Meli

What's that?" Sammie asked, leaning over a subdued Meli who was busily scribbling away at something. She covered the paper easily with her apron and grinned.

"None of your concern, Crow," and laughed when he stuck out his tongue. "Is Molly coming yet?"

Sammie easily scaled the tree they were standing under and looked down the road. "She's a bit away, why?"

"No reason." Meli continued scribbling, finishing with a flourish just as they finally heard Molly and Daisy's voices. "There. Now, would you give that to her? Mum made me promise to come home early." She shoved the letter at a startled Sammie who took it by reflex, then watched in surprise as Meli ran off.

Daisy and Molly found him staring at nothing. Daisy waved a hand before his eyes. "Sammie?"

He blinked, and handed Molly the paper. "Meli said to give that to you. Then she left."

Molly took the letter gravely, unfolded it and began to read. Daisy craned her neck to see, but Molly had it at just the wrong angle. She smiled when she finished, refolded it, and tucked it away. "We going to go get some mushrooms?"

Halfway down the road, Sammie stopped and put a hand out to make Molly pause. "It's eating at me. What did it say?"

Molly laughed. "It was just a love letter. Don't worry about it."

Mary

Elanor yawned, burrowing in against her father's side, small toes curling as she drifted off to sleep. It was her fifth birthday in another half-hour, and she had insisted with trademark Gamgee stubbornness that she be allowed to stay up for the exact minute of the event. Sam had taken her down to sit under the mallorn so that her boisterous excitement didn't wake her sleeping siblings, and it wasn't very long at all before drowsiness overcame the tiny girl and she settled down.

"Wake me up at midnight, Sam-Daddy," she ordered, her thumb sneaking up to her mouth. She'd picked up Frodo's habit of nail biting, the half-shells on the ends of her pink fingers chewed ragged.

Sam sat, his little El breathing in warm puffs against his arm, the lights of Bywater strewn about like fairy lanterns down the hill. There was a candle burning in the window of Bag End, despite the late hour, because Rosie could never fall asleep until all her darlings were home safe.

"Elly, El, wake up," Sam whispered after a little while. "It's midnight, dear."

"Really?" Elanor looked down at herself. "I think I'm bigger, don't you?"

"Yes, duck, I do. You're bigger and beautifuller with every single day. Now up we go, to nice soft beds and sweet dreams." He pig-a-backed her up to the front door of the smial, gave her five kisses as a birthday blessing, and gratefully fell into bed with a contented sigh.

Meli

"Papa?" Meli tugged on his sleeve as Pippin rose to leave. "I'm not sleepy yet. I want another story." Her request was punctuated with a yawn, but Pippin sat back down and smoothed her hair anyways.

"What kind of story, Meli-my-lass? Shall I tell you of Faramir, and the Lady Eowyn?"

"No." Meli's eyes fluttered closed, then she blinked them back open and shook her head firmly. "Tell me about Treebeard. You never said what the Ent-draughts tasted like."

Pippin closed his eyes for a moment, then smiled and looked down at his daughter. "I must have told you." Much protesting followed that, and he laughed, hugging Meli close. "They tasted like water, but wonderfully refreshing, and a hint of growing things, of wind through trees, and the scent of lovely flowers. And we were never hungry after we drank, and like little trees, we grew and grew."

Meli's eyelashes lay still upon her cheeks and Pippin kissed her, pinching out the candles. "Papa?" she called, as he opened the door.

"Yes, Meli-love?"

"When I get older, will you take me to see the Ents?"

"Maybe someday, my dear. Someday." The door shut softly behind him, and Meli curled onto her side and dreamt of trees that talked.

Mary

"Uncle Bilbo." Frodo looked up from his comfortable spot on the parlour carpet. "Where do baby hobbits come from?"

"Wh.. what's that, lad?"

"Baby hobbits. I asked Aunt Esmerelda, and she said you'd be only too happy to explain."

"She did, did she?" Bilbo Baggins had only been an adoptive uncle for three weeks, and already he was beginning to think he'd bitten off more than he could chew (a rare experience for a hobbit).

"Yes." Frodo paused for a beat, then his mouth curled up and he shook his head. "I'm only joking, Uncle... you should have seen your face!
You needn't be so scared of me, you know."

Bilbo couldn't help but laugh, patting the boy on the head and going back to his reading.

Meli

Baby Frodo likes apples, but can't chew the skins, so Sam spends time peeling long curls of apple skin. Elly, sitting on the floor at his feet, plays with them, arranges them in crude words.

Frodo kneels beside her, reshapes one curl into an S. A few other pieces form the A, and two identical pieces fit as a curved M. Elly claps in delight and grins up at Sam.

"Da!"

Singe

Delphinium picked at the bandages and sulked. She had done a GOOD thing, a NOBLE and BRAVE thing, but here she was, in disgrace, and locked in the Grubb Room awaiting her sister's return from the Tooklands and further punishment. Hope probably wouldn't understand either.

Someone had to stop Mr. Frodo when he got into one of his 'moods.' His cold, heartless turns that arrived irregardless of the day or the season and lingered for hours or sometimes days. His warmth would disappear and his charm would turn sarcastic. Today he broke his all time record by making FOUR Gardner girls cry, including Daisy, and Del had decided enough was enough.

Determined to head him off she had decided that a mean mood called for a mean game. The meanest game she knew was Hot Rock. A simple activity involving two or more people tossing a burning hot coal back and forth until someone cried Uncle.

Del was not one for surrender and neither was Mr. Frodo. It had been such fun! Laughing and shouting curses at each other they had gone through fourteen coals and had nearly burnt his study down before they were caught. Oh, the look on the Mayor's face. Mr. Frodo laughed at it and laughed even harder when Del waved goodbye with a blistered hand as she was dragged away. He had saluted her with his own seared fingers and Del had never felt closer to anyone in her life.

Oh, of course, it hurt! It hurt terribly and holding forks and spoons was going to be awkward for both of them for a while but...and she doubted anyone but she and Mr. Frodo understood this...sometimes you had to feed the darkness to stop it.

Meli

Rosie made marmalade roll, and now all the children are in the kitchen, looking at it with hungry eyes. She shooes them out, smiling as they run into the bright sunlight to play and sing. Back in the kitchen, Frodo is in the process of cutting himself a slice and Rosie swats him.

Frodo takes a bite and grins, leaning over to give her a sticky sweet kiss. "You're as bad as the children," she says, and Frodo laughs and pops a bite into her mouth.

"It's too good to wait. Like love," he says, and they both know they're not talking about dessert anymore.

Singe

Oh, Rose, thou art sick!
The invisible worm
that flies in the night,
in the howling storm,

has found out thy bed
of Crimson joy:
and his dark, secret love
does thy life destroy.

"Rose, where did you get this?" Farmer Cotton demanded, shaking the cream-colored page over Rose Cotton's pale face. "Who wrote this awful thing?"

Rose smiled weakly but happily and snuggled deeper into her sick-bed pillows. "Mr. Frodo wrote it for me. He's...he's so learned and so beautiful...and Sam! Sam left me the flowers..." She waved a languid arm at the windowsill and Farmer Cotton glowered at the lilies that had appeared there overnight. "Sam is so strong...and so loving...he loves me." She pointed at the paper. "Mr. Frodo loves me."

"Tom!" Farmer Cotton shouted and his son appeared at the door. "Go get your mother." Tom nodded once and ran out of sight.

Rose shook her head from side to side and a tear landed on her linens. "I was so sad. I thought I would have to choose between them when they came back and I couldn't, couldn't, couldn't do it. But I don't have to, now!" Her eyes were joyful. Hopeful. Relieved. "I can have them both!"

"You can't have EITHER!" Farmer Cotton shouted, worried enough to shatter the peace of Rose's sick-room. "They're dead! They didn't come back! Master Meriadoc didn't come back! Master Peregrin didn't come back! All four died! They're dead!"

A humorous expression that was three shades short of sly appeared on Rose's face. "Yes, they're dead. And now Estella Bolger is also dead as is Diamond Took of the Long Cleeve Tooks..."

"Who told you?" her father gasped. "No one was to tell you..."

"Mister...I mean..." Rose smiled blissfully. "I mean...Frodo told me. He introduced me to Diamond. She was pretty before but you should see her now." Rose's voice dropped into a parody of the genteel accents of the Long Cleeve gentry. "'I'm so very pleased to have you join us, Miss Cotton.' Oh, Dad, they're so sweet. As sweet as cool water and so loving..."

"Tom!" Farmer Cotton shouted as he went out the door in a frenzy. "Tom!"

Rose turned to the window and stretched her hand out towards the golden sunset. Her callused but graceful fingers stroked through the ending-light and she moaned. "And their lips are so very red, indeed."

Frodo's poem by William Blake

Meli

Nick Cotton is noticable in his absence on the warm moon-lit nights that the other children sneak out on. Rosie makes excuses, but there are those who wonder. And later, when the leaves have fallen and the snow covers the ground, tracks are found in the mornings.

Heavy prints, like a heavy animal, and there is talk of black creatures snapping at people in the darkness. The Cotton's yard is always shovelled out early, swept flat in the night. It's only by accident that Sam sees the heavy prints near Nick's window, and the frozen red of blood beneath the sill. Coarse dark hair, and Sam knows, suddenly, what has happened to his friend.

Rose comes around the corner, gasping when Sam looks up with horror-stricken eyes. "Did he... the Sackville-Baggins?"

Anger in her face, she hefts the broom and menaces with him. "Don't you even think such things, Samwise Gamgee! Nick wouldn't harm a soul, not even one so nasty as theirs." But there's blood on the snow, on the outer wall, and Sam scoops it up.

"What of this, then? Blood got to come from somewhere."

Rose colors and turns away. "Rabbit stew today, Sam. Would you like to stay for dinner?"

Mary

"'m worried about Frodo," Merry says as he traces patterns over Pippin's bare back with his fingertips. It's so late that it's probably beginning to count as early, the dark outside shot through with pale hints of the coming dawn.

Pippin grunts. "Must be a Tuesday, then."

"No, it's Friday."

"I was being facetious, my dear Merry," answers Pippin, rolling over and poking Merry in the stomach. "Now stop thinking so much and go to sleep, you ass, I'm tired."

They had visited Bag End a week earlier, Merry and Sam had needed to discuss the season's herbs or somesuch thing that Pippin didn't have an interest in following the thread of, and as was becoming usual they found the head of the household in a bad state. Short-tempered, skin blotchy from chills and fever, hair hanging down in a damp, listless knot.

"It's the same illness that caught Stel by surprise a month ago, it's doing the rounds amongst folk who don't get enough fresh air. You didn't keep me up all night jabberin' with worry about her." Pippin nuzzles in against Merry's neck and breathes out contentedly, the sound becoming a sigh midway as Merry continues to talk and fret.

"Our Estella's a hardy lass, though. Frodo doesn't have much strength left in him, I think."

"He'd give you a thick ear if he heard you say that. Or Rosie would. Sam's too polite."

"Not a failing he shares with you, then," Merry says with a smile, tangling his fingers in Pippin's thick hair.

"Frodo's always been able to find his way about in the dark," Pippin points out with a yawn. "He'll be all right soon enough."

Meli

"Stel?" Dinny's voice sounds thin in the dark, and Estella reaches to pull her closer.

"Hm?"

Dinny nuzzled her face into Stella's shoulder and sighed softly. "You're going to have a baby, aren't you?"

Warm fingers up and down her back, and the ghost of a kiss against her forehead. "You could tell, hm? Merry doesn't know yet."

She reached up in the dark, touched Estella's dark hair. "Of course I can tell. I think I may be having one, too."

"Good. We'll raise them together and we'll all be happy." Stella sounded as though she were almost asleep, but Diamond had one more question.

"Boy or girl?"

"One of each," Stella declared, and kissed Dinny firmly to make her be quiet.

Meli

"Mummy," Elanor tugged on Rosie's skirts. Rosie sighed and shifted baby Frodo to the other shoulder.

She pulled Elanor into her lap and hugged the little girl. "What is it, Elly-love?"

Elly's curls were tangled with bits of leaves in her hair, testifying to her travels in the garden. "Mummy, if I catch a rainbow, will you sew it onto my good dress?"

Rosie brushed away a smudge of dirt and kissed Elly's nose. "If you catch a rainbow, I'll embroider it and make you a lovely scarf, so you'll be the brightest thing in the winter time."

Elly clapped her hands in glee. "Then I better hurry," she said, and slid off Rosie's lap and back out the door.

Meli

Midwinter Feast, and Bag End is filled with light, laughter and song. Pippin Gardner looks around, his heart light in the face of so much joy.

A hand catches his sleeve and he turns to see Meli Took pointing up. He glances up, vaguely remembering bits of greenery. Sure enough, a sprig of mistletoe hangs there innocently, and he grins, looking back down. Warm lips are on his before he can react, and his eyes flutter closed.

When they draw apart, Pippin blinks at Molly's laughing face. "That's not fair," he says in her ear. "Where's Meli?"

Molly giggles and claps her hands. "Over there." Pippin kisses her again, then sneaks over and sweeps Meli into his arms.

"You don't get away that easy," he grins, and kisses her sweetly.

Meli

Rosie, Sam and Frodo were the best trick-or-treaters in all of HalloweenShire. They worked for Mr Oogie Bilbo, the feared boogie man of HalloweenShire.

All of HalloweenShire hailed to the Pumpkin King, Aragorn Skelton. His best friend Arwen was a ragdoll who had been created by Dr. Elrondstien. Arwen was constantly trying to get away from Dr Elrondstien.

When Aragorn hit upon the idea of taking over ChristmasGondor, Rosie, Sam and Frodo were given the important task of kidnapping Santa Gimli so Aragorn could take his place. The three embraced their mission with pride, and set forth as Aragorn had instructed them.

Slipstream

Frodo somehow manages to get ink in the most unusual of places. The black stains are all over his fingers, his wrists, too, sometimes on cuffs and shirtsleeves when ideas strike and paper is scarce. These are normal and too be expected. But then there are the other splotches, discovered through (mostly) innocent means in the most bizarre sections of Frodo's skin. A dark blue streak smeared behind one pale, pointed ear, found while combing his unruly black locks. A little dark line along the tip of his nose that was so endearing that Rosie allowed him to go the whole day without telling him to clean it off. Little spatterings of the gold tinted ink he uses for the title pages over his eyelids where he has rubbed sleep away. Words written in reverse along a high cheekbone, evidence of another nap pillowed by footnotes.

Rosie has found another stain, more black ink between soft folds of flesh. She tisks in disappointment and Sam, looking over her shoulder, shakes his head as well.

'I couldn't help it,' Frodo protests, laying back against their bed sheets. 'I itched, so I had to scratch.'

He's hushed by a kiss, soft lips and warm hands being stained with the black ink as well. She smiles, a wicked little grin. 'Frodo Baggins, the next time you feel inclined to itch, tell us so that we may scratch it and save some of your good clothes.'

He blushes prettily in embarrassment and gasps when she touches the blot in question. 'Rose-dear, I think that I would stain them anyway!'

Meli

A smell of scorched air, and Pippin waves his hand to dispense the smoke. "You didn't say you were cooking something."

Coughing, then a raspy voice. "You didn't ask." The windows are thrown wide to clear the air.

"What was it, anyways?" Pippin prods the unidentifiable lump, but finds no answers. The pan is whisked away by mitted hands and scraped off.

"It wastreacle tart. Now it's a very good match for a brick."

Meli coughs when she peeks in the kitchen. "Burning down the hole won't be wise, Lark."

Molly tossed a roll at Meli and frowned. "Nobody asked you."

A deft catch, and Meli broke the roll in two, offering half to Pippin. "You know, I'd've thought you would have remember the tart."

"With what the two of you were doing?" Molly put her hands on her hips and stared them down. "I'm lucky I remembered your names."

Pippin grinned and swept his wife up in his arms. "And you enjoyed every second of it."

"I did." Molly admitted. "But now we don't have any sweets for tea."

Meli kissed her and tied on an apron. "Don't worry, Lark. Pippin and I can make scones."

"And what about me?"

Flour and sugar and yeast made their way into Meli's bowl. She grinned over her shoulder. "You can go steal the mushrooms we'll need for dinner."

Slipstream

Frodo was tired all the time. He slept a lot, taking random cat-naps in the oddest of places throughout the white city. Dinner, the ordering of arms, Gimli's tale of the passage through Rohan, all had been events interrupted by the soft snorts Frodo made in his sleep. Pippin had often looked up from some random task to find himself staring at the mop of black curls resting against folded arms, pale pointed ears poking out comically.

Once Pippin had come back late from guard duty and found Frodo asleep in their little garden, curled into a tight ball on the hard ground with his head roughly pillowed by a misshapen pack. When Pippin shook him awake, demanding quietly that he come in to the warmth and a soft bed, Frodo had grinned bashfully and complied. 'Sorry,' he apologized, indicating his sparse bedroll. 'Force of habit.'

He dozed on horseback while they rode through the grasslands of Rohan, curled up on the ground close to the fire at night whenever they stopped to camp. While visiting the Lady Eowyn he seemed more apt to end up on the hard stone floor than in bed, something Pippin observed with growing alarm. Even in Rivendell his nightly rest was broken with nightmares and he seemed to nap more easily on hard benches and the occasional corner in the vast expanses of corridors.

Yet despite all this random sleeping he grew more wane and sick, the shadows under his eyes darker with each passing restless night. A tiny voice which Pippin preferred to ignore thought that perhaps Frodo was doing this to himself, purposefully seeking out pain instead of comfort. Try as he could to reverse this, his cousin just sank further and further into himself, only even barely responding when Sam, no matter what part of Middle Earth they made camp in, came to carry his too-thin form back to a proper bed.

This continued even they were in Hobbiton, and when Merry and Pippin finally left for home the young Took had to resign to himself that nothing would ever change, Frodo would never allow himself the comforts he so truly deserved as the Ringbearer.

Thus it came as some surprise when, upon visiting Bag End a few months after Sam and Rosie's marriage, Pippin witnessed Frodo willingly preparing for bed and retiring early (with the proper apologies, of course), to the master chamber, emerging the following morning refreshed with cheeks glowing in health. Only when this happened every night for several nights was he convinced it was not some ruse, and he sought answers from Rosie one morning at elevencies.

'How did you do it, Rosie? How did you convince our stubborn Baggins to stop being daft and sleep on a mattress like a proper hobbit?'

She smiled at him across her tea, her eyes twinkling in mischief. 'It was hard work, getting him away from that rock of a cot he insisted on sleeping on, but Sam and I are very stubborn ourselves and would never let the master not sleep in the biggest and best bed in the house.' Frodo chose this moment to return from the kitchens carrying a fresh loaf of surprisingly unburnt bread, and Rosie grinned wickedly at him. 'Besides, I do believe that Sam and I can be very convincing when it comes to who sleeps in what bed. Don't you agree, Frodo?'

The master of Bag End blushed the color of the strawberry spread and sat down quickly, hands coming to rest in his lap. Pippin exchanged a rather wide eyed look with a quietly smirking Merry while Frodo stammered in response to Rosie's and Sam's light kisses on either cheek and decided that it wasn't such a bad idea after all.

Meli

It isn't the Ring, he tells himself, but it's enough. The white stone from Arwen Evenstar shines between his fingers and Frodo draws strength from it.

Huddled deep in the blankets, it takes him a moment to realise there's someone else in the room. Elanor's chubby baby fingers are warm against his chilled skin, and draw him away from his memories and into the present.

Blue eyes and blond hair peep at him. "Are you alright, Fo?" she asks, and Frodo racked his mind for words. Slowly, language returns and want recedes.

"I will be, sweetling," he tells her, and helps her onto the bed. Rosie finds them sleeping peacefully later, Frodo's hands clasped tight around an Elven stone, and a Hobbit flower.

Slipstream

One night Sam was rudely awoken by a stifled scream in the bed next to him. His eyes shot open immediately but before he could respond a heavy weight landed on his chest and knocked the breath out of him. Once his sight had adjusted to the dark he found himself looking upwards at wildly staring blue eyes inches from his own.

He swallowed, willing his heart to slow. 'Frodo?'

Frodo said nothing, only growled, pulling Sam and Rosie closer together so that he could straddle them both. Rosie met Sam's gaze, her eyes round with surprise and a hint of fear. Sam moved to sit up but Frodo pushed him back against the pillows, surprisingly strong. Rosie stifled a little gasp.

From this angle, Frodo was lithe and feral, the white moonlight forming a halo around frazzled, tossed curls, planing across the hard edges of thin arms wrapped in tight chords of muscle. His night shirt was open at the top, revealing the narrow chest and pale skin marred only by the thick ring of scar tissue around his neck where It had slowly choked him. The white jewel was gone, and Sam found himself frantically trying to think of the date.

'Frodo, what's wrong?'

His eyes half-closed, rolling upwards, and for a moment Sam thought that he would either come back to them or collapse, but then they opened again, burning with a darkly playful light that Sam had never seen, one so different from his other moods. 'Hungry!'

Rosie was quick to play the comforting mother, reaching out a trembling hand to touch his forearm. 'Do you want some tea, or a light something, some toast, maybe!?'

He snarled again, snatching her small wrist in a four fingered grip, and to Sam the growl sounded more like laughter, quick and sharp. The silver light flashed on his teeth, caught briefly on a berserker grin, and settled on illuminating the little drops of sweat that trickled from his flushed skin. He leaned in close between their necks and Sam could feel the heat radiated from the fevered skin, wondered briefly at what illness had left Frodo so before his ear was caught in hot breath and he was beyond thinking.

Frodo chuckled, the sound rattling deep in his chest, and nuzzled roughly at their curled heads. 'That's not what I meant!'

Meli

A perfectly ordinary day is interuptted by the arrival of the postman with a letter. It's addressed to Frodo, who takes and opens it with a slight frown. Rosie gaped at the flowing words, her Elvish still sadly lacking. Frodo smiles and refolds the paper, grinning up at Rosie. "How do you feel about an outing tomorrow?"

