Rating: PG13
Pairing: Frodo/Pearl
Warnings/Author's Notes: I must apologize in advance for this story. It bears little resemblance to what was requested, I am afraid. The email seemed innocuous enough from the outside, but seeing the name of the intended recipient put a lead weight into my stomach and seeing what was being requested made me break out into a cold sweat.
Disclaimer: Frodo and all recognisable characters are the property of the Estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. No offence is intended, nor profit made.
Summary: Springtime in the Shire, and love blossoms in a young heart.

It was that rare day that only comes once a year, the day that all creatures, whether they can read a calendar or not, know that Spring has come.

Even if the puddles are still rimed with frost, winter has lost its hold on the world. Birds can sense it and shout their love songs to the morning. Crocus poke brave green fingers through still frozen soil and the sun's rays begin to bathe the world in real warmth again rather than the mocking illumination of winter. It is the day the world truly begins to wake from its long slumber.

Their pony needed little guidance along the well-travelled East Road and Frodo gave him his head. Bilbo had settled back in the seat of their little cart, trusting his ward to guide them, and would soon be asleep, or so all indications suggested.

Frodo didn't mind his companion's silence. He was just glad to be outside at last. Snow had lain thick on the North Farthing and cold had kept a particularly strong grip on the rest of the Shire as well. It had been such unusually hard weather that it had even kept his robust guardian from his usual weekly jaunts. The forced confinement had rankled both of them, but now, in the midst of spring's emergence, they relished the fresh, newly warm air.

It wasn't exactly a social call. Paladin Took, cousin to them both through their respective mothers, had asked Bilbo for his counsel on a matter concerning the Thain's mother. Lalia the Great had offered to foster one of Paladin's daughters and to teach her the keeping of the Great Smials. She had apparently been quite taken with the girl and Paladin was seriously considering the proposition. There was some intra-family politics involved that Frodo wasn't privy to, but from what he could glean, Paladin had been trying to convince Lalia to support his claim of succession for quite some time. Without a direct heir, custom dictated that Ferumbras III's title would likely pass to Paladin anyway, as he was the next most closely related male descendant, but according to Bilbo, there had been resistance to that tradition from Paladin's eldest sister, Miralinda, and her son Isengar, and there were historical precedents from his own family that gave their arguments credence. Paladin was eager for Lalia's and, thereby, the Thain's favour, to insure that his right to succeed would not even be questioned. Bilbo had confirmed Frodo's own sense that such a course was the most desirable one for all concerned.

Though there was more to it than Bilbo had let on. The fact that the elder Baggins had been called to advise on the matter said a great deal in and of itself. Bilbo was one of the few people who didn't tread lightly around the Thain's mother, they being of an age and he being the sort who didn't worry much what others said of him. Paladin was troubled, that was clear, but Frodo couldn't understand why he would even begin to think of sending his own daughter away. Buckland folk, queer though some might have thought them, parted with children reluctantly; it had taken years for Rorimac to be convinced Frodo would be better off in Hobbiton, so Paladin's actions struck Frodo as very queer indeed. There had to have been more at stake than his claim to the Thainship, but what, Frodo couldn't even begin to guess.

He had met Paladin's daughters before and young Pip. Pippin was a charming faunt with a knack for trouble, but the girls were, well, girls. Aside from some roughness about the edges of the eldest, he'd never noted anything about any of them he would have considered remarkable. Obviously, Lalia had seen something he hadn't been able to.

All he knew was he was very glad it wasn't him being sent to Great Smials. He'd heard the talk. 'Lalia the Fat' she was called when those who might take offense weren't in earshot. Ferumbras was thought a decent enough fellow, but the common wisdom was that she really ran Great Smials, and with an iron will by all accounts. Even so, one couldn't say the Shire hadn't been prosperous during the years following Fortinbras' death. Trade within the Shire was brisk and there was even talk of dealings with the south as well as renewing ties with Bree, but there was a strangely unwholesome feel to the whole business and it was clear certain families, namely the Clayhangers, had been much more prosperous in it than the rest.

Bilbo was snoring contentedly when the cart rolled past Tookbank and into the western edge of the Green Hill country. Little settlements like Whitfell and Holly were dug into the hills all around the Tooklands and filled with Tooks and Took relations. Paladin's home, Greenfields, was a quaint, well-run farm with apple trees and sheep dotting the green just to the north and west of Great Smials. His hole faced north and across the fields one could just make out the dark line of the trees along the East Road and, if the day was clear enough, the grey-blue mound of the Hill itself.

"We're here, Uncle," said Frodo, pulling the pony to a halt in Paladin's yard. A farmhand came from the barn and took the beast's head as Bilbo collected himself and they prepared to disembark.

"They're here!" A high-pitched child's voice made Frodo turn in time to see a towheaded girl dart from an overhanging apple tree into the door of the smial.

"Pervinca," chuckled Bilbo, "if I'm not mistaken. She was but a faunt the last time I saw her." Frodo helped the older hobbit down, though he hardly needed the assistance, and followed him across the courtyard. Flowers grew in unkempt riots of colour in the beds bordering the little space, adding a charmingly dishevelled look to the home. Careful gardening, it seemed, was not the priority at Greenfields that it was at Bag End.

