November 10th

It was the wedding party of the season. Fredigar Bolger had spared no expense in celebrating his marriage to the lovely Miss Peony Fairweather. The Green Dragon Inn was overflowing with guests from all over the Shire. Although the night was frosty, the doors to the Inn were flung open in an attempt to provide much-needed cool air for the boisterous crowd and scores of brightly lighted candles inside.

Tandy and Opal Boffin secured a large table near the band to serve as a meeting place for friends and relatives. Merry and Pippin were using it as their base for chatting up single lasses who freely danced with any and everyone who asked. Hamson Gamgee, Nibs Cotton, Farmer and Mrs. Cotton, the Gaffer, and the extended Gamgee/Cotton clan secured two tables near the front door. Sam and Rose arrived early, coming down from Bag End and escorting the elderly Gaffer with his date. Children dressed in their finest clothes darted through the crowd, snatching handfuls of salted and honeyed nuts and giggling at private jokes and games.

Freddy and Peony were standing over by the dance floor, shaking hands with their guests as they arrived. Freddy was beginning to fill out again after his enforced diet during the previous year. He looked every bit the part of the prosperous and healthy hobbit of old; resplendent in his new matching green breeches and coat with contrasting bright orange vest. A crown of gold and green leaves circled his head, making him appear as Lord of the Harvest. He and his bride had been greeting their guests for a full thirty minutes before Sam and Rose could reach them in line.

“Samwise! And the beautiful and wonderfully with-child Rose Gamgee!” Freddy beamed at his friends, shaking their hands and kissing Rose on the cheek. Peony kissed them both and gave Rose an extra hug. “So wonderful to see you here! Rose, you grow more beautiful each day. Motherhood agrees with you. And Sam! A father!” Sam’s grin lighted up the room. “Great to see the Bag End troops here. But where’s Frodo?”

“Oh, um, Mister Frodo didn’t walk down with me and Rose and me Gaffer,” Sam stammered with embarrassment for his friend. “I’m sure he’ll be coming later, Freddy. Or should I start calling you ‘Fatty’ again? Frodo’s probably finishing up some work or getting dressed or something. Congratulations, you luck hobbit. And best wishes, Peony. We all love Freddy, but we’re all glad it’s you and not us what married him.”

Freddy and Peony laughed at Sam’s gentle joke. He and Rose moved on so that the rest of the guests could congratulate the new couple.

Ted Sandyman arrived, dressed in his best dark tweed suit, with Corabell Higgenbothom on his arm. The Fairweather side of the family had claimed the booths and tables to the left of the dance floor near the bar, so Ted steered Corabell in that direction. He secured a small table and pulled up four chairs, as he had seen Iris and Theo enter.

Ted smiled and waved the two over, offering them the last two unoccupied chairs in the Inn. Theo was stunned to see his former girlfriend sitting there with the Bywater miller. Corabell had certainly matured in the year Theo was away. There she sat in her pale yellow and gold gingham dress, at least three pure white petticoats lifting the skirt away from her shapely legs. Her dark golden hair spilled out in a cascade of curls under a circlet of green and white ribbons. She was a vision of modesty and country freshness in the midst of the more somber-colored Hobbiton female fashions.

Corabell blinked in surprise at seeing Theo escorting a brown-haired hobbitess at least ten years older than she. Theo was so handsome and successful, dressed in his best grey suit and formal white shirt; a cheerful red bachelor’s button flower pinned to his lapel. And his date was so … well … was so plain. Within an instant both hobbitesses had scrutinized each other and had decided that neither posed a threat. They were both supremely self-confident individuals in their own unique ways.

“Um… Doctor Tulip Proudfoot of Hobbiton, may I introduce you to Miss Corabell Higgenbothom of Overhill?” Ted graciously gestured from one hobbitess to the other. “I’m sure Corabell knows Theo.”

“Corabell?” Theo asked, still in a state of shock at seeing her, “What are you doing here?”

Theo turned the chair around and straddled it, sitting himself down next to the young hobbitess, completely forgetting his manners and Iris. Theo and Corabell were soon in deep conversation about her family’s farm and the happenings in Overhill. Iris sat down in the only chair left - the one next to Ted Sandyman. She felt like last Yule’s toy abandoned by a six-year-old. Ted had anticipated this and slid next to her.