Rose stirring her batter for a bit before answering. "Where?"

"Shire's bounds. Legolas and Gimli would like to meet Sam, Merry, and Pippin's families, and see me again."

Rose-lass looks up from the bread she's kneading and smiles at her mother. "Looks like we'll have to make lunch."

"Yes." Rosie strokes Frodo's cheek and grins. "You'd best go find the children so they can spread the word. Everyone should stay here tonight, yes?"

Frodo kisses her hand and stands. "Yes," he replies, and hurries out to find the four birds so word can be spread.

Slipstream

When packing the little bag he would carry on his quest, Frodo was sure to sneak in amongst the bread and cheese and apples and other such vittles one freshly baked marmalade roll. While Gandalf wasn't looking, he removed some of those pesky fresh shirts the wizard insisted on him taking to make room for his precious bundle, wrapped in a red cloth to keep it warm. He could, after all, wear the same shirt more than once, and one never knew when one might be in the mood for something sweet and sticky. He smiled mischievously. And, as it was likely to be a cold and arduous journey, and he was low on warm blankets, it was probably best that he brought Samwise along as well. Who knew, perhaps his gardener liked sweet and sticky things as well.

Meli

Frodo comes into Bag End, soaked to the skin, and Bilbo clicks his tongue and hurries his young nephew out of his wet things. Wrapped in a dry blanket and ensconced before the fire with a cup of tea, Frodo chatters merrily about the fun he had playing with his cousins. Bilbo listens in delight, absently noting the mud dripping down Frodo's neck.

"Time for a bath, lad," he says when Frodo runs out of story, and hustles the boy into the bathroom, drawing him a warm bath. Drying Frodo's hair after the bath, Bilbo is struck by the feeling of wasted time. How long has he been alone? And why did he wait so long to welcome Frodo into his life?

Frodo goes obediently to bed after a late snack of cake and tea and apples. Bilbo sits up for a long time, smoking and thinking, his mind awhirl with the newfound pleasures of taking care of someone else.

Singe

'We wants it! My precious!' Delphinium lunged for the 'Ring' and Sammie weaved to the side with a shout. Del scuttled after him, snarling.

Lounging half-hidden against an oak tree Sam shook his head in sheer disgust and whispered, 'Did she learn that from you?'

'Never.' Frodo murmured in the shadows to Sam's left. 'It was all I could do just to write Gollum's speech.'

'Brr! Sounds just like him.'

'Yes. It's as if she truly wants that curtain ring.' Del pounced at Sammie again.

'She wants somethin' sure enough.' Sam observed and Frodo snickered in his sleeve.

'That's my boy!' Frodo buffed his nails against his waistcoat and it was Sam's turn to choke back his laughter.

'Give it to us! Nassty wicked Hobbitses!' Del's fingers clutched at Sammie. He swung a good sized stick just above her head. Molly, Aster and Meli weren't involved in this part of the drama and they cheered and hissed and booed on the sidelines. Daisy had her tree-branch and was ready to spring in as soon as she had her cue.

'Down!' Sammie shouted, poking Del in the shoulder. 'Down! Down, you creeping thing, and out of my path! Your time is at an end. You cannot betray me or slay me now!'

'That's not what you said.' Sam observed, cutting his eyes humorously at Frodo.

'I decided that 'Sod off!' wouldn't make very compelling reading, Sam.'

Daisy leaped between Sammie and Del brandishing her 'sword.' She was applauded by the other girls and Del hissed at all of them. Sammie looked relieved. Daisy attacked Del with perfect fierceness and shouted, 'Quick, Master! Go on! No time to lose, I'll deal with him! Go on!'

'And that was a far cry from 'Get your ass up that hill!'' Frodo observed as Sammie scrambled away.

Sam grinned. 'Did you have to rewrite everything? What we actually said wasn't very poetical like but it was honest! And had heart.'

'Ah, yes.' Frodo nodded. 'The way you told Lord Faramir he could 'shove his suspicions straight up his ass until they came out his feckin' eyeballs' showed real heart.' Sam covered his grin with his hand. Frodo bumped him with his shoulder. 'Will you never forgive each other?'

'No. Never. Or, at least, not as long it amuses the life out of the Lady Eowyn to hear us sniping!'

'It makes Merry jealous the way she keeps after you!goading you on!' Sam went red.

A great 'ARGH!' of pain rent the air and Sammie was kneeling and clutching his hand as Daisy patted his back comfortingly. Del had the curtain ring in her fist and was dancing madly on the bank of The Water. 'My Precious! O my Precious!!' She stepped too far!she was on the brink, Meli and Molly screamed, Aster covered her eyes, Del was off-balance!her arms pinwheeled madly!Daisy and Sammie stared in horror!then she fell. 'PRREECIOUSSSS!!' she wailed as she landed with a wet SPLUT! into the mud. She hooked her fingers and toes into the air to indicate that she was dead and Sam and Frodo released the breaths they hadn't realized they were holding. Frodo had goosebumps on his arms and he rubbed them, sighing.

Gollum was dead and he took the Ring with him. The world was safe. Aster, Sammie, Molly, Daisy and Meli stood on the bank and looked sadly down on Del's pitiful remains. Then Daisy picked up a gob of mud and flung it into Del's curly hair as hard as she could.

The dead arose. 'DAIZE!!' Del threw double fistfuls of gunk at Daisy's retreating back and the mud-fight was on. Even Aster joined in, delicately flinging muck in all directions until Sammie threw her down and rolled her in it.

Sam sighed. 'We need to stop them.' Molly actually picked Daisy up and pitched her a good five feet into Meli and Del as if she were playing nine-pins. A fountain of mud sprayed the air.

'Sod off.' Frodo said with finality and the two greatest heroes of the age backed away very slowly and quietly.

Meli

"Whatcha doin'?" Del poked at Meli, who swatted her playfully, then went back to her stitching.

"I'm making a pillow. It's for Farry 'n his new wife. So they have something to prettify their hole. And they won't forget about me." Meli was sitting much stiller than normal, each stitch carefully placed. "I made it from some of our old, old clothes that Mum still had around. And an old doll's dress."

Del looked carefully at the pillow. "What's it's supposed to be?"

Meli smiled softly, mischief in her eyes. "Moonlight and an apple tree. It's a reminder of something silly we did when we were young."

Bored, Del looked away. "Can we go steal some cookies now? I think Elly's done."

Rolling her eyes, Meli set aside her work. "I suppose. But then I have to finish this. I can teach you how, if you want."

"What good is a needle and thread?" Del asked as she followed Meli towards the kitchen.

"You never know when you'll have to sew your brother's britches to a fence," Meli replied, and snuck into the pantry for cookies.

Singe

"We're here to steal cookies!" Del announced to the kitchen at large and Meli smacked her forehead in exasperation. Elanor looked up from her mixing bowl and raised an amused eyebrow.

"You can steal one apiece, filthy thievses. We're about to have dinner." Del thanked her and took two from the heaping plate. She passed one over to Meli with a smirk and left the kitchen to munch her own. Meli followed, scowling, and bit into her single, solitary, honest cookie.

Suddenly, high-pitched giggling floated indoors from the grape arbor and both girls halted in shock. Del choked on her cookie and raised up on tiptoe to look out the nearest window. "It's her!" she confirmed to Meli. "It's Hope!"

"Hope doesn't giggle!" Meli exclaimed.

"She does when Borry is tickling her. Look!" they looked. They downright gawked. They goggled. They gaped.

"Um." Meli finally said. "Um. That's not tickling."

"It looks like fun, though."

Meli sprang away from the window. "Well, I wouldn't know!"

"That's a shame." Their faces burning scarlet, both girls cracked up, loud enough to startle the birds, and the lovers, in the garden. "That's some present she's giving to Boromir." Del declared. "Good for her! Happy Birthday, at last, to Hope!" Del sang, skipping away down the hall. "Happy, Happy!"

"Happy Birthday to Borry and Hope!" Meli sang along and danced alongside.

Mary

"Ouch! Don't!"

"Your great clumping hoof was in my face, ninny. I'll pinch if I like!"

Sammie glared down at Daisy from his perch on her shoulders. "You're the one who told me to get up here and see about finding those bottles of wine left over from Yule. Why don't you stand on my shoulders and fumble about for them?"

Daisy put her hands on her brother's ankles to hold him steady as they wobbled a bit.

"Because I'm a girl, of course. Girls have to be... er... dignified, or somesuch. So Goldy tells me, anyhow. Not to mention that you're much lighter than I am, you are far younger after all."

"Not even a year," Sammie shot back, his head buried in the musty recesses of the high cupboard. "And just because I'm not as fat as old Lalia Took was..."

"El's the only one skinnier'n you, and at least she's got the looks to make up for it," Daisy sniped. "At least you freckle properly, or else nobody would believe you were a hobbit at all. They'd say you were a ridiculously short Elf."

"They wouldn't." Sammie's voice held a note of grumpy denial. "Anway, they'd probably think you were a dwarf, if it came to that."

Daisy just snorted. "Whoever heard of a dwarf with blonde hair? They don't go out in the sun enough to catch the rays." She had to make a quick readjustment to her stance as Sammie moved unexpectedly. "And I didn't really mean it, Sam, about you bein' Elflike. It was just teasing."

"Well," Sammie paused, accepting the almost-apology. "I only sort of meant what I said about you being a fat old dwarf. You're not really that fat."

He fell to the ground with an indignant crash, barely having time to catch his breath before he was set upon with tickling.

Meli

Sammie leaned his chin on his hand and sighed. Daisy looked up from her book and watched him. "I'm bored," he announced.

"So?"

"And hungry."

"You're always hungry."

Sammie made a face at her. "So are you."

"True," Daisy said, laying aside her book. "Let's go steal some cookies."

"I don't want cookies."

"Muffins?"

"No."

"Rolls?"

"Not really."

"Apples?"

"Or that, either."

Daisy threw up her hands. "What do you want, then?"

"Tarts. But mum hasn't made them in forever and ever."

"Guess that means my mum sent me over at just the right time," said Meli, her arms full of a basket and her mittens.

Sammie hugged her tight and snatched a tart. "I love you."

"You'd better," Meli grinned impishly, and handed a tart to Daisy, then made her way into the kitchen.

Mary

"Frodo."

"Mmm?"

"Frodo."

Frodo cracked one eye open and looked up at Sam. "What?" he replied, putting the same slightly insistent inflection on the word as had been used on his name.

"There's a knock at the door."

"Good for the door, then." Frodo rolled over. "There has never been a social call bearing good news at seven in the morning, Sam, and I'm in no mood for any other sort of visit. Now get back under the covers, you're letting all the warmth out."

"It's probably letters for Elanor," Rosie murmured, only half-waking in her comfortable nest of pillows and warm skin. "If that addlepated Fastred insists on writing to her every day that he's off traipsing about the Shire, then she can lose the morning lie-in herself."

"They've been knocking for a good while, now," Sam said doubtfully.

"So why haven't you gone to look, then?" Frodo asked, eyes closed and a smile playing at his mouth.

"Well, it's nice and warm here, and my bones are still right sore from heaving those saplings about yesterday."

"If you're not willing to get out, I don't know why I should be," replied Frodo, letting his fingers creep up to the nape of Sam's neck and trace lightly over the soft hairs there.

"Nobody's getting out of this bed at this time of the morning," Rosie declared with a note of finality. "I forbid it, and we've got enough naughty children in this house without you two defying me as well. So pull that cover up and let a hobbit get some sleep."

Daisy Gardner pulled her parents' bedroom door shut as quietly as possible, tip-toeing down the hallway and letting Sammie back in through the front door. Now that they'd checked for certain that nobody was in the mood to get out of bed, they could do some serious exploring without fear of discovery. After all, nobody was really, really sure that there wasn't treasure hidden somewhere in Bag End.

Meli

"Rosie, you've got a letter." Frodo sounded more surprised than Rosie thought he ought. After all, she got letters fairly often. One glance at the envelope made her understand, though, and she snatched it out of his hand.

Daisy looked up curiously, but Rosie placed the letter in her pocket before anyone else could see it. Her head full of plots, Daisy didn't dwell on it, instead gobbling down her breakfast and bouncing off for the day.

Left to herself finally, Rose went to the bedroom and opened the letter. Flowing Elvish script greeted her, and her cheeks colored as she read it. Frodo watched patiently from the doorway until she was finished, then sat beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "What says the Evenstar?"

Rosie brushed aside a tear and smiled teasingly at him. "None of your concern, Mr Frodo. Merely woman talk."

Singe

The sun shone brightly on the borders of the Shire and Sam was in an expansive mood as half of Hobbiton and the stately visiting court of Minas Tirith hung on his every word. "Here are the children that arrived since your last visit. There's four of 'em..." Sam exclaimed proudly.

"Four children in five years, Sam. And nine in all. You are blessed, indeed." King Aragorn laughed in awe and appreciation and his courtiers, great lords and ladies of Elves and Men, nodded in approval with him. "I have only three." He looked accusingly at Arwen, who looked down her nose at him, and the crowds of Halflings laughed.

Sam bowed and grinned. "This is Goldilocks. She's five." Sam held out his arms for his little blonde heartbreaker. Rose gave Goldy a nudge and she stepped forward, eyes wide, and timidly curtsied to the King and Queen of Gondor and Arnor as she was taught. Then she flew to her father.

Queen Arwen beamed. "Goldilocks. How appropriate. How lovely her golden hair is." Goldy blushed and hid her face in Sam's shoulder.

"This is Hamfast. Named for my Gaffer, y'know..." Ham cut straight from his mother to his father and clutched Sam's legs.

"Master Hamfast." Aragorn acknowledged, with a slight bow. Ham could only stare back.

"This is Daisy." Elanor stepped forward with little Daisy in her arms. Too young to be intimidated, she giggled and stretched her arms towards the pretty, pretty lady who was all dressed in glossy soft stuff and sparklies. Elanor set her down and she toddled directly to Arwen who was only too glad to receive her.

"She's an Elf, Daisy." Sam pointed out as Daisy lovingly patted the perfect cheeks of the Evenstar.

"Ef! Ef!" she exclaimed and snuggled in. Aragorn, Arwen and the Elves in their train were beyond charmed. Distracted by Daisy they missed the significant, and somewhat humorous, glance that passed between Sam, Rose and Frodo. Then Frodo bent and lovingly lifted a squirming bundle from a large basket at his feet. He stepped forward and Aragorn caught the sudden quiet that descended upon the gathered Hobbits. He wondered at it, at the way the crowd of little people strained forward to catch his reaction. He wondered at the protective look in Frodo's eyes, the strange, defiant quirk of Sam's mouth and the Mistress Rose's intent gaze.

Frodo smiled as he moved the blankets from the face of the baby. "This is Samwise." His voice was quiet but it carried clearly to the hushed crowd. Aragorn and Arwen leaned forward.

They looked.

They gasped.

Sammie blinked his huge eyes at them and waved a perfect little hand towards his sister still sitting comfortably on Arwen's lap.
He was smiling Frodo's smile. Aragorn stared at Sammie. His eyes traveled then to Frodo, to Sam...they lingered on Rose...and he stood. He approached Frodo and the crowd leaned forward. Some of the faces were worried. Some were smirkingly vindictive. Everyone held their breath. Aragorn stood before Frodo.

The King knelt and his eyes were on the ground as he placed his hand over his heart to honor the Ringbearer. "Frodo." he clearly said so all could hear. "The child is a reward beyond the riches of all the Kings. This goes beyond all my dreams for your happiness."

"Beyond my dreams, too." Frodo's eyes glistened and Aragorn could hear Sam sniff behind him. Aragorn held out his hands and Frodo immediately placed the baby into them. Sammie looked so small, so helpless in the Man's enormous hands. Aragorn turned and displayed the child to his court. The Elves burst so immediately into song that all the Hobbits jumped at the sudden unabashed beauty and joy of it. Arwen was weeping and her tears fell on Daisy's golden curls.

The Ringbearer had been blessed. Frodo of the Nine Fingers had his reward. Sammie was passed from hand to hand and the visitors celebrated far into the night as Sam, Frodo and especially Rose was honored with gifts and acclamations almost beyond reason.

This set the spiteful gossip-mongers of the Shire back quite a bit, you can imagine.

Meli

Having a real, live Elf, and a real, live Dwarf in Bag End made the curiosity seekers flock. Legolas and Gimli, safely within the house could hear the exicted chatter of the gathered mob. They exchanged glances as they perched carefully on chairs too small for them.

Another wave of sound came, and Legolas cocked his head, listening. Gimli watched him, used to his companions greater hearing. "What is it?"

The door burst open before the Elf could answer, and Merry and Pippin and their families tumbled inside. The four children immediately started shoving on the door, shutting out those who had rushed forward. Breathing heavily, one of the two girl began unwrapping her scarf. "Why are all of them here, Da?" she grumbled. "You'd think Auntie Rosie was giving out treacle tarts or something."

"Not quite, Miss Molly," Rosie replied as she swept back in. "Farry, Borry, can you go help Fro and Pip with some benches? We're trying to make better seats."

The two boys nodded and hurried off, and Rosie set cups of tea on the low table and smiled brightly at the newcomers. "Glad you got the message."

"Hard to miss it," Dinny replied, and patiently untangled Meli's scarf from her coat and hair. "Honestly, my girl, how do you tangle yourself so?"

Legolas stretched without standing and sipped at his tea. "We didn't mean to be any trouble, Mistress Rose. We can leave if it would be easier."

"Leave?" Rosie looked as if she thought the Elf sick. "You haven't eaten yet. Or seen Frodo and Sam, and you're not to leave until you do." Faced with her wrath, the visitors were forced to agree.

Gimli nudged Legolas as they watched the bustle around them. "You love it here, don't you?"

Legolas smiled and touched Gimli's hand. "As do you. Their unabashed joy is a pleasure to watch."

"It's better to be a part of," piped up a small voice. Meli blushed and hid behind Sammie when they looked at her, and Daisy laughed.

"Silly Took."

"Sillier Gardner." Meli stuck out her tongue and patted Sammie. "Not you, Crow. You can be a Baggins. They're not sill at all."

Molly poked Meli and dragged her out from behind Sammie. "That's not true. Remember when we got Uncle Frodo to play skip rope with us?"

All four giggled, and Sammie explained the story briefly. "Uncle Fo ended up all tangled in the rope. We had to get scissors to get him out."

"He made the best faces." Molly remarked, nodding.

Legolas laughed quietly. "It seems as though the Ringbearer has found peace."

"Peace?" Gimli asked, gesturing to the chaos. Meli had pulled Daisy's dress ribbon undone, and Daisy was trying her best to catch the other girl to thump her. Sammie was attempting to make Daisy stop long enough to tie her sash again, and Molly was busily blocking the Gardner girl long enough for her cousin to slip away.

Gimli chuckled. "Not peace, I think. But joy, and the sort of life one should have after such a burden."

Legolas nodded and laced his fingers in with Gimli's. "A hero's welcome, indeed."

Mary

My name is Ruby Gardner and I am nine. My hair is red which is why I am called Ruby. Some of my sisters have fair hair and so they have fair names, mostly after flowers. Ruby is not a flower, ruby is a jool. My Uncle Frodo says I can have a ruby to wear around my neck when I am thirty-three, but that is twenty-four years away which is a very long time.

I live in a smial in Hobbiton called Bag End. It is very big which is good because a lot of people live here. My Uncle Frodo is the Master of Bag End, and Mummy Rose is the Mistress even though she is not married to Uncle Frodo. She is married to Sam-dad, who is the mayor and has a wax seal for letters that tells people that he is the mayor. He gets to boss all the other hobbits, but Mummy bosses him sometimes too.

I have a lot of sisters and a lot of brothers and some cats and a bird, it is not really my bird but it sings outside the window of the bedroom I share with Primrose and Daisy who are my sisters and so I like to say it is my bird.

My friend Peony Ann says it is confusing, so many in one family. She has two brothers and a Mum and a Dad and a Gammer. She says it is better to have a flower name than a jool name because she can have peonies any time she wants and I don't have any rubies. But her hair is brown and mine is red, and Mummy says that makes me stand out like a poppy in a nettle patch. Poppy is a nice name, and there are a lot more poppies than rubies to be found in the Shire, but I have had my name for all my life now and am used to it.

Hope and Del live with us too, Del's name is longer than just Del but I cannot write it properly yet. Hope works with Uncle on writing things, like I am writing this. I do not need help with my writing except for some of the spelling, which my sister Rose is helping me with.

My sister Rose has some bruises on her arm that look a bit like a hand without the proper number of fingers. I think I know how she got it, but she says it does not matter and I should not meddle. I am not meddling, I am finding things out. My sister Rose takes care of Uncle Frodo when Mummy and Sam-dad are busy with the rest of us children and with bossing hobbits around.

Uncle Frodo can fold paper into the shape of a bird and make the wings flap, and he gives very good hugs and cuddles when he is happy. It is very sad when people are sick and sometimes people die which is what happened to Peony Ann's Gaffer the winter before the one before the last one. Mummy says I am talking nonsense when I ask if Uncle is going to die from being sad which is good because we all love him a lot and it would be sad.

My brother Merry says I can have a try on his pony if I am very careful so I am going to stop writing for now. The End by Ruby Gardner.

Meli

"If you're going to steal them all the time, you might as well learn to bake them," Elly told her audience of four. Four pairs of eyes looked pleadingly up at her, with four matching pouts begging her to let them go. "Now, first you need to get aprons and wash your hands."

A round of groans, and Elly clapped her hands. "Scoot!" she ordered, and four normally rowdy children did as they were told.

Hours later, there were several dozen cookies and four pleased little Hobbits. "We made cookies!" Meli exclaimed and picked one up to try.

A moment later she was at the pump, sipping at water and coughing. Elly couldn't help herself and laughed and laughed. Molly put her arms around Meli and glared. "I knew having that much salt in it sounded strange."

