West of the Moon
A Tolkien Fanfiction Archive
Before I go to sleep
This is a lovestory between the Ringbearer and a girl from Hobbiton. It's obviously AU and a tale about what might have been if Frodo had ever found a love of his own. What would happen when the danger of the ring is revealed and Frodo has to leave? Would she wait for his return? And how would she handle the fact to be left behind again - and this time forever?
Author: Cuthalion
Rating: NC-17
Category: AU-Angst/Drama
Chapter Six
...a fountain sealed
The new year began, Winter loosened its hard grip on the soft hills of Hobbiton, and one day the frost was gone and the first snowdrops came out of the wet black earth.
January and February had been rather peaceful, at least for the brand new midwife of Hobbiton, and so the elvish lessons started again; nearly every second Tuesday Frodo Baggins found Lily Proudfoot standing at his doorstep, usually shortly before sundown after she had finished her round visiting the women who she was just caring for. Meanwhile she was skilled enough to write more than only single words, and he had gotten used to dictating elvish poetry to her, making her write the poems down line after line. She managed this new challenge very well. Frodo corrected her parchments, still patiently showing her how to set the thethar right, and he enjoyed their time together as much as she obviously did.
It was the dream he first had at the beginning of February that told him that he was in trouble.
It was not a new dream; it had come to him for the first time nearly twenty years ago, after one of his visits at the Great Smials. He had celebrated his 30th birthday back then by emptying a few bottles of excellent wine together with his Bolger-cousin Fredegar (though he'd always kept the nagging suspicion that he ended up much more drunk than Fatty). And it had been a beautiful, unknown young Took-cousin who rescued him out of a crowded room, guided him outside and found him a place to recover and sleep away the alcohol circling in his blood. The next morning they had shared a first kiss (which led to nothing more, because a very mistrusting aunt had followed the girl and banned further ... explorations before anything more could happen). It took him days before he found her again, and his tenacity was rewarded. The night they met again he lost his innocence to Clover Took, but he won the precious experience of open arms, passionate generosity and a willing body. He would have courted her, and gladly, but she gave him no chance. She had already planned her life, and leaving Tookland and marrying a young Brandybuck that had just turned Baggins was never meant to be a part of it.*
He didn't forget her; a few years later she married another of his Bolger-cousins, and they were blessed with six pretty children. She wrote regular letters and during the first years after their encounter he found himself many a morning awakening from a rather vivid memory of warm hands, soft skin and the lingering sensation of hot, smooth flesh close to his body.
Clover was not the last woman, however... a few faces had come and gone, a lass in Bywater, for example - very briefly - and a certain young widow in Frogmorton who ended the comfortable , rather loose relationship after nearly two years when she decided to marry again - not him, though. You're someone better to be admired from the distance, my dear, she had told him with a slightly wistful smile. You are married to your library, your poetry and to your dreams, and I want someone who is sturdy enough that I can make him dig up the dunghill without feeling awkward at the mere idea of it.
And so the thought of settling down to a life with wife and children - or even of having a woman beside him in his bed when he awoke - grew more and more unreal with the steady flow of the years, and he was quite content with the peace and the reliable predictability of his life.
Until now.
******
The dream had returned to him that night in early February, and everything had come back... the darkness in the haybarn and the soft golden light of Clovers lantern. The scratching of the pony blanket beneath his back and the thrilling sight of her naked skin when she stripped off her blouse and skirt and he saw the creamy white softness of her thighs and the arousing curves of her beautiful breasts. She leaned over him and he felt her lips on his and the sweetness of her tongue, exploring his mouth. He reached out, holding her in a tight embrace, and then he rolled her over and lay atop her; she opened her legs and he entered her with a first, delicious thrust. He started to move, captured by the hypnotic rhythm and her soft sighs, turning to moans and short gasps while he moved faster, coming closer and closer to the brim of a breathtaking release. He opened his eyes and gazed at her flushed face. But it was not the face of Clover, not the sun-speckled skin, the grey eyes and the big mouth he still remembered very clearly. His hands weren't buried in frizzy red golden hair but in a soft, auburn mass of curls, spread around her head. With a shock he recognized who she was and came at the same time, crying out in blind ecstasy as he spilled into the shuddering warmth of Lily Proudfoot's body.
******
Later when Lily was an old woman, she often asked herself what would have happened - or better perhaps not have happened - had her mother not lost her temper on a cold evening at the end of February in the year 1417.
