Rosie loved watching children's games. They'd play all the same old ones she and her brothers had grown up with, hide-and-seek and statues and tag. Childhood went by so fast but remained forever, because there were always new small feet to flatten the grass, and tiny hands to pick the freshly-grown flowers.

Nobody was playing at the moment, though, a dozen small faces held in rapt attention by Frodo's words as he recounted stories more fantastical than any Rosie had heard as a lass. They sounded like much happier and less painful adventures in this version, and the children were cheering at almost every pause. Frodo had Elanor on his knee, and was bouncing her as he spoke, making her clap, a gummy smile on her mouth.

"It's good to hear him laugh again." Sam said beside her, and Rosie nodded. It was, it was as good as good had ever been, better than fresh cream with breakfast or a new melody to sing. Frodo's laugh was wonderful, and hadn't gone the least bit rusty with disuse.

Sam's hand slipped around her waist, pulling her against his side in a half-hug as they stood and listened. His arm felt good and solid and warm against her, and Rosie felt as if she might burst for being so alive.

"Come on." she smiled a secretive smile, pulling him across to a small circlet of trees she'd used many times for hiding games. "That tale's a long one, nobody will notice us gone."

He pressed her back against the rough bark of an old tree, she didn't know what sort it was and even though she was sure Sam would have the answer she didn't ask, too busy pressing her mouth against his hungrily, hooking her ankle behind his knee. They could still hear the muted lilt of Frodo's voice, the liquid-joy sound of his laugh. Rosie wished that the quest had been just as he was telling it. Stories needed to end happily, after all. She'd known that all her life.

They adjusted their clothing and emerged from the trees as the conclusion to the tale was reached, the children all running off at full speed to play at being dwarves and elves and hidden kings. Adjusting Elanor in his arms, Frodo came over to stand with Sam and Rosie.

"There, I did as I promised." Frodo smiled. "Though I doubt you heard enough to know for sure." he reached over and plucked a twig, complete with a small green leaf, out of Sam's hair. "I'm shocked. What if the children had seen you?"

"They were too busy hearing about blood and fire to pay attention to any earth and love that was going on." Rosie shot back with a grin, pulling the leaves that littered her own hair loose. "Don't think you would have liked it, Mr Frodo. We can be mighty ungentle when the mood takes us."

"I'm not made of glass, you know." Frodo's smile became a smirk as he passed Elanor back to her mother. Sam looked shocked at the remark, which led Rosie to mess his already haphazard hair affectionately.

"I like him better when he's shocking you, Sam, than I do when he's making you fret and worry." she turned to look at Frodo. "Though I must say you look exhausted to the bone now, as if you might fall over where you stand and sleep on the ground."

"Then I must look exactly how I feel." Frodo admitted. Sam supported him as much as he could without actually carrying him as they walked back to their home.

"There now, is that more comfortable?" Rosie asked when Elanor and Frodo were both tucked in their respective beds. Frodo nodded.

"Much, thankyou. I'm not sleepy, though, could you pass me one of my books to read?"

"Only if you read to us." Rosie smiled. "I'd like to hear your voice for a while longer today."

"All right." Frodo nodded. "Climb aboard then, and I'll begin."

It was almost like being a faunt again, Rosie thought, curling up on the pillow and listening to a story in the early afternoon. Sam's hand found hers atop Frodo's concave stomach, twining their fingers together as Frodo began to read.

"Here, Sam, you'll like this one, it's from an old Elvish text. Ye have spilled the blood of your kindred unrighteously and have stained the land of Aman. For blood ye shall render -"

"Oh, blood and blood and blood. I'm bored of blood." Rosie muttered, freeing her hand from Sam's and playing with the buttons on Frodo's loose sleeping shirt.

"- blood, and beyond Aman ye shall dwell in Death's shadow. For though Eru appointed - Oh, Rose, stop, I can't concentrate when you do that - to you to die not in Eae, and no sickness may assail you, yet slain ye may be," Frodo's words faltered as Rosie replaced her hands with her mouth, breathing hotly against the fabric across his chest. He swallowed and tried to find his place in the paragraph again. "And slain ye shall be: by weapon and by torment and by grief; and your homeless spirits shall come then to Mandos."

"This isn't the cheeriest of texts, I must say." Sam pointed out. Frodo didn't answer, his head tipped back as Rosie reached the open collar of the shirt and lathed her tongue against the curve of his neck. With a wicked grin she looked up at him.

"Well, go on then with your horrible story. Keep reading."

"Uh." Frodo did not look capable of doing anything of the sort. She leant over him and planted a long, lingering kiss on Sam's mouth, locks of her long curling hair brushing against Frodo's face.

"Keep reading." she repeated, moving her mouth back to his throat.

"There long shall ya abide - you two are the most beautiful creatures this world has ever seen -and yearn for your bodies," Frodo's voice got lost as his mouth felt thick, yearning to press against Sam's as he felt breath against his cheek. He didn't dare turn, because he knew if he stopped then Rosie would too, and she was halfway to his navel now, opening the shirt as if she had a lifetime to unfasten six buttons.

"And find little pity though - mmphmph." Sam put a decisive end to the narration, kissing Frodo as Rosie finished her painstaking work removing Frodo's single item of clothing.

"Good. Couldn't abide all that moaning and groaning." Rosie said, tossing the book off the bed and pushing the covers out of the way. "I have an affection for your voice, Mr Frodo, but there are better uses for it than reading out such gloom." she moved her mouth down and Frodo let out a short cry against Sam's mouth, putting practice to her theory.

"Not made of glass, eh?" Rosie scolded. "Could have fooled me. You need some meat on your bones, and no mistake. It's not right to be so thin at your age." she paused. "At any age, for that matter. We'll have to remedy it."

Frodo's hand flailed to find her, his eyes shut as the kiss with Sam went on. He beckoned her up to where they were and pulled her in so her mouth was against the both of theirs. Rosie decided that hearing Frodo's laugh wasn't quite better than everything, perhaps, not when there was this to be had as well.

"What did it mean, anyway?" she asked when they were through, lying boneless and warm on the big soft bed. Sam was already asleep, and Rosie and Frodo were halfway there. "That piece you were reading."

"It's about a land over the sea, where elven spirits go when they die. Sometimes they sail there, too."

"Why do they sail there, if they're bound for it eventually no matter what?"

Frodo was quiet for so long Rosie supposed he must have fallen asleep before he finally spoke. "A person's life doesn't always end at the moment their heart stops. They might have been exhausted. Their loves and families might be dead and waiting for them already. Maybe they had no choice."

"Well, I don't think I'd like to go there. Not if I knew that was where I was going regardless. My family and loves could just sit tight and wait until I was finished here, as far as I'm concerned." she declared sleepily, trying not to yawn. "There's always more reasons to stay than to go, I figure."

There was no answer, Frodo was already asleep. Rosie curled against his chest and dreamt of sunlit forests.

~

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