"Can you blame me, little thieves?" Elly asked, wiping her eyes.

Four glances exchanged, and then flour, sugar, eggs and cookies started flying at the elder Hobbit.

It took another three hours to clean up the kitchen, but all five felt the punishment had been worth the crime.

Singe

I Was A Tweenaged Werewolf

'It was in the year 2911 that the White Wolves came.' Pippin began, politely pouring Diamond some tea. She received the fine cup graciously and sipped it, her eyes following his every movement. Pippin seemingly didn't notice her trepidation. 'That was a bad winter, the Fell Winter they called it, and the Brandywine froze solid. It was our only barrier to the wild lands of the North and the Wolves just ran right over the ice into the Shire, happy as you please.' Her cup was empty. Diamond didn't remember drinking it. Her mouth was so dry...Pippin smiled and filled it again.

'Strange wolves. Smart. Huge. But noble, somehow. Not like Wargs that the Orcs ride on, nor like the shadow-wolves of the Dark Lands, not at all. These Wolves!well!' Pippin picked up a finger-cake and bit it in half with his sharp teeth. He held up the other half. 'Open your mouth.' Caught by surprise, Diamond did and Pippin popped the sweet cake past her lips with a smile. She blushed and chewed. 'They were decent. These wolves weren't out to hurt us. They were after our livestock. They were hungry, everyone was, that awful year. Cousin Bilbo Baggins!Mad Baggins? Of the Dragon?'

'Yes, I've heard of him.' Diamond congratulated herself on her steady voice and she set her cup down.

'He was my age, just a tweenager, twenty-one years old, and remembers how hard it all was. He told us all about it!anyway, he was too young to go fight, and didn't want to anyway, but a small army of Brandybucks took up clubs and knives and whatever else they could find that was sharp and attacked the invaders. Some Hobbits died.' Pippin's eyes caught her own. 'Some were just bitten.' He put his cup down and held out his hands. Despite herself, her fear and overall good sense, Diamond took and held them in her own. He caressed her knuckles with his thumbs and her heart began to truly beat for the first time in her young life. 'The thaw came and the White Wolves went away, back up North. And that's how the Wolf Strain came about, from the folks that were bit, and it's been in the Shire ever since. You aren't born into it, you've got to be unlucky enough to get chomped...and it's been spreading very slowly into the other families, especially into the Tooks, the Bolgers, the Cottons and now, finally, the Bagginses.' Pippin had moved so closely to her that she could feel his breath on her lips. She was surprised, she didn't remember him moving!

'It was a Baggins that jumped out at you the other night!I won't tell you which Baggins!but he didn't mean any harm!he just wanted to play, I think. He doesn't get out much.' Diamond nodded. 'Diamond, we're wolves but we're decent. Like the White Wolves were. Ask Gandalf, he's helped us enormously, and he's a wizard so he knows what's bad and what's not!ask him!'

Diamond nodded again. 'I'll ask and!I won't tell, I promise!'

'You can tell but no one will believe you.' Pippin laughed and Diamond relaxed enough to smile.

'Did you know that Wolves mate for life?'

Her eyes flew open in shock. 'Ah! Er!no, I didn't!' Pippins mouth covered hers and suddenly Diamond knew nothing whatsoever!her mind was a complete blissful blank and she groaned with pleasure.

Pippin broke away from her lips and nuzzled past her cheek and the soft skin of her jaw until his voice was a muffled growl against her neck. 'Well, now you know!'

Meli

When Pippin least wants company, it is almost assured to seek him out. His cousin's voice is the very worst sound he can imagine at the moment, the more so because he knows he's wrong. Frodo stands behind him, arms crossed and blue eyes angry. "Pippin, what did we agree about the Men?"

Boromir lay behind Pippin, his trousers undone and tugged aside to allow access to his thigh. Blood scent is heavy on the air, and Sam, flanking Frodo, licks his lips. Frodo rolls his eyes and nods to Merry and Sam, who move over to Boromir's insensible body. Pippin crosses his arms as well and attempts to match Frodo's stare. "But there's so much blood. And I was hungry."

"If we eat our companions, who will help us if the wraiths appear again?"

Pippin feels his face slipping into a pout. "Don't see how that's fair. Gimli gets to feed from Legolas whenever he wants. He told me Elf blood is fizzy."

Frodo squeezes the bridge of his nose and sighs. "Boromir is not an Elf."

"Oh, I know. His blood isn't fizzy at all."

"That isn't the point, Pippin!"

Merry wipes his mouth as he stands up and slings an arm around Pippin's shoulders. "Come on, Frodo. Pippin's younger than we are. He gets hungry sooner. And it's not like we've taken enough to hurt him." Sam stands as well, and Pippin glances back at the Man. Two glistening bites on his inner thighs, but they're starting to clot and close. Soon there won't be an evidence of his mistake.

Frodo sighs again. "Very well, but not again. Not for a while. Or you might kill him." Boromir stirs a little, and the Hobbits exchange glances.

"We should go, right? Leave it to Pippin to explain." Sam claps him on the shoulder and starts back toward camp. Frodo frowns again, then follows. Merry licks a bit of blood from the corner of Pippin's mouth, then turns him to face Boromir again.

"We've got ourselves a half-naked Man in the middle of the woods. What should we do with him?"

Pippin grins, and moves forward. "Whatever we want, I suppose."

Mary

Sam tries to push Frodo off again and succeeds this time, half to his own disappointment. Frodo makes a whimpering noise of objection, nudging his nose against the line of Sam's jaw and licking at the small graze at the join of neck and shoulder.

"Mr Frodo, me dear, if you take any more I won't be able to rouse myself out of bed before lunch time, and there's those daffies that need potting in the morning."

"Bugger the daffies," Frodo offers as a solution, pushing Sam down into the softness of the bed. "You taste like the sun, Sam."

"Didn't know that the sun had a taste," Sam manages to say before Frodo's mouth seals around the cut again and it's difficult to think of anything but that careful, stinging touch.

Frodo doesn't answer, cold fingers kneading at Sam's hot damp skin restlessly, spine arching in rhythm with the strong pulse that passes from one set of veins to another as Frodo drinks.

"Mr Frodo, sir, I really must... oh, sir, do that again, please..." Sam murmurs, hands scrabbling against the clean angles of Frodo's hipbones.

Frodo smiles against Sam's skin, glad to finally have a request he's happy to oblige.

Meli

Meli's late, and Dinny paces in the hall and frets. A dream had woken her, and troubled, she slipped from Pippin's arms and went to check on her children. Faramir lay lost in his own dreams, but Meli's bed was cold.

As much as her girl loves mischief, Meli always comes home.

The sun has started to light up the east when Dinny finally hears the thump that means Meli has just slipped back in her window. Frantic with worry, anger and joy, she hurries to the room and stops, heart in her throat.

Meli freezes in the act of placing her dress on her chair, her curls tangled with leaves. Her neck is a mass of bruises, and her skin paler even than the time she powdered it. Dinny has one hand against her mouth to hold in a scream and the other reaches for Meli.

Pale and fey, Meli shies back, stepping into the reach of the window. She hisses and darts forward, slipping past Dinny without a sound. Dinny sinks to the floor, tears falling unchecked down her cheeks.

Meli returns with a thick blanket and covers the window, then lights a candle. The bruises are already fading, and Dinny can feel a sob in her throat. She swallows hard.

"Who?" Dinny whispers.

Her smile is sad and sharp. "How could I let my Molly-lark go into the dark alone?" she replies, and candle light makes the sharp teeth glint ferally.

Meli

"Meli and Molly aren't... well, they aren't as they used to be."

Daisy nods, listens to her mother's awkward words with a sympathetic ear.

"And I don't know that I like the thought of you and Sam being close as you were with the pair, now that things are changed. Now that they're changed."

Daisy sighs.

"Mum, I think you put more garlic in the chicken tonight than there actually was chicken to begin with. Stop being a superstitious - " softening her words, Daisy gives her mother a smile. "They're still our friends, and they're still Molly and Meli, and neither Sammie nor I are frightened of them. And don't give me that 'you don't understand' look, either. We understand well enough, we've grown up with Uncle haven't we? Sometimes people end up with a rot inside them, but that doesn't change the person they are the rest of the time."

Rosie rubs the bridge of her nose and sighs. "We'll talk more in the morning, all right? I know you love your playmates, duck, but I just want to keep you safe. Poor Diamond's half mad with worry for what's to become of her Meli now."

"And you want us to leave them at a time like this?" Daisy's surprised, for usually her mother is all for sticking close to dear ones in rough times.

"No, not really..." Rosie looks out the window at the darkness of the garden. "I just wish your brother Pip was home."

Meli

It's taken them most of the night, but finally Meli catches a scent. She puts a hand out to stop Molly, and points the way of the trail. Molly squeezes her fingers and takes the lead.

Meli jumps nimbly out of the way as Pippin comes barrelling out at them, taking Molly down beneath him. She grabs at his wrists, holding on to him with every bit of her strength. He hisses and fights her, but he hasn't fed, while she is full and rosy with her meal. Eventually he sags in her grasp, and Molly wraps her arms around him.

"Pippin, love, we don't mind." Some of the madness leaves Pippin's eyes, and he turns to Meli, who relases him and joins their embrace.

"We love you, Peregrin Gardner," Meli says, her fingers pressing his face to her neck. "We'd never want you to be alone."

Pippin sobs against her throat, and bites down. Meli clings to him and Molly as her head spins and she swoons.

Mary

One night Frodo comes back from his walk looking pale and worried. He likes living with the Cottons, thought he does look forward to the day when Bag End is ready to live in again. Every day, his year away seems more and more like something he read about in a story, something not quite real. Right now, though, he's not sure that anything is real at all.

"Mr Frodo? What's the matter?" asks Rose, the only girl-child of the Cotton family, and not really a child at all. Frodo likes her, likes her no-nonsense sense of humour, and right now he's absurdly grateful for her down-to-earth presence.

"I... I saw my cousin Lotho, when I was out on my walk," he whispers. "At first I thought it was a mistake, and then I was glad. We'd been told he was dead, you see. Eaten by Wormtongue. But then he came closer, and..." His wan face pales even further. "The smell. He was covered in the dirt of the grave, Rose, and he was cold as death."

Frodo tilts his head to one side, and Rose gasps at the site of the livid puncture wounds.

"Oh, sir, let me fetch some hot water."

"No, no, I'm all right." Frodo's voice is suddenly dreamy, drowsy. "I... I think I would like a bite of supper, though. Perhaps there's some of that cherry pie left?"

"Yes, of course, I'll get you some."

Rose brings the food back in quickly as she can, a slice of the pie and a cup of strong red wine. She's terribly worried about Frodo's colour, which seems to have paled even further in the few minutes she was away.

He takes a tenative bite of the pie and screws his face up as if the taste was foul, taking a quick sip from his cup but finding no better refreshment there. As he moves to put the glass back on the tabletop, an arc of the liquid spills onto his sleeve. Rose moves to blot at it before it can stain, and Frodo draws in a quick breath of shock or surprise as her fingers touch his skin. She looks at his face, at the pupils dialated wide in his kindly eyes, and holds in her scream when his lips touch her throat.

Meli

It's late, later than Rosie's ever been out before, and for the first time ever, she's afraid. Nick and Sam had run off ever so long ago, leaving her with only the moon for company. Trudging determinedly, she wended her way home.

A growl from the bushes was all the warning she had, and she threw up her arm as the black creature leapt out at her. Pain, terrible pain is her forearm, and Rosie screamed shrilly.

A yelp, and the heavy weight was gone. Rosie sat in the road for a long while until the chills shook her so hard her teeth rattled. Her arm was on fire, and dazedly, Rosie struggled to her feet and home.

Not even the scolding she received truly bothered her, and her mother's worry over the bite was reassuring. She bound it tightly and sent Rosie to bed, where she tossed and turned, visions of running under the moon haunting her dreams.

The next morning, her arm didn't feel as bad, and she snuck out of the window to go up to Bag End for her lesson. Mr. Frodo started when he saw her wrapped arm. "Why Rose-lass, what happened to your arm?"

Rosie touched the wrap and grimaced. "I got bitten last night."

Frodo's face went white. "Bit-bitten?"

She nodded, and Frodo wiped his forehead, closing his eyes tight. "Rose, lass. We need to talk."

Slipstream

'Uncle Fo! Uncle Fo!' Sam-lad burst into study, blood-colored tears streaming down pale cheeks. Frodo barely had the chance to look up in surprise and alarm before he was bowled over by the sobbing mass of hobbit child.

'There there!' he comforted, patting the dark-curled head with a four fingered hand. 'Whatever is the matter?'

Sammie withdrew from his uncle's embrace long enough to point a shaking finger at his mouth, where the left top eye-tooth had gone noticeably missing.

Frodo's brow furrowed in sympathy. 'Oh dear, that will make things awkward.'

Fresh tears threatened to spill from the young hobbit's eyes and he wiped roughly at red-stained cheeks. 'Oh Uncle Frodo, what'll I do now? I didn't mean to loose it, honest! I just bit into one of new pears just coming in and it fell out! Now Daisy and Eli and Frodo and Merry will all laugh at me!'

Frodo laughed softly. 'Come now, it won't be that bad! All your brothers and sisters had to loose their biting teeth too, you know.'

Sammie sniffled. 'Even Meli and Molly?'

He nodded. 'The whole lot. And they all thought it was the end of the world, just like you did, that someone would have to help them bite into their food for a few moons. Yes, it's a little strange at first, but then the new teeth grown in longer and sharper, ever so much better for biting. See?' He pulled back his lip to display long, pointy eyeteeth, prodding a little at the gums to make them unsheathe to their full length.

Sam-lad's eyes rounded with wonder. 'Will *my* teeth grow back to be like that?'

His uncle chuckled. 'Of course they will, and then you'll be able to hunt bigger and tastier game. But until then I'll help you slit your meals' throats.'

Sammie smiled, the effect a little lop-sided because of the missing tooth and the sharpened canines emerged at the mention of food, but still carrying his usual bright sparkle and charm, the tears chased away. 'I'd like that, Fo.'

Meli

Gossip around the Shire talked of odd things happening at Bag End. The children were never seen during the day anymore, and there were those who whispered of horrible fates that had befallen them.

All fourteen children are at the birthday party of Frodo Baggins, however, so the gossips are foreced to admit that the children are indeed alive and well. Mistress Rose looks pale in the firelight, and rumors circulate of another child on the way.

Elanor patted her mother's shoulder and helped her sit. "Alright, mum?"

Rosie smiled thinly, carefully not to show her teeth too much. "I will be, love. You all were."

Singe

Aster Bolger's youngest daughter looked across the dinner table at her mother imploringly. "Please, Mum? Mister Gardner said he wouldn't let any of us drown. And I really should learn to swim. And he told me to tell you..." Aster pressed the palm of her hand against the side of her neck as she always did when she was nervous.

Her husband, Rollo Bolger, chuckled as he dug into his baked potatoes. "I don't think so, Missy. Your mother has steered clear of the Gardners ever since young Samwise Gardner speared her in the neck with a stick when they were playing Kill the Dragon or somesuch." He salted his food with relish. "It was the end of a beautiful friendship."

"Oh, Mum, Mister Gardner is sorry. He said so. And that was a long time ago wasn't it?" Missy Bolger's eyes were still wide and pleading. "Years and years!"

A sharp stick. Yes, that was the explanation her big sister was given by Rose Gardner to explain the blood and the bandage..."What's the matter with you, Aster?" Floria asked. "Do you think Sammie meant to stick you?"

"Floria, I...I don't think he could help himself...he cried and his tears were..."

"Well, then, no harm done. You two will be tearing about as always before long so you might as well forgive him now."

"NO! Oh, no. I am never playing with Sammie Gardner again. Never again...."

"Mum? Can I go?" Aster wrung her napkin. Rollo looked at her with amusement. "Oh, and Mister Gardner told me to tell you, 'specially, to trust him and he was sorry and no harm shall befell me."

"Befall." her father corrected.

"No harm shall befall me and to trust him." Missy nodded. "And he was sorry." She ticked off the important points on her fingers. "Please? Everyone else is going. And it was years ago!"

Aster's hand went to her neck again. She forced it down. "Yes, it was years ago but...oh, Missy." Rollo was beginning to imitate his daughter's pleading eyes. He whined. He sniffled. Missy sniffled. She whined. Aster knew they'd begin to howl like puppies next and sighed. There was no pain, none at all, but there was blood everywhere, all down her dress, on Sammie's mouth and he was pleading Aster I'm sorry I'll never do it again I'm sorry I'm so sorry...

"Tell Sammie...tell Mister Gardner that it will be the end of him if anything happens to you. And I mean that." Missy clapped her hands and cheered. Her father reached across the table and shook her hand to congratulate her. Aster smiled at them even while she went back to twisting her napkin. Missy enthusiastically turned to her again.

"And you forgive him? Everything is all right?"

"Everything is not all right, at all, and I do not forgive him."

"Aw, Mum..."

Aster speared a carrot with her fork. "It was a very sharp stick, Missy..."

Meli

When Meli and Molly lead Pippin back into Bag End, Rosie is torn. Joyful that he son has returned, and yet fearful of what he has done. The way the girls touch him, hold him up gives her heart, and the fresh marks on Meli's neck tell the rest of the story.

Outside the sun rises, and she hustles the three into Pippin's room, safeguarded against the deadly light. They curl into each other, Pippin safely in the middle and Rosie smiles.

She shuts the door quietly and leans against it, choking back a sob. Bad enough her Pippin, but Dinny's bright Sparrow and Stel's shining Lark lost to the night as well. Rosie wipes away her tears and moves into the kitchen, fixing breakfast for her family.

It will be all right. None of them are alone, and the dark is not so strong in the face of unified light.

Mary

One of Rosie's favourite stories, one of the few from The Journey that she liked at all, was the story of the River-daughter and Tom-in-the-wood. The idea of a home so safe, a life so charmed, was the best of all the sorts of tales that could be told. Rosie liked the way Frodo's eyes would catch the light as he spoke of the beauty of Goldberry, the joy of simplicity and comfort.

Rosie had done everything in her power to make Bag End as safe and as alluring a home as that cottage in the woods. Smials were too solid and sensible for fairy-tales, really, but they'd do in a pinch. Rosie was skilled at improvising.

So when her sleep was disturbed one night by a frantic banging on the window, she threw open the shutters and pulled her shawl in close around her shoulders against the wind. Frodo and Sam shifted irritably in bed at the sudden drop in temperature but didn't wake, thank goodness.

"We were playing down where the old mill used to stand," Rose-lass told her mother through chattering teeth. "The others are still down there."

Rosie paused on her way towards the front door, stopping to pluck one of the long-coveted silver teaspoons from the draining board in the kitchen before joining Rose-lass outside.

"What on earth were you doing out at this hour, anyway?" she snapped, worried, hurrying down the hill to Bywater. Rose-lass bit back a sob.

"It was a treasure hunt, we'd buried some mathoms in the soft mud last week and we were going to dig them up."

"You're twelve, girl, surely you've more sense in your head than that. Who else was with you?"

"Elly and Fro and Merry and Pip... they told me they play this every year at this time, and I was finally old enough." The girl gulped unhappily.

"Are they all right?"

"I don't know! I couldn't find them, my candle went out, and there was howling, Mum. I fell over and knocked my head and scratched my elbow, and then I got so frightened I ran home."

Rosie stopped mid-stride. "Are you all right?"

"What? Yes, I'm fine, I just got a bit stunned from the fall."

"Let me see your elbow, then."

Puzzled, Rose-lass held her arm out, her brown play-dress damp with dew. The fabric of her sleeve was torn, revealing bloodied skin. To the eye of a child, it did indeed look like a nasty fall, perhaps onto a sharp stick.

Rosie drew out the little silver spoon and pressed it to the wound. Rose-lass recoiled with a hiss of pain, drawing her arm back sharply.

"Ouch! That was hot!"

Rosie closed her eyes, breathed in deeply, and seemed to reach within herself for some peace or strength.

"Your brothers and sisters are all right, Rose, don't worry about them anymore. There's never been more than one attack in a night, not in all the years folk round these parts remember. Now you go back up home while I dig them out of whatever hiding spot they've found, and wake your Sam-dad and Uncle Frodo. In the morning, you're going to have a talk with your Uncle Nick."

Meli

People whispered. They always whispered, shied away from Rosie when she went out, hissed at her behind her back. Elanor couldn't understand why when she was young.

Later, after her moon flow had started and Elanor stayed up long nights sewing with Rosie, she learned the truth. A late knock on the door revealed a woman who had spat as Rosie's feet only the day before. They spoke in hushed voices Elly couldn't quite hear, and Rosie gave the woman a flask. Coins fell to the floor and the door banged softly shut.

Rosie knelt and gathered up the coins, handing them to Sam who had come in unheard. Confused, Elly looked from one to the other.

Sam kissed Rosie's forehead. "You needn't help them."

The smile on Rosie's face cut into Elly's heart. "You can't deny the power of the blood, Sam. If I tried, I'd be worse than Frodo."

"They hate you," Elly couldn't help but say.

Rosie shook her head sadly. "They fear what they don't understand, my lass. And fear is almost as painful as hate."

Mary

"I hear you've been teaching some of the younger ones from hereabouts how to read and write," Sam said to the lad named for him, pulling the bucket-rope up out of the well as he did so. Sammie had decided to make a small pond for frogs and tadpoles but, at barely seven, did not have the strength to carry the bucket. It seemed unlikely he'd ever be as hardy as his brothers, Sam though privately, but there was no telling what tomorrows brought so there was no point in fretting neither.

"Yes." Sammie nodded, the word limping a little under the hiss of a lisp. He'd lost a lower front tooth to an apple several days before, delighted to find a penny under his pillow as an unexplained result.