She had already been wondering about the relative calmness of her mother's reaction when she fully took up Amaranth's duties. During the following three or four months Violet finally realized how much of her daughter's time was absorbed by caring for the welfare of the young mothers of Hobbiton and their babies. Instead of helping her with her deliveries, instead of embroidering or preparing the market days, Lily was more and more away from the smial: she still looked after her father and spent all the time she could spare with him, but Violet felt a burden suddenly falling back on her own shoulders she wasn't used to bearing anymore... and she found it disturbingly heavy.
This evening Lily could clearly see the cold rage in her mother's eyes and the hard line of her chin, and she steeled herself against what would come as certainly as the sunset that colored the light from outside to a deep, dusty red.
"Would you pass me the potatoes?" The quiet voice of her father cut through her tension and she felt her body relax while she handed him the plate.
"Thank you." They exchanged a fast glance and she saw the faint, tender smile in his eyes. Lily cut the potatoes, the cauliflower and the carrots on Falco's plate into small pieces and scooped a spoonful of thick, creamy sauce over it. Falco grinned at her and showed a spectacular new gap in his milk teeth.
"Oh! When did you lose this one?" Lily asked. Falco's grin grew even wider.
"This midday." he informed her. "'twas a walnut in one of Mama's cookies. You chop them much smaller than she does."
Lily heard the sharp intake of breath from her mother and knew that the storm was about to start, and that she could do nothing but to wait until it was over.
"I would perhaps have more time to cook and to bake - and to chop nuts the way you like them, my lad! - if only my daughter wouldn't be all too occupied with the rest of Hobbiton. I should have known it - this was one of Amaranth's crazy ideas, and I was a fool to agree when she showed up here with this arrogant Dolgo Bracegirdle and talked me into the whole mess."
"This is no mess, Violet." Fredegar's voice, soft and wary. "Lily does a very good job."
"What do you know about this?" The contempt in the voice of her mother made Lily's stomach convulse. "You don't pay the prize for her new freedom!"
"Dolgo is not arrogant." Lily heard herself say. "And I'm able to support our family with my work. Even if not everyone can pay with coins, I can at least fill up the shelves of our pantry."
"Your embroidery paid off much better!" Violet snapped.
"Not last year, Mama," Lily replied. "Last year you did most of the more complicated pieces, and I cared for the household, for Papa and the boys. And I can clean out and cook this weekend; I don't think that there will be a sudden birth. Buttercup Bracegirdle and Anemone Birchwood are only due next week."
"Amaranth's ideas have always caused nothing but trouble." The voice of her mother was hardly more than a hiss now. "This is the second time that she robs me of my daughter."
Lily saw that Marco and Falco had stopped even pretending to eat. Their eyes were wide and anxious, and that sight suddenly made her very angry.
"Amaranth is dead." she said softly and very firm. "Let her rest in peace, Mama. She told me that she always only wanted to help you, and she certainly helped me. I learned a lot of new things, and do you know what the best thing is?" She clenched her teeth. "My new knowledge brings me out of here."
"How dare you..."
"It brings me out of here," Lily repeated, "and I'll go right now. I promised Anemone to come over and examine her. She's nervous... it's her first baby." She turned to her father, completely ignoring her mother, painful rage blazing like an icy fire deep in her heart. "I'll come back afterwards, but it may take some time."
"Fine, Lily."
You know her.his gaze said. You know she is not very happy with herself.
I know indeed. her eyes answered. But that doesn't help at all.
She rose from the table and went out of the kitchen; five minutes later she left the smial, the Sindarin dictionary well hidden in a cloth underneath the instruments in her leather midwife bag.
******
It took barely half an hour to examine Anemone and to reassure her that everything was alright and would go well. Soon enough Lily wandered in the last light of day up the Hill, opened the garden gate of Bag End and stood in front of the green door.
He opened very quick, as if he had been waiting for her, but the expression in his face was unreadable. As usual, she followed him into his study; a bright fire flickered in the fireplace and instinctively she went over and held her hands over the flames.
"Are you cold?" His voice had a strangely neutral tone, hardly comparable to the warmth and friendliness she had gotten used to. But she turned back to him and smiled.
"Not anymore now." she answered. "Is it possible that I chose a bad time to come? You told me the next lesson would be on Tuesday, if I could manage it, and now it is Tuesday."
"No..." He took a deep breath and crossed his arms. "But I guess we should talk."
"About what?"
"About those lessons." He slowly started to pace through the room; she stayed where she was, the intense warmth of the fire in her back. "You've made a rather impressive progress through the last months. I think you are nearly good enough to study further without help from my side."
