Mid-year's Day, SR 1426

(the day)

He came out reluctantly, though not for lack of loving her: only he wished himself a better hobbit, to be bound by her. Moro looked at Celandine, and thought his heart might surely split – she stood there, a crown of pale yellow blossoms atop her dark hair, her name-flower, no doubt: and her frock was long, white, and sprigged with gold and green.

He thought himself threadbare, in comparison, and surely they all saw it, and his bad limp. But he went to stand at Cellie's side, and she looked at him and smiled, and his heart did more than burst, as he felt it split with joy.

He would live his life for her. He would. He would not allow his thoughts to darkness this day, this bright day, only the first of all that yet would come: there was no other who understood as she did, after all – so he stood tall beneath the white wedding pavilion, the scent of summer in the air, and summer as well in the flowers amidst Celandine's dark curls.

Taking his breath, he reached for her hand. And she smiled, heart shining in her eyes.

Then Uncle Saradoc came out, wearing his dark finery, and he smiled, too.

'I have before me two hobbits who have come with a petition of marriage. Who will vouch for them?'

Mosco, who was standing witness for Moro, stepped forward, and gave his response: 'I am Mosco Burrows, a hobbit of Overhill.' He smiled at his brother, and took a deep breath. 'I present Moro Burrows, a hobbit of Overhill, known to me as a hobbit of good character, who is of age, with no reasons as to why he should not be wed.'

Then it was Periwinkle's turn, and she stood forward: 'I am Periwinkle Brownlock, a hobbit of The Yale. I present Celandine Brandybuck, a hobbit of Buckland, known to me as a hobbit of good character.' She smiled, eyes bright and wide. 'While she is not of age, she has her father's permission to be married, and there is no reason as to why she should not be wed.'

Moro stood, trembling, his hand warm in Celandine's grip. He looked at Saradoc, for now it went to the Master, and his eyes were wide and his face was knowing. 'Moro Burrows, is it your intent to wed Celandine Brandybuck, of your own free will?'

Moro looked at him, and nodded, all tension gone from him, in that moment, holding Celandine's warm hand. 'Yes sir, I do, and of my own free will.'

The Master smiled, and then turned slightly, smiling at his niece. 'Celandine Brandybuck, is it your intent to wed Moro Burrows, of your own free will?'

'Yes sir,' she said, and her grip quickened, and she turned from the Master, to gaze at Moro's face, 'I do. And of my own free will.'

'Moro Burrows and Celandine Brandybuck, you have declared before witnesses your intent to wed. The duties of marriage are to honor and support one another; the blessings of marriage are to love and respect one another. These duties and these blessings are meant to last for a lifetime. Are you prepared to take on these tasks, through such joys and sorrows as may in time come to you?'

'Yes, we are!' they said together.

Saradoc turned to the assembled guests, and as he spoke, Moro felt that his heart might burst: and yet he clung with desperation to Celandine's hand, and she did not loosen her grip, and then Saradoc ended his small speech, saying, 'Celandine, Moro, may your joys be many, may your sorrows be few.'

He trembled again, and the Master smiled him down, and he said, 'Now, if the designated witnesses will come forward: Milo Burrows, Ponto Baggins, Hugo Bracegirdle, Mosco Burrows, Ilberic Brandybuck, Meriadoc Brandybuck, and Peregrin Took.'

They did, though Seredic, Celandine's father, was waiting on them already – he signed first, to give his blessing, that his daughter might wed, for she was still not of age. Then he handed the quill to Milo, and smiled at him: and so Milo signed, then Ponto, and Hugo, and Mosco, who grinned as he did, and Ilberic, who seemed thoughtful, and Merry and Pippin, at last, and them both a head taller than any other hobbit in attendance.

When Moro signed, he was amazed at his hand for not shaking, and when he looked at Celandine's face, as she signed, he saw her cheeks were wet with tears.