“Hey, Doc,” he made himself heard over the general noise and music, “would ya care for an ale or somethin’?” Ted smiled and tried his hardest to act like a gentlehobbit.

“Thank you, yes,” Iris smiled back weakly. “An ale will be fine.”

“How’s about you, Corabell?” Ted turned to his so-called date.

“Yes, please. A beer for me,” Corabell said, briefly tearing her gaze from Theo.

“Oh! Sorry!” Theo stood up, flushed with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Doc. I’ll help ya with them drinks, Mister Sandyman.” Ted and Theo went off to get drinks for the table, leaving the girls to chat amongst themselves.

Iris smiled at the lovely young country lass. “I understand you and Mister Tuggle have known each other for quite some time.”

“Yes ‘mam,” Corabell nodded and looked down at the table. “Me and Theo grew up together on neighboring farms. We’ve known each other all our lives. Me and Theo, that is. I mean, well, until he moved here, that is.” Corabell looked towards the bar, hoping to glimpse Theo.

It was painfully obvious to Iris that Corabell was deeply in love with Theo, and that Theo was quickly loosing interest in being the doctor’s escort.

“Miss Higgenbothom?” Iris reached over and gently patted Corabell’s hand, “I want you to know that I was the one who asked Mister Tuggle to be my escort. He was kind enough to agree. We are neighbors. If you and Theo wish to chat, well … I would not be at all displeased. I live a few doors away and can walk myself home, if you would care to stay longer here at the party than I. I am sure Mister Tuggle would love to chat with you and catch up on all the happenings in Overhill. As for your date, I can take care of Mister Sandyman. He and I know each other quite well, and I am sure he would not mind escorting me home instead of Mister Tuggle.”

“Oh! Would you?” Corabell almost jumped out of her chair in anticipation. “Oh, Doctor Proudfoot, that is so kind of you! I haven’t seen me Theo … uh, I mean, Mister Tuggle, in nearly a year now. And I do miss him so. Oh, that would be SO nice of you.” The younger hobbitess threw off her shawl and pulled out a fan from her bodice. The air inside the Inn was becoming quite warm with the massed bodies. And it showed off her ample bosom to great effect. Corabell knew what she was doing.

The lads returned with ales and beers in hand. Corabell abandoned all pretenses of being Ted’s date and practically fell over herself moving closer to the dashing blacksmith. Theo had an equally hard time paying attention to Iris, who was only making polite conversation now, leaving Corabell to be free with her former beau. Ted smiled and hummed along with the band as he sipped his beer. His plan was working perfectly.

Unbeknownst to anyone at the little table, Frodo had arrived. He slipped into the Green Dragon Inn through one of its side doors, preferring to keep his arrival as quiet and inconspicuous as possible. He was wearing a deep blue vest under his best maroon suit. He took his wedding present of wine over to the little side table, then ambled over to the bride and groom.

“Congratulations, Freddy,” Frodo smiled, slipping a small round heavy gift into the bridegroom’s waistcoat pocket. “That is from my Uncle Bilbo. He wanted me to keep it safe until you finally got married. It’s his wedding present to you.”

“Thanks! What is it, Frodo?” Freddy asked, placing his hand over the heavy object, but not wanting to bring it out for public scrutiny. There was no telling what strange and wonderful thing the elder Baggins was likely to bestow on the friend of his nephew and adopted heir.

“It is some of the dragon’s gold from his adventure with the dwarves,” Frodo whispered in Freddy’s ear. “Bilbo wanted me to give it to you when you needed it, and I cannot think of a more appropriate occasion, Freddy, my friend.”

Fredigar beamed with pleasure. Some of Bilbo Baggins’s famed dragon’s gold! What a story this would make! He was so taken aback at Frodo’s generosity that he completely forgot his manners. The bride nudged her new husband to gain his attention.

“Congratulations, Peony,” Frodo smiled, taking her proffered hand and lightly kissing her on one blushing cheek. Evidently, he was the last of the guests to arrive. “I hope your husband does not mind, but may I have this dance with the lovely bride?”

The little band had started a slow, stately waltz and couples advanced onto the dance floor. Merry was dancing close with Heili Foss, the Hobbiton Tailor’s assistant. Unfortunately, Pippin had gotten stuck with Peony’s mother, but he was game about the situation. He grinned as the mother of the bride squealed with delight when Pippin surprised her with a dip.