Lily tried to capture his gaze, but he obstinately avoided meeting her eyes. A sharp pain closed like a fist around her heart, mingled with the rage against her mother that still lingered on. She was used to being rejected. But it was a shock to find out that he - he! - was obviously planning to send her away... to make an end to all those wonderful meetings, the learning, the secret, innocent fun. The light in his eyes when he gazed at her over the desk. The movement of his elegant hands when they sharpened the quill, and the appreciative expression on his face when he read what she had written, and was pleased by the result. That wonderful smile.
"Did I offend you somehow?" The despair was clearly audible in her voice now, but she didn't care. "I'm sorry, but I always thought that you enjoyed our lessons as much as I did." She bit her lip. "It is a little bit hard to find out that I was wrong."
"You are not wrong." His voice was gentle. "I enjoyed them immensely - perhaps too much. Do you understand what I mean?"
She was silent.
"I'm a bachelor and an eccentric bookworm. You are a maiden, not married yet, not even betrothed. Or...is there someone?"
Lily shook her head.
"See?" He gave her a slightly ironic smile. "People would scarcely think this to be proper if they knew. Say, did you tell anyone? Your father? Your mother? A friend?"
"No, I didn't." she whispered. It had been her very own secret all the time, her way to escape the cold voice of Violet, the endless stream of instructions and even her sometimes overwhelmingly laborious struggle to find acceptance in her new profession. Behind the green door was a world of knowledge and freedom, a world where she was allowed to be someone completely different, without any fear or pressure. To tell it would have meant to lose it... but now she was seemingly losing it anyway.
Suddenly she knew that she would burst into tears if she stayed any longer. She gathered what was left of her composure and managed a smile that made her face hurt. "I guess I should go." She had to leave before she made a complete fool of herself.
"I dreamt of you."
She turned around and stared at him.
*****
He could hardly believe that those words had just escaped his mouth. There he stood in the middle of his study, the clever, well respected Master of Bag End... but at the sight of the pain and despair in her eyes all good resolutions seemed to have fled out of the window, and something else than his reason had taken possession of his tongue.
Lily slowly turned around and he saw that she was pale and close to crying. She was beautiful.
"You did what?"
He gave in to his fate. "I dreamt of you." he repeated with a sigh. "Or, more precisely, I dreamt of the first woman that took me into her bed... even though it was not a bed, but a hay barn. I've had that dream a few times during the last years, but this time when I saw the face of the woman I held in my arms, it was you."
He couldn't see the expression in her eyes; the room was utterly silent and filled with shadows except for the bright circle of light from the candles on the desk.
Then she came over to where he stood; her face was very close, and he smelled the faint aroma of roses and soap rising from her hair and clothes.
"And I..." she said softly. "I haven't stopped dreaming of you since you took my hand that last Midsummer's evening and danced with me."
She laid one hand on his cheek; without thinking he turned his head, kissing her palm. And then she was in his arms, her body soft and firm at the same time. First he only held her close, without moving. But then his mouth sought hers, the touch wonderfully sweet and warm, and when her lips parted, her breath mingled with his and he felt a shiver running down her spine; her body vibrated against his like the string of a harp. The kiss deepened and for the first time their tongues met; he heard a soft, stifled moan from deep in her throat. He buried his hands in the incredibly soft mass of her hair as he had done in that crazy, arousing dream, and now it was true. He felt the soft curves of her bosom against his chest and the sensation made his head spin and set him aflame like tinder thrown into summer-dried hay. Send her away while you still can...the voice of reason, faint and already resigned, ...but I can't. And I don't want to. He desired her with a burning ferocity that made him shiver, he had to explore, to smell, to taste every single centimeter of her skin, now, here, at once.
"Lily..." He drew back with a laborious effort, seeking her gaze. "This is... you should... we..."
A small hand covered his mouth.
"Whatever you do," she whispered, "whatever you want, don't send me away now."
*****
His breath went heavy and his eyes were ablaze, but his face was full of doubt, and his touch had lost its heat; his fingertips barely touched her waist. She clearly understood that he tried to show her that she had the chance to change her mind... but this was the last thing she wanted. She wanted to touch and to feel, and she wanted him. Her fingertip moved along the soft line of his upper lip and he caught her hand, gently stroking her wrist and the sensitive spot where she could feel the fast throbbing of her pulse.
"Do you really... want this?"
"I've never wanted something more in my entire life." she said firmly.
