To my sister Beethoven’s7th, a.k.a. Susan for planting the idea and the title of this story in my head. I could almost forgive you for past wrongs. ;)

Apple Flavored Kisses

Frodo walked with Sam, through the Harvest Festival market. It was to be the last open air market of the season. All of the crops had been harvested and the air had the faintest odor of winter about it. It was a fine day for the festival. The sky was the crisp clear blue that only seems to happen in the last days of October. Sam paused at a stall to admire some newly made gardening tools, Frodo stood off to one side enjoying the October sunshine. As Frodo stood looking about the milling crowd the sound of a familiar voice came to his ears. He looked about for the source. Just then the crowds thinned enough for Frodo to see the familiar sheen of Impatien’s soft reddish brown hair. Frodo felt his heart skip a beat. He had not really spoken to Impatien since the evening before his thirty-third birthday when she had set with him on the bank of The Water and had kissed him.

Frodo had had been taken aback and disappointed when Impatien had ended the kiss then informed him it was time to take her home. At her front gate, she had given him a chaste kiss on the cheek then disappeared into her cottage. Frodo had started to walk home in a befuddled state. After ten minutes he realized he was walking the wrong way. When he was going in the right direction he walked right by his own gate. Eventually he made it home to spend the rest of the evening staring into the fire in his bedroom hearth, thinking of Impatien and the kiss, until he dozed off, he then dreamed of Impatien. In his dreams she did more than kiss him.

The next evening Impatien had attended his and Bilbo’s birthday party, but Frodo had avoided her. That had turned out to be an easy thing to do, Impatien had been right about lasses starting to pay great amounts of attention to Him. It seemed that every available lass of marriageable age was at the party. Almost all of them had gifts for him, all of them hand made, everything from pies to knitted scarves. It became obvious to Frodo that the gifts were intended to show him what an accomplished wife they each would be. None of them tried to give him the gift that Impatien had given. Frodo was relieved. One kiss on the wrong lips and he could find himself included in a betrothal announcement.

After that evening and Bilbo’s departure, Frodo had nearly for gotten about Impatien’s gift. There were inheritances to be distributed among Bilbo’s friends and relatives. Then there had just been settling into living alone, being Master of Bag End and Gandalf leaving abruptly.

Frodo had not seem much of Impatien over the next several weeks. The Harvest Festival was the first time he had ventured away from Bag End in that time. Then there among the familiar faces at the festival was Impatien. She had a booth of her own set up to show off the baskets she made and sold to earn her living. She was dressed demurely in a dark green dress decorated with an embroidered pattern of leaves and vines in the colors of the autumn leaves the fell from the trees near by. Her soft brown eyes were filled with an inviting warmth as she smiled and chatted with folks stopping to admire here wares. Suddenly the thought came to Frodo that Impatien most likely sold a basket to each person she took the time to talk with. Instinctively he knew that very few could resist the persuasive charm of her smile.

Impatien had been a fixture of the open air market of Hobbiton, for as long as Frodo could remember. Long before either of her parents had passed away she had started selling her baskets. At first folk had bought her then somewhat clumsily made baskets because they admired a child who was industrious and obviously hard working. With time and practice Impatien’s efforts improved to the point that it was generally acknowledged that no one made a finer basket. When Impatien’s mother died four years after her husband, some folk had been rather shocked at the young Hobbitess’s decision to continue on in the cottage her father had built, alone and unprotected. She was, after all, only a tweenager of twenty-five. Her neighbor’s, the Muddyfoot’s, came forward to let it be generally known that they would keep a close eye on her. With these assurances, and Impatien’s own continuing exemplary behavior, folks came to accept the unusual situation. Some were surprised that Impatien did not get married soon after she came of age but others had long since started thinking of her as a respectable spinster. Frodo hadn’t given it any thought one way or the other. To him Impatien had always been a friendly face that he would see when he was out and about. He enjoyed talking with her when the opportunity presented itself, she was interesting and was a reader like himself. After the kiss Frodo found he was much more aware that Impatien was more than just a friendly face in the crowd.

In the early afternoon Frodo and left off with roaming the market with Sam to go home for a quiet meal. He tried to read as he had his tea but images of Impatien looking so pretty and inviting in the October sunshine, kept intruding into his thoughts. All that Frodo had told Impatien in the time leading up to the kiss had been true. He was well aware of lasses. He liked the way they looked. He liked the flowery fragrances wafted to him as they walked by. When he danced with them he liked the feel of them in his arms. He had often thought how nice it would be to follow that quick peck on the lips from Sage Underhill, with something a little bit more serious. But Frodo was aware that he had no real interest in marriage, so to partake in further explorations of the possible intimacies between a Hobbit and Hobbitess were out of the question. Frodo determinedly diverted his mind with books, or kept his considerations of lasses to the confines of a lad’s night time dreams.

Frodo lost track of time as he sat letting his thoughts of Impatien meander between pleasant and puzzled. A knock at his door startled him back into awareness of the present. He turned to face the door in time to see Sam let himself in. "Hullo, Sam."

"Good evening Mr. Frodo."

"What brings you here?"

"I’ve come to walk with you to the Festival dance, Mr. Frodo."

"Oh, yes, that’s right. Well, I suppose we may as well be on our way," Frodo said with a smile.

"Err, Mr. Frodo, were you not planning on putting on something a bit more grand for the dance? You are still in your everyday clothes."

Frodo looked down, "Ah, so I am. Please excuse me, Sam. I will not be long in changing."

"No need to rush, Mr. Frodo. But if you don’t mind my asking, are you feeling all right? Maybe dancing and such is not what you need tonight. Maybe a quiet evening at home would be better. I would be happy to stay here with you and make you a pot of my mother’s chicken soup."

