"We used to play with these when I was a lass, my mother and I," said Rosie, making one of the pegs walk across the grass to tap Elanor on the nose. "You draw a face on the top, here, and wrap a handkerchief around the middle, and the peg part acts as legs."

It was a windy day, an orange-and-yellow day, and now that the washing was out Rosie and Elanor rested under the big tree near the line, Sam and Frodo beside them. Frodo was dozing, his head on Sam's knee, and Rosie had taken the chance to wind small white flowers through his dark locks.

"Do you remember that party down at Bywater, it must be almost ten years ago now. It started raining and everybody hid under the big tent, but that wretched Olivia Boffin knocked the support beam over and brought it down on our heads?"

"Aye. The Gaffer called me a blue streak of names when I came home wit my best clothes all mudded."

"Mmm, my Mam wasn't what you'd call impressed. Said I'd end up with my face in the dirt if I didn't keep my feet on the ground, then told me I'd best find some dusty old hobbit with more money than sense to keep me if I intended on ruining my clothes so frequently." Rosie laughed. "And she was right enough, really."

"Weren't our fault that Livvy had feathers where her brain ought to have gone, anyway."

"She fancied you something fierce." Rosie made the peg-doll kiss at Elly's nose again. "Whenever the two of us were dancing together she'd stamp her foot down on my toes and try to steal you, and you'd yelp and scurry off to see if your dear Mr Frodo needed helping. If he'd been a girl you'd have hidden behind his skirts and cried for Mummy, she scared you so."

"You were just as bad with the lads who tried to court you, don't think that's forgotten." Sam teased back. "You jumped if they so much as put a hand on your arm."

"Well," sniffed Rosie. "They weren't gentlemen. I wasn't going to have people whisper about me, and I knew they would if I gave dances to all the boys."

"They whisper about you now." Frodo pointed out, waking up and rubbing his cheek against Sam's knee sleepily.

"The dances I get are worth their whispers." Rosie declared. "Now, I should get a stew started for dinner. Can I leave Elly out here with you two?"

She could hear Elanor's squeals and giggles from the kitchen as Frodo and Sam put on a peg-puppet show. Singing to herself as she worked, Rosie chopped potato and carrot and pumpkin. She spilled the salt and threw a pinch over her shoulder for luck, then rolled her eyes at her clumsiness and silliness. It began to rain and she called the others inside, not really surprised when the dallied. It was shaping up to be rather a wet season, perhaps they'd have a dry winter as a result.

Roads go ever ever on
Under cloud and under star,
Yet feet that wandering have gone
Turn at last to home afar.
Eyes that fire and sword have seen
And horror in the halls of stone
Look at last on meadows green
And trees and hills they long have known.



It was one of Bilbo's songs, and Rosie's favourite. Happily-ever-afters always made her heart feel nice. Humming to herself, she looked up at the painting hanging on the far wall, the one of the star-crossed lovers that Frodo had painted not so long ago.

Sam, clothes damp from the wet outside, crept up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist.

"Looking at our picture, then?"

"It's silly." Rosie cocked her head to one side, then shook it. "She's supposed to look like the most beautiful thing there ever was, and she just looks like me trying not to laugh at you in your stupid hat."

"Then she's the most beautiful thing, no mistake." Sam blew on the curve of her neck, making her squirm at the tickle.

"Look at the newlyweds." Tom said, leaning in the doorway with Marigold beside him. Rosie silently cursed the fact she'd let it slip that they'd all be home today.

"We're not newly wed, it's more'n a year past now." Sam pointed out.

"If you're still playing games in the kitchen and saying sweet nothings for no reason, you're newlyweds." Marigold smiled to take the sting off the comment and moved over to help with the cooking.

"Where've Frodo and Ellyelle got to?" Rosie asked Sam, who shrugged.

"We're here, Rose. She needed changing." Frodo came in, nodding hello to their guests and sitting down at the end of the table with Elanor still in his arms. Sam went over and took her off him, leaving Frodo to his writing.

"What do you think, Mr Frodo? Are these two a pair of giggling tween newlyweds?" Tom asked, ignoring the writing Frodo was attempting to get done, plunking down into the nearest chair. Sighing, Frodo shut his book.

"I think they're in love, yes." he nodded, smiling softly over at where Sam had an arm around Rosie's shoulders, Elanor cradled between them.

Marigold snorted. "A house full of dreamers. Love don't put clothes on baby's backs or food on the table. You three don't have a cup of sense to share between you."

"Don't take that tone with me, Marigold." Sam shook his head with a grin. "I remember how you and Tom here used to look at each other down by the Dragon at night. You know what love is well as I do."

"It passes, Sam, it passes." Marigold sighed, adding carrots to the boiling water.

"Not if I have any say in it, it won't." Rosie said.

"What makes you think you do?" Tom shot back.

"So much bitterness ain't the right mood for dinnertime, so you can just shut your mouth and leave Mr Frodo to his papers." Rosie informed her brother, handing him Elanor. "Play with your niece now and stop being such a wet blanket."

"That goes for you, too, Marigold." Sam agreed. "I've seen enough misery and the like to last me forever, so I think it's only fair that I get all the happiness I could ask for in return."

"'Fair' isn't what life's -"

"It is in this house." Frodo cut Marigold off. "And they're the fairest pair of lovers the world has seen, so that's the end of that argument.'

Tom and Marigold rolled their eyes, but said no more.

~

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