master Rob told me yesterday?"

"No."

"He said everyone thinks you and I are sweethearts."

"Oh, I knew that." He made a grab at the water. "Almost had one there."

"What?"

"I thought I might be able to get it, but it hopped away—"

"Not the frog, you idiot. You knew what everyone thought about us, and you didn't say anything?"

"I assumed you knew as well," he said. When he saw her face he grinned sheepishly and held his arms out. "Think of it as a nice surprise."

Tiger Lily groaned and curled forward, hiding her face in her skirt. "That settles it. We need to stop walking together, this minute. Or at least, I need to start taking a chaperone."

"Don't be silly."

She withdrew from the comfort of the sap-green cotton. "It's not silly. I don't want people talking about us like that."

"It's a bit late for that now."

"Sango!"

"Tiger Lily." He folded his arms and watched her, eyebrows raised. "It's not as though it's a damaging rumour. What harm is it doing our reputations?"

It took her a few seconds too long to think of a reply. "It's doing harm to mine. How am I supposed to find a husband if everyone thinks we're courting?"

He laughed at this. "Are you looking for a husband?"

She straightened her back and tried to sit like a proper lady, knees together. "Broadly speaking. In the same way every unmarried young lady is looking for a husband."

He tutted. "Unmarried at twenty-seven, you old spinster."

She refused to give in. "What must those lads have thought of us?"

"I didn't know them. Did you?"

"That's not the point. And you still had those flowers in your hair."

"Oh, yes." He touched the wreath and laughed. "I'd forgotten about that."

She gaped at his ability to brush off his embarrassment so lightly, but continued with her case. "And you're only half-dressed."

"Now, that's a bit strong."

"You could at least wear a waistcoat."

"It's a new waistcoat, I didn't want to get it wet. I think that's fair enough." He playfully kicked in Tiger Lily's direction, showering her with droplets of muddy water.

She squealed, holding her arms up to shield herself. "Rowley! This is my best cotton!" she said, laughing and wiping her face. "And you got your waistcoat too, so you needn't have taken it off in the first place."

"Sorry," he said, not looking it in the least. "What does my watch say? If it still works, that is."

Tiger Lily followed the chain on Sango's button hole to his right waistcoat pocket. She flicked the lid open. "Nearly six o'clock."

"I should get back. I need to change before I visit the Hobbles." The hems of his breeches were dark with water. Tiger Lily stood as he waded across the stream towards her, and handed him his waistcoat.

"I'll go back too."

He raised his eyebrows and pulled his waistcoat back on. "You don't have to, you know."

"It would be silly for me to sit out here on my own."

"There's nothing all that wrong with silly. I spend most of my life being silly," he said, doing up his buttons.

"I know you do. You're very good at it." She grabbed her net and scrambled up the bank, where she started to walk down the dirt path back to Bywater.

"Wait for me!" he said, retrieving the jar and the other net before following her up. "Why do you always rush on ahead?"

She looked back at him, smiling wickedly. "It's not my fault if you can't keep up."

"The cheek!" He joined her on the path. "One day you'll run so far ahead I'll lose you."

It was only once they reached the village that they parted ways. Tiger Lily slipped through the door to the Took smial as quietly as a field mouse returning to her nest. Still she heard a voice call from the morning room, "Is that you, Tiger Lily?"

She flinched at the shrill tone. "Yes, Mother."

Her mother walked out into the hallway to meet her. She was the very image of an upstanding lady of the house. Her dress was clean and pressed, white lace lining the hems. Gold sparkled on her neck, and her hands were neatly folded in front of her. Her eyes flicked across her daughter's mud splattered skirt. "Oh, for goodness sake. What must people have thought, seeing you in this state?"

Tiger Lily rubbed her forearm. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to."

Her mother sighed as she watched her trying to jam the net into the umbrella stand. "I do wish you wouldn't stray so far. I can't keep you safe when you're out there."

"Safe from what?"

"Let's not forget the Three Farthing Stone."

"We were children," Tiger Lily said desperately.

"You're still a child now. And there are still nights you don't come home."

"That's camping. It's different."

Her mother sniffed and looked away. "Why don't you come through, and we can do some embroidery together?"