"Welcome, Bilbo!" Eglantine Took stood in the open front door, her generous and imposing frame almost filling it. "And Frodo! So good to see you again! But you are as thin as a rail! What has this old scoundrel been feeding you?" With open arms and many a motherly cluck, she directed them into the smial. "You must excuse the mess," she said, "but you know how children can be." She winked at Bilbo and gave a nod to Frodo as she took their coats.

The front hall was paved with light coloured stone sanded smooth and polished, though the finish was worn were the traffic had been heaviest. In a line leading toward the left hand doorway off the little room was a clear set of muddy footprints and low voices could be heard from behind the closed door. While Eglantine hung the coats in the closet, the door opened and Paladin appeared. He nodded gravely to Bilbo and Frodo and stepped back to let a truly wretched looking figure come from behind him.

It was covered from head to furry toes in thick, drying mud. Mud coated curls laid upon the bowed head in great dangling clods so that Frodo could barely see the dirty face beneath them. Little clumps of the stuff were falling off as he moved, framing the chastened whelp in an accusing little circle. His torn shirt had once been white from the look of it, but Frodo doubted even the famed laundresses of Great Smials would ever get it clean again. He turned a dirty, plaid cap nervously in his hands.

"Eglantine?" Paladin's voice was disapproving and tired. "Would you?"

His wife sighed and took the youngster's arm.

At that, the lad looked up and Frodo was struck by the fineness of his features, the delicate jaw line under muddy smudges and the glittering brightness of his green eyes. He started and stared as realization struck him. The muddy tween was a girl.

She had eyes only for Paladin. The girl did not cry or resist when Eglantine drew her away. S he kept staring back at Paladin as if hoping for some sign, a reprieve or repudiation, but her face held the shattered longing of one whose heart had truly been broken. She knew she would not find it.

Frodo watched until the opposite door closed behind Eglantine and her charge.

"Having a spot of trouble?" Bilbo asked.

Paladin ran a hand through his brown curls. "You've no idea, my friend. Though, as Eglantine will surely point out, I can blame no one for this but myself."

"If you don't mind my asking, cousin Paladin, who was that?"

"That," grimaced Paladin, "is the reason I asked you here today."

Pearl? That girl was Pearl Took!

"She's growing into a lovely young lady," chuckled Bilbo.

Paladin glared at him. "You're good if you can tell that under all that filth."

"What happened?" asked Frodo. Her abject expression had troubled him far more than the mud had.

Paladin sighed and gestured for them to return to the room he had just exited. "Eglantine would tell you 'I' happened, but it's a long story."

"I thought you said she wanted to go to Great Smials?" Bilbo found a chair by the grate in the little parlour, Frodo settled beside a tray that held the fixings for a morning tea. He looked up at Bilbo, who nodded in assent, and began making his guardian a cup.

"She says she does," Paladin agreed. "Though I'd never have thought she'd be the type to go in for all those high manners and etiquette. She's always taken after me and I never took on airs."

"She didn't look very happy about something," offered Frodo and instantly felt self-conscious for voicing his opinion in the elder hobbits' presence.

Paladin didn't look happy about it either. "It's hard to say what her motives are these days."

"I remember when she was just a faunt," put in Bilbo. "She followed you everywhere, Paladin. I think it drove Eglantine mad, but she would never mind anyone but you."

Paladin winced as if Bilbo had brought up a painful memory. "No, she didn't," he agreed. "She was my girl from the day she weaned. Always wanting to help on the farm, chasing chickens when she was just three, helping me to mow the fields when she was old enough to handle a team, and I'd never seen a lass, or lad for that matter, who had better aim with a stone." Paladin sighed again. "That was what Eglantine says the problem was; I didn't have a lad, so I made one out of Pearl." He shook his head. "Though I never did encourage her, sakes, I tried to discourage her from the moment she first tottered out into the fields, but if Pearl takes after her mother in any way, it is strength of will. The more firmly we scolded her, the harder she fought to get her way.

"When Pimpernel came, Eglantine gave up trying to gentle our Pearl. I don't blame her. She had her hands full with the other girls and we both thought she would surely grow out of her ways. There are some battles that aren't worth fighting.

"I daresay I did enjoy having her with me. Together we went fishing, hiked across the width of the Tooklands just as I would have with a lad; there was nothing Pearl wasn't game to try." He paused, looking guiltily up at Bilbo. "I confess, I liked having her to share my passions with, even if she was a daughter.

"But things changed after Pippin came along. Eglantine pointed out, and rightly, I'll grant her, that now that she had given me a son, she needed to begin to tame her eldest daughter again. Pearl hadn't outgrown her boyish ways as we'd hoped and it was time she began to behave like the lady she was to someday be." He sighed once again. "It has been very hard for all of us. Lalia's offer was the first proposition that Pearl has not resisted straight away."

"You say the child has requested to go to Great Smials and serve her?" Bilbo sounded as doubtful as Frodo felt. "The picture you paint is of spirited girl, not one who would likely submit to the yoke of such formal surroundings."

Paladin nodded. "When Lalia asked, Pearl said yes. Gladly too, or I'm no judge of my own child. Either she's got the wrong idea what she is getting into with Lalia or the old dame has softened in her dotage. I am as baffled as you are."

Bilbo sipped his tea in silence. Frodo poured the last of the pot into his and Paladin's cups and dutifully set the empty dishes on the tray by the door.

"What kind of an agreement has Lalia offered?" Bilbo asked at length.