"You're very young to be playing guide to smaller folk," Sam pointed out, smiling. It was difficult for him to stop smiling around Sammie - around any of his little ones, but Sammie was so miraculous and unexpected that the feeling was doubled.

"Young is as young does," Sammie shot back, using one of his Sam-dad's own sayings against him.

"All right, then. If you feel you're ready to be teaching, then I hope the class learns proper like."

"Sam-dad..."

"What is it, lad?" Sam put the bucket aside and crouched beside the small boy. "What's the matter?"

"Everyone is always talking about me, I hear them when they think I'm not listening. I... I don't think I can be what they all think I can. I'm not special, and I'm not well-behaved... I try to be good, Dad, I really do, but there are so many exciting things that aren't allowed and I don't know why they're not allowed so it just doesn't seem to make sense not to do them -"

"Sammie, Sammie, hush." Sam enveloped him in a hug, stroking Sammie's thatch of dark hair. "Other folk's disappointment is no concern of yours. Your Mum and your Dad and your Uncle love you for who you are, which is Sammie Gardner. No more, no less. If we all spent our time trying to be as big and bold as stories ask us to be, there'd never get any cooking or weeding done, if you follow me."

"Are you sure?" Sammie sniffed against his father's weskit.

"Yes. Now help me with this bucket, and we'll go make your pond."

Meli

"But why?" Viscountess Rose Cotton stamped her foot and glared at the handsome young singer before her. "Why won't you say yes and come with me?"

Sam sighed sadly and turned away. "He'd never let me go, Rosie. And he knows so much, he's taught me more than I could ever imagine."

Rose turned him back to her and brushed aside his hair. "And for that, you'll stay your life forever here? With his dictating your every move, and threatening you if you refuse?"

"He loves me."

Rosie gasped and flinched back as if struck. "He doesn't!"

"I do." The voice was quiet and commanding. "I love him, Viscountess. Would you force me to give up the one thing the world has granted me?"

A mask covered his face, and Rose wished it away desperately, wanting to the see the eyes of her rival. "You aren't the only one who loves him."

Sam turned from one to the other, torn. "I don't see why it has to be so hard," he said, mostly to himself.

The Phantom glided forward and rested one white gloved hand upon Sam's shoulder. "It's the easiest thing in the world. Stay with me, Sam. And you as well, Viscountess."

"With you?" Again Rose was taken aback. "We don't even know your name."

He lifted both hands and undid the ties to the mask, drawing it away. Blue eyes and dark hair, and a scar that marred the purity of his face. "My name is Frodo," he said, and for the first time ever, he sounded nervous.

Mary

Fredegar Bolger was the youngest dancer in the company. The young noblemen who can to the opera called the ballet corps the 'petite rats', but none of the dancers really cared. It was better than being a whore or a factory worker, after all.

Lobelia was the prima-donna, and nobody ever fitted that title quite like she did.

The company was hard-working and reknowned, drawing in audiences from all the Shire. It was owned by two young businessmen with no music in their souls whatsoever, Mr Peregrin and Mr Meriadoc, but what they lacked in art they made up for in savvy, and the opera house thrived.

There were stories, of course. About a ghost haunting the shadows behind the stage, strange goings-on that none could explain. Whenever Fredegar mentioned these, though, his friend Sam would laugh and shake his head.

"Don't be daft, Fatty. There's no such thing."

Meli

Sam was getting frustrated. Everywhere he went, Rosie was there, following him constantly. Finally unable to take it, he screamed to the sky, "I wish the goblins would come and take you away, right now!"

Thick clouds covered the sun, and a flash of lightning split the sky, blinding Sam. When his eyes cleared, he was amazed to see a handsome hobbit in pale tight breeches and a flowing white shirt. He held a globe of glass in one hand, and there were feathers in his dark hair.

Rosie was nowhere to be seen.

Mary

When Rosie Cotton was eleven, her parents died of cholera and she was sent to stay with Bilbo Baggins, who lived on the moors in a large drafty smial with lots of rooms. Having very little to do, she took to playing in the sprawling gardens of the estate, where one day she met a boy playing a small wooden flute. His name was Sam, and he talked with an amusingly rustic accent.

Bilbo Baggins, it should be noted, was a bitter old hunchback who had long ago ordered one of the gardens to be locked off, because his beloved Lobelia had adored it and then died and left him alone. But Rosie was a curious child, and wanted to find the key to this secret garden.

Luckily enough, Sam owned a metal detector and they were soon in business.

Then, one night, when Rosie was lying in bed - exhausted from a day of digging and planting with Sam, nudge nudge wink wink - and heard someone whining. She followed the sound until she found a small, sickly, grouchy hobbit in one of the many big dark rooms of the big dark smial.

"My name's Frodo," he said. "Are you a ghost?"

Meli

Rose Cotton straightened her long skirt and stepped boldly off the stagecoach. She had come to Sleepy Hollow to solve the mystery, and solve the mystery she would. It would show them all.

She walked on through the grey town, noticing the windows closed before her, and the children swept inside. Step by step she made her way to the large house on the hill.

As she waited for an answer to her knock, a moan came to her ears. In the dim twilight she could just make out two figures locked in a passionate embrace. Rosie averted her gaze and breathed a silent sigh of relief when the doors opened. She picked up her bags and entered the light and heat.

A group of young people moved in a circle at one end of the room. As she moved through them, she heard the blindfolded young man in the middle chanting. It was something of a shock to find herself grabbed. "Is it Lila?" he asked, tracing her face with his fingers.

"Your pardon, sir," she murmured. "I am a stranger here."

Still blindfolded, the man smiled. "Then have a kiss on account," he replied, and kissed her cheek. As he drew back, another man caught her eye. Dark hair and blue eyes would have been stunning if he hadn't been so angry.

Her kisser removed the blindfold and blinked. Rose decided to ask away. "I'm looking for Hamfast Gamgee."

"I'm his son, Samwise Gamgee."

"And you, stranger? We have not heard you name yet."

Rosie sniffed and looked away. "I have not said it."

The dark-haired man moved forward angrily. "You need a lesson in manners, girl."

"Come, come, we'll have no raised voices" said a new voice, and the man of the house himself entered. "It is only to raise spirits that my wife and I have opened our home this evening."

Rosie pulled out her letter of commission and handed it to him, introducing herself as she did so. "I'm Rose Cotton, sent from Tookland to investigate the murders."

All color drained from Hamfast's face. "Yes, well, you'd better come along then."

Mary

They'd find a new flatmate eventually. There wasn't a pressing deadline on the task, after all, and the interview process was worth its weight in unpaid rent.

"When is the last time someone said these exact words to you: You are the sunshine of my life?" Frodo asked.

"Do you have a problem with the conducting of Satanic practises within apartment premises on a weekly basis?" Rosie queried politely.

"You're aware, of course, of our all-nude policy?" Sam's voice was conversational.

Oddly enough, few applicants bothered to make a follow-up phonecall.

Meli

When the Ring passed to Meli Took, Gandalf urged her to take it from the Shire to the Elves. Accompanying her on her quest was her faithful gardener maidservant Molly Brandybuck, and her young cousins Daisy Gamgee and Sammie Baggins. After many misadventures, the four Hobbits arrived in Rivendell. Meli had been wounded on the journey, but the Ring was still safe.

A council was held to determine to fate of Middle Earth. Meli volunteered to take the Ring to Mount Doom and destroy it. Gandalf agreed to go with her, as did Arwen Evenstar of the Elves, Faramir of Gondor, and Gimli the dwarf. Halberad of the Dunedain, her guide and guardian offered his sword. Not to be outdone, her Hobbit companions declared they were going as well.

They were a Fellowship of Nine, with a sacred quest, and a mission that would take them farther than they ever could have imagined.

Slipstream

Rose blinked out from the rather large arm chair to which she had been led, observing with some humor as Mad Baggins and Sam Hare sat bickering over who had got watch gears in the butter while the Doorgollum slumbered ever on between them, murmuring happily into his toast.

'Why do you have so many tea things set out if it's just the three of you?'

Mad Baggins quit banging his pocket watch against the table. 'Well, as you can see it's rather crowded here already, and we have to have enough incase Unexpected Guests were to arrive at my unbirthday party.'

'Why, I've never heard of an unbirthday party!' she exclaimed.

'Birthdaysss, my love!' grumbled the Doorgollum and Mad Baggins unapologetically pushed his face further into the jam.

Sam Hare offered her a bit of plate served on a slice of marmalade roll. Baggins removed a large golden ring from his pocket, dunked it into his tea and bit into it, starting to nibble on the teacup once he was finished.

'Why of course you have! You've only got one birthday, after all, and what a nuisance it is to give away all those things! You need 364 unbirthdays to get them all back before you give them out again!'

'That's preposterous!' she exclaimed. 'The most ridiculous thing I've ever heard! Why would you want back the things you had just got rid of?'

Mad Baggins only sniffed at her and replied, 'Why is a raven like a writing desk?'

The Doorgollum twitched. 'We don't likesss riddleses, do we presciousss? Nasssty nasssty gameses!' Sam Hare ceased to pretend to be civil to him and attempted to stuff him into a teapot, and when that didn't work he settled on using him as a cushion instead.

'What an odd tea party,' Rose thought to herself, and continued to munch happily on her marmalade roll, watching the over large hat slide slowly over Mad Baggins's dark curls.

Meli

It was completely by accident that Meli found herself in another world. Hiding from Sammie, she'd nipped into a large wardrobe, and fearing to be caught, she pressed back, hoping to hide behind the coats. Instead, she'd fallen backwards and landed in the snow in a world very different than her own.

Thus began their adventures in Narnia.

Mary

There once was a hobbit from Bywater
Who had several sons and a daughter
She'd two beaus, was the rumour
which was a cause for good humour
And for two times the dowry they bought her.

Mary

Once upon a time there was a town plagued with rats. They were horrible rats, smelly and dank and foul creatures that crept about in the dark and nipped at children with their sharp teeth. And the people of the town were in a fix, for they didn't know what on earth they could do to fight this terrible affliction that had befallen them.

Then, one day much like all the others, a man came to the town carrying a wooden flute, and said 'I will lead all the rats away from your city and to a far-off country, if you will give me the best and fairest children as a reward, to take home to my white palace across the waves'.

And the people didn't want to give their children up, of course, but the rats were horrific creatures and eventually they cried 'yes, yes, all right, you may take our best and fairest children as a reward, to take home to your white palace across the waves'.

So the man with the flute began to play a tune, and led the rats away into the dark, and the town was never troubled again. And the people cheered, although they were sad at heart, for they knew they would soon lose their beloved children.

The man with the flute came back and began to play another song, and this song was happy and sad and tears and laughter all at once on every note, and the best and fairest children followed him down to the shores of the sea with laughter on their voices. And there they climbed aboard tall white ships, and waves goodbye to their friends and families.

But there was one lad who paused on the dock, and turned to look at the boy and the girl he loved. And then he faced the man with the flute and said 'I am not best, nor fairest, though some think me so. I am simply myself, and wish to be an ordinary lad in an ordinary world, for I believe that to be better and fairer than a white palace across the waves'.

'But you shall have beautiful clothes, and beautiful music, and beautiful companions, if you come to the white palace' the man with the flute said. And the lad said 'Yes, I know, thankyou very much for the offer, sir, I'm much obliged, but I think I like worn clothes with ink-stains and the wails of a baby with colic and the dear homely faces of the boy and girl I love much better than I should love the beautiful things in the white palace'.

And the man smiled, and nodded, and the lad ran back to the boy and girl he loved, and lived an ordinary life until the end of his days, in a town entirely free of rats.

Meli

It was a dark and stormy night-

"You aren't actually using that?" Rosie stared very hard at Frodo. "Because it's not true. It wasn't stormy, or I wouldn't have been out. I'm not foolish." The 'like you' bit of her sentence was not spoken, but it was implied.

Frodo sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "But it's a good start to a horrow story."

Rose crossed her arms. "I am not a horror story, Mr Frodo. It wasn't storming, and it wasn't all that dark, what with the big bright moon and all."

Throwing his hands up in defeat, Frodo crossed out the first setence and began again.

The full moon hung heavy and low in the sky.

"That's better," Rose said, and kissed his temple before leaving him to work.

Nunki

"Sparkles!"
"No, darling, don't run, I need your help..." It was too late, and Bell's mother sighed as her small daughter ran out the door, chasing at full speed the cart which had just rolled by. *Gandalf and his magic. Ah well, I was a child once... and I remember fully how the showers of colours enchanted me.* She closed her eyes, the memory of a particularly brilliant blue, green, and purple starburst coming unwarned into her mind. Blinking, she acted - tossing the dishcloth onto the table, she also ran down the lane, following her daughter and the streams of hobbit children in a mad-happy run after the fireworks cart...

Meli

Thump, thump, thump went the apples, right on Sammie's head. Biting his lip to keep from crying, he rubbed his head and glared balefully at the fallen fruit. "I'll never learn to juggle."

Frodo squeezed his shoulder and picked up one of the apples. "The way I learned it, you use scarves first. They fall more slowly, so you get used to catching them." He shined the apple on his shirt and inspected it.

"Really?" Sammie asked, eyes shining.

Frodo nodded and took a bite of the apple. "Really. You should ask your mum for help."

Sammie nodded eagerly and ran off to find Rosie. Frodo finished the apple and looked down at the other two. "Besides, nobody will steal your scarves and eat them," he remearked to himself, and picked up the other apples.

Mary

One day in summer, when the heat was too heavy to play outside and the air too thick to do chores comfortably, Daisy and Sammie and Meli and Molly and Delphinium and Aster and Ruby, who refused to be left out of it, decided to make a tarot deck. Now, hobbit tarot decks are not quite like the ordinary sort, and feature cards whose meaning has been lost.

There was Desire, which Delphinium drew with careful charcoal lines. Cruel, beautiful, everything that the heart has ever wanted. It was Frodo, standing on the edge of a bright crack in a dark mountain, a gold ring held in one thin hand.

There was Destiny, fate that will eventually come and cannot be avoided (except, perhaps, that it can, really). Sammie took charge of that one, sketching the sad eyes of a Lorien queen who had sailed west years before his birth.

There was Dream, all things that the heart creates and strives for. Ruby drew her mother, telling a fairy story to the assembled little ones grouped around her chair.

There was Death, which means change and growth and life as much as it means endings. Meli drew that, for Meli had always loved to paint the dark curls of Queen Arwen's hair, the proud line of King Elessar's jaw.

There was Despair, and Aster insisted on taking care of that one. What she drew was simple enough, Sam watching the shore of the ocean. But all the things that this meant, the thought of a world without Frodo and dear Sammie, was enough to send a shiver of deepest Despair through all the children's hearts.

There was Destruction, Molly picked up her coloured pencils with a giggle and drew a very neat and realistic image of several extremely muddy hobbits with very large smiles.

And lastly, there was Delirium, the card Daisy spent the lazy afternoon absorbed in the creation of. Delirium could be a happy card or a sad card, halfway between dreams and despair, and Daisy wanted to make sure she got it right. Uncle Frodo felt the touch of Delirium on his bad days, but so did the children at their most creative and boisterous. The picture had to capture both these things, the duality of the emotion.

Then it started to rain, as it usually does after hot and heavy days, and the children galloped outside to frolic in the raindrops. Daisy shrugged, picked up a brown crayon and scribbled out a quick sketch of a clump of pipeleaf, and ran out to join the others. Perhaps it was better not to try and capture Delirium on card after all, since it was more fun to find it for oneself.

Meli

Sam Slade stood at the edge of a clearing, staring at a stage he had recently occupied himself. His wife Rosie stood as his side, but he had eyes only for the half-naked dark-haired man writhing on stage.

He'd been called Frodo Wild, and he was the most beautiful thing Sam had ever seen. He decided at that moment there was nothing he wanted more than to meet the other man.

And many years later, after he had become quite famous, he did.

Mary

"You're nothing but a scruffy-looking... NERF HERDER!" Rosie spluttered, unable to find a curse strong enough to use, storming off down the corridor.

Sam paused momentarily. "Hey!" he shouted. "Who's scruffy-lookin'?!"

Rosie wouldn't have been in such a lousy mood with Sam (except that he really was utterly infuriating) if not for the fact she was still terribly worried about Frodo. He was healing well in the bacta tank, but being shoved inside a dead tauntaun wasn't exactly the best first-aid an injured person had ever enjoyed. Only time would tell how healed he'd be, really. Thank goodness Sam had found him.. thank goodness they'd both come back safely. If she lost either of them...

Rosie shook her head. She wasn't going to start thinking about that, it was too confusing, and they had bigger problems right now. The rebel base's location had been discovered by the empire.

Meli

All his life, Sam had been told of the beautiful Princess sleeping in the tower. When he was old enough, the task of minding the roses on the Thorn Wall fell to him, and Sam took his responsiblity very seriously.

Sometimes when he would prune a withered branch or pull a weed, he would imagine that the princess could see him in her dreams. Eventually, he began to talk softly to her as he went about his tasks. The wind would ruffle his hair like a hand, and twist through the thorns with a sound of delighted laughter.

One morning, Sam came to the wall of throns to find someone had been hacking away at them. Angry, he followed the crude path inward, determined to give the intruder a piece of his mind.

A defeaning roar came from overhead, and Sam gasped as an enormous head loomed far above his. The dragon took a deep breath, then blew a great burst of fire. The thorns before Sam withered and burned, and he hurried through them, hoping he would not be burnt as well.

There was another roar from the dragon, but this was more a cry of defeat and anger. Sam burst out of the burning bushes to see the dragon crumpled before the form of a knight clad in shining mail. It was mail unlike any Sam had seen in his books, decorative and light looking.

The Prince, for so he was, pulled hard on his sword, stuck fast in the dragon's breast. Sam rolled his eyes and moved over to help, shouldering the Prince out of the way and taking a different hold on the sword. The blade slid free with a rush of black blood, and Sam stepped quickly back, offering the sword back to its owner.

The Prince removed his helmet and accepted the sword, cleaning it carefully on a bit of grass and an old rag before sheathing it. "Thank you, my good man."

Sam crossed his arms and glared. "I'm not your good man. Who do you think you are, coming in here and hacking away at all my hard work?"

A blink, and the Prince looked very startled. "I beg your pardon?"

"The Wall." Sam gestured to it, wincing as he did so. The dragon's fire had done a lot of damage to the thorns.

"Oh." The Prince smoothed back his hair and shook his head. "I had to hack through it. How else would I be able to rescue the princess?"

It was Sam's turn to blink. "What?"

Picking up his helmet, the Prince motioned to the highest tower. "Sleeping Beauty. I have come to set her free."

He set off towards the main hall, and Sam trailed after him. "But you can't do that!"

"Why not?"

"Because-" Sam shut his mouth. How could he claim to have fallen in love with a woman he'd never even seen?

They found the staircase, winding up and up, and climbed it. The Prince was panting heavily by the time they reached the top, and even Sam had to admit to being winded. A plain wooden barred their path and a push at it cleared the last obstacle.

The room at the top of the tower was dusty and mostly unfurnished. Only a spinning wheel, the spindle sharp and wicked looking, and the bed where the Princess lay.

Sweeping over to her side, the Prince knelt and took her hand. "At last, you are free," he said, and kissed her.

Nothing happened.

The Prince blinked. Sam blinked. They exchanged glances, then looked again at the Princess, who lay as before.

She slept on, her breathing even and slow. Sam stepped forward and sank to his knees at her other side. He looked again at the Prince, who shrugged and nodded, then gently pressed his lips to the Princess's.

He drew back and found her eyes on him, blinking slowly. The Prince squeezed her hand joyfully, and she turned to look at him. "Who are my rescuers?"

Sam cleared his throat nervously. "I'm Sam, the gardner," he said.

The Prince kissed her hand. "Prince Frodo, at your service, my lady."

The Princess sat up and smiled at them both. "And I am Briar Rosie. Thank you for waking me."

Sam blushed. Prince Frodo blushed. Together they said, "It was our pleasure."

Mary

Frodo woke late, the ale he'd drunk at Bilbo's birthday the night before making his ears ring uncomfortably. There was a smell of hot buttered toast and freshly-cut flowers in the air, and the curtains on his bedroom window had been drawn open to let the sunlight in.

"Sam," he said, stumbling in and sitting down at the table. "How do you have any energy this morning? You had just as many half-pints as I did."

"Just my way, I suppose, sir," Sam said cheerfully, washing up some leftover crocks from the party with a song humming under his breath.

Frodo snorted. "I don't believe that for a minute. Now, what is it really that has put such a spring in your step?"

Sam blushed, mumbling something.

"What? Didn't catch that."

"Rosiegavemeakissgoodnight."

"Ah." Frodo smiled a knowing smile and sipped his tea. "I thought that might be it."

A loud knock on the front door fractured the morning calm. Frodo winced, putting a hand to his forehead.

"Remind me not to drink that much again, Sam. Or, if I've a mind to, remind me to ask Rosie for one of her miraculously curative kisses afterwards."

Meli

Rosie stirred and opened her eyes, feeling the warm sun on her skin. Grass tickled her back and she shifted away, moved closer to the other on the blanket. Arwen smiled drowsily and drew her close, running one hand gently down Rosie's face.

The moment broke when giggles in the underbrush came closer. Four young Hobbits tumbled out into the clearing and bounced to join them, offering hugs with little care for the women's nudity. Arwen, graceful as always, returned the hugs firmly, brushing soft kisses across Hobbit foreheads.

Rosie hugged the four as well, and pulled on her dress, thankful when Arwen's slim fingers came to help her lace it back up. "And what are your fathers doing?" Rosie asked, mock-sternly looking at them.

Meli giggled. "The same thing you two are." The other three nodded, and Rosie rolled her eyes, standing to help Arwen with her laces.

"Not exactly, Meli-lass."

Molly nudged her. "Yes. Mum and Aunt Dinny are the ones who do the same thing."

Arwen laughed. "Is nothing secret from you?" she asked them, and four heads shook.