"I was actually going to—"

"Please?" her mother said.

Tiger Lily did her best to affect a smile. "Yes, Mother."

Her steps brought her mechanically into the morning room. Her mother retrieved a square of muslin from her sewing box and handed it to Tiger Lily, along with an embroidery hoop. She fitted the cloth over the hoop easily, and stared at the blank circle of material.

"I don't know what to do," she said eventually, looking at her mother.

"Why don't you do a nice bird?" she said. "Here, I'll sketch out the design for you." She set aside her own hoop and plucked Tiger Lily's from her hands.

As she sketched away, Tiger Lily took a moment to look at her mother's needlework: a myrtle tree in full bloom. From the size of the hoop she guessed it would become a cushion cover. Her own skills weren't yet at a level where she was trusted with designing homeware.

"There we are," her mother said, handing back the hoop. "A lovely little nuthatch."

"Thank you," Tiger Lily said, looking down at the sketch and trying to remember what the colouration of a nuthatch was. She selected a needle from the pin cushion and a dark brown thread. It seemed as good a colour to start with as any.

Well, Tiger Lily thought with a sigh. This is what your life will be once Rowley leaves. I'm sure you can find joy in it if you try hard enough. It will make Mother happy. You make her happy so little.

She started drawing her needle through the muslin, her brow creased in concentration. But she constantly found her eyes being drawn back to the clock, as it inevitably ticked down. Quarter-past seven. Half-past. Eight o'clock.

"This is nice," Mrs Took said. This was the first thing either of them had said since they'd started. "Sisterly."

"Yes…" She looked forlornly at her embroidery. She hadn't gotten nearly as far she should have in the time. "Mother, what's the difference between a well-born lad associating with a low-born lass and a well-born lass associating with a low-born lad?"

"What do you want to know that for?" her mother said, frowning.

"Just something Sango and I were talking about earlier. He said to ask you."

"Did he now?" She looked back down at the blossom she was stitching. "Associating how?"

"Just spending time together. Not necessarily courting, but not not-courting either."

Her mother pursed her lips. "I'll tell you when you're married."

Tiger Lily sighed. She didn't like it when people didn't answer her questions. How was she supposed to become less naïve if no one answered her questions? Then she smiled, and a mischievous glint appeared in her eyes. "So does that mean you could tell Opal when she's married, and then she could—"

"Why don't I send for some tea?" her mother said, ringing a bell that sat on an end table for that specific purpose.

A maid answered the ring. "Yes, Mrs Took?"

"Tea, please. Two cups."

"Very good, madam."

When the door closed again Tiger Lily said, "Please tell me, Mother."

Her mother leaned over to look at Tiger Lily's embroidery. "Your stitches are a little big there, dear. Perhaps you should focus on that."

Tiger Lily returned her gaze to her wonky stitching, drawing her needle through the fabric. "Sorry."

Her mother patted her knee by way of reply, and returned to her own embroidery.

The maid came back in a little later and set a full tray down on the tea table. Tiger Lily saw with it an opportunity to escape.

Don't you dare, she thought. "I'll pour," Tiger Lily said, lifting the teapot.

"Thank you, dear."

Please don't. How are we supposed to be respectable if you won't keep at it? She set her mother's tea aside, and prepared the second cup. "Is Father in his study?" she said.

At this her mother rolled her eyes. "Need you ask?"

"I think I'll take him this before dinner. He has two sugars, doesn't he?"

"I can have a maid bring him tea," her mother said. "Please stay."

"I've made it now," Tiger Lily said. "I don't take sugar."

Her mother gave up, and returned to her needlework with gusto. As Tiger Lily was leaving the room she could hear her muttering, "My mother told me not to marry a Took, she told me they were all mad, but would I listen…?"

Tiger Lily gripped the cup tightly, only three words going around in her head, and all of them directed at herself: I hate you.

She found the door to her father's study shut. She knocked.

"Father? May I come in?"

His voice, muffled through the door, said, "Yes."

There were two desks in Mr Took's study, one for him and one for an assistant. Really, this should have been a clerk, but he never employed one, so more often it was taken by his brother who would help when he had fallen behind with his paperwork. The walls were lined with bookcases that reached to the ceiling. Some contained poetry, or were factual. Some were genealogical records. But most of them contained legends and folktales from all around the Shire.