"It's not a standard apprenticeship, if that is what you are asking," Paladin answered. "And I was very firm that my daughter retains the right to break from it at any time she wishes. I would not even consider the arrangement unless that was a part of the contract."

"Lalia agreed to this?" Bilbo seemed surprised. Paladin nodded.

"Yes. Wonder of wonders, but she did. And, she promises to endorse me as heir as well, even if she and the Thain later decide Pearl is not a suitable apprentice. However, if Pearl leaves Great Smials of her own accord before her apprenticeship is fulfilled, Lalia says she will not honour my claim."

Bilbo frowned thoughtfully and shook his head. "I don't like it. What is to stop Lalia from holding the girl with her under threat of denouncing your claim?"

"I will already have the Thain's written endorsement in hand and in the agreement itself will be a clause that says if Pearl is ever coerced by either of them, the Thain will immediately step down and install me or my heirs in his place.

"This agreement is decidedly one sided, Bilbo. I will have the Thain's written endorsement in hand. Lalia trusts me not to use it until such time as the Thain steps down, and the only exemption she has requested is that, should the Thain produce a direct, blood heir, my claim would then be forfeit to his issue. The fellow is in his eighties. I suppose he's still capable of producing one, but he'll need a wife and I don't think he's likely to find one who'd willingly put up with Lalia at this point."

"And Pearl has agreed to this? I find that fact alone highly suspicious."

"Heaven knows why, but she has. You must know Lalia has always got on with my Pearl. She treats other children like the curmudgeon she is, but Pearl has always been her favourite. When my daughter was eight years old, I lost her in the maze of the Great Smials. Was beside myself 'til one of Lalia's maidservants came and told me the Thain's mother was entertaining her. I went to retrieve her instantly and found the girl in smudged petticoats playing 'Pirates' with the old dame. I'd never got so much as a nod out of the old dragon, but Pearl had her positively enchanted.

"She's claimed that she's finally given up on Ferumbras giving her grandchildren and has decided to engage some herself. She's made mention of Pearl's recent melancholy, to rankle Eglantine no doubt, and suggests the girl might do better in a less crowded, more structured home where she can get personal attention. Eglantine is fit to be tied, but we're both at a loss for how to handle the girl. And Lalia insists she has nothing but the best of intentions for her."

At that, Bilbo scoffed. "I've known Lalia for too long to give that much credence." He pulled out his pipe and weed and began preparing a smoke. "What does Pearl think she wants? The girl must have some idea why Lalia has asked for her."

"You may ask her yourself, Bilbo. Eglantine will be bringing her back once she's cleaned up."

Bilbo scraped the bowl of his pipe thoughtfully and knocked it out upon the grate.

"That I will do," he said firmly. "In the meanwhile, have you drawn up a contract? And may I look it over? I'm no solicitor, but I want to see what scheme Lalia is cooking up. Altruism is a very fine quality, but I doubt it had anything to do with Lalia's motives in this matter. She would not be doing this unless she saw a way to benefit herself or her family, I am sure of it."

Paladin smiled. "As I thought too. I can answer 'yes' to both your questions and appreciate your invaluable advice. I might have done my dearest girl an injustice by letting her run wild for so long, but I don't want to make things worse by placing her in an untenable arrangement."

Bilbo patted his arm reassuringly. "We will find a way protect the girl and not invalidate your claim. I owe it to the Shire. You would be a far better Thain than Isengar, or, I'll wager, Ferumbras. Now, let us see this contract."

The warm room, slanting spring sunlight and the low murmur of legal tenets and formal Westron were making Frodo sleepy. Since it seemed that Pearl was content with the arrangement, his curiosity about the matter had been sated. As Bilbo and Paladin had things well in hand, there seemed little else for him to do. He slid deeper into his comfortable chair.

The knock that started him to wakefulness came some time later. He blinked, struggled to a sitting position and tried to look cognizant.

Eglantine had returned to the parlour with Pearl, now dressed in a manner more suited to a girl on the verge of her tweens; a pale yellow dress with ruffles of white eyelet lace and a green sash. It looked new and Pearl looked positively defeated wearing it.

Her light brown curls had been braided demurely down her back and her delicate bare feet had been washed and thoroughly brushed. Her skin, now that the mud was off it, was lightly freckled and slightly browned as if she spent more time out of doors than most girls did. Frodo could not see her eyes, but he remembered their colour, bright green flecked with brown. The sight of them beseeching her father still haunted him.

"Pearl," greeted Bilbo politely. "You know my cousin and ward, Frodo Baggins."

The girl glanced over at Frodo without interest. "Yes," she answered. "He has been bringing cousin Merry to see Pip. Welcome again to Greenfields, Frodo." She spoke the automatic politeness, as if she knew her mother would jab her in the ribs if she didn't say something pleasant. Frodo distractedly felt the slight, but as he became more awake, he began to take in details about the girl that he hadn't noted under the mud.

She'd have to have been nineteen, if his math was correct. A child still to someone possessed of his sage twenty-six years, but poised to become a very beautiful young lady. Her face was as perfectly formed as any lass's he'd seen and the slim, athletic body beneath it moved in a way that captivated him. She didn't walk as most girls of his acquaintance did, with an exaggerated and deliberate sway that looked unnatural (and uncomfortable) to his eyes, but with an easy and native grace, even while obviously humbled. There was no artifice about her. She was exactly as she appeared: a beautiful girl who seemed completely unaware of her budding femininity. It was a unique combination.

