How could he tell him? Sam’s mind whirled in agony. Between their recovery from the quest and journey home to find the Shire – their home – overrun by ruffians, Sam wasn’t sure his master could handle the news he had to give.

Shining as noble as a knight, Sam had galloped Bill the pony right up to the Cotton’s front step. Mrs. Cotton was standing on the step with Nibs in front of her wielding a pitchfork. Rosie rushed from the house when she heard Sam’s voice. Sam stared at her with shocked eyes at the sight of Rosie holding a baby. He had assumed it was hers, but it wasn’t. It came as another shock to hear whom the baby belonged to, and he wiped his face on his sleeve when they told him she was dead.

"Mr. Frodo" called Sam as he came to a halt beside his master’s pony.

"One moment, Sam" his master said, turning briefly to look at him then went back to trying to convince the hobbits around him not to slay the ruffians. Frodo was sick of death, and yet the stench of it followed him.

"Mr. Frodo, you need to come now" Sam persisted, laying a hand on his master’s shoulder.

Frodo caught the urgent gleam in Sam’s eyes, and nodded. "Lead the way."

He asked what was so important, but Sam would not tell – only wiped his eyes some more.

"Why are you taking me out here, Sam? I must be off to Bag End. Dulcie is waiting."

"No, she isn’t, sir."

There was a quiver in Sam’s voice that made Frodo’s heart leap in his throat. "What do you mean? Samwise, tell me!" But they had arrived at the Cotton farm.

Sam rode ahead. He slid off his pony, and walked inside before Frodo could join him. He reached the front step just as Mrs. Cotton walked out the door. She was pale and very aged looking, tears ran down her cheeks. She pulled Frodo into an embrace. He looked up, stunned and confused, at Sam. "Where’s Dulcie?" When no one answered, he pulled Mrs. Cotton away and demanded, "Where’s my wife?"

"She’s gone, cousin," a voice finally answered. It was Rosie. With tears glittering in her eyes but her voice bold, she continued, "She was killed nearly two weeks ago."

Prologue 2: In which Frodo makes a new friend…

S.R. Forelithe 1398 (Frodo is 30 and Dulcie is 28)

It was a such a lovely day, Bilbo didn’t want the lad cooped up in Bag End. So, with a few seedcakes stuffed in his pockets and a thick book tucked under his arm, Frodo set off through the cool grass to his favorite reading spot under the trees near Bag End.

As he was coming upon his reading spot, he stopped short. A lass was sitting against a tree, her skirts laid out around her. It wasn’t everyday that Frodo saw a lass. Only the Gamgee daughters lived closest to him. He’d never seen this lass before. Her hair was sandy brown and hung on her shoulders. Her clothes looked fancier than normal. Her face was turned away from him.

"Good day!" Frodo greeted, stepping toward her. The lass jumped, and turned to him. "Sorry to startle you, miss," he added, seeing her surprised expression.

The lass raised a hand to her heart, blushing. " ‘Tis all right. I should take into consideration that folks live around here."

Frodo bestowing a friendly smile, bending down beside her. "I live down the hill that way." He pointed to the clearing in the trees where a slope lead to Bag Shot Row.

The lass cocked her head slightly. "Are you Frodo Baggins?"

"Yes," he replied, taken aback. He wondered how many folks knew of him. "I am he."

"My little cousin, Sam, has not stopped talking about you since I arrived yesterday."

"Sam Gamgee?"

The lass smiled, warmly. "Yes. The lad speaks so highly of you."

"Are you staying with the Gamgees?"

"Until the mid-year harvest is over. My father wanted me to spend time with the relatives I don’t see very often, and also it appears the crop this year is abundant. The Cottons need an extra hand at the farm. I’m related to the Cottons as well."

"Oh my!" Frodo said, digesting the information. "You will be busy during your stay here."

The lass lowered her eyes to the hands in her lap. "Yes, I will, but it’ll be good to learn. I’ve never worked on a farm before."

"So, are you a Gamgee or a Cotton?"

"Neither," the lass replied then blushed furiously. "I have not introduced myself! I’m Dulcie Goodchild." She sat up on her knees, grabbing her skirts, and half curtsying.

"Good to meet you, Miss Goodchild," Frodo said, bowing his head. "Excuse me for prodding, but why are you out here?"

