"Home again!" Sam's call roused Rosie from her doze. "How's my beautiful girl?"

"Woefully bored." she answered as he came to the bedroom door. "Let me up, Sam, please. I'm perfectly well."

"Are you sure?" his tone was doubtful. "I don't want you worn out."

"Let her up Sam!" Frodo shouted from his study. "I'll never hear the end of her complaining if you don't!"

"Now you have to let me up, so I can beat the stuffing out of him."

"Oh, all right. Let me help you into the kitchen." Sam insisted on supporting nearly all her weight on the short trip down the hallway.

Frodo came and joined them as they were about to enter the room, exchanging a smile with Sam. Rosie didn't have the chance to wonder at that before she stepped inside and saw the beautiful dress laid out over a chair.

It was made of a dusky pink silk, with dark red roses curled out of ribbon around the skirt and neckline. A choker of the same ribbon lay beside it, a soft velvet circlet waiting to rest around her throat. It was the loveliest piece of clothing Rosie had ever seen.

"Hardly suitable for laundry and dusting." she managed wryly, blinking back the warm sting in her eyes.

"Then you'll have to dance more, and get wear out of it that way." Sam pressed a kiss against her pillow-tangled curls. "We miss your smile, Rosie-duck."

"Tom and Marigold have Elanor for the night, and Sam and I were wondering if you would like to go to the inn for a feast and a party, Mistress Rose?"

"I'd love to." Rosie smiled.

The dress fit like a dream, falling in soft gathers almost to her ankles, furling out when she twirled. The spin left Rosie feeling a little light-headed, but she breathed in deep until the dizzy spell passed. Nothing was going to ruin her evening.

They went to the Green Dragon, and it was so good to see all her friends again, and laugh and smile and make silly toasts with good ale. Frodo and Sam were persuaded to recite some of the poems they'd learned on their journeys, and got a loud and long applause for their trouble.

Rosie had always loved the way Sam danced, his face so nervous and his body so sure. Frodo watched them, and laughed and clapped.

Between songs Sam and Rosie crept out the back, like they'd done years ago, before they were old enough to think about settling down. They'd liked each other even then, in a fumbling, timid way, teeth-click kisses and clumsy hands. It seemed right to go back there now, let the night sky and air see what the young lovers had grown into, how their story had ended.

"Perhaps he felt tired, and went home." Sam said when they went back inside and Frodo was nowhere to be seen. Asking a friend or two confirmed yes, Frodo had gone, and had left a message for Sam and Rosie to stay as late as they wanted.

They danced for what seemed like hours, around and around the room in a whirl, before finally Rosie lost her footing and stumbled. Sam caught her before she could fall, and they decided to leave before she overtired herself.

There were no lights on in Bag End as they approached, which was an odd enough occurrence for them to wonder at it. Even if Frodo had gone to bed already, it was usual for a candle to burn in the window until they were all home safe and sound.

"Mr Frodo?" Sam called hesitantly, swinging the door open. Rosie gasped, stepping back against the wall as they walked inside and saw the shambles everything was in, illuminated by the silvery light of the moon. Walking staffs snapped in two, hats and cloaks strewn on the floor, chests upturned and emptied.

"Lost, lost." a thin rasp of a voice whispered. "Thieves! Where is it? Lost!"

Frodo crept out of the shadows near Rosie, grabbing at her skirt with one hand. His three fingers and thumb were hooked into claws, catching one of the decorative roses around the hem and unraveling it into a crimson streak on the floor. Rosie bit back a scream and fell against Sam, who moved to pin Frodo down, holding him as he struggled.

"Thief!" Frodo's voice was almost a shriek, legs flailing and kicking as Sam tried to calm him.

"Frodo, please, it's your Sam, please just stop and come back to yourself."

Frodo's eyes narrowed, glaring up at Rosie. It made her shiver, there was nothing of the hobbit she knew and loved in that gaze. Lifting her skirt out of the way of his kicks as she stepped in closer, Rosie raised her hand and slapped Frodo's face as hard as she could bring herself to. Reason flooded back into his expression, the snarl softening as his limbs stilled. Nobody said anything for a long moment, until Frodo gasped, and began to sob.

"I'm sorry." Frodo cried. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Sam rocked him gently. "I'm sorry. Oh Rose, I ripped your beautiful dress, I'm so-"

"Hush." Rosie crouched down to hug them both. "It's easily mended."

~

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