"Marriage *is* a problem," Violet admitted, not meeting her friend's eyes. "Don't you ever wonder what they must say about us? Twenty-eight and no husband in the works..."

Myrtle smiled into her cup. "For a long time I was prepared to settle into old biddydom, but let me tell you, dear, it's not necessary. I've been doing a lot of thinking, and I've come up with the perfect plan."

Violet set her saucer down so quickly it clattered atop the polished table. "Have you, now?" she asked, eyes clamoring for an answer.

"Oh aye." Myrtle took a sip. "I'll put talk of all sorts to rest, so we needn't worry ever again about disappointing our elders."

Violet watched her expectantly, crossing and uncrossing her ankles. "Well?" she burst out. "Are you going to tell me?"

"It's simple," Myrtle answered in that infuriatingly smug voice. "And foolproof. All we must do is attach ourselved to rich, unmarried gentlehobbits."

That was it? Violet sighed. "Myrtle, that's only the same thing every other lass in the Shire--"

"Perhaps you didn't quite follow me," she interrupted, a too-clever-by-half gleam in her eyes. "I suggest you start taking hints from that Cotton lass at the Dragon and see what a catch Sam Gamgee really is. As for me," she continued, her grin now entirely feline, "I'm going to marry Frodo Baggins."

The hour between dinner and supper, in Frodo's opinion, was the perfect time of day for kicking back with a pipe and really relaxing. His work was done, his belly was content, and as the days grew longer, he could enjoy the slanting light of sunset from the comfort of his favorite plush armchair. Another reason he loved this hour was the infrequency of visitors, which was why, when he heard the sprightly rapping on his front doo, he sighed and rose with a soft "Oh bother." As he covered the distance between sitting room and vestibule, he tried to imagine who could be calling, and how much politeness he's need to muster for his guest.

The hobbit that greeted him on the other side of the door was a total surprise. She was perhaps half an inch shorter than him, with the quick, canny expression of a Brandybuck. Her face had an irregular attractiveness to it, with her aquiline nose and large, dark eyes, framed by a thick curl of lashes. "Mr. Baggins!" she smiled enthusiastically, revealing slightly crooked teeth. She offered her hand, gloved against the still-brisk late March weather. Frodo took it amiably.

"Miss Goodbody! We met at Bilbo's party, correct?"

She nodded. "You danced with me, during the Farmer Drubbin's Reel."

He widened the entryway. "Please, come in."

She curtsied. "Thank you," she answered, and stepped over the threshold.

Frodo lead her to the sitting room and collected her shawl. "May I offer you some tea? Something to eat? Gaffer Gamgee sent some of his wife's pasties over this morning."

"How lovely of him!" she exclaimed. "No, just tea would fine, thank you."

He fetched the pot from the kichen and brought along a plate of cookies, just in case. He set the tray between them and then settled into his chair again. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, Miss Goodbody?" he asked, instantly slipping into his polite smalltalk face.

She hooked her ankles together. "Please, just Myrtle." She swirled the tea in her cup. "I actually have a proposal I should like to discuss with you."

"A proposal?" This surprised Frodo into paying attention. He leaned a hair closer. "Concerning what?"

For the first time, Myrtle seemed to drop her eager, businesslike air. "I thought perhaps you might understand my predicament." Frodo instantly braced himself for a request for money, reviewing his long-memorized speech regarding Bilbo's treasure. "There's this lass, Violet Hornblower. I love her more than anything else in the world, practically." Now this surprised Frodo. "Trouble is, we're getting past the age to start roping in a husband, and folks talk, if you catch my meaning. Now, I'm perfectly willing to spend my life unwed, so long's I can do it with her. My father's got funds, and I can collect my dowry from him once I get too old to marry off. But Violet now, her family's not well-off, and she isn't so sure she could get work either." Frodo wasn't sure what shocked him more, the calm detachment with which Myrtle related herlife, or the question he was sure would follow her account.

She had taken her gaze off the contents of her teacup and was now looking him straight in the face. "So here's what I was thinking. Now I know you understand my position, you occupying it yourself--"

"How do you know that?" he interrupted, stiffening. They had always taken all the care in the world to be discreet--!

Myrtle averted her eyes a little, though Frodo could see she was uncowed. "Begging your pardon, sir, but I chanced upon you and your Sam at the party last fall."

