There's planting to be done today, like every other day, the Shire regaining its rich green life thanks to the diligent work of Sam and his little box of earth. The sun's bright but not too hot, and it's one of those days that makes all the other sorts of day seem worthwhile.

Rosie's chasing the spiders out of the corners of one of the cozy little bedrooms, dominated by a heavy oak chest against one wall and currently containing the owner of the residence, who is trying to burp a baby and keep out of the way of a dozen dispossessed arachnids. It's one of Frodo's good days, fewer now than a year ago, perhaps, but still common enough to give Sam and Rosie hope that he'll mend eventually. He jumps away from a particularly large spider, laughing as Elanor protests the sudden movement.

"You don't want to get bitten by any of these, little one, trust me. It's no fun," he tells the baby, pulling a face that makes her giggle.

"If you've energy to play with the babe you've got energy to help me," Rosie scolds, handing him a pile of linens. "These need airing."

"Yes ma'am," Frodo says, wearing a very serious expression.

"None of your cheek, either, Mr Frodo. Sam may treat you like you're an Elven king, but I survived a family full of brothers who thought they could lord over me, and I'm not going to start paying attention to rank now."

"Come on Elanor, your mother's in a mood," Frodo whispers to the little girl loudly. "We'll go outside and leave her to it."

"You'd be in a mood too if you had to clean out so much dust! It's only been three weeks I haven't been able to do it, with this terrible cold and Elanor getting sick as well. The whole time, I tell Sam to keep things tidy, nothing big mind you, just enough so I don't have to catch up when I'm well. Yes, Rosie wife he says to me, gentle as a new lamb. And then I find this! If it's not growing out of the dirt or boiling in a pot he doesn't know what to do with a thing."

"It'll still be here tomorrow, Rosie. Come into the garden with Elanorelle and me and enjoy the sunshine."

"Well... I should see to airing those sheets. You'll only make a botched job of it anyhow."

"Exactly. I'll leave them in the briar patch, won't I?" Frodo asks the baby, tickling under her arms and making her squeal.

"Don't let Samwise hear you saying there's a briar patch in the garden."

"He won't know I said it if you don't tell him."

"Why Mr Frodo! Are you suggesting I keep secrets from my husband?" Rosie drops the broom and wipes her brow with a smile. "Come on, let's pack a lunch and go find where he's run off to, I heard him say he was going to be nearby this week to make sure we were both feeling right enough to be left alone."

They take a basket full of early fruit and some seed-cakes left over from breakfast, and a bottle of fresh milk for Elanor, and set off down the road. Frodo's cheeks flush in the fresh air, and Rosie's glad to see he's looking healthy. She's kept away from him lately so as not to pass on her cough, but now it seems safe enough so she hugs him with the arm not holding the baby, hoping that soon enough she'll feel soft flesh on his sides and not fragile ribs.

"Sam! We've come to kidnap you!" Frodo calls when they spy him down in one of the fields. They wave hello at each other and sit down on the soft damp grass, watching the pale yellow butterflies flit between the wildflowers that seem to grow no matter how hungry the land gets for attention.

"We've surrendered Bag End to the spiders for the time being," Frodo explains between bites of apple. "But we'll stage a counterattack after lunch."

"Leave it, if you're not up to it," Sam says with a worried frown. "I can see to it when I get home."

"You've one child, Sam, not three," Rosie scolds. "You want to save the whole world, I think, but if we were the half-wits you suppose us to be we wouldn't be worth saving in the first place."

"There's logic you can't argue with." Frodo's smirk is hidden behind another mouthful of food.

Elanor notices a furry caterpillar climbing up a blade of grass, reaching out to touch it and then pulling her fingers back sharply as soon as they come into contact with the little creature. Her wide eyes turn to the three grown-up hobbits around her, as if they'll make the situation plain simply by being there. They all start laughing, and that makes Elanor laugh too because she likes to see them happy, and that makes them laugh even more. Everything is perfect, just for a moment. And a moment's all they need, for now.

~

Pretty Good Year | email Mary