Dulcie frowned. "It’s so crowded at the Gamgees, and I’m not use to such a crowd. At my home, ‘tis only myself and my parents."

Frodo nodded. "I can understand. It is only myself and my Uncle at Bag End, but I know how it feels to leave in a crowded place. I lived at Brandy Hall in Buckland for most of my childhood. The Hall is bursting at the seams with hobbits. Being at Bag End is much calmer."

"My mother use to tell me stories of how the Great Smials were bursting as well while she was there."

"Oh, your mother worked at the Great Smials?"

Dulcie’s face went blank. "No, she lived there. My mother is a Took," she said, defensively.

At the last sentence, Frodo wanted to give himself a good slap on the cheek. He had assumed something he shouldn’t have. "I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you."

" ‘Tis all right," Dulcie replied, understandably. "I’m familiar with a response like that. It’s a long story, but my Took mother married my Wiseacre father. My mother was practically disowned because of it."

Frodo blinked in surprise. He had never heard this story before, but knew it could be true. "I have Took blood in me as well, so we must be related somewhere down the line."

Dulcie smiled. "We must be." She glanced up, watching the leaves on the branches sway. "I really should be getting back. Only Daisy knows where I am." She went to stand, but Frodo got to his feet first and held out a hand to her. "Thank you, Mr. Baggins," she said, as he pulled her up.

"Please call me Frodo."

Dulcie nodded, smoothing out her skirts. "All right, Frodo. And please call me Dulcie. I hope to see you again."

"I’m sure we’ll see each other much during your stay."

Chapter 1: In which Frodo finds new hope…

His knees buckled. Frodo would have collapsed to the ground if Sam hadn’t been there to catch him. His eyes were dry, but he shook in Sam’s arms and the sickening feeling of being back in Mordor crossed Sam’s mind. Rosie appeared beside them, her hand resting on Frodo’s forehead.

"Please understand, cousin," Rosie said, speaking softly. "There’s something you need to know." When Frodo didn’t respond, Rosie glanced up at Sam in dismay. He shook his head, and gave her a look of ‘leave him be’.

It took time, but they finally led Frodo inside the Cottons’ home. Mrs. Cotton brought a cup of water, but Sam waved it away. "Mr. Frodo," he started, grasping his master’s hands in his. "I need you to listen. Dulcie isn’t all the way gone. A piece of her is still here?"

"What do you mean?" Frodo asked barely audible, his eyes holding glazed over in horror.

"Dulcie had a baby - your daughter."

"But-"

"She found herself carrying six weeks after you left," Rosie interrupted. "She was worried that something happened to you in the Old Forest, but Dulcie always believed you’d come home." Rosie raised her head to look at Sam. "As I did."

Frodo clutched at his chest, breathing rapidly. "She had a baby?"

"Yes," Rosie answered, smoothing back the curls on his forehead. "The baby is named after your mother. Dulcie thought you’d be pleased by it. We call her Primmie, for short. She’s a beautiful little lass."

"Where is she?"

"Sleeping in Rose’s bedroom," Mrs. Cotton interjected, hesitantly. "Would you like to see her?"

Frodo nodded, and pushed himself off chair Sam had set him on. Sam went to grab his master’s arm, but Frodo pushed him away. He followed Mrs. Cotton to the first bedroom on the left. The door was open, and a lamp was burning on a table. A small crib sat against the all near the door. Mrs. Cotton peered into the crib, gently laying a hand on the sleeping babe’s back.

"She’s such a sweet lass, our little Primmie. Just like her mother, she is-" she looked up, giving Frodo a warm smile, "and her father. Do you wish to be alone with her?"

"Yes," Frodo said, gravely. He cleared his throat and repeated, "Yes. Please."

Mrs. Cotton swept from the room, lightly shutting the door. Frodo stood rooted to his spot. All he could see was a blanket in the crib. He inched closer, a tiny pink face coming into view. He stared at the perfect, round face scrunched up in sleep. He tentatively leaned over the crib, and ran a feather-light finger across the babe’s cheek.

The little wisps of curls on her head were a sandy brown color. Just like Dulcie’s - Frodo mused, his first clear thought since he rode up to the Cotton’s farm.

Just like Dulcie’s…

***

"Good day!" Frodo called cheerfully, as he strolled to the tree Dulcie was leaning against.