He reached for her hand, once more, and she smiled and gripped his hand, tightly, and mouthed, 'I will never leave you,' as the Master came forward, once more, and took his ring, affixing the seal of the Brandybucks to their wedding document. Moro stood, fully, and Celandine, too, and Saradoc put a hand on Moro's shoulder, looking thoughtful, as well.

Then, out loud, he said, 'I now present Mr. and Mrs. Burrows, with all honours,' and a small cheer went up – and, before the Master even said so, Moro found himself kissing Celandine, and she laughed against his mouth, and kissed him with all her heart, wound her hands in the soft fabric of his jacket, and held on tight.

Then, when they parted (for it took them both some time), they looked out, and Celandine blushed as he did, one hand wound about his still, and holding on with all strength.

'The flowers!' someone called, from out in the crowd, and Celandine threw the bunch of flowers out wide (for she had clutched them in her left hand, and clutched at Moro with her right). There was laughing, and a groan, and Pippin held the flowers up (and Estella said, 'now, that isn't fair,' but she laughed and stood on her tip-toes, so as to kiss him on the cheek).

Then Mosco and Periwinkle came again, Mosco's arm hooked about Moro's, and Moro was almost certain that Periwinkle had wound her arm about Celandine's waist.

(and afterwards)

Acacia said, 'no hard feelings, eh?' and Ilberic, likely thinking she must still feel a fool, nodded, then took her hand, and let her lead him out to dance. Minto rolled his eyes, and Ilberic grinned back at him, and then Tobald came forward. He remembered them both, and well-enough, from Ilberic's thirty-third, late in the spring of 1423: they'd made fools of themselves, the both of them, and Acacia and Tobald so intent on being the two hobbits that broke Ilberic and Minto up. It had been years since that, and it was best to put the past behind...

'If you promise to behave,' he said, and Tobald nodded, saying he would: so Minto let Tobald lead him out, and Tobald didn't try and kiss him, and when they finished two sets, lost each other between the dancing of three reels, Minto found that he was dancing with Ilberic now, just as he'd been wanting.

Celandine had come out to dance, and Moro as well. There had been a number of dances, at the start of it, with her and Moro alone, but she had called for company, for she hated the attention: which Minto didn't think very true, for Celandine had always seemed delighted in whatever attention had been paid to her, for as sweet as she was. Likely, she didn't want Moro feeling badly.

He looked at Celandine, dancing with his brother, and he thought, well, perhaps she only had wanted the company, as they danced and danced: then Pippin led Moro off, grinning, and Periwinkle led Celandine off, smiling, and Minto went out to dance with Ilberic once more.

It was a complicated thing, a wedding, and he was glad he hadn't ever had to bother with one. It had worked out much better, even without.

There would be time for dancing after, but the music stilled and the bell rang, and signaled that it was time for the cake. Mosco and Periwinkle, laughing, led the bride and groom to the dinner pavilion, to the south of the white wedding pavilion – where the cake, all four tiers of it – more than enough cake for their guests, in case one came for a second round.

As was tradition, Cellie and Moro stood and cut the first piece, and then the next, and Mosco and Periwinkle aided them in handing out the little white plates with their pieces of cake, accepting congratulations as they did.

Once the guests had had their firsts, Mosco and Periwinkle took theirs, and then Cellie and Moro took theirs – and they stood, looking like besotted fools, smiling at each other. Moro let Cellie have the first bite of his, and Cellie let Moro have the first bite of hers.

Then, with frosting on her mouths, they laughed and kissed each other – still smiling at one another, laughing and bright, and looking like even more-besotted fools.

Then, for the cake had been passed out (and there were those who spoke of nothing more than how very good it was, for it was certainly acceptable to praise the food as one ate): and, as was another tradition, a single silver penny had been baked into it.

Pippin – as if he hadn't been blessed already, with having caught the flowers (he'd passed them out, one by one, as the day went on): but it was his piece that had the silver penny, and Merry rolled his eyes and grinned at him as he held it on his palm.

