Eowyn was in the habit of sending random packages and gifts to her hobbit friends, never anything hugely useful but always trinkets that made them smile. Merry was the recipient on this occasion, though of course he divvied the horde up with everyone else. Stel, Dinny, Merry and Pip came up to Bag End for dinner, because if Frodo wouldn't go out into the Shire, the Shire would come in to him. They planted themselves in comfortable chairs around the fire and started to go through the gifts.

There were delicate carved ornaments, birds and dragons and butterflies, made out of wood and iron. A soft doll for Elanor, almost as big as the baby herself. Rosie, Diamond and Estella each got silver-backed sets of a comb, brush and mirror, and, because Eowyn knew that these alone were a pathetic present, the pretty little cases also contained thin flutes that gave clear notes, a pair of mugs with flowers etched along the handle, and a matching tinderbox. 'Firebug', Sam said as Rosie squealed in delight.

There were piles of creamy thick paper and pots of shiny black ink, beads and yarns and exotic seeds, and package after package of fine new clothes. Merry and Pippin kept most of these, because the extra inches in the legs and arms made a welcome change from their usual troubles with outgrown winter coats that had fitted well once and now left ankles and wrists freezing. Pippin especially seemed loathe to admit that his favoured jackets of old were no longer any use.

"Mittens, scarves... what's she think we're going to do with these, then?" Merry snorted, holding up the thick woolen socks that matched the gloves. "They're never going to fit."

"They might. They look stretchy." Pippin grabbed one and tried it on. It didn't even fit across his toes.

"See, I told you so. Anyway, I like your feet, I don't want them hidden." Merry jumped at Pippin's foot, pulling the sock away and tweaking at the big toe.

"Careful!" Pippin shouted as his chair overbalanced and he fell backwards, pulling Merry with him into a chortling confusion of limbs and packages on the floor.

"That's my future husband you're handling there, careful!" Dinny giggled. Merry cast a wicked grin in her direction.

"You'll have to share him with me, though, as Rose shares Sam with Frodo."

Estella snorted behind her hand, her head a little worse for wine after dinner. Rosie was still too overjoyed about her new tinderbox to do more than roll her eyes at Merry's comment.

"None of that." Frodo laughed. "I remember when your aunts used to box your ears for being cheeky to me, and I think I could probably manage a fair imitation of their actions."

Sam was red as anything at the teasing and Merry noticed, but a warning glare from Frodo kept any further remarks from being said.

"Hush, Meriadoc," Estella put in, not seeing the look exchanged. "You know as well as anybody that gossip's not worth the air it takes to say."

"Here's a use for the socks, anyway." Pippin jammed his hand into the one that had been on his foot, keeping his thumb in the heel as he bent the fingers, so that it curved in like a mouth. He repeated the action with the other sock on the other hand, picked himself up off the floor, and went over to where Elanor sat on Sam's lap.

"Hullo, duck. Let's pretend these two funny fellows are your Dad and Frodo. Have they been up to anything that your uncle Pip should know about?" he made the socks pounce at her, tickling at her tummy. Elanor screwed her face up, looking very puzzled and worried about the talking fabric worms at the end of Pippin's wrists. She raised her new doll and slapped it against Pippin's arm, then burrowed in against Sam's shirt with a squeak of fear. Sam pushed Pippin's arms away and curled his arm around his daughter tightly.

"The sock puppet Sam and Frodo can just clear off, now, thankyou." he said firmly. "Elly doesn't like their kind, and I can't say I blame her."

Pippin grinned apologetically and patted Elanor's head.

"You used to be so clever and funny, Pippin. Did you forget how?" Rosie cut in with a grin, to take the edge of Sam's scolding. Pippin poked his tongue out at her, looking for all the world like a child himself for a moment.

They were all like that, Rosie mused to herself later as she tidied the mess, all four who'd been away. Part of them was old, and part was young and free in a way most hobbits lost as they grew up. Nobody but the four of them could ever really know what it was like, she and Diamond and Estella could just attempt to understand.

Sam and Elanor were both in bed already, and Rosie was just about falling asleep on her feet. A crack of light still seeped out from under the door of Frodo's study, scarcely enough to see by, much less write to.

Rosie rapped her knuckles against the old wood of the door. "Come on, it's well past the hour when sensible hobbits sleep."

"Can't stop now, oh no, so much left to write. Have to get all the words out before they slip away, put it down on paper." The mutter was almost below Rosie's range of hearing, but she caught enough of it to feel chills in her spine.

"It's time for bed," her voice was firm. "I'm coming in now, so finish your writing if you don't want me to see."

She cracked the door open, spilling more thin light into the hallway. Frodo was scribbling away at a feverish pace, his other hand opening and closing in an absent-minded twitch. Dark heavy beads of blood were leaking out between the fingers.

"What have you done to yourself?" Rosie ran to grab his hand but Frodo pushed her away, still murmuring to himself.

"Have to remember it all, have to write it, tether it down so it can't follow where I go. Have to leave it, so much left to do, no time."

"Mr Frodo, I need to see your hand, put your writing aside now." Rosie ordered, cursing the lack of real light in the room. Abruptly Frodo stopped, sitting still as she uncurled his clenched fingers. There was a shard of mirror embedded in the palm.

"I looked so real." Frodo said in a vague sort of voice, staring down at his hand as if he hardly recognised it. "In the glass. My reflection, it looked so alive. I wanted to ask him if he was happy. Sometimes I can't tell for sure, so I thought he could help. Then the glass broke, and I wanted to see if I bled."

"Oh." Rosie bit back her tears and eased the mirror out of the cut, pressing her thumb on his fragile wrist so the blood didn't flow too strongly. "This needs to be bandaged, come inside where there's more light."

"It's Autumn now." Frodo said in the same eerie, airy voice as she led him down the hall. "Have you heard that story, about Autumn and Winter and Summer and Spring? I think I used to know it but I've forgotten."

"Hush now, let me bind the wound." Rosie's hands shook so much she had to stop and breathe before she could wind the cotton strips evenly on Frodo's hand.

"Why are you crying? Was it your mirror I broke?"

"Yes, but I don't care about that any more than I care about a torn dress. This isn't just your flesh to hurt, it's Sam's and mine as well, and I know you don't want to cause us injury."

"Sam." Frodo smiled slightly. "Is Sam here? I'd like to see him."

"I'll get him for you." Rosie nodded, her eyes bright and stinging.

"There's still so much to be done. I have to get back to my writing now."

"All right, all right, steady on. Sit here until your Sam comes for you."

Rosie stumbled down the hall and shook Sam awake. "Samwise, Sam, wake up. Frodo's having a terrible turn; I think you'll have to sit with him until it passes. He's asking for you."

Sam nodded without a word and climbed out of bed. After a few seconds Rosie heard soft voices down the hall. She picked Elanor up out of the crib and curled under the still-warm covers, burying her face in the soft baby hair and sobbing until her heart was dry.

~

Pretty Good Year | email Mary