By: Dana
Summary: Pervinca and Alyssum talk about things that need to be heard.
Characters: Pervinca Took, Alyssum Brandybuck
Pairings: Pervinca/Alyssum
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Femslash (some angst)
Author's Notes: There will be notes at the end.
This is dedicated to rubynye, with much love.
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.

Alyssum goes to Great Smials because she knows she'll be welcomed there: and, just as Pervinca promised, she doesn't sleep alone.

She wakes (and it still being the night after her arrival), to candlelight and soft sparking eyes. She shifts one arm above her head, and smiles up at Pervinca, gold-lit by candlelight, and more charming than any one hobbit, Took or otherwise, should be by any right.

'Have you watched me sleep?' she asks, and Pervinca, grinning, nods. She bends down, and russet hair sparks in a fashion different than green-gold eyes, and Alyssum rises and meets Pervinca as she descends, and so they kiss.

Pervinca's mouth is plump and sweet as summer dream, and Alyssum sighs and shuts her eyes, tangles one hand in Pervinca's loose curls. 'Come back to bed,' she says, though Pervinca had not, in fact, left the bed to start – but Pervinca slithers, warm bare skin and a full smiling mouth, down into the space left free at Alyssum's side, and Alyssum turns and presses into her, lets Pervinca pull her close.

She opens her mouth against Pervinca's, her eyes still shut and the sound of falling rain now coming to her ears: it had rained, the last of her journey, and now it rains again, in the dark empty spaces of the night.

And yet, (her mind wandering, where it shouldn't) Alyssum had come in one piece to Great Smials, though her riding cloak was thoroughly soaked, her hair mussed as well. Pervinca had took her by one hand and led her up the front stairs, and then kissed her there at the top, in the wide open door, for the doorhobbit and three other Tooks to see. Oh, but it had been polite enough, and Pervinca had grinned afterwards, one she had kissed Alyssum warmly on the cheek: as a friend might, of course, and then she had slipped her hand into Alyssum's.

So Alyssum had come to know Ev Took, and Pervinca's father, Paladin, the Took and the Thain, and rather wondered if they would still approve of her, or if that ever had mattered much at all, given how very set Pervinca is in her ways.

And her heart had ached, though not so brittle as it had been at one time, but Pervinca's hand was warm, and so soothed that pain.

'Estella and I were once very close,' she says, coming from her thoughts. Her mouth is damp, and Pervinca's is as well, and the next kiss is slow in surging, but sends hot sparks through her skin. 'Ah. You know, best friends, or almost best friends – she was the first lass I ever kissed, and the first I ever did more than kissing with. Mmmph,' and Pervinca takes her mouth once more, and Alyssum quite helplessly moans.

A hand slides smooth against bare skin, and Alyssum pushes her leg up, her knee against Pervinca's thigh – Pervinca's leg moves, and skin moves damp against skin, and Alyssum sets her head to Pervinca's breast.

'But she hates me now, I think, if only because I remind her of Rosemary – and I do, you know, no matter what she might say. And I,' she gives another moan, a soft sigh, and then turns her head and angles her mouth against Pervinca's. 'I'd hate her, if it were possible, but that would be as foolish as hating the Sun for being bright.' Likely, and it hangs unspoken, in the soft bare spaces that separate skin and skin, Estella doesn't think of her at all.

'You have not spoken with her, then,' Pervinca says, and her hands slow, and the mood does, too. Alyssum, though, shifts against, pushes a little harder, and shakes her head.

'Ah, no – see, I meant to, but then I saw how she looked at Merry, and could not bear to cause her any other pain. For she has born pain enough, as it is, and I would not...' She gives a little laugh. 'That is to say, I spoke with her, but not of what I meant to: but I gave her your love, and mine as well, and bid her write to you. I believe she will.'

Other things to hang unspoken, and so Pervinca says, 'But?'

And Alyssum goes on, 'But I looked at her, and I thought that she had suffered well enough, and did not wish to add to that pain: and I could not speak to her of what mattered most.'

'You are quite foolish, at least at times,' Pervinca says, and Alyssum feels herself fall away. She settles back on her back, and Pervinca's arm slides across her stomach, Pervinca's face nestles into the crook of her neck. Alyssum gives a little laugh, and Pervinca gives another, small, shuddering, in return.

'How so?'

'Tell me, first – '

'You haven't answered me.'

'Oh, I know.'

A wicked grin, and bright-shining eyes, and Pervinca tilts her head back, kisses the tip of Alyssum's ear. 'Tell me, Sweet Alyssum, would you like to run away?'