Dulcie jumped to her feet, curtsying. "Good day to you as well!"

Frodo bowed his head then asked curiously, "Why aren’t you at the Cotton’s today?"

"I stayed home with Daisy to take care of chores around the smial," she answered then blushed. "I told Daisy I needed some time alone, and the dear lass waved me out the door. I feel awful for leaving her to take care of things."

"I’m sure she’ll be fine for an hour." Frodo dipped into his pockets and pulled out an awkward object wrapped in a napkin. He unwrapped it, and held it out to Dulcie. "Seedcake? I always bring some along when I come here."

Dulcie smiled, shyly tucking a curl behind her ear. Frodo felt a warmth in his chest at the action, and hoped he wasn’t blushing. "Thank you," she said, taking one then lightly sat back down on the ground. She took a bite. "It’s really good. Who made it?"

"My Uncle Bilbo," Frodo answered, proudly. He seated himself in front of her. "He can bake the best treats."

"I haven’t met Mr. Bilbo yet."

"Well, you’ll have to come over and introduce yourself." When Dulcie looked intimidated by the idea, Frodo added, "I’ll introduce you, if that is all right."

Dulcie nodded. "That would be lovely. What book is that?" she asked, spotting the blue-covered book with golden letters in Frodo’s hand.

"Oh!" He raised the book up. "Stories about the Elves of the 1st Age. Have you ever heard of Elves?"

"I have, but not much. Will you read me some?"

A brilliant smile broke on Frodo’s face. "You really would like to hear a tale?"

Dulcie stared at him for a moment then nodded. "If you don’t mind."

"Not at all!" Frodo flipped open the book, searching for a certain story. "I’ve never met a lass - or really anyone besides Sam - who was interested in hearing tales of the Elves."

Dulcie giggled at his excitement. "I like tales. I don’t get to hear them often, so it really is a pleasure."

"You’ll enjoy this one." Frodo went on to read of Feanor and the Silmarils. Dulcie listened intently, idly twirling a lock of hair in her finger. Frodo glanced over the book at her, and paused at the sight. It was odd how a simple action could make a frog jump into your throat.

"Frodo?" Dulcie called, and he shook himself out of his reverie.

"Sorry. Lost my place," he said, covering for his pause. The image of Dulcie’s fingers in her curls did not leave him for the rest of the day.

***

Frodo gently placed a hand on his daughter’s downy head. He couldn’t remember what came over him, but he realized suddenly that the babe was in his arms. He slowly stepped to the rocking chair in the corner, and sat down.

"Primmie," he murmured, and sighed feeling this was more a dream than real. He and Dulcie weren’t sure if they wanted children, but knew if it happened, they’d love the child with all their might. When Dulcie never became pregnant, they knew having children wasn’t meant to be.

Frodo wondered if this was some kind of cruel punishment for his decision to keep the Ring. Dulcie was alive when I was standing at the cracks of Mount Doom. Now she’s dead. A painful stab shot through his heart, and without knowing, he clutched the babe tighter to his chest.

Just then, the door flung open and Rosie rushed inside. "Frodo, what are you doing?" she asked, worried.

Chapter 2: In which Bilbo would have never believed…

Frodo stared blankly at Rosie. She rushed over to the rocker. It was then that Frodo realized the baby was crying.

"You’re holding her too tight," informed Rosie, pulling his arm loose. "You must be more gentle with her."

"I’m sorry," Frodo sputtered out, his face distraught. "I did not realize I had tightened my hold." He went to give Primmie to Rose, but she shook her head.

"You must learn how to handle her. Cradle her a bit lower." Rosie situated Frodo’s arm under his ribcage, so the baby could be seen better. Primmie had stopped crying, but was still whimpering. "I believe she’s hungry. You stay put with her while I fix her milk."

Frodo followed her with his gaze as she left the room. Leaning against the doorway was Sam, watching him intently. "I can’t do this, Sam," Frodo said, voice cracking.

In two steps, Sam was at his side, kneeling before him. "Yes, you can, Mr. Frodo. It’s been a very long time since you’ve been around a baby, has it?"

Frodo nodded. "The last baby I was around was Pippin, and that was so long ago. I was still just a tween, and I was only a distant cousin who saw him here and there. This," he glanced down at the restless babe, "is a child I helped sire."

