Frodo Baggins stared longingly at the river they were walking by the edge of, wishing they were sailing down it in a boat. Walking through the woods was beginning to wear on him. Then again, he didn’t want to ride in a boat with Legolas any more than the rest of them did. Not even Gimli, as devoted to the Elf as he was, would do it.

Oh well, Frodo thought sympathetically. There were worse things that could be said about someone than that he was a lousy sailor. It was about the only bad quality that Legolas had, at least that Frodo could think of. He had ever been a loyal friend. Frodo fervently wished that his friend would be granted Ciendriel by the Council of Mirkwood. Frodo did muse that Ciendriel might be someone who could curb Haldir’s nastiness, but he still thought she ought to be able to allowed to choose whom she wed.

Just as Angelica would be allowed to choose. Frodo glanced over his shoulder at her. She was walking hand in hand with Pippin behind him, with Merry and Gimli behind them, and Haldir’s brothers at the rear. Sam was in front of Frodo, walking side by side with the silent Haldir, Legolas and Ciendriel up ahead. Ciendriel and Legolas seemed to be in a good mood, and were singing a song in Elvish together rather softly.

Frodo wondered what Angelica was thinking about, and rather wished she would walk with him. He thought about what it would be like if she chose to come stay with him in Bag-end. He had lived the bachelor life for so long now, first with Bilbo, then alone. He wondered if he could change. He didn’t see himself marrying Angelica... but he wanted her there. He wanted to wake up next to her in the morning. He wanted her to be the one holding him when he was lonely, fending off Sam when he wanted to come bare his soul at one in the morning after a round of ale, and chasing Merry and Pippin out of his kitchen, which always seemed to be stocked better than their own.

She was easy to be with, Frodo thought. More easy than anyone he had ever known, except maybe Gandalf.

Would she pick him?

Frodo wondered what would be the best way to influence her. He wasn’t sure what he might have to offer besides the fact that, well, he HAD saved Middle-earth from destruction once, and didn’t girls like heroes? Shouldn’t he get the girl in the end?

But the truth was, he thought of her more as a friend than a lover.

Still, he wanted her, for her company more than for sex. He enjoyed sleeping with her, as much as he ever had with anyone. Frodo had not had many lovers and his experience was limited, but so was his desire. He didn’t often feel as lustful as Merry and Pippin or even Sam and certainly not Gimli seemed to. Again he thought about how much he had wanted Gimli, though this ardor has cooled recently. Frodo wondered if he hadn’t fallen in love with the Dwarf for the sheer fact that he could never have him.

Angelica had replaced Gimli in his affections. She was like a balm on his wounded soul, Frodo thought. He knew he would never recover completely from the adventures he had been though, and this always made him feel a little ill and a little weary. He ought to go home soon, he thought. Back to the Shire, just as soon as they took care of business in Mirkwood.

And this time, he vowed, he would not forget to ask Lord Elrond if he had any news of Bilbo!

***

Samwise Gamgee glanced over at Haldir. The Marchwarden seemed lost in thought as he walked slowly, his eyes locked to the back of the Elves in front of them. Sam wanted to ask him a few questions about certain herbs he knew Haldir to be well-informed about, but he didn’t dare interrupt the Elf’s reverie.

Sam was getting itchy with no one to talk to. He glanced behind at Frodo, but Frodo was looking back over his own shoulder at Angelica.

Angelica. Sam sighed with longing, then nearly fell as he tripped over a root that he didn’t see while turning around. Catching himself, he faced forward again. He’d just have to deal with the silence, broken only by the sweet singing of Legolas and Ciendriel. He wished his Elvish was better and that he could tell what they were saying. Since he couldn’t, he went back to thinking about Angelica.

Ever since Pippin had proposed to her last night, Sam had been thinking about his own proposal. He needed to ask Angelica properly. He’d give her some flowers, preferably roses. Sam loved roses. Bag-end was nearly surrounded with rose bushes now that Bilbo was no longer around to tell him that they didn’t need quite so many pink flowers around the house, thank you very much, Samwise Gamgee. Frodo didn’t care how many flowers Sam added to his gardens.

Yes, he needed Rosie... er, roses! Roses for Angelica! Sam felt a blush creep into his cheeks, warming them. He didn’t want to think about Rosie right now. She was so different from Angelica. She was untouchable. She wouldn’t give Sam the time of day...after all, she knew a fool when she saw one. Sam had chased after Rosie since he could walk.