Diamond, who hadn't commented at Pippin's catching the wedding flowers, laughed at this, and pressed his free hand.

And after the cake (and after those who wanted to went for seconds), their was more dancing (and a late supper had been planned, too). When Mosco saw Jed Tunnelly, among the invited guests, Moro pressed Mosco's arm and told him to go, Mosco did. 'I've been so busy, doing this and that, I hadn't noticed your arrival.' Mosco grinned at Jed, and felt lighter than he had in ages. Jed grinned back at him, and reached for Mosco's hand.

'I've been here all along.'

'Well, it's good to see you. I'm glad you came.'

Oh, and it did feel good, to see Jed, here, like the fresh breath of spring after a too long winter, and everything brighter now that darkness had gone. Before Mosco thought on what he was doing, he had hold of Jed's arm, and he was kissing him, as though it was the most proper thing in the world.

After, Jed gave a breathy little sigh, and he smiled half-ways at Mosco, his hand moving up Mosco's arm. 'I've a lass now, you know – Opal Bolger. A very fine lady, who dances like stars, and makes me laugh more than I ever thought I could. I would like you to meet her, I think.'

'Then you should meet my Melilot,' Mosco said. 'I ended up with a Brandybuck of my own, somehow, though I didn't think it possible – Doderic, I think, Doderic never did count.'

Jed laughed, eyes sparking, and Mosco felt so perfectly happy, in that moment, that he kissed Jed once more. 'Come with me,' he said, whispered it, hot, against Jed's ear. 'I've something to show you.'

They snuck off, though they didn't do a very good job of it, out in the open as they were, and laughing as they went.

The first time they tried to get away, they had no luck – Doderic caught them, rolled his eyes, shook his head, and told Cellie and Moro both that their guests expected an after-reception speech, and it wouldn't do their new marriage any good if they didn't let tradition goes as it wanted.

So he led them back, and though they didn't see it, he grinned behind their backs. He found his own wife, come from the dancing circle with his hand in cousin Melilot's, and Doderic smiled at them both, and accepted Melilot's kiss on the cheek. Then Diamond (his Diamond, once Diamond Tunnelly of Newbury – for, he too remembered Newbury, and very well, from the spring of 1421) kissed his other cheek, and took his other arm. He had lost track of his brother and sister-in-law, but he had a pretty lass on each arm, and quite happily so.

Where Doderic had joyously stood in their way, Ilberic told them he would see to their distraction – he took up a fiddle, and went out into the dancing circle as darkness, and fairy-lights gathered overhead, he struck up a merry tune, half-dancing as he played. Others joined him, and though it had been a day spent full of dancing, some others stood and went out to dance with him, and the band struck up again, and there was laughing, and singing, and distraction enough for the new bride and groom to sneak off. Minto, who could hold a tune when he wanted, was singing, even, and Jed Tunnelly was dancing with a pretty Bolger lass, and Melilot Brandybuck, Mosco's own intended, stood at the edge of the dancing circle, clapping as she, too, sang along.

Then they were all dancing again, with no thought given to the bride and groom.

(and then later that night)

They'd managed it finally, to sneak away, though they didn't make it far before they were caught. Periwinkle and Mosco found them, on the far edge of the pavilion – perhaps they had noticed them, though Ilberic had done such a very good job at running distraction.

There was a pony and trap waiting, decorated with ribbons and bells. Celandine, grinning as she blushed, let Periwinkle help up the right side, as Mosco helped Moro up the left. Then, sitting in the middle, with Periwinkle and Mosco at their side (and Mosco having taken up the reins), they started off, Periwinkle with her arm about Celandine's shoulder, and Celandine leaning against Moro, and Mosco taking up a tune as they went along (for, Celandine had learned, already close as family, that Mosco could carry a steady tune, at least from time to time). Periwinkle joined him, and Celandine leaned against Moro, eyes shut, breathing the warm scent of night, the faded scent of lavender, that clung to him and his good suit.