"That’s right. You are her father." Sam grazed a finger over Primmie’s soft cheek. "Dulcie may be gone now, but at least she left this beautiful little lass for you."

"I can’t raise this child alone."

"You won’t have to. You have Rosie and Mrs. Cotton and myself and everyone in this family. We’re here."

There was a pause of silence then Frodo replied with a ghost of a smile, "Thank you, Sam. I don’t think I could function in life without you."

Sam squeezed his master’s arm. "You’ll always have me."

Frodo glanced down at the babe, her whimpers subsiding. "I wonder what Bilbo would think of me with a child - a daughter at that. He was so uncertain about Dulcie."

***

"Taking extra seedcakes again?"

A guilty hand froze over the seedcakes in the basket on the table. "I’ve been a bit more hungry lately, Uncle Bilbo," replied Frodo, a sheepishly grinning.

"You could have told me," Bilbo went on, ignoring his young cousin’s excuse.

"Told you what?" Frodo asked, hand dropping limp at his side.

"About the lass," Bilbo said, clamping a hand on Frodo’s shoulder. "I know you and the Gamgees’ cousin have been scampering off into the woods. I don’t know how long you’ve been seeing her, but I spied you two the other day. You didn’t have to lie, lad, about going to read in the woods."

"But that’s what I am doing. Dulcie and I read my books together then we discuss what we read."

"Come on, Frodo-lad. I was a tween once, a long time ago. But still, I was a tween and know that running off into the woods with a lass to read a book doesn’t happen."

Frodo wrenched away from his uncle, hurt in his eyes. "But it’s the truth, Uncle. Dulcie is the first lass whom I have come across that enjoys reading. We enjoy each other’s company in more ways than you presume."

"Has anything but reading gone on?"

"No!" Anger welled  up in Frodo. He thought Bilbo knew him better than that. Yes, he got into trouble at Brandy Hall, but he’d matured much since the days of mischief at the Hall. "Dulcie is my friend."

"All right, Frodo." Bilbo stepped closer, keeping eye contact with his cousin. "I just want to warn you. The Gaffer informed me of Miss Goodchild’s history. I know she is part Took, but I also know her family does not have much gold or status. She might use you."

It had never occurred to him, not once, that Dulcie was using him. Barely had they talked of family or happenings of the Shire. Such a nice lass, she was. Frodo couldn’t imagine any plans of her taking advantage of him.

"You’re overreacting about this, Bilbo."

"I’m just saying be careful, Frodo. You’re young. You don’t know much of these situations."

Frodo huffed, feeling betrayed by Bilbo. He pushed passed his older cousin, grabbing his book off the table, and darted out the front door. It stung, what Bilbo had said, like bees from a stirred hive. He rarely was angry with his cousin, but to down a good friend of his was unthinkable.

"Frodo!" He turned at the sound of Dulcie calling. She was running toward him. "I’m so glad I caught you," she said, out of breath.

"What is it, Dulcie?" he asked in concern.

She swallowed hard. "My mother and father have come to bring me home. I received a letter from them the other day, but was too sad to tell you I was leaving. I’m so sorry."

Distress crossed Frodo’s face. He had just defended her to his beloved cousin, and now she might have left without saying goodbye? "You could have told me."

"Please forgive me." Dulcie touched his arm. "If it were my choice, I would stay until I’m not welcome."

Frodo hung his head, secretly glancing at the hand on his arm that was sending prickling feelings through him. He heaved a sigh, and handed her the book he held. "Take this. You’ve taken to these tales with such enthusiasm."

Dulcie’s shoulders slumped. "I couldn’t take your book."

"I want you to have it." He pressed it in her hand. "Look at it as an early birthday present since you cannot be here for my birthday."

Dulcie smiled softly. "You’re true, Frodo. Thank you for being my friend." She brushed a kiss on his cheek. "I’ll miss you."

"The same," was all Frodo could manage.

With that, Dulcie turned and was gone from his life for the first time.

***

"Here’s the milk," Rosie said, appearing at Frodo’s side. She smiled down at him and Primmie. "Would you like to feed her?"

"Oh no," Frodo replied, hurriedly. "I couldn’t."

"Yes, you can." Rosie handed him the squeeze bag her mother usually used for icing cakes. "Hold this at an angle to her mouth, and squeeze it very gently."