For as long as Tiger Lily could remember, her father had been writing his magnum opus: a record of all the legends of the Took family, organised by their first known recording, compared, scrutinised, and interpreted. It was only with great reluctance that he could be persuaded to sit down and pay attention to any clerical work that actually mattered; to check that the rents of his properties had been payed, and organise repairs for his tenants. The rest of his time, his mind was in the realm of the fantastical. At the moment both desks were covered with pillars of books, with pieces of paper scattered in the spaces between. This was much more of a wilderness than anything she had explored with Sango. The maids avoided tidying the study, with Mrs Took's blessing.

The Hobbit himself was at this moment stood up, and staring out of the window, hands folded behind his back. "It's getting dark earlier and earlier, isn't it?" he said.

Tiger Lily smiled to herself in remembrance of her conversation with Sango the evening before. "Well, it is nearly October. I brought you some tea."

"Thank you, that's lovely. Just pop it on my desk, would you?"

Tiger Lily carefully shifted some dusty sheets on Mr Took's desk to set down the cup and saucer. She glanced around the study.

Her father had a habit of losing his train of thought, and he always started on a fresh piece of paper while the new idea was still in his mind. But rather than filing away the piece he had been working on before, he would simply shuffle it into a different pile on the desk, promising himself he would find it again later. And then the whole process would start again when a new idea caught his fancy. Similarly, most of the books that were out now were not of immediate use to him, but rather than putting them away, he would just pile the more relevant books on top. Somewhere in all of this there were property deeds and letters.

"Would you like a hand with tidying? It's a bit much in here, even for you."

Mr Took looked at the piles of paper as though they'd only just appeared there. "I suppose it is a little untidy, now that you mention it." He sat back down at his desk and picked up the teacup. "But surely Miss Tiger Lily has something better to do with her time?"

"No, not really." She picked up some dust-covered books on the unoccupied desk.

"Oh dear." He sipped his tea and smiled. "Has your swain abandoned you?"

Tiger Lily smiled to herself as she put the books up on a shelf. Her father had a custom of jokingly referring to Sango as her 'swain' or 'beau', or any other term that meant much the same thing. He did this because it had made her laugh when she was a child, rather than because he believed there was any truth in it.

"I'm afraid so. He's found a worthier pursuit."

"Surely not."

She pushed the last book onto the shelf and leaned against the bookcase, her arms folded. "So I have decided to assist with an even worthier one."

Mr Took chuckled. "Good girl."

"Is there anything you don't want me to move?"

He sipped his tea. "I suppose if I were to say 'everything' that would be the wrong answer?"

"Yes."

"Oh, all right, then. Everything on that desk could go away, probably. We'll worry about mine when we come to it. Just tie up the paper with this." He fished a ball of string out of his desk drawer and threw it to her. "And I can put it away later."

"But will you?"

"I'll try."

For a while they worked in silence, Mr Took scratching away with his quill, and Tiger Lily moving books from the desk to the gaps on the bookcases.

"What have you been up to today, then? Any little adventures?" he said.

She shrugged. "Just looking for frogs before they go to sleep for the winter. Not much of an adventure, really."

"It's more of an adventure than I've had today," he said. "Or any day."

"That's not true, you're always finding out new things. Have you read anything interesting today?" Tiger Lily said, and blew a thick layer of dust off of a book that had been out for a particularly long time.

"Oh, yes, see here." He held a book up for her to see. "This is the earliest text I've found so far claiming that a Took married a fairy, but as you can see it uses the old Hobbitish word for any unknown spirit."

Tiger Lily, who couldn't read old Hobbitish, only smiled and said, "Really?"

"Yes!" Delighted, Mr Took pushed back through the pages. "And because they were discussing the sea only a short while before, I wonder if all this time they meant a mermaid wife, rather than a fairy. There are some problems with this, of course, and I can't prove anything."

"What problems?" she asked.

"Never you mind."

Tiger Lily would have asked again in the hope of getting an answer, but her father carried on speaking, oblivious to her irritation.

