rosa_cotton (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
rosa_cotton) wrote2007-05-05 08:18 pm
rosa_cotton) wrote2007-05-05 08:18 pm
Entry tags:
Lord of the Rings fanfiction
Title: A Question of Pies
Rating: G (K)
Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, all characters, places, and related terms are the sole property of J.R.R. Tolkien's estate.
Summary: Rosie can take being asked what Sam’s favorite pie is only so many times. And in the end she may be wrong…
~~~
Rosie breathed deeply. She must have appeared like a fool to everyone at Estella’s party. Yet she hadn’t been able to help herself. When Posie Foxburr had sided up to her and asked her what Sam’s favorite pie was (the seemingly one-thousandth time she had been asked that question since the Shire had been restored), she had reached her limit and let out a loud scream. A shocked silence had fallen and everyone had stared at her. Instead of being embarrassed, Rosie had felt a bit of relief at having released some of her long-mounting frustration. With a nod – and no apology – to Posie, she had gone off and taken refuge behind a clump of bushes. It was some moments before the sound of resuming conversation and music drifted to her hearing.
She had been sitting here behind the bushes for some minutes now, debating whether to return to the party or just go home. She could go through the edge of the woods and not be sighted as she circled Estella’s home. Yet she should probably apologize to her friend for disturbing her party even if she didn’t stay. Or maybe…
A soft voice broke through her thoughts. “Rosie?”
The lass jumped and looked to her right to find Sam, his face filled with uncertainty and concern, watching her. She gave him a little smile. “Sam,” she said.
“Are you well?” He slowly stepped around the bushes.
After thinking a moment, she answered, “I am better.”
“I thought you had left.”
“I was considering it.” She added, “How is Posie?”
Sam sat himself beside her. “She seemed insulted but is enjoying herself now.”
“What Estella must think of me!” Rosie exclaimed, pressing her hands to her cheeks.
“She’s worried about you,” he replied. “What did Posie do to…upset you?”
Rosie hesitated a moment before deciding to be honest. “She wanted to know what your favorite pie was,” she explained, turning her face away slightly from him. “Nearly every girl in Hobbiton has asked me that about you. I was so frustrated being asked all sorts of questions about you and…” she trailed off, blushing.
Sam blinked several times. “Lasses have been asking you about me? Why?”
She turned to him, and his blue eyes caught her brown ones. “You are a hero, Sam, and considered a very eligible bachelor.”
He turned several shades of pink, “Oh.” He dropped his gaze to the ground.
“And I may have been giving them the wrong answer,” Rosie sighed.
“How so?” he asked, cocking his head like a curious sparrow.
“For years I thought your favorite pie was blueberry. Yesterday Molly Hardbottle said that she had heard you say that apple was your favorite. And Ruby Proudneck claimed peach was the kind you liked best. We had a heated row about it.” She threw her hands up in the air and sighed. “Was I wrong? Is blueberry not your favorite?”
Sam rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, all three of you were right. I do like blueberry, apple, and peach pie.” He swallowed and hesitantly reached for her hand. “But, Rosie,” he went on, leaning towards her, “my favorite pies are the ones you make.”
THE END
Rating: G (K)
Disclaimer: The Lord of the Rings, all characters, places, and related terms are the sole property of J.R.R. Tolkien's estate.
Summary: Rosie can take being asked what Sam’s favorite pie is only so many times. And in the end she may be wrong…
~~~
Rosie breathed deeply. She must have appeared like a fool to everyone at Estella’s party. Yet she hadn’t been able to help herself. When Posie Foxburr had sided up to her and asked her what Sam’s favorite pie was (the seemingly one-thousandth time she had been asked that question since the Shire had been restored), she had reached her limit and let out a loud scream. A shocked silence had fallen and everyone had stared at her. Instead of being embarrassed, Rosie had felt a bit of relief at having released some of her long-mounting frustration. With a nod – and no apology – to Posie, she had gone off and taken refuge behind a clump of bushes. It was some moments before the sound of resuming conversation and music drifted to her hearing.
She had been sitting here behind the bushes for some minutes now, debating whether to return to the party or just go home. She could go through the edge of the woods and not be sighted as she circled Estella’s home. Yet she should probably apologize to her friend for disturbing her party even if she didn’t stay. Or maybe…
A soft voice broke through her thoughts. “Rosie?”
The lass jumped and looked to her right to find Sam, his face filled with uncertainty and concern, watching her. She gave him a little smile. “Sam,” she said.
“Are you well?” He slowly stepped around the bushes.
After thinking a moment, she answered, “I am better.”
“I thought you had left.”
“I was considering it.” She added, “How is Posie?”
Sam sat himself beside her. “She seemed insulted but is enjoying herself now.”
“What Estella must think of me!” Rosie exclaimed, pressing her hands to her cheeks.
“She’s worried about you,” he replied. “What did Posie do to…upset you?”
Rosie hesitated a moment before deciding to be honest. “She wanted to know what your favorite pie was,” she explained, turning her face away slightly from him. “Nearly every girl in Hobbiton has asked me that about you. I was so frustrated being asked all sorts of questions about you and…” she trailed off, blushing.
Sam blinked several times. “Lasses have been asking you about me? Why?”
She turned to him, and his blue eyes caught her brown ones. “You are a hero, Sam, and considered a very eligible bachelor.”
He turned several shades of pink, “Oh.” He dropped his gaze to the ground.
“And I may have been giving them the wrong answer,” Rosie sighed.
“How so?” he asked, cocking his head like a curious sparrow.
“For years I thought your favorite pie was blueberry. Yesterday Molly Hardbottle said that she had heard you say that apple was your favorite. And Ruby Proudneck claimed peach was the kind you liked best. We had a heated row about it.” She threw her hands up in the air and sighed. “Was I wrong? Is blueberry not your favorite?”
Sam rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, all three of you were right. I do like blueberry, apple, and peach pie.” He swallowed and hesitantly reached for her hand. “But, Rosie,” he went on, leaning towards her, “my favorite pies are the ones you make.”
THE END
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P.S. Your icon (Juliet, is it?) is gorgeous!