Frodo timidly took the bag, and did what Rosie instructed. From trekking across the entire Middle-earth into the heart of Mordor, he hadn’t felt this scared. It wasn’t scared for himself though, but for the babe he held. Babies were fragile. One wrong move and you could hurt them. Rosie seemed to have confidence in him, and Sam watched him with all the trust in the world.

He didn’t believe he could do it until the babe accepted the narrow piece at the end of the bag and began suckling. After a long trouble-free minute or two, the tension in his shoulders dissolving. He stared at the babe, a look of wonder on his face - a strange delight fluttered in his heart. It was then he knew how much he would love this child.

Chapter 3: In which Frodo had to know…

"How did it happen?"

Mr. Cotton pushed off his knees from his squat position beside the hearth. Supper was finished. They sat around the hearth as the lasses cleaned the kitchen. "Sir?"

Frodo rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, exhausted. "What happened to Dulcie? How did she die?"

Mr. Cotton frowned, slowly lowering himself onto an old red armchair. "I believe it’s a bit late for telling such sad stories."

"I need to know," Frodo replied, his voice strained with desperation. "Right now."

"Fine, sir." Mr. Cotton heaved a sigh. "It all started with that Sackville-Baggins."

"Lotho?" Frodo spit out the name as if it were venom. "What did he do to her?"

"A few months after you left, Lotho started going ‘round Bag End harassing poor Dulcie. Marigold and the Gaffer were taking care of her, but one morning, Marigold showed up here saying a bunch of strange men were at Bag End threatening Dulcie. I told her to go there with the lads and get Dulcie out of there. I didn’t want nothing happening to the lass, her being with child and all.

"That night, the lads took a wagon to Bag End and filled it with as much belongings as possible since Dulcie was so particular with your things. We made two more runs there then Dulcie finally came to stay here. We stored your things in the barn, and some are in the house.

"Lotho took Bag End after that," Frodo stated, not waiting for Mr. Cotton to say it.

Mr. Cotton nodded, sadly. "Aye, sir. Dulcie didn’t want to leave, but those filthy ruffians were getting too much. Lotho moved in right away, and he was laughing about too. Things just got worse after that. The Gaffer and Marigold came to live with us for a while, but the ruffians forced them to go back to Bagshot Row after the smials had been dug up and those ugly sheds constructed. We had to hide Dulcie, or she might have been forced out too. We didn’t want to take any chances.

"The baby was born, and it was a light feeling around here for a while. We had no hope of you or Sam coming back, but Dulcie and Rose knew better. They never believed you two had perished in the Old Forest."

A jolt ran through Frodo remembering the letter he had written to his wife while he was in Rivendell. He wondered if she had received it before having to leave Bag End.

"Two ruffians kept coming ‘round here making trouble for the lads as we worked in the fields. One even broke Nick’s arm. Dulcie was in the fields bringing us water when those two ruffians showed up. They started shoving Nick. She got mad, and threw rocks at them. Tom-lad stopped her, but after she started back to the house, we heard her screaming. We ran up here, but only found Rose crying with a broken staff in her hands. She told us they grabbed Dulcie, and ran through the field that leads to the woods.

"I was fit to be tied, but not as much as Nick was. He grabbed a pitchfork from the barn and took off after the ruffians. Tom-lad and I followed him. We didn’t find the ruffians, but Tom-lad found Dulcie."

Mr. Cotton cleared his throat, and said no more.

Minutes passed in heavy silence, only the sound of water sloshing in the kitchen could be heard. Frodo was slumped on the settee, elbow on the armrest. His eyes were closed, and tears ran down his cheeks. "Was she dead when he found her?"

"Yes," Mr. Cotton replied, barely audible.

***

"Mr. Frodo, you need sleep." Sam sat next to his master on the settee. It was past midnight, and the household was quiet and still.

Elbow still propped on the armrest, Frodo replied, "I don’t want to sleep. The images will haunt me. Like in Mordor, the Red Eye glared under my eyelids, taunting me. I fear Dulcie’s death will come to me in sleep as well."

"Then we need a happy memory to block the horrible thoughts." Sam grasped Frodo’s hand, as he did many times on the Quest, and continued, "Remember the second time Dulcie came to stay?" Sam cracked a melancholy smile. "I found you two out."