"We've been discussing the proposal Lalia has made to your father," continued Bilbo, peering shrewdly at the girl. "He told me that you would not be opposed the arrangement."

"No, I wouldn't mind. Lalia has always been a friend to me. Attending her would be no burden."

"I've known others who attended on Lalia," Bilbo pressed. "Their experiences have not been good ones. Are you aware of her reputation?"

Pearl looked him in the eye. "I am," she said certainly and with a spark of defiance. "But she has never been anything but kind to me. We have an understanding and respect for each other. She values my strength."

The defeat in her demeanour was pushed aside by a sudden pride. Her head held high, she stared down at her mother, who frowned, seemingly irritated by Pearl's unladylike manner, and then levelled her haughty gaze at her father.

And there she faltered. It was clearly Paladin she had clung to all those years, and Paladin's stern look rather than Eglantine's disapproval that now checked her. Frodo wondered whether Pearl was really attending to Lalia's favour or simply running away from Paladin's rejection.

"Aye," agreed Bilbo. "I will agree with you there. She's a powerful lady and appreciates a strong will. You may be a match for her in that respect, but take heed. She has four times your years and experience. Never trust her. She will see that as weakness, mark my word. And always remember that it is your choice to stay or leave. They cannot compel you."

Pearl hesitated, then nodded and thanked him.

"Very well. If I may, I'd like a few words with Eglantine and Paladin. Frodo? Would you take young Pearl out for a stroll? It seems far too glorious a day for young hobbits to miss by falling asleep in stuffy rooms. Go out and enjoy the sunshine for me."

Frodo blushed, stood and gave Eglantine a little bow. "I would enjoy that, yes. Pearl?"

It was much more Pearl taking Frodo for a walk than Frodo taking Pearl.

Once out of the smial, she abandoned all pretense of feminine deference and headed out for the Green Hills at a run. After a moment's surprise, Frodo followed, his longer legs allowing him to catch up and keep pace with her. She ran up the slope of a sparsely forested hill and wove her way through thickets of spruce and fir. Next she dropped down into a sandy dell, its bowl filled with rainwater and small green frogs, emerging cattails and hummocks of rushes. Cold seemed to have settled into the hollow as well and Frodo was glad when the tireless Pearl climbed back out of it. The next hill was tall and crowned with thick oaks, and he found himself growing warm as he followed the girl.

She hadn't spoken, had barely even deigned to look at him, and Frodo was beginning to feel very put out by the behaviour. When they came to the peak of the hill under the oaks, Frodo grabbed at her arm just as her mother had done.

But though Pearl had tolerated Eglantine's censure, she would have none of it from Frodo. With a contemptuous snort, she wrenched herself free and dashed across the hill's barren crown to dive into the thick growth on the other side. Frodo muttered angrily and followed.

"See here!" he cried, pushing away the laurel and stumbling down the slope. The next hollow was broad and open and warmed well by the sun. Pearl had come to a stop at a small rivulet that ran by the foot of the hill and when Frodo came up behind her, she didn't flinch. "At Bag End, we welcome our guests and make them comfortable!" he said, picking laurel leaves out of his hair. "We do not lead them in a frantic chase across the countryside!"

She flicked him a look but didn't answer. A great apple tree grew by the stream, the wrinkled remains of last year's crop still clinging to its branches. Further up the far bank lay the remains of an old, forgotten smial, overrun with weeds and brambles, its garden still sporting a bloom of crocus and forsythia. As they caught their breath, she studied the tree's gnarled branches, as if reading their history in the pattern.

"This was my tree," she murmured suddenly. "Mother wouldn't allow me come out this fall and pick it. No one else would come so far for one tree's crop and so its apples went to waste. See? Most lie rotted at its feet."

"I see," answered Frodo, not certain what else to say. Pearl looked sideways at him.

"If I leave those last few on the branches, they won't bear this year. Someone should at least pick them off."

Frodo looked up at the tall, twisted tree. "It's awfully high - and I am not exactly dressed for climbing," he said.

"No one has asked you to," she retorted. A flicker of contempt crossed her features and Frodo felt a responsive spark of anger flare up inside him.

"I suppose you are going to climb up there? You are hardly dressed for it either."

Her head snapped around defiantly, but there was something else in her eyes; weariness and disappointment, as of someone who had had to prove a point far more times than should have been necessary. She unfastened her cloak and then immediately began unlacing the yellow dress. Frodo took a step back as she pulled the frilly contraption over her head.

"Now I am." She pushed the dress towards him. "Hold this, there's a good fellow."

He sputtered cotton away from his face. Pearl wandered the little opening searching for something, dressed only in her undergarment. He felt his face grow hot when she bent to pick up a long stick that had fallen by the stream. Her small clothes were thin, not translucent but nearly so, and as she tested the stick's strength and reach, Frodo could see every curve of her developing form clearly.

Intriguingly, Pearl seemed not to care, nor to have any idea that her scantily clad form might have elicited a response from him. She was not aware of her own invigorating, youthful beauty. Frodo found that unexpectedly appealing.

"Aren't… aren't you cold?" he managed, trying unsuccessfully to avoid staring.

She propped her stick against the apple tree's trunk.