Angelica had been so easy to go to, to fall for, to take her, to touch her, to love her. She had given him everything without question, without judgment. When she looked at him, it was with admiration. She made Sam feel proud of himself. Before her, only Frodo had ever really made him feel that way, like he could do anything he set his mind to.

And so he was going to ask her to marry him. He thought he had a pretty good chance of her saying yes, too. After all, Pippin and Merry would always be a team, Frodo was lost in his own little world most of the time, and Gimli... well, she couldn’t possibly marry Gimli, could she? She was a Hobbit, he was a Dwarf. Sam couldn’t imagine living in a mine or on a mountain. Dwarf lands were so different than places a Hobbit could happily call home. Angelica belonged in the Shire.

She’s beautiful, Sam thought, with her pretty red hair. It was rare for a Hobbit to have red hair. Just like a Rosie... er... a rose!

***

Meriadoc Brandybuck walked behind Pippin and Angelica, thinking of carrots. He really wished he had taken some of the wild carrots they had dug up last night with them, but they had all been eaten for lunch, or...broken. Merry grinned. He’d been a little rough on Pippin last night, but Pippin had always seemed to like it that way. However, Merry knew that being with Angelica was changing Pip. Maybe he didn’t even realize it himself, yet. He was taking charge a bit more. He was bolder. He seemed to be looking inside himself for answers instead of looking to Merry for them.

His proposal to Angelica had shocked Merry. Merry wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about it. He knew that Pippin wasn’t trying to push him away, but it certainly felt like he was, at least a little bit. Even so, nothing would ever truly separate them, Merry mused. Their lives would be intertwined to the end of their days.

If Angelica accepted Pippin, they might still share their idyll. The three of them in one house -- one big, soft bed, rife with pillows. They would need to stock up on pillows. They seemed to go through them at an alarming rate.

Yet, part of Merry wanted to offer for her himself. Yet, how could he propose before she gave Pippin an answer? It wouldn’t be fair. Merry decided he had better wait. If Angelica turned down Pippin, then he would ask for her, himself. Or, Merry supposed, she might just tell Aragorn that she wanted him... he wouldn’t refuse her if she did.

For a few minutes he entertained the notion, but then he looked at her hand clutching Pippin’s. Their fingers were interlaced, swinging back and forth together. Her step had a spring in it -- Angelica bounced as she walked. It was happiness, Merry knew. Pippin made her happy.

Pippin made Merry happy as well, with his simple ways and his frank honesty. The two of them were well-suited for each other. Merry wondered if anyone else could see this as clearly as he could. Just watching them skipping along made him smile.

Choose happiness, Angelica Headstrong, Merry thought. Choose happiness for all of us. This lies in your hands, not any of ours.

***

They stopped for the night by the edge of the river, making camp, as usual, as the sun went down. Angelica was in high spirits, and for once the entire party had stayed together. Even Orophin and Rúmil had not slipped off into the surrounding forest. They sat with Haldir, chattering to him in Elvish while he nodded silently in response. Occasionally he laughed at something they said. Their presence seemed to cheer him, and take away some of his grim edge, Angelica thought.

Of course, that still didn’t mean he was any less of a jerk, and Angelica sighed sadly when she saw Ciendriel look over at the Marchwarden at the sound of his laughter, the expression on the face of the Elf Princess holding a hint of longing. She didn’t want her friend to fall for the ruthless Elf. Legolas slipped an arm around her and she turned her face to his, smiling. He kissed her cheek, looking shy. Ciendriel put her head on his shoulder. Angelica felt better.

“What’s for dinner?” asked Pippin, looking around at the gathered company. Gimli, handy with his ax, had made the fire, but no one had started to cook anything on it yet.

“We’re out of sausages,” Sam said, sounding glum.

“How can that be?” Merry asked, looking shocked. Angelica was a little shocked, herself. She hadn’t imagined that Sam would ever run out of sausages.

“Out of sausages! Preposterous!” Gimli blustered.

“We have plenty of lembas,” Legolas said sensibly. He took out one square and began meticulously breaking it into eleven equal portions.

“Legolas, even I know that this will not be enough for the Hobbits,” Haldir said condescendingly. He got up slowly to his feet and picked up his bow, then motioned to his brothers. “We will hunt you something.”

“That is awfully generous of you, Mr. Haldir,” Sam said, smiling. Angelica nodded. She couldn’t quite believe it.