"Anyway, if there ever was a legend about a mermaid, it's been forgotten." His eyes misted over. "You used to love stories about mermaids when you were little."

Tiger Lily smiled. "I still do. But I know them all by heart now, there's no point in hearing them again." She tried to push a book into a gap on the shelf that was too small. "Maybe it was a demon wife," she said absentmindedly.

"What?" Tiger Lily was surprised to see her father had gone red in the face. "What made you say something so horrible?" he said.

"I didn't mean it," she said, trying to backtrack. "It's just that I was speaking to someone the other day, and they believed Tooks met with demons."

"Really?" Mr Took drew a fresh sheet of paper from a drawer. "I haven't heard that before. Who was it?"

"It was one of Mr Boffin's workers. I met them at the Green Dragon yesterday."

"Would you say they were an honest, hard-working, salt of the earth type?" her father said, not looking up from his writing.

"Umm…" Tiger Lily frowned, unsure of how to quantify salt-of-the-earth-ness. "She seemed nice. We didn't speak much. It always makes me nervous when people talk about the Tooks like that."

"You shouldn't be ashamed," he said, writing as fast as he could.

"I'm not ashamed. I'm just… I don't know." Tiger Lily bit her lower lip. "Actually, I have something to tell you, along those lines. I'm going to give up hunting."

This brought Mr Took back into the room. "Oh! Goodness. Are you sure?"

"Yes." She couldn't bring herself to look him in the eye.

He laughed nervously. "Hortenbold told me this would come, as it did with Opal. I didn't believe him, but then he was always the more sensible one." He hesitated. "Do you mind if I ask… Why now?"

She stood with her back to the bookcase and kept her eyes fixed on the opposite wall. "I feel I'm tearing myself in pieces. I can't keep living in-between, as both a respectable lady, and a Tookish hunter. I can't talk to anyone because I'm too busy worrying about what they must think of me."

"You're just shy," he said softly. "I'm shy. I'm not convinced that archery has anything to do with it."

"But I do think giving it up would help. If they have no reason to think less of me, then I have no reason to fear them." She spoke as though it was the simplest thing in the world.

Mr Took pushed a hand through his greying hair. "You must do what you think is best." He leaned back in his chair. "I do wish we could have settled in Tookland, there are plenty of ladies who hunt there. But your mother wouldn't have it, of course."

"I'm glad we live here," she said quietly.

"Good. But I'll miss you, all the same." He stared down at the space on the desk in front of him.

Tiger Lily walked up to him and tried to wrap her arms around him while he remained sat in the chair. "I'm sorry, Father."

"No, no. None of that," he said, prying her arms off his shoulders.

Tiger Lily stayed where she was for a moment, and kept her eyes on him as he returned to his writing. There were times she wondered if her father would have been happier if he hadn't married. Not that he didn't love his family, but that he would be just as happy without them there. He certainly didn't mind his lack of friends. Eventually she went back to the spare desk, and started gathering up papers, checking first to see if they were Mr Took's notes or documents that needed attention.

"What will you do with all the free time you've acquired?" he said.

"I'm not sure yet," Tiger Lily said, glancing up at him. "I think I'll just see what happens."

The Hobbles' house was right on Bywater Road, the better to attract business. A large room had been built onto the side of the house some generations ago, which ever since had been used as the workshop. Above the door to the workshop was a faded sign that read 'Hobble and Son'. In newer letters someone had added, 'and Daughters' beneath. For the benefit of the illiterate, a small model of a wheel also hung above the door. The house itself was accessible via a different door, and it was this one that Sango had gone to.

The Hobbit that answered the door was a grey-haired old gaffer. There was a pipe in his hand. In a glance he took in Sango's expensive clothes. "How can I help you, young sir?" he said.

Sango bowed, already flustered. "Sango Boffin, sir, at your service. I'm a friend of Lavender. I believe you're expecting me?"

At hearing the name 'Boffin', Mr Hobble's eyes had widened and he had stood up straight. Now, though, he looked puzzled. "What's a gentlehobbit like you want with the likes of her? Sure you don't mean t'other lass?"

