| Home Early |
| Through
great concentration of will, and several cups of hard cider, Delphinium
Grubb managed to stay at Rollo Bolger’s birthday party right up until his
final thanks to his neighbors, the musicians, his family and his friends.
She loved Rollo to pieces. Like his father, Master Fredegar, he was a
cheery and sweet person (who looked like a cheese wheel with legs whenever
he wore yellow) but if she had to put up with his neighbors, the
musicians, his family and his friends one more moment she was going to
kill herself. The final toast did not indicate that the party was over, by any means, and Del left behind the entire Gardner clan to weave her way home early to catch a nice, leisurely bath before bed. “A bath, a bath!” she sang as she opened Bag End’s round front door. “Water hot poured down the back, juicy sweet and all that…dum de dum…however it’s supposed to go…” she hung up her cloak and carefully walked down the corridor of the dark smial. Where were the lamps? There should be at least a couple of lamps for those staggering back from a successful birthday bash. The fire in the main sitting room had burned down low and the coals’ warm glow was gentle and soothing… …a strong hand grabbed her by the back of the neck and jerked her to the floor. A weight hit her stomach and she gasped as she looked up, dumbfounded, to see a sword’s sharp point hovering a bare inch over her face. “Who are you? What are you doing here?” was snarled in Elvish. Del kept her hands in plain sight as she stared up at Frodo Baggin’s pale face. His eyes were wild and frightened, he was sitting on her and it was Sting he was threatening her with. Sting. Sting. As a child, she had once gotten into a bit of trouble with Mayor Samwise when she had used Sting to hack a dead tree down to a blunt stump. It had been so marvelous the way the Elven blade could just cut through anything, anything, cut through anything, it could cut through her as easily as if she were made of smoke. She felt a smothering sensation and realized Master Frodo’s other hand was a dead weight on her chest, pinning her down…he had seemed all right this morning…“Who are you? What do you want?” “Mellon! I am your friend! Hello, please, good morning!” Oh, why didn’t she spend more time learning languages? “What?” “I am lost! What time is it! Elbereth!” Frodo’s face twisted in confusion and the ominous trembling in Sting’s bright edge began to still. “Elbereth? Elbereth?” He was saying the name as if he were recalling a long-lost friend and his face twisted with pain and confusion. Del seized the opportunity to calm down and think. All right. Master Frodo had left the party early, too. Obviously. He was not ‘himself’ at the moment. Obviously, again. The fireplace poker was out of her reach as well as the firewood and the cast iron doorstopper shaped like a pointing dog. She slowly stretched out in all directions, her fingers and feet lightly scrabbling on the rug as if she were making a snow angel, but she found nothing to use against him. Nothing. She had nothing. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She smiled and tried to look as lovable and pleasant and unconcerned as she could. “Master Frodo, everything is going to be all right,” she murmured and cautiously patted him on the knee. He flinched and Del showed him the palms of her hands until he calmed. She patted him again with both hands then. Sting never moved from her face. She drew as deep a breath as she could with a grown gentlehobbit sitting on her and began to sing. She couldn’t speak the language but she could certainly sing it for that was the magic of the Elven minstrels. Their songs stayed in the hearts and minds of their listeners until death and Del had heard a great many beautiful songs around the bonfires on the beaches of the Havens. From the Desert I come to thee On a stallion shod with fire; and the winds are left behind in the speed of my desire. Under thy window I stand, and the Midnight hears my cry, I love thee, I love but thee with a love that shall not die. Frodo’s eyes blinked slowly with a numb surprise and Del’s hands lovingly, comfortingly petted and stroked his knees in time to the music. She wondered what she was singing. It had an intimate, low pulse to it so she doubted it was about daisies. Perfect. My steps are nightly driven, by the fever in my breast, to hear from thee breathe the word that shall give me rest. Open the door of thy heart, and open thy chamber door, and my kisses shall teach thy lips the love that shall fade no more. It was working, Sting was wavering and Del reached up and moved the point away from her brow with one finger. Frodo pulled it out of her reach and leaned back, looking down on her with caution and doubt…maybe something more. He licked his lips, thinking. Del hopefully smiled up at him again and tugged on his waistcoat. “Come here.” she said in the common tongue and did her very best to look harmless. He shook his head. She had to get the sword away. He’d never forgive himself if he killed her. “Oh, now, really, Master