"Nothing," Sammie affirmed. Daisy nodded.

"In a close family, with all of us children, we know everything."

Rosie finished tying Arwen's dress back up, and the Elf knelt before her to kiss her gently. There was silence until they drew away, then the four children burst into applause.

"Go on, then," Rosie shooed them, and they did, shrieking and laughing. Arwen took Rosie's hand, while they watched them play.

"You've taught them of love," she said softly.

Rosie smiled up at her. "What more can any parent teach their children?"

A heavy step behind them, and Aragorn, King of Gondor sat down next to his wife and wrapped an arm around her. "Tolerance, Mistress Rose. Tolerance and love."

Singe

"All right, Aster, that was very good." Delphinium's compliment was grim. Stupid Aster. Stupid, sweet, helpless, blue-eyed Aster. "Now go to the rock and back again and try not to splash so much this time."

"You're trying to drown me!" Aster complained and Del was surprised the little darling actually raised her voice.

"I can't drown you in water you can stand in." Both girls glared soggily at each other.

"Most Hobbits weren't meant for swimming. Sammie says it's all right if I can't do it. " Aster declared. Del's eyes narrowed and Aster stepped back. "Um, I mean...I'm tired...and...cold...and..."

"I'm not Sammie and it's not all right. Besides, the Brandybucks can do it. The Tooks can do it. All the Gardners are wonderful at it. Master Frodo swims like a fish and so does Sammie. And I'm as good as they are."

"Yes, but..."

"DON'T 'BUT' ME!!" Del shouted. Aster flinched. Del counted to ten. "If I can swim, you can swim. You can do everything I can do and you will." She decided to make a generous gesture and patted Aster stiffly on the arm. "Now, go to the rock and back here again and DON'T pull yourself along the bottom this time." Aster sighed, stooped and crawled back into the shallow water. "Think Water Nymph! You're a graceful, elegant Water Nymph!" As opposed to a cringing little milksop.

"Water Nymph!" Aster choked, dog-paddling earnestly towards her rock in the middle of the stream. "Water...kaff! Nymph!"

"Once you've mastered how to swim I'll teach you to climb trees!" Del called and smiled at Aster's splutter of protest. By all that was holy if Aster was going to be Sammie's choice then Del was going to make her worthy of it. Or kill her trying.

Meli

A crispness in the air was matched by the crisp taste of apples. Del bit into one gleefully, chewing her bite happily. Meli laughed and swung upside down from her branch. "Don't eat them all, or we'll get no pie," she scolded, and Del swallowed most of her bite, then stuck out her tongue.

"There's more apples here than even all of us could eat," Del declared, and Meli laughed again, righting herself and returning to pulling apples off the tree and setting them gently in her basket.

"Not when we make apple pie and apple butter and apple jelly and apple crumble and-" Meli broke off, seeing the ravenous look on Del's face. "Don't worry, Del, you'll get to have some of all it."

Del took another bite of her apple. "Really?" she asked around her mouthful.

Meli nodded. "They always make more than enough. And everyone gets a share." She grinned impishly and reached down to tweak Del's nose. "You might even get to help make them."

Slipstream

Frodo loved little Sammie, loved him with all his heart. How could he not? That soft pearl skin, dark downy curls, wide blue eyes, the gentle fluttering of his eyelashes while he slept! Samwise Gardner was a miracle that should have never and almost hadn't been born. Every tiny breath, every hesitant caress bestowed by his uncle, only sealed the deep, soul burning love Frodo felt for him.

'Ow!'

But!

'Rosie, he's pulling again!' Frodo walked into the kitchen, Sam-lad hoisted over one shoulder. His face was a grimace of pain as the babe discovered the joys of pulling at his slightly silver locks.

Rosie only flicked a glance his way and kept washing dishes. 'You've buttered your bread, Frodo Baggins. The least you can do is let him tug at your hair.'

'But he's! OUCH!' Sammie laughed at the stern look his uncle shot his way. Frodo shifted the four month old into the crook of one arm and used his free hand to disentangle chubby fingers from the tender hairs at the nape of his neck. He eyed Sammie crossly as the babe settled on shoving a handful of his curls in his mouth. 'Don't. Do. That!' But the order was half-hearted and softened with a kiss on the nose.

Rosie shook her hands dry and kissed Frodo similarly. 'Don't be such a grumpp, Frodo. This babe is entirely yours!' She drew his four fingered hand to her stomach and smiled as she deepened the kiss. '! but I promise you that this one will pull Sam's hair.'

Meli

Meli wandered through Bag End wearing an enormous gray hat that was almost as tall as she was. Frodo laughed and called after her. "Meli-lass? Where did you get that?"

She turned and pushed the hat up out of her eyes. "Elly made it for me. And she's finishing my robe. Have you seen Molly?"

Frodo privately thought that Gandlaf the Gray, wise as he had been, had never been nearly as charming as the young lass currentally dressed as him. "She was looking for a staff. For you?" Meli nodded and the hat slid down over her eyes again. Sighing heavily, she shoved it back up again. Frodo hid his smile. "She went that way," and gestured. Meli nodded gravely, the hat falling down again, and walked off in the indicated direction.

When he was sure she couldn't hear him, Frodo let himself laugh. Sam came to the door to check on him, concerned that he might injure himself. "Frodo?"

"Sam," Frodo gasped, "Have you seen Meli the Gray yet?"

Sam shook his head, and went to look. He returned a few minutes later and joined Frodo. "You haven't seen Molly of Gondor yet, or Daisy of Mirkwood and Sammie the Dwarf."

Just the image was enough to set Frodo off again, and the two laughed until their sides hurt. Rosie peeked into the room and clicked her tongue, then went back to the kitchen, a smile on her face at the sound of their mirth.

Molly

"Molly Brandybuck, you come back here right now or I'll ... I'll ... well, or you'll be sorry!" Hiking up her skirts more than was most likely proper, Meli ran after Molly, who was already far across the sunlit field, her laughter trailing behind her on the summer breeze.

Two curly heads popped up from behind a gooseberry bush as the pair of hobbit lasses raced past at top speed. Fair hair and dark shook in unison, the scene before them a familiar sight.

"What do you suppose Lark did now?" Sammy asked around a mouthful of ripe berries.

Daisy grinned, laughing as Molly dodged out of Meli's grasp, skipping back their way again. "Well, whatever it was, it must have been something good. Lookit how Sparrow is chasing her!"

Meli was indeed chasing Molly with her best effort, but everytime the Took lass would get close enough to grab hold of an apron string, Molly would change direction, giggling as she pranced over the grass. Sammy and Daisy stood from behind the bush, munching absently on gooseberries as they watched, matching amused expressions on their sticky faces.

Growing tired and frustrated, Meli sprung at Molly as she skipped passed. But Molly had seen the look in her younger cousin's eyes before she had jumped, and managed to get out of the way, falling back in the tall grass with a laugh.

Meli lay where she landed, face down and unmoving, and after a momnet of not seeing any change, Molly crawled over, concern creasing her sweaty brow.

"Sparrow?" Molly shook Meli's shoulder once, then harder when she didn't get a response. "Sparrow? Meli? Meli!" Sammy and Daisy ran over, hearing Molly's cry, and watched as Molly turned the other lass over, both of them holding their breaths.

Meli lay still for a moment, then leapt up, grabbing a very startled Molly, and pinning her to the ground with a triumphant laugh.

"Tup it all, Sparrow, that wasn't funny!" Molly pouted beneath her cousin, but the pout turned into a smile as Meil leaned over, giving Molly a sweet kiss on the mouth.

"Sparrow, what did Lark do anyway?" Sammy asked when Meli sat up again.

"I kissed her, Crow." Molly answered, smiling.

"Then why did she chase you like that?" Sammy was completely befuddled.

Meli laughed, grinning down at Molly. "Because she didn't let me kiss her back. Now she owes me two." And Meli leaned over Molly again, taking her second kiss with no complaints.

Fair hair and dark shook in unison, the scene before them a familiar sight.

Meli

It's a lazy summer afternoon, and Elly and Fastred are lying in the tall grass near the river. They'd snuck away early, so as not to be dragged into chores, and now, at the hottest time of the day, they're cool and well-hidden.

Fastred stares up at the sky, trying to see shapes in the clouds and thinking. Elly lazily plucks daisies, weaving them into a crown. Fastred rolls to one side and props his head up on his hand, watching her. "That for you?"

Elly shook her head and brushed some of her hair back. "For Daisy. She'll be thrilled."

"Better make one for Sammie, then," Fastred reaches for a daisy, twirls it between his fingers and snaps it off. He offers it to her, hoping he isn't blushing.

Barely glancing up, Elly takes it and braids it in with the others. Their fingers brush when they reach for the same daisy, and Elly looks up at him.

"Are you alright?" Concerned, Elly feels his forehead.

Blushing madly now, Fastred brushes away her hand. "I'm fine," he says, and plants a sloppy kiss on her cheek, then scrambles to his feet. Red as a tomato, he runs away, leaving Elly alone on the shore of the river.

Elly looks down at her daisy crown. "Well," she remarks to herself, and continues with her weaving.

Mary

For Frodo the Halfling, it is said, at the bidding of Mithrandir took on himself the burden, and alone with his servant he passed through peril and darkness and came at last in Sauron's despite even to Mount Doom; and there into the Fire where it was wrought he cast the Great Ring of Power, and so at last it was unmade and its evil consumed.

"Hmph." Daisy sniffed, and put the book back in the pile.

"What's wrong?" Sammie looked up from his own reading, a collection of myths and adventures from the oral traditions of the Rohirrim. The pair had been fortunate enough to be the only ones at home when the mail cart came by bearing packages of every shape and size. Uncle Frodo had decided, obviously, to give books as presents on his upcoming birthday. Most hobbit children would find the prospect of such gifts sorely disappointing, but the Gardner brood considered it more than satisfactory.

"Jwst a stupid Elf book," Daisy said in a grouchy voice, clasping her hands around her knees and looking into the flickering fire that warmed the study. "Left out all the important bits."

"Well, they have got an awful lot of history to fit in," Sammie pointed out, guessing at the exclusion that had wounded his sister so. "They can't name everyone."

"Wouldn't be a problem, if they didn't all have such complicated names of their own." Daisy didn't intend on being placated until she'd had a right good grumble first. "And it doesn't say what happened next, either. If they got home. And Uncle Frodo still hasn't changed the ending in his stupid Red Book." She put on an imitation of Frodo's slightly plummier accent. "'Oh, lass, I don't feel like walking those paths again. Your Dad or Elanor will change it some day', and you just know Dad and El are never going to do anything of the sort. So if the Elves are going to be stupid and leave all the important things out, and Uncle's going to be stubborn as a Bracegirdle mule, then eventually nobody is going to remember the way everything turned out."

"Someone will know," Sammie said in an authorative voice. "Someone always remembers that kind of thing, Daise. One day, somebody will make a note of the things that need changing in the Book."

"But what if they don't?" Daisy's voice was almost pleading. "If they think Uncle sailed with those stupid abbreviatin' Elves, they'll never even know you got born."

"So?" Sammie shrugged. "I know it, don't I? Don't see how anyone else's opinion on the subject matters much."

Meli

"Raspberry scones."

Frodo blinked and looked over his book. "What, Rosie-lass?"

Rosie Cotton, hands on her hips, pointed to a basket at her feet. "Raspberry scones. I made them. For us. When we have tea."

Setting aside his book, Frodo rose from his chair and picked up the basket. The scones smelled delicious, and Frodo smiled at Rosie. "Thank you."

Turning to take them into the kitchen, he noticed Sam sticking his tongue out at Rosie. Rosie stuck hers out in return, and Frodo shook his head, hiding a laugh. Sometimes his two 'students' were the most amusing things ever.

Meli

Aster found a little piece of crystal on the riverbank. She cups it in her hand, enjoying the way the light sparkled off and made pretty rainbows on the ground.

Del stops and crouches beside her. "What's that?"

"A crystal." Both girls study it for a while longer, then Aster stirs and takes Del's hand, pressing the crystal into it. "You have it."

Del can feel the edges of the crystal pressing into her fingers. "What about you?" she asks.

Aster smiles and scoops up a handful of mud, heading towards the fray. "Sharing something beautiful makes it more fun." She tosses her handful at Meli, who squeals and tackles her. Del watches them, holding the bit of shiny rock in her hand, then she tucks it in a pocket and joins in.

Mary

Hamfast and Aislin Gardner's brood of children were almost more trouble than their uncles and aunts had once upon a time been. Little Bell in particular, who was smack dab in the middle of the seven and seven years old herself, was a terror. Since her dad was a roper, she figured it only made sense to learn the art of tightrope walking, to teach herself to fling a noose, and to become proficient in the art of lashing her poor put-upon siblings to trees.

Her especial playmate was her cousin Rowan, daughter of Goldy and Farry Took. The pair of them would scramble over rocks and under fallen trees, learning the geography of the land so well they could probably have walked from one farthing to the next with their green eyes screwed tightly shut.

The lay of the Shire was changing, Sam-gaffer said. Settling into an autumn after a long and glorious spring and summer. It was the way of things, the cycle.

"But what will we do when winter comes?" Bell would ask, her wee freckled face screwed up in concern.

"We'll stay snug for a time, dear," answered Sam-gaffer, bouncing her on his knee until she giggled. "And then... well, hobbits were once travellin' folk, and I expect we will be again. It's wrong to fear change, girlie, and there's naught reason to at any rate."

"I could join a carnival. I can walk all the way along a rope when it's tied up in two branches, and I don't wobble much at all." Bell grinned, and Sam-gaffer laughed.

"Whatever you do in your life, you'll shine at it, mark my words," he said, and Bell puffed up her small chest in pride.

Meli

Frantic knocking on the door, and Sammie hurries to open it. He gasps when he sees Meli standing there, her arms and dressed stained red with blood. "Aunt Rosie," Meli gasps, eyes awash with tears.

Rosie comes to the door and ushers Meli in, ordering Daisy to fetch her things. Elly comes out with warm water and they wash the worst of the blood away. "Molly?" Rosie asks, and Meli nods miserably.

"The baby," she says, then breaks down, covering her face with her hands. "I couldn't, I didn't know, and there was so much blood, so much..." her voice trailed off into sobs, and Sammie felt a chill. He was only too happy to be ordered out to fetch the cart.

The trip back to Meli, Molly and Pippin's new home is something of a nightmare, with Meli sobbing softly on Rosie's shoulder while his mother soothes his cousin. Sammie can't help but imagine all sorts of horrible things, and it's a relief to pull into the yard.

Pippin greets them at the door, as bloodstained as Meli and just as worried. "She's sleeping," he says quietly, and wraps his arms tightly around Meli.

Elly pulls back the blankets and Rosie takes charge. Hot water and fresh sheets and many other things are called for, and Sammie finds himself pressed into service helping. He doesn't like to admit how glad he is to leave the room: the sight of Molly, pale and wan, tears at his heart.

He makes tea, forces Meli and Pippin to sit and drink it, fixes a simple stew, and makes them eat. They sit very close together, not looking at the door, but he can tell that all their attention is focussed on it anyways.

Rosie and Elly emerge finally, and Meli spills her tea, she stands so quickly. Rosie takes one of her hands and one of Pippin's and squeezes them both. "She'll be fine. She just needs to rest." Meli sobs and Pippin holds her tightly, tears sliding down his face. Rosie lets them take soup and tea into Molly, and sit with her.

Sammie hugs his mother and squeezes his eyes shut. "That was scary," he whispers, and Rosie nods.

"Molly's young, and strong. She'll have another babe. But yes, being reminded that you little ones aren't immortal is frightening." She sips at her tea. "Did you make Meli eat something?"

He nods. "And Pippin too."

"Good. They both needed it, though Meli more. It won't be good for the babe if she forgets to take care of herself."

Sammie stares. "Meli...?"

Rosie pats his hand. "There'll be other children, I told you."

"I didn't expect it so soon," he says and studies his bowl. "She never said anything."

Elly laughs. "Why would she? Meli never likes to steal Molly's glory."

"What will people say?"

Meli storms out and throws a roll at Sammie's head, then flounces back into the bedroom and shuts the door. Elly and Rosie laugh merrily.

"Silly Sammie," Elly ruffles his hair. "You think they'll care?"

Sammie fishes the roll out of his soup and bites into it. "No, why would they start now?"

"Exactly."

Mary

Every year Marigold Cotton makes gooseberry and elderflower jam. Her mother taught her when she was very young, and it's difficult for Marigold to get through the cooking of it without having a bit of a cry. She misses her mother, who died when her children were still small, and though the Gaffer was kind and sweet he had none of his late wife's tenderness. And Marigold misses the babes she hasn't got, too, wishes there was some curly-headed lassie beside her to watch the process of wrapping the elderflowers in muslin to simmer with the gooseberries. She wants to teach a daughter how to sew and dance and laugh, oh how she wants to.

Marigold loves Tom, despite their fighting. They argue 'til they're blue in the face, and then they pounce at each other with hungry urgency and tup until blue turns flushed. It seems terrible cruel that a husband and wife with such an appetite for each other should be cursed with an oven cold.

Tom, for all he can be gruff and stupid, has never raised his hand to her and never said words of blame, and Marigold's deeply thankful for that. It's obvious that the fault lies in her, after all, as she can catch the seed well enough but never carries it to blooming.

But then, Marigold's sister-in-law Rosie has her share of miscarriages, and it doesn't seem to be any lacking in her womb. The real reason for it isn't the sort of thing polite folk bring up in conversation, but, as Tom affectionately reminds his wife from time to time, Marigold's not known for her politeness. There's something wrong with Mr Frodo, something that taints any children so bad they can't be born. But there's nothing of that sort in her Tom, so why can't they be as lucky as his sister?

Sam can pass on the recipe and way of making the jams their mother put so much love and care into on to his children, and Marigold can't, and that makes a curl of nasty rot twist in her heart. It's not fair, as if life was ever that.

"Anything I can help with?" a voice asks by the kitchen door. Marigold wipes her sniffles away, ashamed to be caught blubbing like a tween. It's Aislin, come in from making up the butter pats for market tomorrow. Marigold smiles as well as she can at the girl, glad of the company. Aislin and Owen are good workers, quiet and respectful and eager to learn. One night after they'd headed home, Tom commented that they were a pair starved of love and Marigold thinks that may be true. It was hard enough to lose a mother young, to lose both parents with only one sibling to lean on must have been horrible.

Marigold doesn't know if she can feed that hunger in the children, worries that her own bitterness has tainted any warmth she might offer. She aches to hug Aislin close and call her duck, as Rosie does to her own daughters, but fears that neither of them would quite know how to behave in such a situation.

But there are other hungers more easily filled.

"Come in closer, girl, I'll teach you how to make my mother's special jam," Marigold says with a smile.

Meli "Mud Castles"

"What are they doing?" asked Frodo, gesturing to the children playing in the mud. For once, the mud was staying mostly on the ground, more or less. There were crude shapes in it, and a lot of mud on the children's hands and faces, but none in their hair.

Yet.

Sam shrugged. "I'm not sure, Frodo," he said, watching as Aster scraped a bit of mud toward a pile with a stone. "I think they're trying to make mud castles."

"It's not working," Molly groused, shoving at her and Meli's pile. "The mud won't stay."

Meli nodded mournfully, then scooped up a handful of it. She looked as though she was studying the pile, wondering where to stick it, but then her head came up and Frodo found himself looking at the world through a film of mud.

Amidst much laughter, Frodo, with great diginity, wiped off his face. He turned to Sam, who was laughing just as hard as the children and grinned wickedly.

Rosie scolded them even more than she normally scolded the children, but Frodo and Sam felt that it was worth it.

Mary

"OWWWWWW!"

"All right, all right, just wait still a moment while I pull the stinger out." Rosie pinched her fingers carefully around the sharp bee-splinter in Frodo-lad's arm and pulled sharply, extracting the painful little dagger from his soft childish skin. "You'd think nobody was ever caught pilfering a hive before."

"We were careful, too. Merry smoked the bees out an' everything, and Elanor got a whole big sticky comb out without a single sting." Frodo-lad pouted, snuggling in against his mother's lap. She was getting round with another baby, and it wouldn't be too long before she didn't have enough lap to sit on for a while, and by the time she got it back Frodo-lad would be ten and that was much to old for lap-sitting.

"Our El's got a touch most hobbits aren't blessed with, my boy. As you grow up, I think you'll find she's got a lot of talents with natural things that you and your other sisters and brothers will have to work doubly hard for."

"But we're a gardener's children, same as she is."

"You only have to look at her to see that she's got an Elvish grace to her, Fro. I think it was The Lady's gift to your Dad, a special extra present because she loved us hobbits so."

"Don't see why The Lady couldn't have made me good with bees too, then." Frodo-lad wriggled grumpily.

Meli

Frodo frowned at his paper. "Don't see why I have to learn this," he mumbled, glancing longingly out the window. He could hear the shrieks of the other Hobbit children at their play.

Bilbo smiled kindly and patted his head. "Elvish is one of the most beautiful languages. And the Elves have such lovely stories. It'll be worth it, my lad." He moved over to the desk and sat down, engrossing himself in one of his books.

Pretending to study, Frodo waited until he was sure Bilbo wouldn't notice, then crept from his chair and snuck over to the window. As quietly as he could, he slipped out of it, and ran down the hill.

Rosie greeted him by flinging a mushy apple at his head. Sam tackled her into the leaves and tickled her mercilessly, and the others pelted both of them with more of the soft missiles.

Frodo picked up an apple and joined in.

Singe

Dear Prudence:

Isn't this fine? Another letter! I think I'm improving. I still have Miss Grubb helping me with spelling and punctuation and telling things properly but I'll soon be able to make due by myself. She says hello. (Hello!) I feel so foolish. Writing is easy. Why did I wait until now to learn my letters? Well, we all know why, I suppose. No one would teach an old widow like me and what use did I have for letters anyway? Letters wouldn't help me get the work done. But young Samwise Gardner (hooray!) has been teaching anyone who is willing to learn since he was just a little thing and I decided why not? There are six healthy Rumbles in this smial and they do all the work now. I have all the time in the world to master whatever I want! (Hear, hear!)