"Oi! I heard that!" the voice of Lavender said from somewhere behind him. "Just let 'im in, Dad."

Mr Hobble stepped aside and let Sango in, bowing. The room was illuminated by the ample fire in the grate. "I'm sorry for the state of the place, sir. We don't get many visits from Hobbits of your stature. Put the kettle on, Mrs Hobble."

His wife was sat by on the single settee and only allowed herself the briefest of glances up at Sango before returning to her knitting. "Put the kettle on, Lavender."

Lavender had been sat at the dining table playing cards with Nickon and Jack. She slapped her hand down. "But Mum, he's my guest."

"Exactly. And I'm busy."

"I'll put it on," said Primrose, who was in the middle of making dinner.

Sango was only a little unnerved by the interior of the house, and didn't show what discomfort he did feel. He hadn't much experience of being in the homes of working-class Hobbits. The main room of the house served as the parlour, kitchen and dining room all together, and everything was covered with a thin layer of wood dust. Still, this house had more comforts than the holes on East Warren Lane. There was a rug on the floor, and all the armchairs were in good condition, and had blankets thrown over their backs. The mantelpiece had a decorative plate propped up in the centre, flanked either side by brass candlesticks, polished fastidiously. A single dahlia flower stood in a vase at the centre of the table. All of this had been done consciously, to show the world that while the Hobbles may not be rich, they certainly weren't poor. But compared to Sango's own home, and those of his friends, 'poor' was the only word it that could properly describe it.

"Have a seat then, young master," Mr Hobble said, indicating the nearest armchair.

Sango sat down, feeling out of place, while Mr Hobble took an armchair opposite, lord of all he surveyed. Lavender threw herself onto the settee beside her mother. She sat like a grumpy child, slumped back with her arms crossed.

"Let's get this over with, then," she said. "But you have to make them leave first." She pointed to Nickon and Jack. The former was pretending not to stare at the newcomer, while the latter was shielding his face in the hope that he wouldn't be recognised.

"It's Nick's house too, love," Mrs Hobble said. "An' if you can have your friend here then so can he."

"But maybe… considering the quality of Lavender's company…" Mr Hobble said hesitantly.

She turned her eyes up from her knitting to look at him. It was a look that made it clear that, while Mr Hobble may have been the Hobbit of the house, he was most definitely her Hobbit.

"Or I suppose they could stay," Mr Hobble said weakly.

"So what can we do for you then, lad?" she said, turning to Sango. "We don't get to see most of her 'friends'."

"Mum!" Lavender said, sitting up.

"I'm only telling the truth. I can't remember the last time we actually got to meet one of your lads." She shot Lavender a sharp look. "You're not in the family way, are you?"

"No!"

Sango swallowed. He was out of his depth. "I've actually come to ask for permission to court Lavender."

Mrs Hobble half-smiled and raised an eyebrow. "What, really?"

"Yes?"

"If you say so," she said, returning to her knitting. "But I don't think you quite know what you're getting yourself into."

"Hush, Heather," Mr Hobble said.

"Don't you tell me to hush," she said, setting her knitting on her lap.

Mr Hobble winced. "Please, not in front of—"

"And put that bloody pipe out like I asked."

He slowly went to empty his pipe into the fireplace. The only visible expression he wore was embarrassment. When he sat down again, he put on a smile. "It's thoughtful of you, master. To ask me for my blessing."

Sango smiled nervously. "I just wanted to assure you that my intentions towards Lavender are completely honourable."

There was a snort from Nickon. Lavender turned on the settee to look at him. "Shut it, you! Mum, tell him!"

"I ain't getting involved," she said, not looking up.

Sango moved forward in his seat. "Should I come back on a different day?"

"No need for that." Mr Hobble walked to Sango and shook his hand. "Of course you can have my blessing to court our Lavender. Couldn't be happier, fine lad like you."

Sango's shoulders sagged as his nerves melted away. "Thank you, sir."

Mr Hobble let go of his hand and returned to his seat, swelling with pride.

"You staying for dinner, sir?" Primrose called from the pot over the fire.

"I wouldn't want to intrude," Sango said.

