I. Lithe, SR 1417

The day is summer-bright still, though the sun's turned west to fading, and evening gathers in the east: and all those were left in Brandy Hall have turned out to dance. Some say the best Litheday celebrations are the ones that happen in the Tookland at Great Smials, but Alyssum rather prefers staying in Buckland. Oh, let Mardoc run off to his North-took at Long Cleeve. She knows what she wants, and what she likes, and she needn't cross the River to find it.

One quick number, and then another. Alyssum dances, and exchanges kisses, and when Merry passes her to Berilac, Alyssum stills wants to get back at him for the mistle-bough incident from First Yule. She breaks the dance, pulling Berilac with him: and he goes, grin in place, her fingers curled warm about his own. She'd danced at Lithe, but now she intends to dance.

Merry must be grinning at Berilac's shoulders, as they go, but Alyssum doesn't look back. He won't be thinking too long on Berilac, thinks Alyssum, not if Pippin's to have his way: now Alyssum pulls Berilac down into a tumble, and she finds she laughs against his mouth, then whispers something, wicked hot, against his lips, as he opens his mouth to hers.

A tangle of brambleberries at one hand, and Alyssum thinks of Estella, laughing, her lips berry-stained. The first she ever kissed her, the first they ever did more... Berilac doesn't push her down, sucks on her mouth, strokes fingers through her hand, whispers, damp lips, 'this seems like too much', and Alyssum then thinks of Rosemary, of the unhappiness of happy endings, and twists beneath Berilac until he's the one who's back is pushed against green, and she the one who sits astride him. Then she says, 'we've hardly even started, Beric.' She intends more.

He's grinning at her, still, his honey-dark curls tumbled back to black in the gathering gloom, a bit of grass stuck at his left ear, his eyes bright grey, but fading to a darker, shadowed blue. She leans down, presses her chest close, his hands running up her arms, fingers catching in cloth and lace, and then his mouth against finding hers. Some say the dances you dance at Lithe won't last: and Alyssum doesn't think this will, even with Berilac's mouth warm and sweet, flaming to hot, even as his hands hitch up her skirts, fingers brushing skin.

The summer scent of grass, as night comes on, and Alyssum breathless against Berilac's shoulder, the smart slick twitch of his fingers, having found their way. And her, afterwards, not pressed so hard to scream, but whimpered moans instead, and Berilac grinning like the cat at the cream, almost sitting up now, licking his fingers clean. Alyssum gives a little laugh, pushes her skirts up, sets her hands to his trousers. 'You're better than I'd thought,' she says, still somewhat senseless, and only having half caught her breath. And he's grinning still, says, lightly, 'I had a good teacher,' (some years later, he will tell her of cousin Camellia, and in full detail, and of Hildy Took, too, and even, when she asks him, laughing as she does, of Folco Boffin, who he hadn't ever expected to adore) and Alyssum laughs and Berilac moves into his groan, Alyssum's hands smoothing over skin.

She'll have her bitterroot, but she thinks, if she catches a babe, she could probably do worse – and Berilac is warm all over, sweet and laughing, hot beneath her and within. Oh, yes – for all she knows he could do better than her.

II. Yule, SR 1423

They spend Second Yule miles away from anything they might have considered home – the world white beyond the windows, and the windows half-frosted over. They snuggle close beneath the covers, letting out their fears, speaking over the year before: and they pledge, together, that they will do good by the new year, for it has now come.

They dance a little, though the room is small and chilly, and the fire hardly seems warm enough, laughing as they stumble, oh, miles away from home, but safe in their little inn room in Annúminas. Alyssum is happier beneath the covers, and Berilac doubly happy, it seems, so they return, and there's more to laugh on, more joy to share. She wants to say, I never thought to find myself here with you. That isn't a fear, but a thought half-considered, and she kisses him and says they will need write the Hall, that Vinca and Mim both deserve to know that they are well.

Berilac, cheerful, says that they'll write them, and write them in any detail that she wishes, but he draws her back beneath the covers as she seeks to slip away, and touches her with such warmth she didn't think it possible, makes love with such intensity she feels her heart break and break again, and then form once more, stronger than it ever had been before.

She's breathless, after, sweat drying on her skin, and she seems amazed, though she can't say why. Out of that warmth, content, he says, 'marry me,' and she nods, searching after her tongue, and her voice, and she says that she will.