Alyssum gives a small laugh. 'Where might I go?'

'Anywhere. I told you, we'll bring down the great books and maps, and I will show you all the places that Merry, and my brother, have spoken of – perhaps you might go so far as Minas Tirith, if that is what you wanted. Tell me, Alyssum, what do you want?'

'I think I might like to run away – and not come back, at least not for some time. I cannot bear to look at Estella, knowing how she – well, having guessed at how she feels. Is it a foolish thing? Perhaps, and no more foolish than anything else I have ever done – but I fear I cause her pain, and only by being around. If I were to run away, to go to the Outside and not come back...'

'That would make me rather sad.'

'And I could not bear you that pain, nor any other. But you could come with me, as I know you have considered – only, I do not think your husband would much appreciate my, ah, haring off, and taking his wife along.'

Pervinca laughs, molten-hot, and the kiss that follows sears through Alyssum's senses. 'Tomorrow, we shall dance,' she says, lays her head to Alyssum's breast. She then gives a small laugh, and presses long fingers against skin. 'I feel your heart.'

'It is not yet broken,' Alyssum says. 'Though, I do not think I treat it very well.'

'I've been told, it is rather more difficult to love one's self, than to be loved by others.'

That may be truth – no, it must be, as Alyssum finds she does not doubt it. Still, her own heart might not yet be full broken, but there is a process to these things. She turns, all of her, and pushes herself into Pervinca's embrace, winds her own arms about Pervinca. They are in a full tangle, arms and legs, and she kisses Pervinca for want of keeping her mouth occupied, knowing that she would rather not weep.

She would sag against Pervinca, but Pervinca holds her, and when the tears come they are stubbornly hot. They streak her cheeks and mat her hair, and Alyssum shudders and then lets out an aching sob, as Pervinca holds her all the while.

She is not broken, but her heart is breaking, for loss of love and lack of hope: and she thinks herself foolish, a silly young child, who has not born the weight of the world, nor even the weight of pain that some others have.

She takes a shuddering breath, and clutches Pervinca close, and she laughs against her shoulder, forcing it free, and then she laughs against Pervinca's mouth, then whispering, 'Tell me how foolish I am, please. I feel it is my due.'

And Pervinca says, 'We're all rather foolish, you know.'

'Well, I think you're wonderful,' Alyssum says, smiling slightly. 'Wonderful, and I am lucky to know you. I did not mean to cry on you, Pervinca, though I only cried a bit.'

It had been more than just a bit, but Pervinca does not mention that, and Alyssum thanks her, though without any words. Then, in the warm, weary softness that then comes, Alyssum turns her head once more, settles her cheek against Pervinca's breast, breathes out softly, and runs one finger up her arm.

'I am a terrible person, am I not,' she murmurs, 'to envy poor Rosemary. But I do.'

She thinks, and breathes, and turns her face to Pervinca's throat: and Pervinca does not answer her, though the silence is not angry, but thoughtful, instead. Pervinca's lips brush, warm, through the curls at Alyssum's temple.

'I would have...' But Alyssum does not know what to say.

'Might we ride out to Michel Delving, truly? I think,' and she laughs, throat worn, eyes burning, 'I think I need to make my peace with Rosemary, before I think to make any with Estella. But I will write her, then, I promise you – and perhaps I will feel better about myself, on waking.'

'We will,' Pervinca says, and makes a promise of it, and seals it with a kiss. 'We will, my sweet, we will. Tomorrow, though, I also promised you a dance – and Nell looks forward to seeing you, for she missed you this night, and my husband has some foolish plan or another to impress you. I thought to warn you, though, and so I have.'

At that, Alyssum does manage a laugh, and one that sounds true: and she turns, and moves, and kisses Pervinca's mouth, though then she settles down again. 'Thank you,' she says, and shuts her eyes, 'for having me.'

Now candlelight burns warm behind her eyes, and Pervinca is warmer still. She gives no answer, but Alyssum finds peace in that – sometimes, it's better without words.

End Notes: In February, rubynye posted this; I knew, from the first I read it, that I would one day write about Alyssum accepting Pervinca's invitation, and so I have.

There are things that our differing canons share - but I did my very best to write this in Ruby's canon, and not my own. (One small difference: Well, Pervinca doesn't marry another Took in mine, for one thing.) Still, there are some things she has written that I have not been able to help but taken into my own writing, and my view of the Shire.

All that said, I still wrote this to fit with her canon, and not my own. *grin*