***

S.R. Forelithe 1403 (Frodo is 34 and Dulcie is 32)

He walked in his garden, enjoying the sunshine on his face. Just the other day the geraniums the Gaffer had planted were blooming with flowers. Other plants in the garden were on their way to following the geraniums’ lead.

There was a commotion on the other side of the hill. Excited voices mixed with each other in what seemed like a happy greeting. Frodo’s curiosity piqued, and he strolled around the hill to find the Gamgees had company. It was close to lunch, so the Gaffer and Sam had headed home a few minutes before.

Sam most likely will not bring me a sandwich today - Frodo mused, watching the arrivals talking to the Gamgees. As much as Frodo insisted, the Gaffer didn’t find it proper for him to come eat at their humble smial. Frodo had convinced Sam to take meals with him, when he could get away without the Gaffer knowing. Sometimes Sam would sneak sandwiches to him. It was a small gesture, but Frodo appreciated it deeply.

Familiar sandy brown locks caught Frodo’s eye, and when he got closer, he could see that it was her. A broad smile broke out on his face. He jumped the fence surrounding the hill, and made his way over.

"I see you have guests, Gaffer."

"Aye, Master Baggins," the Gaffer replied. "My Bell’s younger brother and his family."

Frodo bowed to the guests. "Frodo Baggins, at your service."

"Tobold Goodchild, at yours, sir," greeted the hobbit, nodding his head. His dark curls were cut just above his collar, and his eyes seemed kind. "This is my wife, Crystal." The lady hobbit bore her strict gaze into Frodo. He could tell by her nearly golden hair and green eyes that she was a Took. Her scowl didn’t do justice to her pale face, but Frodo could see where Dulcie got her pretty features.

"Pleasure to meet you both."

"You remember Dulcie," the Gaffer added.

Dulcie, with hands behind her back, was smiling shyly at him beside her mother. Frodo took her hand, and bowed. "I do, indeed," he said, matter-of-factly. "Good to see you again, Miss Dulcie."

A blush shaded Dulcie’s cheeks. "Thank you, Master Baggins."

"You’re Bilbo Baggins’ heir, aren’t you, boy?" Mrs. Goodchild asked, sharply.

Frodo nodded. "Yes, ma’am."

Mrs. Goodchild rolled her eyes, sighing. "What a display he put on last year at his birthday. I do believe he lost all sense."

Frodo’s shoulders tensed up. He didn’t appreciate anyone talking ill of Bilbo, but he couldn’t extinguish every bad word said of his Uncle. He was still learning to school himself to take the snide comments after all these years. "Bilbo went to stay with the Elves. I think he was happy as to how his party turned out."

"Oh," was all Mrs. Goodchild said in response.

"Let’s not warm the doorway anymore than we should," the Gaffer said, and he shuffled everyone inside as Frodo said his goodbye pleasantries to the Goodchilds.

***

He sat on his front porch, taking a leisurely smoke on his pipe. If Dulcie was the same as she was four years ago then she’d find a way outside. Sure enough, the door to Number 3 opened and out stepped Dulcie. Frodo jumped to his feet when he saw she was alone. She caught sight of him, and made her way over to his fence.

"It’s wonderful to see you, Dulcie," he said, a smile glowing on his face.

"The same," Dulcie responded. Frodo blushed at the familiar words he said before she departed last visit. "I only excused myself for moment."

"How long will you be staying?"

"At least until the end of September." Frodo’s heart leapt knowing she might be around for his birthday.

"That’s wonderful!" He knew he might be pushing his luck, but asked anyway. "Will you have tea with me tomorrow?"

"Oh-" Dulcie fretted with a strand of her hair. "I’m not sure."

"It’s doesn’t have to be tea," Frodo added, quickly. "It could be any meal. I can slip you in and out of Bag End without anyone knowing."

Dulcie smiled warmly. "I’ll try to make it."

***

He hadn’t felt this excited since Bilbo brought him to live at Bag End. Frodo took out the best tea set, and baked fresh seedcakes that morning. A lass had never made him feel this way before - all giddy and floating, as if there wasn’t a care in the world. He’d thought about her several times the first year after they’d met. He’d wished he could have sent her letters, but without an address, that was impossible. His thoughts of her calmed after a while, and her pretty face only appeared to him whenever he read a book about the Elves.