Frodo smiled, "You’re a good friend, Sam. I feel perfectly fine, just give me a few minutes and I will be ready to go."

The promise of the clear day was fulfilled in a clear starry night. Frodo sat at a table near the dancing square sipping from a pint of ale, resting from a recent turn of dancing. As was his habit he was obliging in dancing with as many lasses as were wanting him for a partner. In the past the lasses were happy to take a turn with him then move on at the end of the song to another partner. This evening several of the lasses seemed determined to keep Frodo as a dancing partner the entire evening. Time after time he found himself attempting to peacefully break up arguments between lasses who were feeling proprietary of his attentions. It was still early in the evening but all of the lasses determined to make him their husband had taken away much of the pleasure he usually had at dances. Frodo glanced about him, feeling weary, he noticed two lasses point at him then start to come his way. He quickly got up from the table then made his way to the shadows behind the platform the musicians were on. He paused to consider what he should do next, giving thought to just leaving the dance without a word to anyone. This would bother Sam the most, he would likely stop at Bag End later to check in. Frodo hated to cause Sam needless worry but to go back into that crowd would mean to battle his way through the lasses. Frodo was so busy debating this with himself that he did not notice another person slip into the shadows with him. Suddenly his eyes were covered by two small warm hands, a happy voice was spoke softly in his ear. "Guess who?"

Frodo suddenly found it difficult to breath. His heart was pounding hard in his chest. He knew that voice. "Impatien?"

"Right you are," she said as she removed her hands then quickly moved to stand in front of him, "my goodness, Frodo. You look as nervous as a cat. Did you think I was one of the other lasses who is so determined to make you her husband?"

Frodo tried to smile, "They have been rather aggressive this evening."

"You have nothing to fear from me, my dear Mr. Baggins, I seek no husband this evening."

"I appreciate that," Frodo said with some relief.

Impatien gave him a long steady look. Frodo could feel his heart start to race even faster. This is the closest contact he had with her since the evening she had given him that kiss. Frodo swallowed nervously as he watched her smile in a mysterious way. "I would like some fresh air away from that great crowd. I don’t suppose you would care to walk with me?"

"N-no, I mean, yes, I will walk with you. I suppose."

Impatien took hold of his arm before Frodo could offer it. It was all starting to happen again as it had that evening a month ago. She had a firm hold on his arm. He was acutely aware of the light touch of her bosom against his arm. The fragrance of her perfume wafted up seeming to surround him, it had a spicy tang to it this evening, like sandalwood.

She steered their foot steps towards a group of nearby wagons and carriages. As they neared one wagon that was nearly loaded full they both caught the sweet smell of apples. "Mmmm, suddenly I am feeling rather peckish. This looks like the Hornblower’s wagon, I don’t think they would mind if I helped myself to an apple." In a few short moments Impatien had reached under the tarp covering the goods in the wagon, snatched out her prize, then had Frodo walking toward the deeper shadows of some near by trees as she munched happily. "I’ve hardly seen you, lately," she said to Frodo between bites.

"Erm, well, I have been a bit busy. Settling Bilbo’s affairs you understand." Using his free hand, Frodo fidgeted with the color of his shirt. The evening seemed to getting warmer with each passing moment.

"Oh well, I suppose that is all right then. As long as you hadn’t suddenly become upset with me in some way."

"Upset?" Frodo was finding it difficult to shape words with his mouth.

"Or worse afraid," Impatien stopped then moved to stand once more before Frodo, "you know you needn’t be afraid of me."

"Oh… I… a… I am not afraid." Frodo could not help but notice that the torches from the dancing square were reflected in her dark eyes. He was mesmerized.

"I am so glad," Impatien said with a bright smile, then held up the remaining half of her absconded fruit, "Would you like a bite of my apple?"

Frodo could not take his eyes off of her. He licked his lips nervously. Her lips, he could not take his eyes from them. They looked soft and slightly moist, perhaps from the juice of the apple. She suddenly seemed so near. As though all he had to do was lean forward a little and he would be able to press his lips to hers.

His lips were on hers.

Without being aware of his own actions, he had swept her into his arms and put his lips to hers. Her response was willing, even enthusiastic. Briefly Frodo was in wonder at how her body seemed to melt against his own. His lips parted then hers. Their tongues reaching for one another then caressing in tender fiery passion. Her mouth had the sweet taste of apples. Frodo could feel her hand reach up and get entangled in his hair. His arms pulled her closer. He could feel heat building in his lower regions. One of his hands slid down her back to the swelling of her bottom. He could hardly believe his own daring or her willingness. She felt so lush and lovely in his arms, he wanted to keep her there always, and just savor the feel of her. His hand slid up once more, seeming to move of its own accord it went towards one of her breasts that was pressed so firmly against him. His thumb had just grazed the roundness of it when a familiar voice was heard calling from somewhere near by.

"Mr. Frodo?" At the sound of Sam’s voice the spell was broken. Almost before Frodo was aware of it, Impatien had slipped from his grasp then disappeared into the shadows, "Mr. Frodo, I’ve been looking everywhere for you, what are you doing here in the dark?"

"Nothing much, Sam, just getting a taste of apples."

Author's Note-  If you have gotten this far and you are liking my idea of romance and spicy Hobbits then give Enigmas- The Life and Love of Linwe and Frodo a try.  The story starts with the focus being on Linwe but give it time and Frodo will take center stage with her.  Things do get interesting in this story as well, much more interesting. 

The Impation stories are a seperate story line from the Enigmas.