"A little," she admitted, her irritation seemingly forgotten, "but I'd rather not incur mother's wrath again today. Which I would if I ripped that dress." She swung nimbly into the branches as she talked. "Though now that she's taken away all my trousers, I expect I will end up shredding a few of them. Perhaps she thinks she can make me a lady by forcing me to dress like one?" She pulled the stick up into the tree after her and began knocking the shrivelled apples off their branches.

"I'll grant you, that is probably what she's hoping to do," she continued. "Poor mother, she's never been able to fathom me. What a mercy she has Pimpernel and Pervinca."

Frodo sat on the bank of the little stream, safely out of the range of the falling apples. "Everyone thinks their parents don't understand them," he shrugged, "and that they are the only ones that have ever been so misjudged. That's part of growing up." He cast a pebble into the brook. "Be thankful you have parents to rail against."

The girl stilled in the treetop and Frodo felt her eyes upon him. Trying to think of a really stinging retort, most likely, he thought.

But when she spoke, her voice was not indignant, but soft and sad.

"I suppose it would be harder not even having them. I am sorry, Frodo. I didn't think." After another moment's silence, she started on another branch. "You are right, I should not complain. My parents have been very understanding, considering. And mother isn't trying to aggravate me, she simply wants me to be happy, to marry someday and be accepted." The bitterness in her voice made Frodo look up again.

"That doesn't sound like such a terrible fate."

She thrust determinately at a wizened apple at the very top of the tree. "It is not a fate for me, cousin. I've no desire whatsoever to become someone's wife and bear a herd of children for some dull-eyed gentlehobbit. I've not even the slightest whim in that regard." She gave a last thrust at the fruit that remained defiantly out of the reach of her stick. "Things changed after Pip came," she sighed. "I don't blame him, please don't think so, but…" She shook her head. "I just wish I had been born a boy. If I had, no one would think ill of me for wanting to feel the dirt under my fingertips, the sun on my back, and for preferring the wild places of the wood to a kitchen hearth." She propped her bare arm against a branch, looking tired. "Instead, they tell me that one day I'll grow out of all that I now cherish." She blew a few errant curls out of her face with a puff. "I'm sorry, Frodo … I don't mean to burden you."

"It's all right," he assured her, feeling suddenly very mature and wise. He'd been nineteen during his last year in Buckland; not a tween yet, but beginning to feel the uncertainties of adolescence. He knew what a difficult time it could be. "I am happy to listen. I was your age once."

She laughed and the sound ran up his spine like a tickle. "You sound like Bilbo, and yet are you so much older than I? I don't believe you've come of age yet either, Mr. Baggins."

Frodo flushed. "I dare say I'm more experienced in the world than you, Miss Took. You should listen to your elders."

She made a rude noise and dropped her stick out of the tree. It landed neatly by Frodo's feet. Then she began her own careful descent. The bark was rough and it left fresh scratches over the marks of many older, like scars on her legs. She didn't complain, but when she reached the ground, Frodo took out his handkerchief.

"Here, let me take care of that." He brought her to the water and sat her on the bank. Pearl paddled her feet while Frodo washed her scrapes in the icy water. Her legs were muscular, lean and warm, but after he bathed them, they broke out in goose bumps that made the soft, golden hairs on her leg rise. Frodo shivered and retrieved Pearl's cloak, bidding her wrap herself in it for warmth, and so that he would not stare at what else the cold water had raised.

"I don't understand, Pearl," he said, trying to guide his mind back down more wholesome paths. "You describe yourself as a person who values her freedoms, and yet you've bound yourself to Lalia? How is that freedom?"

Pearl shifted uncomfortably. "It's not like that," she insisted, looking away from him. "Mistress Lalia understands me. She is not bitter and spiteful like people say, she's just strong, like me. She's had to be. It makes her seem hard to those who don't know her." Pearl frowned in silence for a long moment. "She's the only one who understands," she whispered at last. "And she wants to help."

"She is going to teach me to be the keeper of Great Smials," she continued, more firmly. "No matter who succeeds Ferumbras, though of course that will be father, my situation would be secure. She is getting old and needs to pass the ordering of the house to someone she can trust. And she's chosen me as that person. Don't you see, Frodo? As the keeper of Great Smials, I would have power enough not to have to bow to the dictates of convention."

That sounded to Frodo more like something Lalia would have said than Pearl herself and it left an unpleasant taste in his mouth. "That doesn't seem much like freedom," he said.

She avoided his eyes again. "It… isn't. Not true freedom. But it's independence of a sort, and I fear it's the closest thing to it that I can hope for." She rolled the hem of her cloak between her fingers as she continued. "And from there, I can help father. Lalia listens to me. I'll make sure she endorses him. He'll see."

Frodo shook his head. "It's your decision, Pearl, but I must tell you, as an impartial observer hearing the details, I am uncomfortable with this."

She cocked her head at him doubtfully. "Have you another suggestion, cousin?"

"Well…" He hesitated. With the bees buzzing about them and the call of unseen songbirds filling the bright air, what he'd wanted to say suddenly seemed impossibly forward. He wished to tell her that she was lovely and that there would surely someday come a lad who would win her heart. But the morning had grown comfortably warm in the little hollow and Pearl had let the cloak slip from her shoulders. In her damp, sleeveless shift, she looked breathtaking and yet as innocent as the first bloom of spring. He could not help but stare.