But when he saw her yesterday, all the feelings that had begun right before Dulcie left, all came flooding back in seconds.

A delicate knock sounded at the door. "Coming!" Frodo shouted from the kitchen. He set down the cups, and went to answer the door. "Dulcie!" he said in surprise.

"May I come in?" she asked, hurriedly.

"Of course." Frodo moved aside, and she swept through the doorway.

"Oh good," Dulcie said, slightly out of breath. "I don’t think Sam saw me."

"You sneaked to get past Sam?" Frodo asked, amused.

"Well, yes." Dulcie untying her apron from around her waist. Frodo took it from her, hanging it on the coat rack. "He’s a tricky lad. I waited until he was on the other side of the Hill before hopping the fence and rushing to your door."

Frodo paused, a grin tugging at his lips. "You hopped the fence?"

"Well, yes," Dulcie repeated, sounding indignant. "I couldn’t just walk up the path and into the gate, now could I? Frodo Baggins, why are you laughing at me?"

Indeed, Frodo was nearly holding his side with laughter. "I’m wondering where the shy lass I used to know went to?"

Dulcie cocked her head, confused. "That’s supposed to be funny?"

He grabbed her wrist, pulling her to the kitchen as he explained, "I’ve never seen you so worked up before." It’s adorable - he dared not say.

"I can get that way sometimes," Dulcie replied with a shrug of her shoulder. "I really wanted to see you and talk to you. I’ve missed you."

Frodo felt his cheeks flush, and was thankful he wasn’t facing Dulcie at the moment.

"Well, we have the whole season to talk." He pulled out a chair. "Please sit. Help yourself to the cakes. I’ll get the tea."

"Thank you," Dulcie said politely, sitting and smoothing her skirts under her as she did.

She peered around. "This is a lovely smial. Sam told me how wonderful Bag End was, but I never dreamed it to be like this. So fancy, yet cozy."

Frodo grasped the teapot handle with a pot holder, carefully pouring the tea into cups on the table. "Have you ever been to the Great Smials?"

"Once," Dulcie replied, listlessly fiddling with a seedcake. "when I was young. I don’t remember much, but I did remember it being very big and colorful."

"The Tooks have a rather fanciful taste." Frodo sat in the chair beside her.

"This is good tea," Dulcie complimented then took another sip. "Oh! I must tell you, the book you gave me, I have read it many times. Thank you for giving it to me. I have enjoyed it so."

"I’m glad to have given it to you. If you’d like to borrow any of my books during your stay, you are quite welcome."

"I think I’ll take you up on that offer, Frodo. Thank you."

They continued sipping tea and munching on the seedcakes for a while, their conversation dwelling on the stories in the book he had given her.

"What happen to Elros after he chose to be mortal?"

"He was given a great-life span by the Valar, and his descendants were called the Numenoreans. Would you like to know more of it?"

"That would be nice."

Frodo got to the bookshelf in the next room, and came back with a thick green-covered book. "Would you like me to read a page?"

"Please do."

Just before Frodo could begin to read, the front door suddenly opened and in stepped Sam. Frodo and Dulcie sat frozen at the table.

"I brought you some-" Sam froze as well when his eyes fell on the scene before him. "Dulcie? What are you doing here?"

The lass stood up, and replied weakly, "Frodo invited me to have tea with him."

Sam switched his gaze to his master, a questioning glare in his eye. Frodo stood, and stepped quickly over to Sam. "When Dulcie was here last, we became friends and met out in the woods to read books together. I invited her for tea to merely see how she’s been."

"If you’re friends then why meet in secret?"

Frodo’s brow furrowed, and he turned to Dulcie. She had always been the one who desired to keep their friendship a secret. He liked the idea himself. It made what they had more special. "I’m not quite sure."

"So no one will talk, of course," Dulcie responded, quickly. "Word gets around so fast, and most of what is said is either not true or blown to exaggeration."

"That sounds about right," said Sam, nodding. "I promise I won’t say anything about you two being friends."

Dulcie smiled rather triumphantly, and hugged her young cousin. "Thank you, Sammy."

Though glad that Sam would keep their secret, Frodo wondered why Dulcie sounded so oddly relieved because of it.It’s adorable - he dared not say.