Mrs Hobble laid her knitting aside in a basket by her feet. "Ain't no intrusion. We'll just lay out an extra bowl. You're too thin, it ain't right for a Hobbit." She went to a cabinet and brought out a stack of bowls, as if to prove a point. She looked at Nickon and Jack. "Shift, lads."

Nickon rose, eyeing Sango like a fox in a henhouse. "If you insist, Mother."

But Jack hung back, and went to get some earthenware cups out of the cupboard. "I'll help you, Mrs Hobble."

Nickon grinned and whispered, "Don't you want to meet Master Boffin?"

Jack grimaced and stuck his tongue out at Nickon from across the room. If Sango was aware of this exchange he didn't show it, and was instead listening to Mr Hobble with the politest possible expression on his face.

"I don't like all this talk of having a working Hobbit run for mayor. As far as I'm concerned, it's the old families that have always run for mayor, and that's the proper way of things. Don't you agree?"

Sango had never given this an ounce of thought in his life, and smiled as best he could. "Well, I suppose so. I don't know. Perhaps."

"It's not as if the mayor actually does anything," Lavender said.

"That ain't the point, my girl," Mr Hobble said. "It's the principle of the thing."

"But what for?"

"You walking out with our Lavender, then?" Nickon said, plopping himself down where Mrs Hobble had been sat.

"I suppose so… sir." Nickon wasn't too much older than Sango, but years of woodwork had built him up in a way Sango considered unachievable.

Nickon snickered. "Ain't no need to call me that."

"Oh. Thank you."

"So how many lads are you sharing her with?"

"Nick!" Lavender cried, leaping up and grabbing at his shoulders.

Nick only laughed, and pushed her back, pinning her down with a foot. He smiled amiably at Sango. "Savage thing, ain't she?"

Lavender gave a shriek, and leaped at Nickon, trying to land a series of hits to his chest. He just kept on laughing, easily pushing her hands away.

"Stop it, Lavender!" their father said, getting to his feet. His face was bright red. "Act like a lady for once."

"Dinner's on the table," Primrose said.

"Thank'ee," Nick said, giving Lavender a playful shove back, and making his escape over the arm of the settee.

Lavender sighed, and got to her feet as daintily as she could. "Sorry about that," she said, and attempted to tidy her hair, which she had put in a complicated braid that looped her head.

"Quite all right," Sango said, though his feathers were still rather ruffled. "You should see me and my brother when we argue."

"And I've never had more than one lad at once. I ask my lads not to stray from me, and I pay them the same courtesy. It's only polite."

"That's nice," he said.

It was only when they sat down at the table that Sango finally noticed Jack. "Oh, it's you…" His mind flooded with possible names. "Jonson."

"Jack," he said with the voice of one used to this sort of thing.

Dinner passed cordially enough. Mr Hobble talked constantly, which Jack was grateful for, and Sango less so. He was grateful for the beef stew, though. Being Hobbits, the family had made more than was necessary to feed the family of five, and even divided amongst seven it made a good meal. And unlike the Delvers, the Hobbles could afford to have meet more than once a week. It was when Sango excused himself for the privy that Mr Hobble leaned over to speak to his eldest daughter.

"You've done well there, my girl. By all means marry him afore he realises the kind of lass you really are."

Lavender rolled her eyes. "I ain't marrying him, Dad."

"And I'm glad you've stopped throwing yourself at paupers," Mr Hobble said. He remembered Jack's presence and added, "Present company excepted."

"Thank you, sir," Jack said dryly.

"We're paupers too, Dad," Lavender said.

Mr Hobble brought a hand down on the table. "We're artisans."

"It's all the same thing."

Her father turned red in the face. "I am your lord and father—"

"Ha!"

He huffed. "And you wonder why Primrose is my favourite."

"Hello," Sango chimed, re-entering the parlour. "I was wondering if we could perhaps take a walk, Lavender? There's still some Jumping Jack blooming by the Water, and it smells lovely. Only if that's all right with you, sir," he said, bowing his head to Mr Hobble.

"Aye, take her," Mr Hobble said, feeling defeated. "Mayhap you'll make something good of her."

But Lavender had already risen to her feet and was dragging Sango towards the door. "See you lot later," she said.