To her surprise he nodded and with a fast, strong movement lifted her up on his arms. She was carried out of the study and down the dark hallway; she wasn't able to see anything, but he walked with sure steps and opened a door on the right side with a push of his shoulder. He let her down and moved away from her in the darkness of the room. Then she smelled tinder, and a small red golden light showed his face and his hands, before the flames sprang up in the fireplace. Now she could see that she was in a bedroom - his bedroom, obviously. Books piled up on the small nightstand, and there were even more books on a shelf on the wall over the bed.
Their eyes met and she smiled.
"You will have to be the teacher again." she said. "I guess you know more about... this than I do." Still holding his gaze, she slowly started to open the clasps of her bodice. He looked at her, his face quiet and attentive, until she got rid of the last fastening, threw the bodice aside and stood in front of him in skirt and blouse.
"Let me help you." His voice was soft, with a new undertone that made her swallow with nervousness and a new, completely unfamiliar excitement. He stepped forward, reached out and slowly unbuttoned the blouse. Then he stripped the thin linen down her arms, leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss on her naked shoulder. The blouse sailed on the floor. Lily's head sank back and she felt her knees grow weak when the warm mouth wandered from her shoulder down to the curve of her breasts and closed around one nipple; she gave a surprised gasp. He had managed to loosen the waistband of her heavy winter skirt... she felt cool air on her bare thighs and then his hands in the hollow of her knees when he lifted her up once more and laid her down on the bed.
For some moments she closed her eyes. She smelled the faint scent of clean bedsheets and a hint of pipeweed and heard the rustling of clothes. Then the bedframe creaked and he laid down beside her, and when she reached out, she touched bare skin... his neck and the smooth, elegant curve of his shoulder.
"Look at me, Lily."
She obeyed and saw that he leaned over her, his gaze filled with a gentle smile, a hint of mischief and deep admiration.
"You are so beautiful, my chestnut." He ran his fingers through her long curls, then he kissed her again and Lily sighed and enjoyed the new depth of the feelings washing over her. His hands wandered down, stroking her breasts and resting on her belly while his mouth followed the path of his fingers and closed around a hardened nipple again. This time Lily heard herself moan aloud, and he gave a breathless laugh before his tongue left a warm, damp trace on the other breast.
She didn't want this to end, It was like a passionate hymn of life rushing through her veins, and he played her body skillfully and patiently like an instrument.
"Please..." she whispered. "Please..."
*****
Her eyes were deep dark and shining, and his gaze stayed fixed on her face while he explored her skin further like a new landscape. He stroked her thighs and noticed with delight that she was relaxed and willing to let him do whatever was necessary to give her pleasure. It didn't need much effort to make her open herself to his tenderly searching hand, and he easily found her most secret part. He felt warm wetness under his fingertips; she gave a short, sharp scream and her body arched against his hand. He had to struggle very hard for a moment to keep his own need under control. He held still until he was sure that he would be able to keep himself from taking her too fast. Then he continued to stroke the silky inner side of her thighs and the irresistible curves of her buttocks, again and again returning to her entrance and teasing the little knot he could feel under the soft folds of her flesh.
"Please..." she whispered. "Please..." Her eyes were closed now; her head turned helplessly from side to side and her breath had become a fast panting though opened lips.
He moved over her, and she lifted one hand, caressing his face and his shoulders. He pulled her close, kissing her brow, her cheek and finally her mouth.
"Hold on to me." he said. "I will be careful, love, but this might hurt a little."
He felt her arms closing around his neck and her round breasts against his skin, and then he was inside of her, the small barrier of her maidenhood giving in to his first, powerful thrust. She trembled in his embrace, her face nuzzled against his chest, and then she lay still. He managed to wait until he felt her relax before he dared to move. He slowly pushed forward and pulled back again and was rewarded with a mixture of surprised laughter and deep moaning... and finally he took her with him into the oldest of dances, filling her quivering body with his desire.
Her voice was sweet and low, he heard her murmuring ragged words... and then they drowned in the rising wave of passion that swept her away, leaving nothing behind but heavy sighs and short cries, stifled against his shoulder. But still he held back his own hunger, slowing down the rhythm of his love until he felt how she came under him with a violent shudder, calling his name for the very first time. He stroked her hair and kissed her face, and finally he surrendered to his own, fierce peak. He buried himself once more in the velvet-soft, narrow heat of her and heard his own scream of blind delight, completely lost in his last, uncontrollable onrush ... and then he felt the spasms slowly ebb away and lay still in her arms, breathless and overwhelmed.
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