But there are those who think that Sammie, that's what I call Master Gardner, he insists on it, being only sixteen and me ninety, should mind his own business. They say, "What business is it of his if people can't read? Who does that elf-boy think he is?" Prudence, I love Sammie (me, too) and I would never call him elf-boy but there are those who call him worse (elf-bastard) and have threatened to hurt him if he doesn't stop interfering with other people's families. Rolf Burrows and those big, ugly Tunnely Twins swear they're going to come by and beat him if he doesn't stop. And it's gotten so bad that some folks won't let their children come to the library and learn anymore for fear of them getting caught in the middle of it and hurt.

Sammie has asked the Mayor and the Master to stay out of it and they pretend they are but everywhere Sammie goes he has a large shadow with the name of Gardner (Fro), Took (Farry) or Brandybuck (Borry) following behind him. It annoys Sammie no end. (It annoys Rolf and the Tunnelys, too. Believe it!)

Prudence, it's time for my lesson. No one is scaring ME away! (Huzzah!) I hope you are well and you've enjoyed my letter and Miss Grubb's additions. (Of course you did!) I don't know what to do with this girl. (Neither does anyone else.) I will write again and tell you how it all works out.

Very Sincerely Yours,

Adamant Rumble

to be continued...

Meli

The Sparrow and the Buzzard had found a kitten. It was a tiny thing, a bit of black fuzz with bright yellow eyes and a voice loud enough to wake all of Bagshot Row. Their pleading worked on the adults, however, and Soot joined the family of Bag End.

Meli had insisted that Soot stay with Del, despite the fact that she was obviously in love with the tiny cat herself. Hope hugged her after Del went to find Soot a bowl, and told her that she could come over whenever she liked and visit.

"I already do, Miss Hope," she replied, mischief in her eyes. "But I can be sure to make Borry come with me so that I don't get in any trouble on my way."

Hope blushed brightly and Meli, laughing, scooted off to help Del prepare Soot for his new home.

Singe

"Oh, to be a cat." Frodo mused as he watched Del massage Soot into a blissful puddle of black fur in her lap. Soot didn't even have the strength to purr and contented himself with making strange "hllk" noises. His tongue was sticking out from his sharp teeth. Frodo smiled. Meli had known exactly what she was doing when she surrendered the kitten to Del.

Her sister was away and Del was lonely. The Grubb girl had yet to trust any of Bag End's residents enough to show them pure, unadulterated affection, save Sammie, and in his case Del usually settled for simply hauling him from one place to another, so she lavished all her love on the cat.

"Master Frodo, I'm terribly upset." Del suddenly complained.

"Why is that?"

"Someone stole all the bones out of my kitty!" Del lifted Soot up a few inches and he flowed like water back into her lap.

"Oh, dear. What can I do?"

"Kiss me!" It was a joke of hers. She would demand kisses from Sammie or Daisy or Fro and they would scream and run...Frodo bent and kissed her. She gaped at him in pure surprise.

"Better?" Frodo tried hard not to laugh.

"Um. Much. Yes. Um. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Frodo walked away, grinning. Delphinium would have faith in them someday. Someday soon.

Meli

Del was happily holding Soot, petting him into a purring frenzy, when the door opened and Meli came in. She sank to her knees at Del's feet and nuzzled Soot. "Who's a pretty kitty? You are, yes you are."

Soot raised his head and touched him nose to Meli's. She laughed and looked up at Del, smiling broadly. "How has he been?"

Del lowered her eyes, trying not to show how jealous she was that Soot have given Meli a nose kiss but not her. "Good. He slept on my pillow last night."

"That's wonderful!" Meli exclaimed, standing and giving Del a hug. "Can I hold him a minute, do you think?"

Reluctantly, Del handed over the kitten. Meli took him and stroked him, whispering softly into his ear. She held him back out to Del, who took him with a feeling of relief. "I'll be back later. Mum just sent me to get a recipe, so I have to go home." She kissed the top of Soot's head, hugged Del again, and left.

Del stroked the cat, trying to find the same rhythm she'd used before. Soot stood and put his paws on her shoulders, and licked her cheek, then curled again into a ball. He purred contentedly and Del blinked back tears.

Meli

"Spider-hobbit"

When Frodo Parker was bitten by a genetically mutated spider, his life changed dramatically. Suddenly he had all these new powers, and the responsibilty to use them to help others.

His roommate and best friend, Sam Osbourn was dating the girl he loved, and Frodo ended up accidentally causing the death of Sam's father, but they weathered that and the three of them lived happily in Sam and Frodo's large smial. It was a little tense at times, trying to keep his lovers from finding out his secret identity of Spider-hobbit, especially since Sam wanted to kill Spider-hobbit, but he managed.

Not even spider powers could stand in the way of love.

Floria

"Uncle Frodo, what're you doing?"

"Writing, Sammie."

"I *knew* that. What're you writing about?"

"Elvish history. Beren and Luthien, currently. Would you like me to tell you about it?"

"Yes! Would this take long? Because Mama wants me to help dry dishes in half an hour, and this is much more interesting, so..."

"I don't think that even the heroes of the Elder Days could get you out of dish-drying duty, Sammie. All Beren had to do was fetch a Silmaril."

"What's a Silmaril? And who was Beren? And why did he have to get one, anyway?"

"This desk chair really isn't big enough for two people. Sammie, let's find somewhere a bit more comfortable to sit and I'll tell you."

When the two historians were comfortably situated, Frodo began, "Once there was an elf woman named Luthien Tinuviel. Her mother was Melian, and her father was King Thingol-"

"Melian and Thingol Tinuviel. Got it."

"No, Tinuviel wasn't her last name, it was a nickname. It means 'Nightingale.'"

"Melian and Thingol Not-Tinuviel, and Luthien Nightingale. Got it."

"And, going on, Luthien was the most beautiful woman in the world."

"Got it. What did she look like?"

"Lady Arwen. They're actually related, I think. It's a long story. Well, anyway, beautiful Luthien was out dancing in this forest glade because that's what elf princesses did in those days, when she ran into Beren and they fell in love."

"Was Beren an elf?"

"No, he was a Man. One of the Big People, and he'd been travelling through the wilderness, which is how they bumped into each other in the first place. Well, anyway, Luthien's dad found out, and he wasn't exactly pleased about it. So he called Beren in for a man-to-elf talk, and told him that if Beren got him a Silmaril from Morgoth he could marry Luthien if Luthien wanted to."

"Was everybody in the Elder Days this bossy?"

"I don't know. If Queen Arwen visits again I'll ask her. Maybe she learned some old family stories from Galadriel."

"Morgoth - isn't that where you had to go on your Quest? Ooh, sorry." Frodo had gotten a hint of That Look around the eyes, so Sammie gave him a quick hug and tried to think of a new topic.

"It's okay, Sammie. And that was a good question. Mordor is a country, but Morgoth was a guy. Or a spirit. Whatever he was, he was a very, very, very bad lot. A Silmaril is a kind of magical jewel that everybody fought over in those days." The whole idea seemed a bit silly to Sammie, but maybe elves got bored after a few thousand years of immortality.

Unfortunately, before Frodo could explain just what a Silmaril was good for (if anything), what sorts of adventures Beren went through to get one (if he eventually did), what sort of villainy Morgoth was up to (lots, undoubtedly), and what Luthien does about it all, they were interrupted. By Rose, no less. As the historians were dragged off to the ignonimity of dish-wiping and fresh air, Frodo gave Sammie a conspiratorial wink and whispered, "Next time, we get to the good parts."

Meli

Once a very long time ago there was a young King named Frodo. He loved gold more than anything else in the world. One day, as he walked through one of his villages, he chanced to hear a miller boasting loudly of his daughter's ability to spin straw to gold. Intrigued by the man's words, he ordered the miller's daughter to be brought to his castle.

The girl, named Rosie, was a very pretty girl, and very deft with a spinning wheel. Alas, she could not truly spin straw to gold, and she was afraid of what the King might do to her. Frodo led her to a room filled to the ceiling with straw, with only a little space for a spinning wheel cleared out. He turned to Rosie and proclaimed that she must have all the straw spun to gold by morning, or he would kill her. If, however, she had done that, he would marry her.

Rosie threw herself down and wept as the heavy door was locked. She was doomed to die in the morning, for how could anyone spin straw to gold. A cough at her back made her lift her head.

She blinked in surprise. There before her stood a handsome young man, who smiled and brushed her tears away. "I will spin the straw to gold," he said, "if in exchange you give me your little ring." Sure that it was some trick, Rosie agreed and gave it to him. To her astonishment, the young man sat down at the spinning wheel and began spinning. Straw went in one end and gold came out the other.

The next morning, Rosie awoke to find all the straw gold, and the young man gone. The King was most surprised, but then greed entered his mind and he brought her to an even larger room, filled with even more straw. If she spun all of that, he said, he would marry her. If she could not, she would die.

Rosie wept bitter tears once again, and as before, the young man appeared and comforted her. "If I spin this for you," he said, looking a little bit nervous, "you must give me your little necklace." Rosie agreed and gave it to him. When she awoke the next morning, the straw was gold as before.

King Frodo was ecstatic. He had a woman who could spin gold from straw, which pleased him to no end. He allowed Rosie out and dined with her, learning more about her than just her extraordinary talent. But the greed overtook him again, and he ordered a room even larger than the last two to be filled with straw. He locked Rosie inside with the same promise/threat, and Rosie was filled with despair.

She did not cry this time, and when the young man appeared, she looked sadly at him. "I have nothing more to give you," she said quietly. "You have my mother's necklace and my gammer's gold ring, and I have nothing more to offer."

The young man knelt beside her and took her hand. "There is yourself," he replied, and kissed her forehead. "Come live always with me."

Before she could reply, the door creaked open, and King Frodo rushed into the room. He had suspected something, and now he knew the truth. "No!" he proclaimed. "Both of you must stay here with me, and live in my castle."

Rosie and the young man exchanged glances. "No," they said together, then they both vanished. King Frodo was left alone in the huge chamber of straw, and he wept.

Determined to find them again, King Frodo gave up his throne and wandered the wide world, searching for any sign of the two. Everywhere he went, no one had seen or heard of them, and Frodo was filled with despair. Slowly, his heart turned from loving gold and began to love only them, and he searched ever onward.

Many years later, when he had almost given up all hope, Frodo heard children laughing. He followed the sound and arrived at a splendid cottage, deep in a mystical woods. The children stopped and stared at him, and Frodo stared back, for they looked like tiny versions of the boys and girl he loved.

Rosie came out of the house, followed by the young man. They smiled when they saw Frodo, and Rosie nudged her husband. "What did I tell you, Sam?"

Sam took his hand and smiled. "What took you so long?"

Frodo laughed until he cried. "I don't know," he said, and Rosie kissed him.

"You're here now, and that's all that matters," she said. And it was.

Singe

"I brought you an apple! It's perfectly round!" Anise Smallburrow twirled the fruit on it's stem and gazed up worshipfully at Sammie. "And perfectly red!" She handed it over and Sammie made a great show of polishing it on his sleeve until it gleamed. The Widow Rumble thought the two of them were the cutest things she'd ever seen.

"It's beautiful, Annie! Want a bite?"

"No, its yours!"

"Well, thank you very much." Sammie put the apple in his pack with his books, papers and pens. "I'll have it for lunch, sweetheart."

Anise flipped her little apron up over her head and rushed to rejoin the other students who were sprawled comfortably under the gargantuan oak tree in the front courtyard of the Hobbiton Library. At six Annie was Sammie's youngest pupil and her best friend in the class was the Widow Rumble who, at ninety, was Sammie's oldest. She looked around herself and smiled. All of Sammie's pupils were as different from one another as cherries from eggs but one thing they all had in common was a desire to learn their letters. And as long as anyone was willing to learn then Sammie was willing to teach. Usually there were more people but trouble was leaving a smoke in the air around Sammie's classes and folk were staying away.

The Widow sighed. Sammie was a smart and a good boy. Only sixteen and growing like a weed she was sure he was going to be tall but not as bulky or as strong as his brothers or, heavens, even some of his sisters. Which was unfortunate. A thrill of fear rippled through her as she saw Delphinium Grubb slink out of the bushes as quiet as a fox and approach Sammie. She whispered something in his ear and Sammie turned with a jerk to look at the North Road beyond it. "Fine." She heard him say. "Let them come." Del muttered something more and Sammie shook his head at her. "I'm ready for them. Tell Fro to stay away. All of you stay away. I'm going to handle this on my own." Del looked rebellious. The students were perfectly silent now and Anise suddenly took the Widow's arm and held on tight. "Del, please." With a hiss that didn't sound quite human Del turned and dove into the shrubbery again.

tbc.....

Meli

Rosie Cotton sat at the edge of the Ring and sighed. "I wish I could dance like that," she said, her eyes on the dancers spinning and twirling in the ring.

Sam Gamgee shook his head. "Not me. Dancing's for girls."

Rosie put her hands on her hips. "Is not," she declared. "Look, there's Mr. Frodo," she said, and pointed.

Sam followed her finger and saw Frodo laughing, twirl among the others. "Oh," he scratched his head and frowned. "Well, maybe I will learn to dance then."

Rosie stuck out her tongue. "Not before me."

Sam sniffs and turned away. "Will so," he muttered, and beside him, Rosie stiffled a giggle.

Singe

With a hiss that didn't sound quite human Del turned and dove into the shrubbery again.

"Oh, no. Look." Aspen Tunnely pointed towards three bulky figures that were slouching along the North Road towards the library. "It's my stupid cousins." She turned to Sammie. "They're coming to beat you." Anise hiccupped and began to cry. "You need to run, Sammie!" Aspen warned.

"No." He reached out a foot and brought his pack closer. "I'm here to teach and, I swear, those three are going to learn."

"But, Sammie!" Aspen was crying, too.

"No. Everyone should go. This isn't going to be pretty."

"We're not goin' anywhere." said the Widow and she brandished her cane. "I'll deal with 'em!"

"I'LL deal with them." Sammie corrected and then Rolf and the Tunnelys were upon them. They swaggered into the clearing and looked at the small assembly with disgust.

Rolf stepped forward and his thin lips curled. 'What do you lot think you're doing? None of you got any decent work to do? Who do you all think you are?! Lazy good-for-naughts!'

'It's none of your concern how people spend their time.' Sammie's voice was quiet and clear. The Tunnely Twins snorted and the Widow's nose wrinkled. Ugh. She could smell them. They smelled like manure and stale beer.

Rolf looked Sammie up and down as if he were a rather tall worm. 'All these squiggles and songs and stupid papers are best left to you dried-up gents who ain't got nothin' better to do. Don't you know it rots your brain?! I never seen a person that reads that ain't been cracked, too! Aspen! Get home!' Aspen blanched and looked at Sammie.

tbc....

Meli

Meli tackled Molly to the snow and kissed her. Sammie rolled his eyes, then found himself flat on his back with Del on his chest. She giggled and kissed his nose, then jumped up and shoved Aster toward him. Aster looked nervous.

Daisy picked Aster up and dropped her on Sammie. Sammie's breath 'whooshed' out of him, but he smiled up at Aster just the same. Gently, he pulled her down and kissed her.

There were cheers and whistles from the others, then Meli, Molly and Del exchanged glances and scooped up snowballs, pelting Aster and Sammie. And the war was on.

Singe

"Let me get this straight." Del muttered ominously. "I kissed Sammie on the nose?"

"Right." Aster nodded.

"I was nice to you..."

"Yes." Aster almost giggled.

"And I pushed you at him." Del looked green.

"Yes!" Aster clapped her hands.

"That WAS the most bizarre dream. What happened next?"

"Well, we had a snowball fight and THEN the purple dragons came...!"

Meli

Meli tossed the book across the room. "I'm bored," she announced, and stole the pillow from behind Sammie. While he was sputtering, she whacked him firmly with it.

Molly snatched up a cushion and dove at Meli. The hitting was fast and furious, and in the confusion, Meli nearly stepped on Soot. Only Del's quick hands saved him, and she glared at the other two.

Placing Soot carefully out of the way, Del grabbed a pillow and went after Meli. The others grabs pillows and joined in.

No one could remember whose pillow had burst first, but there were feathers all over the floor, and Rosie glared at all of them. Picking up and resorting the pillows took much more time than the pillow fight had, but was equally as fun.

Singe

Aspen blanched and looked at Sammie.

'She's not going anywhere.' Sammie's tone was final and Rolf stepped back in exaggerated surprise, his mouth a perfect little O of terror. The Twins laughed. The Widow cast about nervously and spied, some distance away, half-hidden by lilacs, Borry Brandybuck, Fro Gardner and Farry Took. Any one of them could pick up Rolf and break him with their bare hands but they were just standing there, their eyes hooded and dangerous. And there! There was Delphinium standing in Farry's shadow, a deadly rock in each hand. Come on! The Widow mentally screamed at them. Come on! Help him! What are you waiting for?!

'You pissant little Elf-bastard! You filthy little dung-sucker!' Rolf shouted. The Widow saw the tendons in Fro Gardner's neck bulge despite the distance between them but he still didn't move. Why?! MOVE, boy!

Sammie's eyes drooped with feral amusement and he smiled. 'Oh, dear.' was all he said. Rolf charged and the Tunnelys stood back and cheered him on. Anise screamed. Aspen screamed. Sammie bent quickly and yanked something from his pack. For one awful moment the Widow thought that it was a long, black snake. Sammie threw his arm up into the air and then down and it wasn't until the Widow heard the awful CRACK! that she understood what it was. And, oh, she could have lived the rest of her life without ever seeing one of those things again. Rolf stopped dead in his tracks and Sammie casually caught and coiled the end of the orc whip around his left hand while he held the horribly carved handle in his right. Remembered pain and terror traveled throughout the Widow's body and she clutched Anise tighter. The poor child's face was pale as the moon's.

Meli

Lila hurried up the hill to Bag End, trying to shush Aster. She was late already because of her little daughter, but she hoped it wouldn't be too much trouble.

The door was flung open before she knocked, and Meli and Molly attached themselves to her legs. "Can we hold the baby? Can we? Can we?" they begged, and Lila had to smile, for they were little more than babies themselves. She moved inside and smiled at Rosie, who shook her head and grinned at the girls.

"If you promise to sit very very still, you may each have a turn." Molly and Meli nodded eagerly, racing into the parlor and climbing onto the settee. Lila watched them wriggle a bit and looked around, taking off her cloak and hanging it by the door. "Where are the others?" she asked, and Rosie pointed to the table, where Sammie and Daisy were busily eating slices of apple turnover.

Meli wiggled a little bit more, then forced herself to sit very still. "Can I hold her first?" she asked, and Molly looked like she was going to complain, then bit her tongue and didn't.

Aster blinked up at Meli and Molly, who was leaning on Meli's shoulder. She crinkled up her little face and yawned, then reached for Meli's hair. "She's so little," Meli said in awe, and Molly nodded.

"My turn now," she declared, and before Lila could come forward, Aster had been carefully switched to Molly's arms. The two girls made faces and giggled at Aster, who smiled and stretched out, trying to catch their eyes or their curls. Finally Lila took her daughter back, and Meli and Molly smiled very politely.

"Thank you," they said, then scurried off to join Sammie and Daisy and plan mischief. Lila held her daughter to her shoulder and smiled after them.

Singe

...her face was pale as the moon.

'You ain't got the guts.' Rolf snarled. Sammie ran the length of brightly oiled black leather through his hands and said nothing. 'RUSH HIM!' shouted Rolf and all three foolishly darted forward.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

Rolf screamed. He clutched his face and screamed again!one of the Tunnelys, clutching his arm and howling in shock and pain, broke and ran as fast as he could back to the North Road. His brother, cradling his arm, watched him go. Then he jumped at Sammie again.

CRACK!

The remaining Tunnely staggered back, his hands on his chest. He took one look at Sammie standing there, flushed with fury and breathing heavily, and followed his brother. Rolf gaped after them, his obvious pain creating a sheen of sweat on his face. He whirled and lunged but CRACK! he was too slow and he clutched his arm to him as if Sammie had cut it in two. The Widow almost, ALMOST, felt sorry for him. Those things!those horrible things were designed for nothing but burning pain. Sammie could have flayed the skin off them if he had wanted to. Old memories of blood and flame filled her mind and she shook herself.

'Listen to me.' Rolf looked up at Sammie, shocked and uncomprehending. Sammie pointed the handle of the orc whip at Rolf and its red eyes glared at him. 'I never want to see you around here again. I'm sick of seeing you. I'm sick of hearing you. Find another town to pollute. Do you understand?' Rolf's jaw worked and he grunted in frustrated pain. Sammie raised his arm again and stepped forward. Rolf gave a shout and sprinted for the North Road. The Widow watched him comically kicking up dust and sagged with relief.

And they were gone.

Sammie sat on the grass so quickly that the Widow wasn't sure if his legs gave out under him or not. His cousins and brother burst from the bushes, cheering, and they surrounded him, thumping his back, hugging him, Del kissed him and suddenly Anise broke away from the Widow and threw herself into his arms. She was crying still and Sammie cuddled her. 'It's all right. I'm all right. It's all right!' he repeated over and over. 'They won't bother us again.' His students crowded around, petting him and praising him as if he were a good dog, and the Widow leaned on her cane and struggled to her feet. Anise reached for the whip, her eyes bright and fascinated!

'Don't touch that!' the Widow barked and everyone moved away from where Sammie had dropped it on the grass. 'Boy, where did you get that thing?'

'The Ruffians left it behind during the Siege. My Gaffer Gamgee took it for a souvenir. I found it in a box!'