Sango just managed to call, "It was lovely meeting you all," before Lavender closed the door firmly behind them.

"They're so embarrassing," she said.

"I'm glad he liked me," Sango said.

"He liked you soon as he heard the name 'Boffin'. Dad loves all the old families," Lavender said bitterly. She saw Sango's disappointed expression, and smiled lovingly. "But Mum ain't so easy to impress, and she seemed to like you all right."

"She barely looked at me."

"If she didn't like you you'd know by now," Lavender said. She wasn't looking at Sango when she said this. She was looking at Meg, who she had only just seen hovering at the corner of the house. She was staring back at Lavender with questioning eyes. "Oh! I said I'd meet you, din't I?" Lavender said, pressing a hand to her forehead.

"Oh, it's all right," Meg said, trying to smile. "I can come back on a different day." But her expression was desperate.

Sango turned around. "Gosh! Hello—" He hesitated. "Nutmeg?"

"That's right, sir." She sighed. "I don't want to interrupt anything, Lav. I'll see you tomorrow."

"No!" Lavender said, hurrying to Meg and grabbing her arm. "I ain't turning you away when you've asked for help. You don't mind waiting a bit do you, Sango?"

"Oh, no. I could hardly call myself a gentlehobbit if I put my needs before those of a lady," Sango said, doing his best to hide is disappointment.

"How long will it take do you think?" Lavender said.

"Don't know." Meg's face was flushing, and her shoulders were hunched. She hadn't planned to seeing Sango there.

"You want to come inside?" Lavender said gently, taking her wrist and leading her towards the door.

"Who else is there?" Meg said.

This took Lavender by surprise. "Well, just Mum and Dad, Nick, Rose and your Jack."

Meg withdrew her hand and gave an almost imperceptible shake of the head.

"Right." She took Meg's wrist again and instead started to lead her around the corner of the house. She glanced over her shoulder at Sango and smiled. "Won't be a minute."

"Take your time." he said.

Sango stood at the front of the house and wrapped his jacket around him, as if this could protect him from the encroaching darkness. He hated the feeling of restriction on his arms, but meeting Lavender's father seemed too important for him to be without a jacket. He didn't know what to do with himself and ended up strolling up and down in front of the house while he waited. And waited. He couldn't hear what they were talking about, but he did manage a glimpse at them while he was pacing. They were talking urgently, in hushed voices. Their faces were drawn.

Eventually Lavender appeared from around the corner, smiling. "You all right? Sorry for leaving you so long."

"Oh, it's fine," he said as brightly as he could manage.

"Something's happened. I don't think we can go out today. I'm really sorry." This was the first time he'd seen Lavender uncertain about anything. It felt like a contradiction in terms.

"I don't mind, really."

She smiled and approached him to plant a kiss on his cheek. "You are a lovely lad. I promise we'll go out somewhere tomorrow."

"I'll count the minutes," he called after her as she returned to Meg. She only smiled at him.

Sango stood still for a moment, uncertain of what to do next. Then he turned about, to go where he always went when he wasn't sure where to go.

Tiger Lily had retired to her room, though really it was too early for that. She had already changed into a nightgown, and her frizzy brown hair fell loosely around her shoulders, free of the ribbons and hair pins that usually kept it in line. She was sat on her bed, attempting to sketch the room around her. At the moment her main frustration was that nothing on the paper seemed at all solid, and despite repeatedly starting again, she'd found no way to rectify it. It didn't help that her only light was a single candle on her bedside table.

Her eyes fell upon her unstrung longbow, which leaned against the wardrobe. It was in the bottom of the wardrobe where she kept her arrows, and her repair kit. That arrow still had a fletching missing…

Tiger Lily returned to her drawing, throwing aside her last failed sketch and setting her pencil on a new piece of paper. She drew the window on the west wall of her room, the window seat directly beneath it and the writing desk in the corner. Then there was the dressing table, covered in ribbons. She kept a shawl draped over the mirror as a permanent fixture, a habit accepted by the household as another Tookish eccentricity. Her bookshelf was only half taken up with books (mostly fairy tales) with the other half being filled with old toys. There was a neat line of china dolls along the top shelf, and the one below was littered with wooden animals, neatly painted.

