Sam often told Rosie she was more like an elf that a hobbit. She chalked this up to flattery, and Sam's own peculiar tastes. But Frodo was most definitely not without a touch of the otherworldly in him.

After all, it wasn't like it was just another of their lazy days that they could waste with silly projects. Merry and Pippin were due over for dinner in half an hour, and there were still a million things to do, and Elanor had been windy and irritable all day, and of course this was exactly the environment Frodo decided to take up painting in.

"Try to look like you're completely in love, Sam."

"I'm completely something, that's for sure. Annoyed at this hat, perhaps, more than in love."

The hat in question was a floppy dark blue thing, with a long peacock feather drooping out of the brim and ticking at Sam's face every time he moved even an inch. Rosie was having a hard time maintaining her own expression of ethereal calm when he sneezed on her regularly.

Frodo had posed them in the front room, Sam down on bended knee gazing up at Rosie, who was standing on a chair. They were supposed to be Beren and Luthien, but with the smell of boiling cabbage and the sound of a cranky baby and a ridiculous hat in the equation it was hard to keep the mood.

"Can't this wait?" Rosie asked for what seemed the thousandth time.

"The afternoon light's best for working in, and if I get started now it'll be easier to come back to it another day."

"Why not just start another day, then?"

"Be quiet, Luthien, and try to look serene."

Rosie sighed and tried to hold her pose. Sam sneezed again. What sort of stupid name was Luthien, anyway? Might as well call your baby Cinderella or Snow White. Nobody could have fun with a name like that, they'd have to sit and sigh and wait for their prince to arrive. Rosie thought it was much more sensible to name children things like Thumbelina and Goldilocks and Rose Red - then they could have the adventures they wanted, and if a prince came along, well, that was nice, but not any nicer than any other husband.

Elanor gave another cry from her crib in the next room and Rosie climbed down off the chair.

"I can't leave her any longer. This will have to wait." She left the room, giving the peacock feather a flick with her thumb and forefinger on the way.

"Shall we leave it, then?" Sam asked, standing up.

"No, I can do detail work on your face. Come sit close by." Frodo mixed two of the paint pigments together carefully, trying to match Sam's skin tone.

"Why this story, Mr Frodo? Why do you want to paint it specially?"

Frodo smiled, swirling a dollop of bright blue for the hat.

"Their love was so powerful they were willing to give up everything for it. It meant more to them than anything else in the world possibly could."

"Not to be unkind about the story, because it's a story that's pretty as anything, but I think it's better to have a regular sort of life, and love somebody when they're boiling cabbages and getting in tempers and curling up beside you in bed every night. That's a much better kind of love than a pretty one that ends in sad and lovely paintings," Sam mused, trying to keep his face still as Frodo copied his features onto the canvas.

"You're right. And that type's even more precious, and worth giving up everything for twice over," Frodo agreed, then sighed. "I think too much of the light's gone to do any more."

"We've still got a while before Merry and Pippin arrive." Sam smiled, kissing Frodo's cheek.

"Be careful of that feather!" Frodo laughed as it trailed in the blue paint. "Now that's going to get everywhere. Look, you've got some on your cheek." He rubbed at the smudge with his thumb, but it just made the mess worse.

"You could use it for a paintbrush," Sam suggested. "Why do you have a hat like this anyway?"

"I've no idea. It was Bilbo's, though I never saw him wear it."

"Can't imagine why." Sam moved his head and got a swipe of paint across his nose from the lolling feather.

"I can hear you in there! If you're not working on that picture, you can come and help me!" Rosie called. "But leave that hat in there, if I see it again I may chop it into pieces and feed it to the crows!"

Stealing another quick kiss, the two of them went to help her, and to put the hat on her head when her hands were full and she couldn't shift it.

Merry and Pippin brought bottles of sweet, light wine, and a loaf of herb bread as well, and teased Sam and Frodo mightily about the blue paint all over their faces. Rosie had wiped hers off carefully, but there were still bright flakes of dry paint in her hair, and she vowed revenge.

Watching everyone he loved best in the world laugh and sing and drink, Frodo decided that although afternoon light was good for painting, candle-lit nights were just as wonderful for their own reasons.


~

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