Frodo led Peony out to the dance floor and with a flourish, twirled her into the massed bodies of revelers. He was a good dancer and knew how to highlight his partner’s skills without loosing the beat or bumping into anyone else. He no longer had the physical stamina to engage in the faster jigs and line dances, but he enjoyed taking a turn during the slower numbers.

It was Peony’s night to shine, and she looked lovely in her gossamer citron and apple-green dress. A burnt-orange ribbon bound up her brown tresses and a matching ribbon laced up the pearl-colored bodice. Gay gold and red leaves, along with miniature chrysanthemums and asters of every hue formed a bridal crown on her head. The little, plump hobbitess positively glowed in the candlelight; an Autumn Sprite reveling in her joy.

“Freddy is very lucky to have found you, Mistress Bolger,” Frodo smiled as they danced.

“Oh, my,” Peony laughed. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to having such a short last name. But thank you, Mister Baggins. Thank you very much.”

“Please call me Frodo,” he said as they swayed in time to the dumbac and fiddle. “Are you planning to honeymoon right away?”

“Not just yet,” Peony blushed. “Me and Freddy are delaying our honeymoon until next summer, when we can go to my cousin’s farm.” She leaned closer and whispered in his ear. “It has a small, private waterfall in back of the guest house.”

“It sounds almost as lovely as you,” Frodo bowed as the music ended. Peony curtsied as Freddy walked over and offered his arm to his bride. “Best wishes to both of you.”

As Frodo walked off the dance floor, he caught sight of Iris. She was sitting at a table with Theo, Ted Sandyman and a young lass from out-of-town, as Frodo did not recognize her. Theo and the stranger evidently knew each other quite well, as they were talking intently. Sandyman was trying to engage the physician in conversation.

At that exact moment Iris noticed Frodo. Their eyes locked across the dance floor for a fleeting second. Neither moved, then their visual bond was broken. Iris turned and replied to something Sandyman had asked. She glanced once more at Frodo before sighing, giving her head an almost imperceptible shake, and looking away. Frodo moved off into the shadows and leaned against the back brick wall; hands shoved in his pockets and a dark scowl crossing his handsome features.

Ted had also noticed Frodo moving off the dance floor, and smirked at Frodo’s evident displeasure. Ted knew full well what he was doing, and reveled in the discomfort he was causing his rival. Seeing that Theo and Corabell were absorbed in talk about mutual friends, Ted jumped at his chance to take another stab at Frodo.

“Hey, Iris,” Ted grinned, “would ya care to dance?” Before she could open her mouth, Ted had grabbed her hand and the two were swept onto the dance floor. The pipes and hurdy-gurdy cranked out a lively popular jig, sending all able-bodied dancers into swirls of laughter and hand-clapping. Someone sneezed as the dust from the stomping feet sent dust mites floating into the tram beams streaming out from the candles. The air inside was warm and close with sweating bodies.

Frodo retrieved the special bottle of claret he had brought with him and headed to the bar. Chas Limekiln obligingly opened it, and at Frodo’s insistence, poured a glass for himself and Frodo. Chas drank a silent toast to Frodo as the dark-haired hobbit returned to propping up the shadowed wall. His eyes involuntarily returned time and time again to watch Iris dance with Sandyman. He drank his wine and smoked his pipe, all the while thoroughly miserable.

“Well I’ll be a donkey’s uncle!” Sam said. He and Rose were watching the dancing from their little booth near the front door. “Mister Frodo actually showed up.”

“Where? I don’t see him.” Rose looked all about the crowded room to no avail.

“He’s hiding back in the shadows along the rear wall. To the right of the band,” Sam said. “I’m goin’ over to talk with him. Maybe I can get him to join us. Be back in a second, love.” Sam kissed Rose and patted his father on the shoulder, then headed off through the boisterous crowd.

Sam worked his way through the merry-makers and over to the far shadows. He quietly leaned against the wall next to his best friend, crossing one foot over the other and putting his hands into his pockets. Frodo didn’t say a word or otherwise acknowledge Sam’s presence. He continued to smoke his pipe and stare at Iris as she danced. After a few moments, Frodo silently handed his glass of wine to Sam, who took a swig and then passed it back.