He smiles, and kisses her, now a bit breathless. She draws back, then kisses him once more, already thinking out the words of the letter she will write Pervinca.

III. A wedding, SR 1425

She doesn't think it the happiest day of her life, but the happiest moment of this day. She kisses him, clinging to his hand, and he clinging in return. 'I will love you forever,' she says, and she wishes to believe it, for she wants to want for nothing else.

Afterwards, she dances with Berilac and then with a number of other cousins: and then, with Pervinca, pale blossoms drifting in the air, as the bright spring day throws off the last of winter's chill. Pervinca kisses her, as she would, and Alyssum laughs unexpected thanks against Pervinca's sweet mouth.

IV. A birthday, SR 1427

'What shall you give me for your birthday?' Alyssum asks, grinning as she does. Pervinca grins, rolls her eyes fondly, tangles her hand in Alyssum's hair, and pulls her mouth close, to kiss.

'Just that,' she says, pulling back, still grinning. 'For you are cheeky and ungrateful, and–' Merimas startles them both, the door opening just at that moment, and Pervinca grins wider still, pulls herself away from Alyssum, stands to greet her husband, and then pulls him down to sit. Merimas rolls his eyes, fondly, just as Pervinca had, and he turns his head sideways, catching her kiss. 'Just that,' Pervinca goes on to say, 'and this. Good company, and good cheer. I hope the cake is big enough.' She grins wickedly, and Merimas doesn't protest, sitting rather tightly between the two of them as he is. She is perfectly at ease with her, and she with him, and Alyssum never thought to see Pervinca – Pervinca of all hobbits – at such peace. She is a mother now, after all, twice over, and – and, if Alyssum isn't reading too much into it, the way they sit together, Merimas' hand on Pervinca's arm, the other low on her stomach...

'Again?' she asks, grinning, and Merimas and Pervinca smile and it's Merimas who says, yes. 'We'll be swimming in babies, soon enough,' he says. That's something they've beat her and Berilac at, isn't it? Two times, and now a third coming – she and Berilac haven't caught a one. Well, she gives her congratulations, anyhow, for she is happy, and for the both of them.

She thinks of Lithe, suddenly, a Buckland celebration some long years behind: she has done much better with Berilac Brandybuck than she had ever hoped for, or thought possible. And she hopes she's done better by him.

V. A birth, SR 1433

She hadn't thought it possible, that she could ever be a mother, but here her daughter is, fresh-faced and clean, bundled in warm, pale linens. Alyssum almost laughs, but then she almost weeps, and she bends her head low, shuts her eyes tight.

'Lyssa?'

She looks up, as Folco says her name. She nods, then shakes her head, and she does laugh, then, for she does not quite know what she is trying to express. 'I'm fine, Uncle Folco, quite fine. Come meet your niece.' Now, they're cousins, they all know that, but she expects Folco to be as attentive as any uncle might – the months have been long, but mostly happy, and they have talked long on that.

Folco sits at her side, brushes one hand through her still-damp hair, brushes the pad of one thumb over the sleeping brow. 'She's beautiful. Have we named her yet, then?'

'Berilac thought to name her Amaranth. I thought to name her Miranda. Pervinca, though, liked Amaranth better, and with her and Berilac both against me, well, I could only concede defeat.' She gives a little laugh.

He gives a little laugh as well. 'Thank Freddy and Ruby – I've got rather good at holding babies, now that they have so many.' He grins, and Alyssum doesn't ever think that they will catch up with Pervinca and Merimas Brandybuck, let alone Freddy and Ruby Bolger. But she hands her daughter over, careful as she can, and she doesn't feel strange, not at all, but rather happy with herself.

Her heart has built itself up, these long years, and now it's stronger more than she had hoped. Folco bends his head, murmurs quiet nonsense to Amaranth's sleeping face, and they end up talking of babies, and marriage, and Berilac, awake so long that the midwife and healer both sent him off to bed, before he fell over on his feet.

'I'm glad he has you,' Folco says, and Alyssum knows he means it. 'I'm glad Freddy has Ruby, for all it might have been different – and I'm glad that Berilac has you, for he needs more taking care of, and looking after, than one might think.' Then he quiets, and looks at Amaranth, and the baby upsets herself to waking, and he then hands her straight over, and then Alyssum quiets her again.

She doesn't say 'me as well', for it seems clear enough.