“The journey is long yet. If the exertion of hunting a few small animals will prevent us from miles of listening to hunger complaints, I do it gladly,” Haldir said, looking down his nose at Sam.

“Spare us your ill-tempered generosity, Elf!” Gimli said, rising to his feet as well. “I will bring down some conies for the lads and lassie myself.”

He took his ax and shuffled off into the wood. Haldir just shook his head, motioned to his brothers, and set out in the opposite direction.

“We can get our own food,” Merry said. “Come on, Pippin, we’ll go pick something for a salad.”

“I can’t live on salad until we get back to the Shire,” Pippin moaned.

“I’m sure Gimli will bring back the conies he promised,” Frodo said soothingly.

“A salad does go nicely with roast coney,” Pippin relented.

“You know what goes nicely with coney?” Sam said dreamily.

“Taters!” said Angelica.

“Yes!” Sam said enthusiastically. “Taters! Lovely, crisp golden chips. Or boiled taters in stew. Or--”

“Sam, you’re killing me,” Merry moaned. He got up and dragged Pippin off to look for something to put in a salad.

Legolas looked down at the lembas bread he held in his hands and sighed. Ciendriel took a small piece of it from him, but he wrapped the rest back into the leaf it had been stored in. He looked bewildered, as if he just didn’t understand why everyone didn’t enjoy lembas bread as much as the Elves did.

“Why don’t we go hunt something, too?” Ciendriel whispered to Legolas.

“I’m sure Haldir is perfectly capable of--” he stopped when she frowned at him, then his eyes widened. “Oh. OH! Yes! Let’s go hunt something!” He jumped up, grabbed Ciendriel’s hand, and the two Elves hurried off in yet another direction.

That left Angelica with Frodo and Sam. Sam looked around nervously, as if he wasn’t happy unless he had a responsibility to look after as well.

“Someone has to stay here and tend the fire,” Frodo said patiently. “It might well be the three of us.”

Sam relaxed at Frodo’s words. He sat down next to Angelica. She smiled at him, and he flushed slightly. “Actually,” he said, jumping back to his feet, “I thought I might go pick some flowers.”

“Sam, sit down and relax. You don’t have to--” Angelica began, but Sam had already scampered off. She turned and looked at Frodo. “Are you going to run off, too?”

“Definitely not,” said Frodo. He moved closer to her. “I for one intend to relax.” He stretched, his arm coming to settle around her as he did. Angelica giggled and leaned against him. “This is very comfortable,” Frodo added after a moment. “I could get used to having you beside me.”

“I could get used to being beside you,” Angelica said softly.

Frodo lowered his lips to her ear and kissed it. Angelica felt a thrill of arousal shoot through her at the little movement and wondered how long the others were going to be gone. She turned her head so that Frodo’s mouth would meet her own. Frodo bent his head and kissed her, and she flung her arms around him.

“Are flowers what it takes to win you?” Frodo whispered against her mouth. “Say the word and I’ll go pick every plant in the forest that Sam, Merry, and Pippin haven’t already uprooted.”

“Flowers are lovely,” Angelica said. “But I prefer kisses. Maybe you could let Sam know that.”

Frodo kissed her again. “Maybe I will tell him just the opposite.”

She giggled again. “I think you are spending too much time with Haldir.”

Frodo smiled, but there was a hint of sadness in the smile. “I pity Haldir. He thinks that his fate is to be alone. I thought that once, myself. Then there was you, and I knew that as long as you became my friend, I would never be alone.”

Angelica’s heart thundered in her chest. Or at least, she thought that it was her heart, for certainly it was pounding wildly. It took her a moment, so wrapped up in Frodo’s gentle words had she become, to realize that they were hearing actual thunder, in the sky.

“It’s going to rain,” she said.

“Let it rain,” said Frodo.

He lifted up his gray cloak and settled it over both of their heads, and just in time. As they huddled together, the skies opened up and it began to pour, but the cloak seemed impervious to the elements. Angelica and Frodo stayed perfectly dry as the water splashed down over them, beating a staccato rhythm against the material.

“Yes, let it rain,” Angelica muttered as Frodo took her mouth once more. His fingers began to wander over her, and she liked his slow, tender teasing. Frodo moved carefully, making sure not to dislodge the cloak as he explored her flesh, keeping them dry and warm beneath it.

It was quite some time before she stopped being distracted enough to think about what might have happened to the rest of their party, caught out in the woods in the torrential thunderstorm.