“Well … go on Mister Frodo,” Sam said after a few more moments had passed. “Ask Miss Iris to dance. You want to and she wants to. Everyone can tell. What’s the worse that can happen? She says ‘no’ and dances with Sandyman? She’s already doin’ that, and, if you don’t mind my sayin’ so, she don’t look like she’s enjoyin’ it much. Go on, Mister Frodo. I’ll hold your pipe and glass. Ask Miss Iris to dance.”

“Is it that obvious, Sam?” Frodo sighed. He hated being here. This was a bad idea. He should have stayed at Bag End. He was absolutely miserable.

“Yes, it’s that obvious,” Sam bluntly replied as the jig finished with a loud resounding chord and thunderous cheers and laughter from the crowd. “Now go on. You did the same for me with Rosie a long time ago. I’m just returnin’ the favor, if you will.”

Frodo handed Sam his glass and looked at his friend. The band began an introduction to a slower number and Pippin started singing the words in his lilting baritone. It was an incredibly sappy ancient love song everyone knew well, and others joined in with the chorus. Elderly couples started to dance, including the Gaffer, who had taken the Widow Rumble as his date.

“Now’s the time, Mister Frodo,” Sam whispered. He looked Frodo straight in the eye. “Go dance with your lass.”

Frodo handed Sam his pipe, swallowed hard, and took off across the dance floor. As Ted and Iris were sitting back down, Frodo appeared at the table. Without saying a word, he extended his maimed right hand to her in a silent invitation. She eyed Frodo warily, and hesitated. That was all it took for Ted to spring into action.

“Bugger off, Frodo,” he snarled. “Can’t ya see the doc don’t want no part of you no more? She’s right happy here with me so why don’t you take off on one of your stupid adventures and get permanently lost.” Ted thought that was particularly clever. Corabell wasn’t terribly impressed, as she suddenly realized Ted had planned all along to dump her for Iris.

Frodo only smiled. “I’m sure Miss Proudfoot can speak for herself.” He turned again to Iris and asked in his most neutral voice, “Doctor, would you care to dance?” He could feel his heart thumping against his chest and his hands sweating. Surely everyone at the table could see it as well.

If there was one thing Iris could not stand, it was being treated like an object, and Ted had crossed the line. Much to Ted’s annoyance, Iris asserted herself and accepted Frodo’s offer. As Ted seethed, Iris and Frodo moved onto the dance floor, cautious about not getting too close to each other; tentative as a new-born colt’s first steps. Catching a brief wisp of her familiar scent of lavender almost made him miss a beat due to the sudden aching in his heart.

Frodo moved in closer to breathe her fragrance; feel the firm delicate fingers in the palm of his hand; watch her bosoms lightly bounce in time to the music. He was entranced. He longed to taste her mouth; hear her laughter; feel her flesh against his once more. She was thoroughly intoxicating. “Iris, we need to talk in private,” he whispered.

She held him back at arm’s length, eyes dark with sadness and something else. “Frodo, you’ve already broken my heart in two. I could not stand to have it shattered further. Please don’t torture me.” He could read the hesitance, the reluctance in her eyes and in her voice. Her silky, alto voice. Her wide green eyes.

“I am trying to mend what I have broken, not break it further,” he softly said as they swayed to the music. “Please, please forgive me and come outside with me. We need to talk. I truly need to talk with you.” They continued to dance and he pulled her slightly closer. She resisted for a moment, then let him advance slightly. “I am so lonely without you,” he confessed into her delicately pointed ear.

“Frodo, don’t do this to me,” Iris whispered back without looking at him, not wanting to be trapped by his hypnotic blue eyes. “You’ve already told me you are leaving. Where you go I cannot go. It is not fair to offer food to someone who’s starving and then snatch it away from them when they reach for it.”

The song continued. Pippin seemed to know the entire lay by heart, and the crowd was entranced with his singing. Frodo and Iris passed into a pool of bright light on the dance floor. She looked down and suddenly noticed it.

He was wearing a midnight blue paisley print vest under his jacket.

Frodo felt Iris stiffen slightly in his arms. “I thought you said you had canceled this vest. Or did you lie to me about that?”

“I have never lied to you about anything, Iris,” he said. “I did cancel the making of this vest. But after we separated, I wanted something, anything, to bring you closer to me. So I reinstated its construction.”