Then, they came to a little cottage, warm lights going from the windows. Periwinkle slid down, and reached Celandine's hand, and when Celandine stood on solid ground, Periwinkle kissed her on the cheek, and Celandine pressed Periwinkle's hand. Then periwinkle laughed, and Celandine's cheeks darkened, and Periwinkle said, 'I do hope you two manage to get at least a little sleep!'

Celandine might have shrieked with laughter, but she hugged her friend, instead, whispered, 'you are incorrigible,' against her ear, and then went off with Moro, after Mosco had grinned and clapped him on the back.

The door was waiting open, a bit of ribbon hanging from side to side, on the inside, and the inside was warm, and golden, and waiting for them both. Celandine reached again for Moro's hand, and Moro pressed her hand tightly – she heard the sound of the pony trap as Periwinkle and Mosco rode off. Then, she turned to Moro, to say something or another, but she was struck still by the expression on his face, and so lost her tongue.

'I love you,' he said. 'More than there are words. And I am lucky, very lucky, to have you in my life.' He kissed her, then, softly, and stroked his hand up to her wrist, then further, pushing along the sleeve of her dress. When he drew back, he said. 'Thank you, Cellie.'

'For what?' she asked, a bit more breathless than she'd have liked.

'For being my friend. For being my wife. For... for everything.' And he smiled, shadows chased from his eyes, and then she kissed him, for she did not wish those shadows to return. He stroked her hand, over the old, faded scar, and she smiled against his mouth, though tears burned in her eyes.

'We were made for each other, we were. I'm sorry I ever thought you a boring old Burrows.'

And he didn't answer her, only grinned and, then, before she could reckon in proper thought, he swung her up into his arms, stumbled a little in a limp, but righted himself, and so carried her into the little cottage, before setting her down once more: and she kissed him, wrapped her arms about him, tightly, until the air went from her lungs, as she forgot the need to breathe.

'Ah, I love you,' she said, laughing a bit breathlessly, when she could – and then she gulped down breath, and shared it with him, and he grinned. Then she touched his cheek, stroked her fingers back through dark curls, loosened her hold from his, and went to shut, and bolt, the door.

She turned, and looked at him, looking so fine in his dark suit, the copper buttons glinting in the warm lantern light – she reached for his hand, and he took hold of hers, and then he drew her forward, and she went. She found she wanted to do a number of things all at once, but she wound her arms about him, first, and kissed him soundly, though not, this time, to loss of breath.

She drew back, a mingle of hot breath, and then she laughed and Moro kissed her once more, and drew her close – pressed tight against him, and then she looked at him, hands against his chest, their height close together, foreheads pressed close, and she laughed and took in the shape of his face.

Then, she set to his buttons, grinning sweetly as she did; but then, he shook his head, took her hands, and drew her down the hall, to the parlour, and said, 'love, Cellie-wife, we needn't rush,' and her hand felt warm in his.

Down the little hall, and to the bedroom, where another lantern waited, and the bed. Celandine swallowed the dryness in her throat, laughed a little, at least to force it, and then Moro stopped, and she did, too. He took up her hand, kissed it, and then, reaching up, took the circle of drooping flowers from her hair.

He tossed it to the bed, and she laughed again, though no need for force: and she kissed him, pushed up against him, and on her tip-toes: and this time, he did not stop her, not as she reached for his buttons.

They made a mess in undressing, but they took their time, first with his jacket, and his shirt beneath, and she needed his help with her dress, for it was laced up the back: she held her hair up, and out of the way, as he worked at the lacing, kissing her neck as he did, and her shoulder, warm sparks that went through her, until she found herself trembling, not knowing if she meant to laugh, or moan.

'I love you,' she said, and she leaned back against him, reached for his hand with her own, pressed it tight, and he whispered, warm, against her skin, his own love, and cloth whispered in joy as it fell away from skin.