"I think…"

The bright sun made the material almost translucent. Gauzy shadows defined shapely, emerging breasts and the sweet curve of a feminine waist. Where he had washed her scratches, her thighs remained bare so they could dry and the sight reminded him what her creamy skin had felt like. She then turned to look up at him and a reflection off the water made her green eyes glow.

He almost forgot he was a gentlehobbit.

"That is, I believe… I mean, it is my opinion that you are being premature dismissing your parents' hopes for you out of hand. You are quite… lovely." He had to avert his eyes to finish his thought. "And, and I think you do the lads of the Shire a disservice by not even giving them a chance to win you."

She blinked and then peered up at him critically, as if just noticing his nervous sweat and growing agitation, though if she suspected that she was the cause of it, she gave no sign.

"Going to Great Smials doesn't mean I can't marry," she said thoughtfully. "But honestly, Pervinca's the one the lads will be knocking down the door for, not me. My best friends in the world were… I mean, are, a couple of lads from Whitwell. We've been thick as thieves since we were old enough to walk, though I don't see them often anymore. They've been off learning their fathers' trades." Her mouth twitched into a frown. "I used to think that if I were to marry someone, it would have been Jack or Istagar, but…" Her gaze returned to a study of his face. "Mother says the way you feel about a lad you want to marry is different from how you feel for a friend." She said the words almost as a question, but when Frodo didn't comment, she shrugged. "It doesn't matter in any case. I am told they've both begun courting, but neither has shown up at my door."

In profile, her pensive face lit by the sun off the water, she was even more striking.

Frodo knew he was widely regarded by the mothers of Hobbiton and Bywater as the most eligible prospect in the East Farthing. They were constantly setting daughters, carefully coached in the game of flirtation, in his path. It was relatively easy to resist a manipulative or cunning coquette, but against Pearl's lack of guile, he had no counter. His guard was completely undone. He drew in a breath.

"Then they are blind."

She stilled like a hare being stalked. Her frown deepened slightly and she drew herself in, running her hands up her arms as if finally recognizing her vulnerability. "They are my friends," she said guardedly. "You should not speak ill of them. Jack… he respects me too much to be able to see me that way."

Frodo felt his face grow hot. "I did not mean… " He paused and shook his head. "Forgive me. I spoke unwisely. It is not meet of me to speak so of lads I do not know. But…"

She drew the cloak up to cover her exposed flesh. Now that she was aware of his gaze, she seemed quite ill at ease in it. Whether due to a sudden realization of how foolishly she had endangered herself or some belated modesty, her easy comfort with him, a sweet moment in the sun, seemed over. Frodo felt keen regret prick his heart, but realized this was probably for the best. She was growing into a beautiful lass. A less scrupulous fellow might have taken advantage of her naivety.

"I am sorry, Pearl. I spoke without thinking. Forgive me." He reached down to help her straighten the cloak over her shoulder, but when he touched her, she flinched as if struck and a shiver ran through her frame.

"Pearl?" he asked, bending over her in alarm and putting his hand more firmly on her back.

She looked up at him again, but this time with shock and surprise. Her mouth opened wordlessly and she searched his features as if she had never seen him before. Frodo felt the hairs rise on the back of his neck. There was something in her expression; an anger or perhaps fear that seemed directed at him.

"Pearl?"

She stumbled to her feet and backed quickly away from him. The swift water and slime-covered rocks gave her no purchase and before she could take more than a couple of steps, she slipped and fell backward into the water.

"Pearl!"

It was only a mountain stream, hardly deep enough to wet one's toes in, but it was icy cold. Pearl squealed and scrambled up in a flash, but the damage was done; she and her heavy cloak were soaked.

"Are you all right?"

"No!" she sobbed, her lip already trembling.

"Silly thing, come out of that water before you catch your death!" Frodo grabbed for the only piece of dry clothing she had left; her dress.

Though the dip seemed to have momentarily startled Pearl out of her alarm, she still hesitated to come to him.

"I won't eat you, girl, now come out of that water straight away." Frodo averted his eyes as he held forth the garment. Her shift was positively transparent when wet but he was more concerned with her health at the moment than her suddenly revealed body. Pearl folded her arms over her chest and trembled before darting back onto the bank. The gentle breeze had picked up. It felt pleasant to him but she shivered uncontrollably.

"Change and do it quickly or you'll be shaking too much to be able to." He thrust the dry dress at her and turned his back. A gasp followed the sound of the cloak dropping and then came the wet slap of someone removing wet clothing. A muttered curse followed a different rustle, that of dry clothing and Frodo imagined her struggling her wet body into the cumbersome dress, but he did not turn to investigate until she spoke.

"This won't be enough," she muttered, her voice still shaking with cold. "With the cloak, I was all right, but I'm freezing in this."

Frodo turned back. She no longer looked tempting; more like a drowned rat in ruffles. He suppressed a smile.

"We'll hang the cloak and the shift in the sun. They should dry soon enough."

Pearl nodded and attempted to attend to the dress' lacings, but after a few moments, she gave up and sighed, exasperated.

"I can't… can't make my fingers…"

Frodo had laid her shift on the grass and draped the cloak over a low hanging apple branch. "They're stiff," he nodded. "Not surprising after the plunge you took. Come here and I'll help warm you." He gestured towards the lee of the cloak. "It'll keep the wind at bay," he explained.

Though she still trembled, the wariness returned to her eye.

"Please," Frodo sighed, "I am sorry for frightening you, but I am no cad who would press an advantage. You are safe with me."