The entire room was covered with lace. Endless lace. On the curtains, the bed linen, the cushions on the window seat, even on the dresses of the dolls.

She started to sketch the wardrobe, and only then realised everything was leaning slightly to the right. She lay back on the pillows and groaned. Once again she found herself thinking about the arrow.

Sod it.

She scrambled out of bed and opened the wardrobe. She pulled out her quiver, and the little wooden box that contained arrowheads, feathers, and the ingredients to make the glue to stick them on with. She would need to go to the kitchens to heat and mix it.

This isn't so I can go hunting again, she told herself. It's for a sense of completeness.

A knock at the window made her jump and set her heart thumping.

"Tills!" Sango's voice called from outside.

"One moment," she called, hastily putting everything back in the wardrobe. She grabbed the shawl that hung over the mirror and flung it around her shoulders for decency's sake. A moment later she was carefully carrying the candle over to the window. She drew the curtains back one-handedly, and set the candle on the windowsill. "You know I don't mind when you do this," she said when she had opened the window, "but could you please call my name before you knock? You gave me such a fright."

"Sorry." Sango folded his arms and leaned on the window ledge. "I went the front way first, but they said you'd retired for the evening."

Tiger Lily wrapped the shawl closer around her as protection against the chill that came in with the night, and knelt on the window seat. "What are you doing here, anyway? Weren't you supposed to be with Lavender?"

"I was, but she had other things to attend to," he said, a ray of dejection piercing his usually cheery countenance. "So I thought I'd drop in on you on my way home."

"It must be bad if you've come to me."

He didn't react to this, and instead picked at the grass that grew up the outside wall. "Do you think she's bored of me?"

"You've only been courting two days."

He shrugged. "I know, but I sometimes get bored of books when I'm only two pages in. Maybe she does too."

Tiger Lily massaged her earlobe, wondering how to phrase her response. "Well, I don't think… I mean, she probably can't read, Rowley."

"Oh, yes. Sorry, I was being silly." He shook his head as though this would expel the silliness.

She sighed. "And I think you'd get on better with reading if you wore your spectacles like you're supposed to."

Sango groaned and leaned his head against the window frame. "I hate how they make me look. And how many romantic heroes are constantly having to fumble with their spectacles? I don't imagine Lavender would be impressed."

"I don't think this is good," Tiger Lily said, deciding to leave the matter of the spectacles for another day. "If you're having doubts so soon."

"Alternatively, it can only get better from here," Sango said. "What's the fun in love if it's all straight-forward?"

"I suppose so. You'd know better than me, of course." She fiddled with the bare vines that framed the window. Wisteria grew there in the spring. "Did you get her father's permission?"

"I did. So this evening wasn't a total waste."

She smiled. "Good. He wasn't too harsh was he?"

"Oh, he was a little harsh, but I eventually managed to win him over with my boundless wit and good taste," Sango said, grinning.

Tiger Lily giggled. "Really?"

"Of course. Lying is wicked," Sango said, and stepped back away from the window. "I think I might go home. I don't want your father shooting me for trespassing."

Tiger Lily folded her arms. "You always say that. It's still not funny."

"I think it is," he said. He stood up straight and clicked his fingers. "That reminds me, we've got rabbits in the bank on the southern-most field, and Father wondered if you Tooks would like to deal with them for us. You'd get to keep them, of course. I meant to ask earlier."

"I'll tell Father. I imagine he'll oblige."

"Lovely." He wondered away across the lawn at a steady gait.

"You had better go faster than that, or I'll shoot you myself," she said.

"Ah, but you don't shoot anymore," he called from across the lawn. "I'll see you soon, Tills."

Tiger Lily watched him go while she closed the window. He always climbed over the fence in exactly the same place. She wondered if he ever got bored. He waved to her before walking off, his usual soppy grin on his face. She waved back, smiling in her own slightly apologetic way. She picked the candleholder back up and drew the curtains. Once again she was in her own little world of lace and feathers. She replaced the shawl over the mirror, not daring to make eye-contact with herself. The doors of the wardrobe were still standing open. She walked to it, and looked down at the box. Slowly, she closed the doors of the wardrobe.