Frodo. Come down here.” “I’m…I don’t know where I am,” he whispered. “I…” the fear began to creep back into his eyes. “You’re with me.” she answered in her most reasonable and intimate tone. “You’re safe.” Her hands flattened out and she willed them to be warm as she moved them past his knees and onto the tops of his thighs. She slowly began to raise herself off the floor. He retreated back. Her hands settled on his hips and she pulled herself upright. She very carefully did not look at the sword. “Trust in me.” “No.” “Pleeeeease?” she allowed herself a small laugh and she blinked her long lashes at him as she tried to radiate any number of delicious possibilities. We are great friends, you and I, and nothing whatsoever odd is going on here. Really! “No.” She very slowly moved closer until her head was resting against his chest. His shirt was unbuttoned almost to his navel as if he had gone mad in the middle of undressing for bed. Perhaps that was exactly what had happened. Her cheek was against his warm skin and he smelled of Rollo’s party, he smelled of smoke and heat and clean sweat. He smelled of fear. “Trust me and everything will be all right. Everything will be fine. ” Del assured him. She expected him to lean completely back but he became immovable and tense. “I don’t believe you,” he whispered. She didn’t answer and slowly and carefully put her arms around him. She pressed closer as she tried to express warmth and safety and security with the strength of her arms. She caressed his chest with her cheek, rocking slowly from side to side as she drew her hair across his skin. Feel how soft my hair is. Feel how smooth my skin is. Put down that pig-sticker. “Who are you?” “It’s me,” she said as if that answered everything and stretched up to softly kiss the underside of his jaw. He didn’t move. Relieved and encouraged, she kissed his neck. She kissed his chest. She was aware, suddenly, of his breathing. There, in the warm dark, it was very loud. Deep, strong breaths. Warm air stirring her hair and raising a delicious chill down her spine. The pulse of his heart underneath her mouth. The weight of him. The heat of him. Oh, yes. Del froze, suddenly afraid and painfully aware of the seriousness of the situation. But what else could she do? What if someone were to wander in while he was armed and panicked? What would the Mayor and the Mistress Rose think? Nothing good! And would Frodo understand…later? Del sincerely hoped so. She decided, then, and buried one hand into his soft hair and slowly began to knead the back of his neck with the other. She breathed a warm sigh across his flushed skin. Would a small bite be too much for him to take? If she did it very, very slowly…perhaps not… Del gently ran her teeth across his bare collarbone. She heard him gasp and quickly caught his mouth with her own before he could panic or retaliate. He twisted his head but she took a risk and didn’t let him go. He was tense and still…and then he kissed her back as if he’d been starving all his life for it. Del gasped with surprise and broke away. She immediately felt stupid. What else had she expected? His mouth returned and she made sure to accept it. And then, ahhhhh, let’s throw this lamp oil on an open fire and see what happens, shall we? Mm, his mouth. Oh, yes. Oh, oh, yes, the sacrifices she made for other people’s safety. He pushed her away then and Del allowed it, theatrically flopping back onto the rug. If he felt strong, he wouldn’t be so afraid. Maybe. He reached down. His hand hovered over her breast and Del held very still. Very, very still and she bit her bottom lip. Oh, oh, yes. But he drew away and ran his fingers through his hair as he swayed. Del looked up at him in astonishment. He was going to, yes, he was going to lose consciousness. Frodo’s eyes rolled up into his head and he slowly collapsed on top of her. Del caught him with a “Whuf!” of expelled air. He was heavy. Pushing with her legs she was able to roll him onto his back. She pried Sting out of his fingers and slid it out of reach across the floor. WELL! How clever! She did it! Actually, she didn’t do it but she won. Isn’t that nice, now? Del blocked her mouth with her arm and screamed as loud and as hard as she could. Then she balled up her fists and beat the floor. Frodo remained comatose, damn it. Ai, ai, ai, no wonder the Mayor and the Mistress Rose were so devoted to him. Oh, no wonder at all. She gave a violent sigh, reached over him (mmhmm) lifted the edge of the soft, old rug and covered him with it, lovingly tucking the edges in. Del leaned down to hover over his face. “I could eat you alive. I really could,” she whispered as she pecked him on his soft lips and resignedly crawled away to reach for Sting. The sword was gone. She looked around in confusion. Oh. Mayor Samwise had it. He was standing there, holding it in his left hand, and the Mistress Rose was standing beside him. Both of them had the most…unreadable expressions on their faces. “Hello.” Del said. “You’re home early.” Then, for the first and last time in her life, she fainted. End |