The frown twitched the corner of her mouth again. She started to speak, but then seemed to think better of it. She came towards him hesitantly and then fairly leapt into the little shelter when the breeze gusted again.

Frodo chuckled as he rubbed her arms. She was quite chilled, even in dry clothes, and he tucked her as far into his coat as he could manage before settling them both onto the ground. She still seemed extremely uneasy in his embrace and it took many softly spoken assurances before she relaxed enough to lay her damp head upon his breast.

"I can't believe I did that," she whispered, the shivers at last beginning to subside. "I must have looked a fool."

Frodo smiled and rubbed her back comfortingly. "It was my fault for frightening you. But I did have a purpose in it. Though I would never have compromised you, you must realize others may not be so noble. I have been to Great Smials; it is no worse than Brandy Hall, I suppose, but I would not send you to either place without cautioning you. You are not a child anymore, Pearl."

She stiffened against his chest again and drew back till she could look him in the eye. For many long moments she searched his face and Frodo kept perfectly still so that she could see and feel the truth of his words. He had been charmed by her youthful candour, but had mastered himself again. She'd caught him unprepared. Innocence was a weapon none had ever used to snare him, and it was a formidable one.

The lines of worry on her face deepened and she shivered again, though it did not seem to be from cold.

"I knew what you were trying to tell me, Frodo. Mother has tried to tell me as well, but I'd only listened with half an ear. She said it would be different, that I would know, but it's so much more than I realized…" She swallowed with difficulty, but her eyes never left his. "I've never felt anything like it before, not even for Jack." She bit her lip and Frodo wondered if it was indeed worry written on her face or shame. "It wasn't you I was frightened of, Frodo," she whispered, her face colouring a disarming pink. "It was me."

And then, to Frodo's utter surprise, she brushed a kiss across his lips. Delicate fire seemed to erupt from the touch and the control he had so recently regained evaporated before it. This was not a move that he had expected. She made a little, pleased sound in her throat; so soft Frodo could more feel than hear it, and the desire that cold water and reason had quelled surged in him again.

She pulled back and gazed in wonder at his face. Hers was an expression quite unlike any of the self-satisfied smirks he had seen on the few other lasses who had managed a kiss from him. It had been her first, he did not doubt. She licked her lips in awe and with the unabashed delight that only one who had no idea what dangerous waters could lie beyond a kiss could enjoy. Her next was deeper, hungrier, bolder, and with an enthusiasm that was so contagious Frodo could not resist engaging in a measure of it. It was only a kiss after all. He certainly would not let it go farther. Better that he, who had the self-control maturity afforded, should give her a taste of what she had so off-handedly dismissed than to send her unknowing into the reach of some slicker talking denizen of Great Smials who would gladly mistake naivety for assent.

And what easy prey she would be, too! Frodo stroked her back and marvelled at the captivating way she arched into him. The hesitance she had shown earlier seemed completely forgotten. She had completely given in to experiencing this strange new delight. A flicker of warning crossed the back of his mind. She was hazardously willing to follow where he could lead her. He thought of the dark halls and sophisticated realms of his youth. She would be an easy mark for the jaded palates of such society. He pushed into her open mouth and she offered no resistance. No. She would not last a week in Great Smials.

Her tongue wonderingly stroked his as it delved deep into her mouth and she began to whimper hungrily as if urging him to go further. It was a tantalizing sound that he could not help but respond to. Pearl took his increasing boldness without protest and the warning in his mind grew more insistent. He should stop, before things went too far, but it was all happening so very quickly. His feeling of alarm grew stronger. Where was her sense of propriety? Innocence was all very charming, but she was nearly a tween. She must guard herself more dearly than this or ruin any prospect she might have had! He hesitated. Perhaps, if he dared a little further than was proper, she would see how easily such play could be come serious. Surely then she would rise to her own defence. He rolled her beneath him.

The call of warning rang shrilly in his mind. Even through trousers and dress, he could feel her warmth and she, with a gasp, opened her legs so that he settled heavily upon her. For the first time, Frodo wondered if perhaps he was the one being played for a fool. Her exclamation had not been one of fear, as he had expected, but of keen desire. Before he could resist, she pulled him in even tighter, stroked mercilessly against him and moaned, her eyes glassy with passion.

Control of the situation was a rapidly vanishing option. His body was responding to her eagerly, whether he wanted it to or not. He broke off the kiss and fought to regain his mastery, but Pearl still moved hungrily against him. It was far more than any poor hobbit lad should have been expected to take. Perhaps, as long as he kept his trousers on and she remained in her unlaced but cumbersome dress, no harm could come of their play? To his lust fogged brain, the assurance sounded as logical as anything else and he answered her teasing strokes with a hard, dry thrust.

He felt her shudder beneath him, but the subsequent moments blurred into frenzy. Convulsions began rippling through her body and set off an answering firestorm in his. Frodo was dimly grateful that a shield of fabric kept their virtue intact, but he was at the mercy of an unquenchable fire, overcome by primal need, newly discovered and gleefully engaged. She was as fervent as the spring itself, lush, fresh and pure… and young!

"Aaaai!"

Frodo reeled and pushed away, collapsing into the cloak and tearing it from the branch. Wet fabric entangled his limbs and brought his addled brain swiftly back to cognizance. Nerves still on fire, he struggled to stand and stared down at his dazed cousin.

