"Home again.," Sam called from the front door, walking through into the kitchen. Frodo was seated at one end of the table, papers and notes fanned out in a pale aura in front of him. Elanor was rolling happily on a blanket on the floor, and Rosie sliced and peeled apples by the window.

"Ran into Fatty Bolger, he invited us to dinner tonight. Said he told Mr Frodo last week."

"Oh, so he did," Frodo muttered in an absent-minded voice. "Sorry, I forgot."

"Well, that's perfect." Dropping her knife, Rosie tossed the ribbons of apple peel back into the bowl with the pale pieces. "Looks like the ponies get a treat for dinner too. You've got a brain like a colander, Frodo Baggins."

"Sorry." Frodo's tone made it clear he was still not even halfway concentrating on the conversation. Rosie picked Elanor up with an exasperated grimace at Frodo.

"Well, come on then, we shouldn't keep Mr Bolger waiting."

"There's been gossip lately, Fatty's been ordering enough food to feed a banquet," Frodo mused as they walked down the road. "I wonder if this is related to that?"

"If you're finding time to gossip, you should be helping me more." Rosie handed Elanor to Sam, who kissed her on the nose. "But I have to admit, I was wondering similar myself."

"Hullo! Hurry up, we want to eat!" a voice called as they started on the final stretch down the road. It was Merry, and he walked up and down the length of the fence, balancing carefully as he waited for them to arrive. Fatty and his sister Estella were at the table already, along with Pippin, and a girl with soft, kind eyes, Diamond at birth and Dinny ever since.

"Sit, eat, before it cools," Estella ordered them with a warm laugh. Dinner was bean ragout with chicken and tomato and piles of mushrooms, hot and delicious.

"Hurry up Fatty, before the bottled news makes you burst." Diamond bit into a buttered roll and smiled a secret smile.

"Well," Fatty began. "I was talking to Merry here, despairing that between him and Pippin being so happy as they are, and Frodo swearing bachelorhood, and my Stel living with Dinny here these last few seasons, I don't expect I'll ever have the chance to be in a wedding party again. Not that I'm not happy for you and your lass, Stel -"

"Oh, shut it, before you dig your hold any deeper, and get to the point," Estella said, winding a long string of cheese around her fork.

"You have managed to collect quite a strange group for friends, I'll agree there." Sam thought of his own wedding, the flood of light and joy he'd felt when he realised that this meant he'd have his Rosie near him forever, that nothing could ever break their bond. Frodo had been first in line to kiss the new bride and groom, his eyes shining with happiness as deep as Sam and Rosie's own.

"Anyway, we sat down with Stella and Dinny." Pippin took up the story. "Because weddings are great fun, and eventually somebody's going to expect me to have an heir. Merry's good for lots of things, but as far as I know birthing's not one of them."

"Oh, haha, Pip." Merry cuffed him over the back of the head. "What this lackwit's trying to say is he's marrying Diamond, and I'm going to wed Estella. That way, Fatty gets his weddings, and the family tree records won't have so many half-rubbed-out lines between names where the writers don't know what to put."

"I saw one that said I was Din's servant." Estella snorted, then blushed. "Not that there's something wrong with that state of affairs, mind." she assured Sam and Frodo.

"So, will you all share a house?" Rosie asked.

"I expect we'll have seperate ones, with the lads in one and lasses in another, under general circumstances." Pippin shrugged. Suddenly, Frodo laughed.

"Do you have a calendar, Fatty? I want to check if it's still Afterlithe, because I have a clear memory of a much younger Peregrin Took declaring that he'd get married 'on the twelfth of Summerfilth, this is to say, never'."

"You certainly are fond of your cousins, Merry," Sam said, hiding his laugh behind his hand. "So when's the wedding day, then?"

Rosie excused herself from the table to check on Elanor, who had fallen asleep on a pillow by the fire.

"Oh, not for forever. I just wanted my brother to stop whining," Estella explained. "It'll keep the gossips quiet for a time, too... So, is there any truth to the things they say about what goes on up at Bag End?"

"Stel!" Fatty looked horrified. "You can't ask that!"

"Why on earth not?"

"Oh, you know Frodo better than that." Merry shook his head. "He probably thinks Elanor came from a cabbage patch, and that Sam and Rosie sleep in twin beds."

Sam was blushing as red as the fried tomatoes they'd eaten. Rosie and Frodo exchanged a glance and then raised their cups in a toast, to save him further embarrassment.

"To the happy couples," Frodo said. "Whatever combinations those couples may, in fact, be."

"Hear hear," Diamond chimed in, and soon they were all drinking in honour of two of the oddest engagements the Shire had seen.

"I think it's nice," Rosie said later, leaning against Sam in the middle of their bed, playing with Elanor. Rosie had cared for her share of small cousins and the children of friends, and never ceased to be glad her own baby was so good-natured.

"Yes. It's the beginning of a good age, in my opinion," Sam agreed. Elanor gurgled.

"She thinks so too, from the sound of it." Rosie rested her head against Sam's shoulder with a contented sigh. "I can't quite believe how lucky I am, Samwise."

"Nor can I, Rosie-heart. Nor can I."

They drifted off in the warmth of the firelight, the happy sleep of those who have been tired by a day of laughing.

Sam woke several hours later, Rosie breathing softly beside him with Elanor safe in her arms. Frodo hadn't come to bed, it was often his habit to stay up writing. The papers on the table were undisturbed, though, and Frodo wasn't anywhere to be found. A muted sound from outside led Sam to open the front door to check. Frodo was crouched by the bushes, vomiting quietly and shivering.

"I think I'm all right," he said shakily to Sam, making no move to stand. "Perhaps I should avoid mushrooms in the future. It doesn't matter, I never especially cared for them anyway."

Sam crossed his arms at that, knowing the statement for the lie it was.

"I'm sorry I made such a good night end on a bad note." Frodo wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, pointedly ignoring the faint tint of pink on his spit, an edge of copper in the taste.

"Can't be helped now, Mr Frodo. Come on, you'll feel better once you're safe and tucked in bed."

Frodo's skin was icy, and seemed to cool even moreso at Sam's touch, but the tension seeped out of him as he let Sam half-carry, half-help him into the bedroom. Rosie shifted over a little to make room, never really waking up, and Sam climbed back in beside her. Frodo curled in against Sam's side, his heartbeat like a fluttering caged bird underneath his chilled skin.

"It was still a good night," Sam said just before they fell asleep. "That's not changed by how it ended."

~

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