Frodo felt sick for a moment before he realized it was the bottom of his stomach falling out. Myrtle noticed his distress and straightened instantly. "This isn't by any means a blackmail, sir, not at all! Especially since you've my secret as I've got yours. But I'm just trying to address the issue practically, and tongues wag. There's an awful lot of talk we could put a sto to if we just got married."

Frodo blinked. "Married?"

Myrtle nodded., the earnest expression returning to her face. "Your Sam and my Violet as well. We'd be as close as could be to each other, and no one would have to know who we really belonged to. Plus we've all good names to lend each other: my father's be ever so pleased for me to be a Baggins, and being a Gamgee would work well to Violet's advantage--"

"Myrtle--"

"And Vi is an oldest, so she could bring a good enough bit to Sam's family--"

Frodo grasped her shoulder. "Myrtle," he said firmly. Her babbling halted, replaced by a surprising look in her eyes: desperation. Frodo found himself loosening his grip. He took a breath, feeling sympathy bubbling to the surface. "Myrtle, Sam and I could never do that, and neither could you and your Violet," he said, not unkindly.

Her jaw trembled. "But..." Tears welled up and spilled down her cheek: when she noticed them, she angrily scrubbed them away. "It's differen't with you, sir," she said mournfully. "You've a fortune to carry you. We don't."

Frodo took her hand and stood. Confused, Myrtle did the same. Frodo drew her close and embraced her. Stunned at first, Myrtle broke down and sobbed into his choulder. Her plan had failed: what was she going to tell Vi?

Frodo's hand ran gently over and through her Myrtle's curls. Her cries slower to sniffles, and Frodo began to speak. "I admire the courage you found, to think of offering your hand to secure yourselves. Yet I think we love our other halves too much to survive such a scheme. I appreciate your efforts to halt the talk on my behalf, but I have the luxury of an eccentric uncle whose footsteps I can follow. I'm sorry I can't help you financially, but there really isn't as much as people think there is, especially after Bilbo gave so much away. But I can break your heart for you."

Myrtle furrowed her brow and looked at him. A small smile was playing 'round his lips. "You would have Frodo Baggins or you would have none at all, is what you'll tell them. Did you tell your family why you came to Hobbiton?"

She wiped her eye with the heel of her hand. "Violet and I've been here 'bout a month. Her aun't off in Little Delving, so we're staying in her house, alone. Couldn't exactly say why: we told them we wanted to get out of the Southfarthing a little; we were bored."

"You've been here a month trying to work up the nerve to approach me, Violet being your moral support. Now that I've turned you down, you can stay recovering from the blow as long as your aunt will let you."

She had caught on now, and a slow, hopeful smile appeared. "I've always been a stubborn, head-strong leass, haven't I. 'Frodo Baggins or none at all,'" she mused. "I like the sound of that. Sounds dramatic, like something out of a ballad." She turned back to him. "But what about Violet?"

His face became a little sadder. "I cannot help you with her." He gave her hand a small squeeze. "But you will find a way." He paused. "I don't know if this is what you referred to earlier in the evening, but an unwed daughter's dowry legally comes into her control on her thirty-third birthday. Once you come of age, you may do with it as you will."

Myrtle looked into Frodo's face and smiled gratefully. "Thank you," she said, and rose up to give his cheek a kiss. After a moment of study, she added, "I wish you and your Sam all the happiness the world can offer."

Frodo returned the gesture. "And to Violet and yourself as well," he replied. He collected her shawl, gave her a jar of ginger snaps, and opened the door. "Are you sure you don't need a light?" he asked, after she'd politely refused his offer to walk her home. "I can send along a lantern."

"No," she answered, smiling. "It's not that far."

* * *

Violet heard the door open, and she set down her knitting. "Myrtle?" she called, and hurried to the front hall. She stopped at the sight of her. "What did he say?" She held her breath.

Myrtle met her eyes, and then shook her head." Oh love!" Violet rushed up to her and threw her arms around her neck for a kiss. "Just after you left, I started thinking about what you were going to do, and I realized how much I couldn't bear the thought of sharing you, even if it was with Frodo Baggins!"

"There there, sweet," she laughed, and stroked her hair. Violet unearthed her face from Myrtle's neck and looked at her, stricken.

"But... what are we going to do?"

To her astonishment, Myrtle smiled. "I'm not exactly sure yet, but Frodo has a plan." She hugged Violet close to her. "Don't worry, my love. We'll find a way."