'We find a lot of strange things in boxes!' Fro quipped and Sammie smiled up at him.

'Burn it.' the Widow ordered. Everyone looked at her in surprise. Should she really be ordering the Hero of the Hour about like that? But Sammie understood and so did all his kin. Their eyes were compassionate and Sammie nodded.

'Yes, ma'am. Consider it burned.'

And that very night, it was.

Meli

Dinny took one horrified look at Meli's dress and ordered her to go change. Molly looked guilty enough for the both of them as Dinny turned her attention to her niece. "What were you two doing?" she demanded.

Molly fidgeted and tried to smile. "We were helping this time, really."

Dinny crossed her arms.

Looking down, Molly wondered how Dinny could make her feel guilty even though she truly hadn't down anything wrong. "Lila was making candles, so we decided we'd help. Her back hurts and her ankles are sore from the baby, and Aunt Rosie said she shouldn't stand too much, so we said we'd dip the candles for her. And we did. They look very pretty."

Meli, dressed in a clean frock, slipped her arm through Molly's and nodded. "Really, mum, that's what happened. You can ask Lila."

Dinny threw up her hands and sighed. "I believe you, girls, but next time, wear aprons over your dresses."

Meli and Molly looked at each other and giggled.

Mary

Summer fading, winter comes -
Frosty mornings, tingling thumbs,
Window robins, winter rooks,
Rocking horses, story books.

Sam smiled, looking up from his raking at the softly singing Primrose. She'd fashioned a swing out of a loop of rope and a plank leftover from the new dock, and was currently letting herself twist idly this way and that in the wind on it. She was getting so big, all the small ones were, even little Tom who would be eight on his next birthday.

It had seemed that there would never be an end to the new babies at Bag End for a good twenty years there, and with a few unfortunate exceptions each of those years had brought a boisterous new voice to the cacophony. Fourteen lads and lasses, each as bonny and fair as they should be. But then, the summer after wee Tom had come squawling into the world, a particularly unfortunate exception had knotted Rosie's insides and kept her bleeding for weeks.

They'd only just got back from visting the King and all sorts of far-off fairy places (Ruby's term for things Elanor had described over and over to her), and it seemed a terrible irony would rob Sam's children of their mother when they'd just gotten her back. "I've killed her, I've killed her," Frodo would mutter darkly, wandering about Bag End in a distraction and doing no work on his writing from day in to day out. Sam wanted to be a comfort to him, but there wasn't any comfort it his heart; only worry and dread and aching.

But Rosie had strength in her as sure as Frodo did, and came through her own black journey as close to right as he had from his. Sam and Frodo and all the children had wept and cheered and wept again, in joy and relief, and Rosie and Frodo had teased that it would be Sam's turn for a stay in bed next.

It was Frodo, though, who ended up sick and pale and fevered, just this last year passed. It was the hardest year Sam had ever lived through, and that was including all the other years that some might expect him to exclude from the statement. But the year was nearly done, and Frodo was on the mend.

There had been one night, with the children down at Marigold's just in case things ended badly, when Sam and Rosie had feared that their Frodo would be lost to them forever.

"I should have made him go. Back when El was a baby, and he was planning for it. I shouldn't have told him to stay," Rosie muttered to herself, wiping Frodo's face with a clean wet cloth.

"We both should have. He wasn't meant to stay." Sam looked out the bedroom window at the lights of the village down the hill. They hadn't lit any lamps that night, the light seemed to hurt Frodo. He hadn't been properly awake for days.

Then a rattling breath, and Sam's belly clenched as he waited, hoped, needed to hear the exhalation. It came, and Rosie let out a sigh of her own. Any gasp might be the last to come from Frodo's lungs. The night wore on, and it seemed as if dawn was waiting silently for the end, the whole night around them still and tense.

Coughing, huge sobbing breaths of air and more coughing as Frodo brought up phlegm and muck and blood-laced spit into a basin, coughing and coughing and coughing. Sam thumped his back as hard as he could bear to, afraid that fragile ribs would crack under the slightest touch.

"Water," a voice that was barely Frodo's croaked, one feeble hand holding the cup carefully and sipping with chapped lips.

"You came back," Rosie whispered, smiling through her tears.

"I wouldn't have left, even if you'd told me to," answered Frodo, and Sam and Rosie hugged him breathless just so they could hear him draw the air back in with ease.

Meli

Dinny lay her head on Stel's shoulder and traced patterns on her stomach. Stel stroked Dinny's back and kissed her hair. "What is it, love?"

A sigh, and Dinny's hand stilled. "Meli's in love."

"What's wrong with that?" Stel smoothed down Dinny's curls.

"With Molly."

"And?"

"And Molly's in love with Pip Gardner. She has been for a long time."

Stel sighed and lifted Dinny's head so she could look at her. "Meli's found of Pip, too. And Molly has a big heart. She loves Meli."

Dinny blinked back tears. "I don't want to see my girl hurt," she said softly, and Stel kissed her.

"You won't, love. Believe in them, alright?" Dinny nodded, and Stel smiled, tearing them both over. "Good," she said, and proceeded to drive it all from Dinny's mind.

Sanguinary

Special Agent Rosie Cotton walked down the corridor, sensible shoes clicking on the tile. Though she was nervous inside, it did not show though the calm expression on her face. Rosie had her coat in one hand and her briefcase in the other, leaving She tried to listen to Dr. Lobelia's prattling but her mind kept returning to Agent Samwise and his scared face. Sam's face was a warning for Rosie to heed, a warning of what would happen if she let herself forget for a moment that no matter how charming or how seductive Dr. Baggins may seem, he was still a deadly monster. She had seen the pictures of his victims, all ordinary people with nothing similar about them other than the fact that they were all rude. When the Baggins case had gone to court, his lawyer had tried to prove that the sudden change in Baggins diet had been caused by a strange gold ring he came into possession of. However, the jury didn't buy that and they sentenced the cannibal for life.

Dr. Lobelia left Rosie in the hands of a rather large intern. He smiled, trying to put Rosie at ease. 'Hi, I'm Hamfast. She told you, don't get near the glass?'

Rosie extended her hand and shook it. 'Yes, she did. Rosie Cotton.'

'Nice to meet you, Rosie. You can hand your coat up there if you like.'

'Thank you, I will.' Rosie hung the coat on the hanger, glad to be rid of it.

'He's past the others, the last cell. You keep to the right. I put out a chair for you.'

'Oh yes, it's very good. Thank you.' Rosie replied, distracted by her thoughts of Sam. She couldn't get the image of his damaged face from her mind. Part of her wondered why she, among all the Hobbits in the Academy, had been chosen for this job. Rosie knew that her no-nonsense attitude had helped in a lot of places, but would it help a psychopath? She stepped into the corridor and flinched a little as the bars slammed shut behind her.

Hamfast must have noticed her flinch because he gave her another smile, 'I'll be watching. You'll do fine.'

Rosie nodded and continued down the corridor towards Dr. Frodo Baggins's cell.

Sanguinary

Butterflies fluttered around Rosie's head. She tried to bat them away with her free hand as her right hand was preoccupied with the gun it clasped. From down in the tunnels, Rosie could hear Marigold screaming for help.

Somewhere in the dark, an old man cackled, 'Preciousssss! Precioussssss!"

Rosie tightened her grip on her gun. It was no wonder why Frodo had known so much about the serial killer. It was too bad no one else had realized that both Frodo and Bilbo had the same last name. And with an uncle like Bilbo, it was no wonder Frodo was insane.

And then there was that 'Precious' that Bilbo kept screaming about. Rosie knew exactly where Precious was; down the well in Marigold's arms. Why Bilbo thought the dog was with the escaped Frodo confused Rosie. However, there was no time for confusion in the basement. Rosie ejected her old clip and slid in a new one, just waiting patiently for Bilbo to make his move.

Suddenly the lights failed, plunging the mouldy basement into darkness.

Rosie uttered a very unladylike word and pressed her back to the wall. There was only one way for her to get out of here alive, and that would require Rosie to shoot Bilbo Baggins.

Meli

"Are you sure this is the way?" Rosie asked, and Frodo nodded firmly.

"It nearly killed me when I was a boy, and my mother died down here. I think I know the way."

Sam sighted along the barrel of his gun. "Better hope it can't hear us," he said. "Now, remember, we want the dragon dead. We're taking back the Shire for the Hobbits."

Rosie nodded and began climbing the ladder after Frodo. "We remember."

Mary

The apartment's dirty. The apartments always are. Sam sighs, glad that the smell of the cigarette he smoked on the way over still clings to his raincoat and his hair and covers the scent of mould and desperation. There's a window broken, gauzy curtains flapping listlessly in the drizzly afternoon, a mangy ginger cat yowling on the fire escape outside.

"So what've we got, then?" he asks Ted, the beat cop who radioed in the scene. Sam's never liked Ted, who takes crisp envelopes under the table from Sharkey's boys and sleeps around with the girls they pull off the pavement on Bagshot Row, and Ted hates Sam for making detective and getting a nice little office all of his own.

"Not a lot. Couple of photos stuck behind the radiator that we fished out, some old newspapers stuffed in cracks in the bathroom walls. Looks like they cleared out at least three days ago."

Sam nods, then proceeds to ignore Ted entirely as he wanders the room and runs his finger through the dust on the cracked kitchen counter. The photos are strewn in a heap, some stuck together from the wet in the air. The faces in the pictures are ones Sam has come to know as well as his own over the past three months.

Frodo Baggins and Rosie Cotton. Stupid small-time kids, Sam's got it from all accounts that the fella, at least, was a junkie. Usually to be found borrowing the cash registers from diners and liquor stores, or the occasional larger scam in conjunction with two or three other no-hopers. There were thousands of couples just like this Frodo and Rosie in the city, and Sam had seen them come to all sorts of ends a thousand times before.

But these two were different. These two had managed to outrun half the force week after week after week, and most of the underworld was on their tails too. When the wolves and the foxes are both after your blood, you don't stay alive in the forest for long, yet somehow they were.

"Why did you do it?" Sam asks the snapshot of Frodo, wearing a singlet and suspenders with black pinstripe pants, laughing (had Rosie taken it? Were the pair lovers, brother and sister, enemies locked together?). "Why'd you take Mr Smeagol's ring?"

Of all the people to rip off, why rip off the Don of the biggest Family this side of anywhere? Why take the single thing most likely to bring a bloodhunt down on your heads? Why stay in the city, only a step ahead of those who pursued you?

Sam ran one exasperated hand through his hair and sighed, wishing there were answers to those questions locked inside this shithole of an apartment. Wishing there was an answer to why he couldn't get these two stupid kids out of his head, out of his dreams.

Meli

Meli shuffled her papers together and looked at the others. "Well? What've we got?"

As the meeting continued, skits were discussed, tweaked, assigned, played out, rejected, and improvised. Finally, the five members of Frodo Baggins' Flying Circus and their token male character were set.

"Right," said Molly. "This is going to be a great show. See you all here first thing Monday morning for filming." Daisy, Sammie, Meli, Aster and Del nodded and filed out.

Singe

"Play it again, Sam."

"Aw, Frodo, you don't want to hear that..."

"You played it for HER you can play it for ME!" Frodo shouted. Sam sighed and turned to the piano again. The clear notes of the old, gentle song crushed Frodo's head to the top of the bar and he pawed a hand through his hair as if he could pull his memories out. The very air tasted of the dust of bitter love-lost and Frodo suddenly threw a shot glass against the wall. It didn't help. Sam stopped playing.

"Oh, Sam." Frodo moaned. "Of all the gin joints in all the cities in all the world...she had to walk into mine."

Meli

"I'm the ugly step-sister," Del muttered, glaring out the window at where Sammie was talking with Aster. Hope patted her on the shoulder.

"Sammie doesn't think that," she assured Del, but her sister wasn't listening.

"Why does the princess always have to get the Prince?"

Meli sat down beside her and scooped up Soot, rubbing her face against his. "She doesn't, always. Sometimes the Princess gets swept off by the handsome brave peasant lad, or the plucky goose girl." Soot purred loudly and Meli stroked his ears. "Sometimes the Prince gets swept off by the same."

"What about ugly step-sisters?"

Meli shook her head. "Sometimes they find princes where they least expect them. And I don't know any ugly step-sisters. Do you?"

"Me."

"That's ridiculous," Meli declared, and handed Soot back. "You don't look at all like an ugly step-sister. You're more the enchanted princess under a spell."

Del laughed bitterly and clutched Soot. "What kind of spell?"

"A lemon spell. Come on, let's you and me and Molly go get some cookies and sweeten you up."

Singe

"I'm off to the Havens!" Frodo threw on his cloak and opened the door. Sam and Rosie made a leap and Frodo found it particularly hard to walk with Sam on his left leg and Rose on his right.

"But you can't leave us! Whatever shall we do!" Sam wailed.

"Wherever shall we go! What's to become of us!" Rosie cried.

Frodo hopped out of their grasp and they fell on their faces. "Frankly, my dears..." He pulled his hood up. "I don't give a damn." And he was gone.

Sam and Rosie clung to each other. "Sam, what happens now?"

"I don't know, Rosie. I can't think now. But don't lose hope. I'll...think about it tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"Yes. After all, tomorrow is another day!"

Meli

"And they all lived happily ever after."

"Or at least until they had their first fight."

"Rosie!"

"What? It's true. Nobody gets a happily ever after. People aren't like that."

"I do declare, Rosie Cotton, you have the most depressing way of looking at things."

Rosie smiled cheekily at her brother. "Only if you think of it as depressing. I think you can have a perfect wonderful life, even if it isn't always happy. There are good times and bad times and the bad makes the good seem better."

Nick shook his head. "I pity the man you marry."

Frodo Baggins of Bag End

June 1437

"Where's Fo?"

Mum shook her head sadly, putting out a steadying arm, and her eyes were too red. She didn't have the bottle of cod-liver oil in her apron-pocket, and that made Elanor's breath catch and her stomach go all funny.

"In the bedroom. He's been wanting to see you. He'd planned to ride out and meet you, but - "

She didn't hear the rest, fairly flying down the hall, curls flying as her hair came loose. She didn't care. All those letters. . .a whole year of letters from Fo, keeping her heart up when she felt so afraid, so alone in places so full of such big people, so far from home and messy little brothers and sisters and Daddy and Mum and Fo. . . .

And now she *knew*.

Knew as much as a body could know, at least. Hours with King Elessar and Queen Arwen, hearing about Arwen's Ada, as she called her Daddy, who'd sailed away over the sea when Elanor was just a baby, before the others were even born.

The one Fo would have sailed away with. . .but he stayed.

She'd thought Fo had taught her more history than she could bear to remember, and come to find he'd left more out of it than she could imagine.

You might know how cold it is outside, King Elessar had pointed out, and you might tell your children how cold it is, but you don't tell them that you're freezing to death.

Because you don't want to hurt them.

She stopped at the door, swallowing, trying to regain her breath to avoid startling him by hurtling in. When he was ill, anything that startled him hurt him, and sometimes it would take him an extra dose of medicine or Mum and Daddy rubbing his hands over and over and talking to him before he'd be all right enough for his breathing to slow back to its usual laboured pace. She didn't want to make him worse, not after so long. . . .

Frodo Baggins of Bag End

From the door-frame, though, she could see him clearly: raised just a little bit on pillows, his head raised only enough to ease drinking and breathing. They couldn't keep him propped up too much; his heart was tired, she'd learned from Queen Arwen and Lady Eowyn. Even though her duties had been to the Queen, wherever they were, they'd found a fair bit of time to teach her things, just as Fo had taught her in preparation for her year with them. Slowly she ventured closer.

He was breathing such *short* little breaths. . .not so many of them, just. . .short little difficult breaths, the way he sometimes did when he wasn't well. He looked even whiter than usual, all pale and damp and feverish, like he might faint if you even tried to move him just a quarter of an inch. The room smelled heavily of the familiar athelas (galenas, kingsfoil, "that funny leaf" - as the younger ones called it), hot and steamy with extra wood on the fire and steam-kettles and basins everywhere. Fo was tucked in beneath the fluffy counterpane and a whole pile of patchwork quilts, but still he shivered, trembling as if he were buried in snow instead.

Strider.

She now understood the meaning of the strange name he sometimes called out, the name besides her father's, the one she'd heard only in stories. Oh, she'd thought she understood it. . .but now she found she hadn't at all, and she swallowed tensely, remembering the place they'd visited while staying at Evendim, near where Queen Arwen's brothers still lived.

Slowly she put out one hand, wringing out a fresh cloth from the stack on the bedside table, bringing her other hand to help as she shook off the drips and laid it over his forehead. His face felt burning hot to her hands. . .except the left side, which was cold as ice. The compress was nice and warm, at least.

"Elly-elle. . .there you are. . . ."

His eyes slowly opening, blue as ever, Fo looked up at her, his voice worn and tired as cracked leather. She smiled, taking another cloth and kissing his thin cheek before stroking his neck lightly with the other compress, and he fairly beamed, the corners of his pallid lips turning up in that little bow they became when he smiled.

"I'm sorry. . .I should. . . ."

"Sssshhh. . .it's all right, Fo."

Tears sparkled in his eyes, blue as the Sea. "I. . .wanted to. . .to come and. . .meet. . .you properly. . . . A few. . .more. . .days. . .and I. . .would have. . .been. . .able. . . ."

"A few more days would have been too long for me to wait. Winter's cold, and it's time for Summer to come melt away all the snow."

Reaching to her left wrist, she pulled loose the bow of a single purple ribbon tied about another, one bound to her wrist in decorative fashion. Slowly she lifted the covers, trying not to jostle the frozen left arm., so chilled in contrast to the fever that burned away at the rest of him, even though he shivered. . .he was always so cold. . . .

With careful touch, she tied the purple ribbon gently about his wrist, her voice a whisper.

"Summer's come home, Uncle Fo. Summer always comes back."

Meli

Rosie carefully wrapped Molly's hands and tied the bandages off. "Fire is hot, my girl."

Molly nodded and wiped at her eyes. "I know that, Aunt Rosie."

"All fires."

Molly nodded again.

"Even candles."

Molly's lower lip began to tremble, and Meli threw herself at the other girl and hugged her tight, glaring up at Rosie. "She didn't mean to."

Rosie stared Meli down, and the young Took dropped her eyes and scuffed her toe. "She didn't."

"I know that, Meli-lass. But you need to be careful. Fire hurts."

They both nodded and Rosie walked away, hearing part of their conversation. "See? I told you it would hurt."

"But it was so pretty. I just wanted to touch it."

Meli brushed Molly's hair away from her face and kissed her. "And?"

Molly grinned. "And fire burns. Pretty to look at, but bad to touch. Like thorns."

Taking Molly's bandaged hands in hers, Meli nodded. "Yes."

Slipstream

You must believe me, o my brothers, when I say I didn't start life wanting no devotchka or malchick to serve me kleb and jammiwam every morning. The pee and em were dead and it was just your humble narrator and his droogs, and all was good and horrorshow in the world.

That night had started with me and my droogies sweating it out at some dirty local moloko bar, sloshying the screeching music and viddying the lewdies thrash about on the lighted floor. There was I, of course, your narrator Frodo Baggins, as well as Sam, Mer, and Pip. Mer and Pip were good droogs, not as good with the nozh but enjoying the lubbilubbing and living rooker to rot just the same. Mer was more set in his ideas than Pip, who just followed whatever that malchick did, but they took orders well and thus made excellent companions. Sam was a bit on the slow, with a dazed look about his listo, o my brothers, and always a simmering threat of disobedience. But I was faster with my nozh than he with his oozy, and so I remained leader.

We were all dressed in the very height of fashion, being white suits and bowlers with the decorative crotch piece, our platties clean and pressed. We were feeling very horrorshow and wanting fun and a little deng and the smell of krovvy, so I ordered us out of the shlaga and into the streets. At that hour in that metso the millicents were scarce and the nochy was very dark, so it wouldn't be a long . Sam kept itching at his yarbles and we couldn't but smeck a bit at him, having a bit of cruel fun while we waited.

After a bit we could sloshy the click clack of heels and viddy a little huddled shape go a-hurrying up the street. It looked like some old baboochka out for cancers. Us four moved to the side to appear unthreatening-like, and I stepped forward as soon as she were close, keeping my voice low and smile stretched to show all the zoobies.

'Excuse us, my dear old cheena!'

She made a little crark low in her gorlo and I viddied very soon that this was no decrepit baboochka but a shapely devotchka, with great big goodies and a good mop of dark brown luscious glory and very horrorshow in the litso. Sam and Mer and Pip viddied this quick enough, too, and we soon had her all surrounded. She clutched tight some dusty biblio which made me smeck, and my droogs joined in. She was naught but a nadsat and all a-trembling, so I pressed a kiss onto the top of her dark gulliver, words thick with sarcy.

'No time tonight for the sinny before the regular in-out in-out, love, but you understand don't you?'

Seemed we'd get a bit of ultraviolence after all.

Hope

Shell shock, they called it, and sent him back to the front after a couple of months in some rehab hospital room that had stank of vomit and old bandages. Sam had found him again, though Frodo wasn't sure if he'd ever left his side; dinted helmet a bold line against his forehead. Sam always smelt of tobacco and a welcome kind of sweat, familiar as the dull green of their uniforms that seemed to wash out Frodo's world but for the flicker of gunfire or blood in the corner of his eye.

Sam's eyes glittering in the reflected starlight, the only way Frodo saw it for months, half-buried in the trenches, helmet muffling the world around him. And late at night when the gunfire stopped enough that they could hear foreign voices raised in guttural laughter from trenches barely a stone's throw away, the dead silence within the trench was only broken by the ringing in Frodo's ears and the soft crackle of Sam's cigarettes.

Those were the moments he remembered, and came awake late at night almost as if he hadn't been sleeping at all, with the smell of sweat and tobacco in his nostrils. And he would roll over and bury his face in Sam's hair, feel Sam's breath and the shifting of muscle under warm skin, and feel Rose shift behind him and press close, flinging one soft arm limply over his side.