And I feared for her among Great Smials' lads? he berated himself. What was I thinking?

Pearl looked confused. She stared up at the sky, blinking at the bright blue and then she saw him. The raw need and hurt in her eyes hit him like a fist.

"What did I do wrong?" she gasped.

"Excuse me," he cried and dashed off to the stream. Cold water, he needed cold water, or at least privacy to finish what she had started.

When he had himself under control again, he returned to find his cousin huddled miserably under her cloak. She said nothing, but watched his every movement with haunted anguish. The defiant and strong willed teen of the morning had vanished and the girl who was left was uncertain, bereft and very young indeed. He knelt before her, feeling almost as wretched as she looked.

"Pearl, I am sorry. That was my fault, I…"

"Mother said…" she gulped, trying not to sob. "Mother said love was different." The words stumbled out as if they could not longer be held inside her. "And when you looked at me that way, suddenly I knew what she meant. It tingled inside and was… warm. So warm…. Was that not what I was supposed to feel?" Her voice was pitiful and full of tears. "You said I should not fear it, didn't you? Or am I so objectionable that you can't love me either?"

"No! Yes, I… Not as such. Oh, dear…" He laid the hood back from her mussed curls. "You are passionate, beautiful, sensual and desirable…" She looked up at him, her cheeks glistening in the sun. "But you are too young for such sport, and far too precious. I… It's my fault, I should not have been so ham-handed. I had thought to teach you caution, but it seems I had something to learn about myself as well." He cupped her chin in his hand. "Never, ever again be so willing, cousin. You can trust none of us!"

"I trusted you, Frodo."

He ran a hand through his hair. "And you nearly paid dear for it! Pearl, you are nineteen! You have a lifetime ahead of you. What you are feeling is not 'love' - it is only desire. Love is so much, much more."

"I don't care what it is called," she whispered, pitifully, "It felt right and all I know is I want to feel it again. Please…"

"Pearl!" He backed up a little nervously. Things were rapidly getting out of hand again. "You're nineteen! Who even knows what you will want in a year, let alone who you will love once you are truly ready to!"

"I will love you," she said with certainty. "Always. And because of it I will keep myself only for you. I promise."

Frodo opened his mouth to assure her that such a vow was unnecessary, but stopped himself. He thought of Paladin and Eglantine. Surely they could not have known how guileless and forward Pearl was. Cousin Paladin would not have let her out of the smial if he had. And yet, they had trusted him to take her for a simple walk and he had very nearly betrayed them. And Bilbo as well, he thought. He gazed at the girl who, though she was still wretched and ashamed, looked up at him with trembling hope.

"I don't want to bind you, Pearl," he said carefully. "You will, I warrant, have your fill of vows soon. Much can happen between now and your coming of age. You should be free to follow where your heart leads." She nodded, solemnly agreeing. "Yet I can't help but think that you, in particular, would be well served keeping yourself for… someone… That is, considering your, ah… proclivities?" He coloured a bright red; the demonstration of her enthusiasm still fresh in his mind. "Innocence may be a virtue, Pearl, but naivety will serve you very poorly where you are headed."

"I make no claim," he continued sternly, "and no promises, but if a vow keeps you from even considering such a foolish risk again, then make it." He wagged his finger at her. "And I will hold you to it!"

The slim hopefulness in her face grew till it opened into a wide smile. "Then I do so promise. I will keep myself for you as long as you wish." Her head canted to the side and Frodo was reminded how she had overcome his defences.

Frodo blew out a deep breath. "Very well. I will release you when you come of age, and may your vow keep you until then."

Her smile wilted. "But that's ages away…"

"Pearl! You're NINETEEN! Be reasonable, girl."

"Perhaps when you come of age you can call for me," she pressed. "I will be twenty six. That's not unheard of you know."

Frodo was rapidly finding the end of his patience. "Pearl…" He shook his head. "All right. We will discuss this when I come of age, but please remember that I do not hold you with a promise of marriage. That must be clear. You but hold yourself in trust to discuss the subject when you've reached a more fitting age. Do you understand, my girl?"

The glow had returned to her face and Frodo wondered if she had even heard his words. He felt exasperated, but also guilty. He had been a right fool for underestimating her, and he wondered if he would live to regret accepting her vow as much as he did trying to teach her a 'lesson'? At least he had contrived a check on her behaviour. She should not now fall prey to the worldlier sort that thrived in such vast houses as Great Smials. At least he had done what he could to see that she would not. If she remained determined to apprentice herself to Lalia, it was the least he could do.

"I will do as you say, Frodo." She lowered her eyes and smiled, and Frodo was again struck by what a stunning beauty she would one day be. "When you come of age, we will speak of this again. Thank you for everything." She rose from the grass and gathered up her still damp small clothes. Her expression was serene but still devoid of artifice. She would do as she had sworn.

Seven years. Frodo sighed, feeling relieved but also strangely wary as well. He'd had no interest in marrying at present either, but he'd spoken truthfully; a lot could happen in seven years. She had managed to slip under his guard when no other had. Perhaps she was the one he would someday wed. He watched her dusting herself off in the spring sunshine. As he himself had suggested, there were worse fates he could imagine than marriage. He licked his lips, wondering if perhaps, in seven years, he might look back on this day as the seminal moment in his life, but even as she met his eyes and smiled, he felt the wind send its strangely cold fingers through his hair.

The End