By: Dana
Summary: There's no need to rush.
Characters: Citrine Smallburrow and Freddy Banks
Pairings: (Freddy/Citrine)
Rating: G
Warnings: Het, happy hobbits in love
Author's Notes: Citrine you might know from 'Overlooked', the first of The North-delving Incident - Freddy came about while writing the second, and I felt inspired to write this scene of them in happier times. You'll be seeing more of that set, one more ficlet (posted today as well - and some more tomorrow).
Series Index: Roads Go On and Years Go By.
Disclaimer: The author makes no claim to owning the rights of anything to do with J.R.R. Tolkien or New Line Cinema. Any and all characters and situations that have been borrowed are for the author's personal use only, and for the entertainment of others.

Sometime in the autumn of SR 1419

Citrine laughs, puts her hand in Freddy's. 'It does seem to be a good day,' she says, and she means it – for the sun is bright, and thought Blotmath has come, and winter advancing, the air still seems to carry some of summer's cheer. 'Tell me, Freddy Banks,' she goes on, and he presses her hand more firmly, smiling cheek to cheek. 'Is it true, do you mean to wed me?'

'If you'll have me,' he says, eyes wide, heart on his tongue. 'No doubt Tad Brownlock would make a better husband, or even my cousin Hal. But if you mean to stick with North-delving, I hope you mean with stick with me.'

'Do you think I still mean to join Aunt Daf and Uncle Falco, away off in Little Delving?' she asks, quietly. 'You've not eavesdropped, have you? I'll be cross if you had.'

'If it was conversation meant to keep secret, then you ought not have confided in Chrysa.' At this, he grins. 'If you mean to leave, then I'd not bind you to me – but Citrine, I'd rather you not leave.' This last, he says quietly.

'We're both too young to think of marriage,' she says, her throat suddenly tight, and in her eyes a sudden burning. 'And us both years off of being of age. We needn't think to rush.'

She's avoiding the situation at hand, and Freddy knows it as well as she: but though his grip has not lessened, nor will he push further than he already has. All he says, with a smile, is, 'True enough, we needn't rush.'

So Citrine kisses his cheek, and then his mouth, at least for his troubles. 'You'll always be my lad,' she says, and she means it, and he must believe her, given how he smiles.