Rose, sweet Rose who had surely had as bad a time of it as they had. Something he didn't envy her of, for the thought of being left at home, cut off as surely as if she were in constant blackout, was not something he would have preferred to Sam's reassuring murmurs, low and thick in his ear even as the shells shrieked above and around them.

But they'd come back. A elderly cousin of Frodo's - quite the globetrotter in his time - had left him a townhouse big enough for the three of them, and as big a family as they could wish for. It had taken little convincing on his part for Sam and Rose to lodge with him - a house to big for him alone, surely, and after all the loss he'd seen he couldn't let this go to waste . . . And little convincing on their part for him to share the master bedroom with them.

Shell shock wasn't something he could be rid of so easily, though, some nights coming awake to find he'd been awake all along, or awake but still in some dark dream that stank of blood and gunpowder, the tattoo of the machine guns still in his ears, body aching as if it were pierced with shrapnel. His own breath gasping dully and echoing as if the percussive helmet still muffled his ears. Sometimes he'd find himself somewhere in the city, backstreets somewhere perhaps, smelling like damp stone and urine, his shoulders aching from the strap of his rifle, left long behind him now. Many miles, many years.

Mary

She spent the first year going to the talks held in town halls, farm-lads and boys studying for their teaching certificates and shopkeepers and poets and doctors and sailors. She stood on tiny stages usually used for mayoral meetings or Christmas pagents put on by sunday schools and she spoke in a small, passionate voice to that ragtag crowd.

Better one crowded hour, she said softly, pleaded. Better to die a hero than live a coward. For your children's tomorrows, give your today.

After months of practise, she could almost say the words without feeling the sting of tears. It was what Sam had said to her, one night over dinner as he'd outlined his plan to join up. That it was often so, in times such as that. To save a thing, someone had to give it up. He'd heard it from Mr Frodo, of course. And if Mr Frodo was willing to do that, to be the one to give it up, then Sam was too.

And she was proud. She was proud of her husband, so steady and brave and unflinching in such a hard time. Nobody was able to put a white feather in Rose Gamgee's mailbox.

But every night that she stood before those village crowds of boys and men, she'd end up catching the eye of a mother or a wife or a sister out amongst the men. And the gaze of that woman, that sister in loss, would echo the thought running through Rose's heart every moment of every day.

Please, don't let it be my lovely one who has to give things up, who lives but one crowded hour and never comes back to me.

Hope

"So," Merry said absently, flinging himself onto Frodo's bed and flicking disinterestedly through a tattered book of poetry, jaw moving rhythmically as he chewed his gum. The minty smell of it wasn't enough to mask the stale cigarette smell that permeated his faded black teeshirt. His jeans rode low on his ass, revealing a large expanse of carrot-patterned boxers, and frayed denim cuffs wrinkled above his worn sneakers. "Angelica's a bit of a babe."

"She's my cousin," Frodo snapped, snatching the book away and stroking it with his palm before placing it carefully back on his night stand.

"So? Doesn't mean you can't admire her womanly charms." Merry outlined her womanly charms reverently in the air, and Frodo scowled. The sound of the lawn mower grew louder and softer outside, like a bee circling the room, as Sam made the rounds of the large garden. Frodo deliberately turned his back on the floor-to-ceiling plate glass window and eyed Merry.

"Frodo, dude, where do you keep your porn?" He shifted positions, started digging around under the mattress.

"Merry!"

"What!"

"Don't you talk about anything but sex? Or think anything?"

Merry squinted a little. "Nope." Frodo scowled. "What's up, Fro bro? Not into the ladies yourself? Prefer the lads, do you?"

Frodo cursed the blood rising to his face, and cursed again the sound of the lawn mower approaching. He would not turn around. He would not.

Mary

Delphinium stabbed the sharp little knife through the rindy skin of the orange, slitting the pocked surface just enough for the juice to bleed out over her fingertips and then fixing her mouth to the cut.

"You are the only hobbit I know who can play at being a vampire with fruit as your innocent victim," Daisy said, peeling the skin off her own orange as she perched in the tree beside the other girl. They were situated just out of sight beside the Frogmorton road, content to wait and bicker aimiably until someone interesting happened by.

"I bet vampires have to eat dozens of oranges," answered Del. "Because otherwise they'd get scurvy, and I've never seen a vampire with scurvy."

"You've never seen a vampire at all, ninnyhammer."

"Have so." Wiping excess juice from around her flushed mouth, Delphinium looked deadly serious. "Hiro Thatcher never goes out before dark, ever. And he keeps those big black dogs with the sharp teeth. And he doesn't have scurvy."

Daisy laughed, kicking at Del's shins. "You're such a liar. He was out with his wife and their eldest boy buying a new bridle yesterday, you asked him if you could have a puppy from the litter."

"I'm going to name it Fang, and teach it to bite stupid little girls."

Sighing, Daisy bit into a wedge of her now-peeled orange. "She's all right, you know. Her brother Basil is mean as custard to her."

"As custard?"

"Well, Mum's always saying that clever people are keen as mustard. So that means horrid brutes are mean as custard, doesn't it? Makes sense." Daisy shrugged. "Anyway, I think it's sad you two aren't better chums. It would make it a set - Meli and Molly are knotted up so close I can't imagine one without the other, and there's me and Sammie, and then there could be you and Aster."

"But it's always her and Sammie. He doesn't need you anymore," said Del in a cruel tone, making another slit in her orange's skin with a vicious push of the knife.

"The only reason that it's just the two of them working on the story together is because Aster's got the neatest hand. Sammie wants it to look lovely for Mum's birthday, she's gotten him a big bag full of marbles and he wants to make the words look special. He spent hours and hours writing it, and it's worth taking the trouble to get the best calligrapher to copy it for him. If he tried to use me or you it would look like a beetle had stepped in the ink bottle and then walked on paper." Daisy wanted to pat Del on the shoulder but didn't especially relish the thought of having her fingers bitten off. "Anyway, look, here they come now. Hie! You two! Come up and join us, we're making sure we don't get scurvy."

Sammie clambered up to the fork in the branches with agility born of practise, and after a second's hesitation Aster followed.

"Why don't we all go down to the Pool and look for frogspawn?" Sammie suggested. "There should be lots this time of year, we can collect it in jars and things."

"Mum said I could use the crocks left over from our old dinner set," piped up Aster. "I was going to ask your Dad for some flowers to put in them." Delphinium made a derisive snort. "But we could use them."

"Brilliant!" Daisy clapped. "Del's very good at finding the best spots, aren't you?"

Delphinium shrugged. "I suppose."

"Well, come on then." Sammie grinned. "No point in making sure you don't have scurvy if you just sit about in trees all day."

Singe

"Being morally upright has its disadvantages." Delphinium muttered, imitating Master Meriadoc's learned vocabulary, and kicked at a dirt clod by the side of the riverbank.

"What was that, Del?" Aster asked, looking up from arranging the yellow wildflowers she had picked.

"Nothing." Del whipped a flat pebble into the broad stream and watched it skip all the way across to the other bank with satisfaction. Aster was singing a happy tune about sunshine while she fiddled with her stupid flowers. Del wanted to strike her. "Aster, why didn't you go on the crop raid with the rest of them? Sammie and Daisy especially begged you to go...I begged you to go..."

"You never raid. And I couldn't leave you alone. That would be rude!"

"You are all sweetness and light." Del turned back to the stream with a sigh. Sarcasm was lost on Aster.

"Thank you, Del, I...AICK!!" Del actually heard the rock strike Aster's teeth with a terrible chik! sound and she whirled around. Aster's hands covered her mouth and tears and blood began to seep over her fingers. She hunched over in pain. Another rock came flying out of the bushes and hit her on the shoulder. "Oh!" Aster sobbed.

Del ran over, grabbed her by the arm and dragged her behind a stump. She could hear sniggers from the bushes and her lips curled in distaste. "Ith Bathil!" Aster sobbed making herself as small as possible behind their cover. "Bathil!"

"Basil...your brother?" Del poked a finger into Aster's mouth to check the damage and found a cut lip and a scratched tooth. "Well. He really is mean as custard isn't he?"

"Cuthtard?"

"Nevermind. So he likes to throw rocks, huh?" Aster nodded, blood drooling from her mouth. Del was enraged. Cruelty against Aster was like...like kicking a blue-eyed baby. "Well, I like to throw rocks, too..." Del's hand closed around a smooth river stone and she stood up. Aster tried to yank her back down but succeeded only in having Del grab her and pull her up. "Stand up, Aster!"

"No! He'll hit uth!" She couldn't get away.

"ASS, ASS, ASTER! ASTER THE ASS!" came a crowing voice from the bushes and another rock hit Del right in the chest. She barely felt it.

"Oh, how witty..." Del said and threw her stone as hard as she could, which was mighty hard indeed, in the direction the jeering voice was coming from. It cut off with a squawk and Basil Digg-Tooter came flying out of the foliage with his hand on his stomach. My, he seemed upset. "See, Aster, he should have stayed under cover. Now we can get him good..." Del picked up another stone and waited for Basil to come closer. Aster watched intently. WHACK! Del's stone impactd Basil's forehead and he stopped, shocked and, perhaps, dazed. Del casually scanned the ground and picked up a small chunk of dried wood.

His eyes uncrossed. "You better not!" Basil shouted. The wood exploded quite beautifully against his ugly face. He screamed. "I'm gonna...!" WHACK! Another rock. Basil fell down. He regained his legs and took off at top speed, weaving drunkenly.

"Watch me, Aster...see? Put one foot in front of the other and draw back your arm...like you're throwing a spear...now, when you throw put ALL your weight behind it..." Del bounced a couple more pebbles off the back of his head for good measure and Aster watched as Basil disappeared over the horizon. Her eyes reflected years of bullied fear and Del was truly sorry to see it. "We're going straight to your mother. We're going to tell. We'll tell Floria, too. Come on..."

"But Bathil will get me later..." Aster's eyes were pouring helpless tears. "He thaid tho!" Del couldn't help it, she snickered.

"Hey, Athter..." she mimicked, "After your parenth and your thithter get through with Bathil...there won't be anything left of him large enough to give you any trouble. And I'll teach you how to fight and throw and thtick up for yourthelf."

Aster was smiling and her nose was running. "Really?" She flung her arms around Del. "Really? Are we friendth now?"

Delphinium suddenly gave up. She patted Aster on the back and felt a strange sort of release as a knot of meanness and unhappiness unravelled inside her heart. "I thuppose tho."

Hope

Deer Mister Frodo

Thankyu for savving the woruld. Dad tolld me all abowt it. I hop the mallon trees ther ar as prety as our one heer.

From
Goldilocks Gardner
(yu can cal me Goldy if yu want)

"I'm not writing one." Daisy pouted, crossing her arms firmly over her chest.

"Come on, Daise," Elanor said softly, crouching down beside her sister, tough grass, deep rooted in sand, tickling at her legs with the sea breeze.

Daisy's lips pressed together, she gazed over Elanor's shoulder to where Rose still sat, the campfire casting dense red shadows about her face and creeping into the cracks of the old stone tower behind her. "It's stupid."

"No it's not. Look, I'm writing one too."

Dear Uncle Fo,

Things here have come true just as you said they would, except that little Pippin came before Goldilocks. Sometimes I miss you terribly (though my memories of you are not extensive!) and I know Rose-mum and Sam-dad do sometimes too. We read out of the Red Book lots, Dad has been teaching all the children of the Shire about it!

Love,
Your Ellyelle.

Hamfast eagerly held out his small page when Sam gathered the letters together,

Froodo,

can I hav yor sord?

Ham.

though a few of the older lads and lasses had done this enough times to be able to fold the pages themselves.

As the sun set and the stars rose, several tiny white paper boats bobbed away from the shore, borne up by the waves and drifting further out until they were indistinguishable from the gleaming white caps of foam. Still they stood on the shore and gazed out to where the sky met the horizon, straining their eyes to see as the darkness fell and the stars fell crisply on the water below.

"What did you write, Dad?" Elanor asked softly, sliding her arm into his as the younger children lost interest and started burying each other. Ruby shrieked something about mermaids and Bilbo started kicking sand into the water, tiny showers like shoals of fish.

"Never you mind, lass," Sam murmured, turning to Elanor at last and patting her hand; and it seemed to her as if the stars were caught in the creases that mapped the skin around his eyes as he smiled.

Mary

"It's poetical irony," Frodo sighed in a resigned voice. "Fate eventually repays us for the things we do, I suppose."

Sam rolled his eyes. "I don't think fate's in the business of handing out rashes, begging your pardon."

"My pardon doesn't require begging, my dear Sam." Frodo turned from the mirror to look at Sam sitting on the end of the bed and gave him a wry grin. "I'm mostly amused. Well, to be truthful I'm mostly itchy, but amused comes second on the list."

Cob Bracegirdle of Hardbottle was coming to stay, being a distant relation of Frodo's in need of a spell amongst the slightly more sedate flora of Hobbiton. It was Spring, which meant silky russet blooms and fat yellow pollen and eye-watering allergies. Nobody at Bag End had ever suffered this malady, through virtue of hardy noses and well-clipped gardens.

That is, nobody had until now.

"It's because you leave your hair without soaping until it gets greasy as Marigold's garlic chicken," Rosie said, hitting some bounce back into the pillows and tugging the coverlet straight. "Honestly, sometimes I wonder how you ever made it through your tweens without Mr Bilbo shaving you bald."

"Getting two insults in for the breath of one," Sam scolded. "You're both thrifty and cruel."

"And you're the ass stupid enough to marry me," replied Rosie with a sunny smile. "Do you want me to fill another bath with the herbs we were using last night, Frodo? They seemed to soothe you."

"No, no, it's all right." Frodo shook his head. "I should go down and wait for the cart at the lane."

"Delphinium and Hope are down there, they'll give us a bellow if he arrives," Sam said.

Frodo nodded, giving his reflection one last look. His cheeks, chin and forehead were covered in sore red blotches, some sections rubbed raw from frantic scratching with blunt fingernails. The lovely look of seasonal excema.

"It's fate, it must be fate. Cob would be old Lotho's second cousin, if I've got my family tree right. Merry and I used to make Lotho miserable with our teasing when we were young, we called him every cruel name we could think of or make up. Pimple, gravelface, goblin... and now, when I've finally got a chance to make amends for how I treated a clumsy fat little boy with a bad rash on his face by taking in his relation, I've come out in spots as bad as any Lotho ever had."

Frodo looked up at some arbitrary point on the curve of the ceiling.

"Are you haunting me then, Lotho? A spirit with a knack for itches? It wouldn't be unlike you to wait the years out for this oppurtunity."

Rosie and Sam laughed.

"They're heeeeeeeeeeeere!" Delphinium shouted from outside. Frodo covered his face with his hands and then sighed, walking to the door with the biggest smile he could muster.

Cob was a shy sort, or perhaps he was just conscious of the thick sniffle in his voice from the allergies and didn't speak much as a result. The Gardner brood tended to bring out the talkative side of people, but the boy seemed immune.

He asked if he might spend the time between dinner and supper in the study with Frodo and Hope, a request they were happy to oblige. It was hard to work up the will to write in such pleasant weather, and the scholars had spent the majority of their recent evenings making up fairy stories to amuse the children.

"I could tell you one, if you'd like," Cob offered, a blush rising to his cheeks and making him almost as red as Frodo.

"Please do, lad, that would be wonderful." Frodo smiled, settling into his chair.

"Mistress Lobelia used to tell it to the little ones in the year before she died, and we've kept it passing since. She had a knack with words, though few knew it," Cob explained, then began to weave the story.

"Once upon a time there was a Queen. She was quite old, and had a son whom she was very fond of. The prince fell in with bad company, though, and died before he'd grown wise enough to save himself. The Queen was heartbroken by this, and left her kingdom to return to the land she'd grown up in.

"In her place, other rulers took over the running of the land. Two Kings, and a new Queen with a bonny laugh and a sharp tongue. They were wise rulers, and good and kind, but the subjects in the country did not see how lucky they were. They spat at the Queen, and said cruel things to her, for it wasn't usually done for two Kings to rule at once with one Queen between them. The old Queen, watching from afar and still weeping for her lost son, saw that the new Queen was losing her fire and spirit. Word travels between lands and royalty, you see, and rarely can secrets be kept for long.

"So one day the old Queen came to the kingdom, and gritted her teeth and walked up the hill to the palace she had left in grief. It hurt her to do so, but she did it anyway. Queens are like that.

"And the old Queen greeted the new Queen, and they sat together and drank tea and talked of fairy tales. They shared a love of a story about a king who was very stupid, and believed a tailor was making him the finest suit in the land when really the king was naked as a jaybird. It's a long and rather funny story, but time prevents a full retelling now. They two Queens laughed together over it that day in the kitchen of the palace, though.

"And then the old Queen took the sad young Queen's hand and said softly 'there's a second moral to that story that few know, my girl. At the end, the fool spits at the king's feet and none can stop him. But the king is still the king, and the fool is still the fool. Never forget that'.

"The old Queen went away then, and died a week afterwards. The new Queen didn't tell anyone of the visit, or of the lesson she'd been given from the old woman. But she didn't forget it, either, and so in a way the old Queen lived on forever."

Cob sat back, then smiled at his audience.

"You can scratch your face now, sir, if it's itching you. I won't be offended," he said kindly.

Slipstream

The day comes too quickly, far too quickly, even though any day would have been too soon. The day that Rosie and Sam meet tear-filled eyes over the too oft-used sickbed and know that this time there would not be a getting better.

Frodo's body is racked with fever, his sunken eyes unseeing. He does not know them, which hurts the worst, and Rosie often cries over this fallen gentle-hobbit, once so learned and wise, left a shriveled, ghostly husk.

The children visit, hollow-eyed and pale, false smiles painted on their faces. Sometimes he stirs enough to squeeze hands in response to gentle hugs, drift in and out of quiet conversations for a minute or two. Sammie's birthday comes and he spends the entire day caring for him, his uncle, his father, his Fo. At one point Frodo is coherent enough to mumble a very happy birthday and many returns, and it is all little Sammie can do to hide his tears and trembling and kiss him on his pale-skinned brow.

One afternoon Rosie comes in with freshly steamed towels to find Frodo with his too-thin arms stretched towards the sun-lit window, his expression wanting and his speech reduced to baby mewls for a long dead mother. She does all that she can, holding him and rocking him like she did with her children, most of whom are grown now and gone, and sings him gentle songs. He calms a little and curls against her breast, instinctively seeking out her comfort and warmth. Sam enters softly and wraps his strong brown arms about the both of them, settling into the bed and adding his own low, quiet voice to the melody.

Frodo's sobs calm into little hitches and hiccups and soon even out, leaving him limp and washed out and soaked in fresh tears. Rosie and Sam continue their singing, not knowing the exact words but singing them just the same, subtly swaying with the ebb and flow of the song. Outside it is a beautifully sun-filled day and the seasonal plants are blooming with all their might in the windowsill, as if light and flowers could counteract this deadly poison that worms its way through their love.

If he were to leave us now, she thinks, with the light striking his eyes, the scent of the season filling the room, the feel of strong arms and gentle rocking, the sound of gentle singing, the world washed in salt-water, would he think that the elves had returned at last to carry him over the sea?

There is a pause in his breath, and Sam and Rosie both freeze in fearful anticipation until he begins to breathe again.

And if he thought they had returned, would he go gladly, or leap back into the waters and attempt to reach the shore until the waves took him?

Slipstream

Sam like oliphaunts well enough in poems and at a distance, but would be like one in the tater patch?

"Sam-dad, there's an oliphaunt in the tater patch."

"That's nice, Ru- a what?"

"An oliphaunt. In the tater patch."

"*sigh* Ruby, there is no oliphaunt in the tater patch. And besides, oliphaunts live leagues and leagues away, down south, past Gondor, even. What would one be doing at Bag End, eh?"

"I don't know the hows or the whys, daddy, I just know that there is..."

"Go back to those papers, Sam, I'll see to the oversized paciderm."

"Thank you, Frodo."

*from outside* "See, Ruby? There is no oliphaunt in the garden, and definitely not in the tater paaa-OH ELBERETH!!!"

CRUNCH.

"...Uncle Frodo?"

Sanguinary

Frodo Baggins stood on Platform nine and three-quarters. He adjusted his thick glasses and picked up his bags.

'Frodo, wait up!' Samwise Gamgee, Frodo's best friend, came running towards Frodo, his hand-me-down trunk in one hand and Gollum's cage in his other hand.

'Sam!' Frodo embraced his friend, 'I've missed you this summer.'

'I missed you too Frodo.' Sam squeezed Frodo and stepped back. 'And so did Rosie.'

'I can tell him that myself.' Rosie walked up beside Sam, gently chastising him. But though her words were meant to be sharp, her friendly tone dissolved any bitter tinge they contained. She smiled at Frodo and gave him a quick hug, 'It's good to see you again.'

'And it's good to see you.' Frodo smiled at his two best friends. 'After this summer, school is a welcome change.'

'Were the Sacksville-Baggins as horrible as ever?'

'Lotho's grown fat again so everyone was on a 'diet' because of him. It's almost like they want me to be hurgry." Frodo shook his head, hair flapping in every direction.

'You should think about getting this cut.' Rosie pushed Frodo's hair out of his face, her fingers brushing against the strange ring-shaped scar in his forehead before dropping away. 'You do nothing but fight with it all the time.'

'I rather like his hair the way it is.' Sam interjected.

'Thank you Sam.' Frodo smiled at Sam. Sam blushed, his red cheeks matching his red hair.

The train whistled and steam flooded the platform. 'That's enough lollygagging you two. We better hurry if we want to get on the train.' Rosie smiled at both boys and Frodo knew that this was going to be a great year.

'Last one on is a dirty orc!' Frodo cried as he rushed the train, Rosie and Sam running right behind him.