She realized he was blushing. She had clearly caught him doing something he normally would not do. Something totally impulsive. Just how far had he gone? “Does it also have a nightingale embroidered on it?”

Now the tips of his ears were burning a bright red. “Yes,” he admitted, then smiled faintly and winked, “but you will have to find it yourself.”

“Frodo Baggins, you are the most sentimental hobbit I’ve ever known, and I didn’t think you were the type.” Iris could not suppress a slight snort at catching him doing something so completely out-of-character. The weeks of tension between them was swept away with her laugh. She was still wary, but no longer distant to his touch.

Frodo abruptly turned serious again as he once again pulled her close as they danced. “Please, Iris. I changed my mind about the vest. I have had time to reconsider a lot about my life here in the Shire. I need your guidance, your advice. No. I am sorry. That is not it at all. Iris, I need you. I miss you terribly. It is not right without you. I keep thinking about you, and I have had a chance to reconsider my options. I need to talk to you about what to do now. Won’t you please talk to me? In private?“ To his relief, she agreed to step outside with him just as the music finished.

Ted Sandyman was watching from his seat at the table. As Frodo and Iris departed the dance floor and headed towards the doorway, Ted bolted from the table. He intercepted Frodo, stopping him dead in his tracks with a hard blow to Frodo’s shoulders. Frodo involuntarily winced at the sudden pain in the old wound in his left shoulder brought on by the strong grip of the miller.

“And where do you think yer goin’, Baggins?” Ted jabbed his pointed index finger into Frodo’s shoulder with each word. “The doc ain’t yer date and I don’t think she cottons on ta bein’ seen with the likes of you.”

Frodo grabbed Ted’s hand before it could cause further pain. Ted was stunned at Frodo’s unexpected strength.

“Mister Sandyman, please,” Iris pleaded, “thank you for your solicitousness, but this is perfectly fine with me. Mister Baggins and I are stepping outside for a little talk. And besides, if I am not mistaken, Miss Higgenbothom is your date, not me.”

Sam had returned to his place by Rose at their table near the door, bringing Frodo’s pipe and wine glass with him. He and Rose were not so discretely watching Frodo and Iris as they danced. Merry had joined them at the table. He was watching Ted intently, as he had never trusted the miller and knew of Ted’s long-standing grudge against Frodo. They could not help but notice the escalating disagreement between Ted and Frodo over Iris as the couple attempted to leave the Inn.

“Sam,” Merry suddenly grabbed Sam by the arm, “Teddy has a knife.” He had noticed the glint of something metallic partially concealed inside the miller’s jacket.

Several couples near the doorway had stopped to witness the scene. Chas Limekiln, the Green Dragon Innkeeper, also approached the doorway. He knew of Ted’s volatile temper first-hand, and was moving to intercept before things got out-of-hand.

Merry and Sam quickly padded over to position themselves slightly behind and on either side of Ted. Sam lightly pulled back Ted’s jacket using Frodo’s pipe stem.

Merry quietly put a hand on Ted’s shoulder and looked him in the eye. “Teddy? Don’t you know it’s not polite to bring a weapon to a wedding party?”

Neither Frodo nor Ted had noticed Merry and Sam’s maneuver until it was too late and the knife was clearly visible to everyone around the doorway. Ted’s face flushed a bright red at being discovered. Frodo released Ted’s hand as if he was suddenly made out of burning coals. Iris took a couple of steps back, leaving Ted alone in a small circle of offended wedding guests. The desperate miller was about to make up some story, when, to his amazement, Frodo stepped up to him and spoke.

“I am sure Mister Sandyman simply forgot to put away his work knife after a hard day at the mill, Captain Brandybuck. Right, Ted?” Frodo slapped the miller on the back in a gesture of apparent friendship, but his eyes were twin points of cold blue steel. Frodo also took his pipe from Sam, letting Ted’s jacket softly fold to cover the harsh glint of metal.

Ted was just as confused at Frodo’s sudden defense as Sam and Merry were, but quickly agreed to the story. Chas Limekiln graciously offered to hold Ted’s knife until he was ready to leave. Chas took Ted back towards the bar as Frodo offered his arm to Iris, reclaimed his pipe from Sam, winked at him, then disappeared into the blackness of the night with the doctor at his side.