Author’s notes:

Here, at last, is Boromir’s wedding day, in which nerves are strained, romance is in the air, surprises happen and memories are recalled. I think you’ll get why it’s called The Dance once the tale is told. This one is for the nice lady in Australia who sent me a lovely letter instead of a review. Thank you! It is also for a certain writer I know…and you know whom you are…who said she wished she were Saro. Of course, the few lines of the song are not mine, but Tolkien’s. I should be so talented. And of course, the Caradhras flashback is not mine, not mine, darn it! All Tolkien. I bow before him.

Pippin’s song is based on the Garth Brooks song "The Dance.” I like to give credit where credit is due. Thanks to all my reviewers, both friends old and dear and those who are new.

As usual, the characters are not mine except for Saro and a few others. The rest is just my visiting with old friends in Middle Earth, and all I get for this is reviews.

The Dance

It was a fine day for a wedding, Pippin observed, taking note of the clear sky and the fragrance of spring carried into his quarters on a soft breeze. The spacious garden adjoining the Great Smials was well decorated. Diamond and Estella had worked hard, along with every available servant they could lay hands on. Lanterns hung from the branches of trees and bright ribbons festooned the shrubbery.

The finest wines from as near as Hobbiton and as far as Dorwinion had been purchased and the tables were nearly spilling over with the wedding-feast. Roasted suckling pigs nuzzled plump apples next to tender young pheasants. Flocks of geese and ducks, spit-roasted to deep, golden perfection added their savory smell to skillfully seasoned delights spiced with rare and exotic herbs. Strewn among these dishes sat large silver bowls stacked high with strange, colorful fruits shipped from beyond far Harad to the Grey Havens and rushed by wagon to the wedding feast at the peak of ripeness. At the center of this fabulous arrangement of delicacies reclined a succulent calf, aromatic and juicy. Pickled eggs of fancy birds filled the smallest corners and crannies, and all the tables enjoyed stacks of mushrooms of every description in dishes fine and fancy as well as plain and hearty. Three tables had been put to good use holding cakes, pies, puddings, custards, tarts and endless other sweets and afters. Another table found itself occupied by wines and cheeses next to barrels of ale and beer.

The air was heavy with the scent of flowers. The musicians were tuning up. Diamond had brought out her husband’s violin. Pippin would be expected to play, and though as a lad he had not cared much for it, now he was glad his mother had insisted on lessons. Nowadays Faro was the one sawing painfully at the fiddle, drawing winces from anyone in earshot, just as it had been when Pippin was the one at practice.

But this day Faro was off the hook. Today, it would be Pippin playing the violin. He had been practicing since Yule. As a youngster, Pippin had declared he would never touch a fiddle again once he had come of age, but that had changed when his Faramir had been born. Pippin, grown, loved playing as an adult as much as he had hated it as a child. He practiced often enough, but once his friend’s wedding date had been set, he had redoubled his efforts and he now enjoyed a level of skill previously unreached. He wanted everything to go right, for today was the day his favorite Man was to wed. Pippin would be standing beside Boromir as Witness along with Merry.

Critically, he gazed at himself in the looking glass. Was the suit right? Was his cravat straight enough? Why was his hair always so unruly? He forced a smile. He scolded himself. Just stop it! Stop worrying and enjoy the day, this is a great day for Boromir. He almost raked his hand through his hair, but caught himself just in time. He turned this way and that, looking at his image. Still too thin, even after all these years. Taller, yes, but too thin. And then he did rake his fingers through his hair, caught himself and exclaimed, "Hoy, you fool! Now you have to fix that. You’re hopeless.” The hobbit in the looking glass seemed to agree.

He combed his hair, finally giving up with a sigh. Why couldn’t he have proper hair, like Merry?

“You look wonderful, darling.” This was, of course, Diamond. She had surprised him, and in his surprise, he had jumped a little, with an undignified cross between a squeak and a squawk. He glared at the Pippin in the looking glass.

“D’you really think so? I wish I had Merry’s hair. He always looks as if he was born with a silver comb in his hand.”

“Sweetheart!” Diamond fussed, a rather pained look on her pretty face, “I’ll have you know I love your hair.”

“Oh, come now, really!”

“I do! I like the way it graces your forehead,” she said, standing closer, reaching up to smooth an unruly lock with cool fingers; he could feel her breath on his neck before she gave him a hug and stepped back again. “It really shows off your eyes. And I love the color. It looks wonderful!”

“That’s very kind of…” as he turned to address her, he stopped in mid-sentence. She was wearing a new, deep-green frock. It showed off her dark curls, rosy lips and fair skin. It also showed off her figure quite well, nipping in at the waist and dipping low in the back. “My goodness, sweetheart! You look absolutely…mmmm!” He embraced her. His fingers skittered down her bare back, making her shiver deliciously.

“Pippin! Not now, darling,” she laughed. “But later, we can have a little second honeymoon. This wedding fever seems to be catching.” Her voice was a sweet, velvety purr that made Pippin’s blood suddenly heat. “Anyway, Boromir needs you. He is very nervous, and you do have such a way with him. Go and calm him down, will you, before he combs his hair and beard completely off?”

Pippin sighed. Wedding fever, indeed. He put that sentiment away for use later in the evening. He would certainly take up the offer. Diamond did look ravishing. He kissed his own darling bride, and strode down the meandering hall until he got to the spare bedroom with the highest ceiling, the one that had been set aside for Gandalf all those years ago. High ceiling or no, when Pippin tapped on the door and let himself in, Boromir leapt up from his seat on the bed and rapped the top of his head smartly. He scrunched up his face and made a silent “Ow!”

Pippin burst into laughter.

Boromir had always found Pippin’s laugh contagious, and now he laughed, too, even as he rubbed the top of his head. A little plaster from the ceiling had fallen in a fine dust onto his shoulders.

Pippin ordered him to sit on the bed, climbed up himself, took the clothes brush and walked around him in little bounces, to tidy him up, wearing an expression much like the one he wore when tidying up Faro. Boromir suddenly had the odd feeling that their sizes had been somehow reversed.

Pippin hopped down to the floor and took a step back. He looked at Boromir critically; then with his fingers, he combed back a stray lock of the Man’s hair. He nodded approvingly. “You look just splendid,” he said, and gave Boromir a reassuring smile and a pat on one broad shoulder.

“So do you,” Boromir said, and then, for the first time, he grinned. Yet he fidgeted as well, and Pippin was by now familiar with the Man’s habits. Boromir always shuffled his feet about when he was nervous, and bounced his legs up and down.

“Stop that,” Pippin scolded. “Everything will be fine, just fine, I assure you.”

Boromir heaved a sigh, sliding to the floor, and rested his back against the bed. “I hope you are right. I was all at sea when I married Ruby, too.” He snorted in self-derision, tugging at his ever-unruly forelock, brow furrowed. “No, I’m sure you are right. It’s just that…” He sighed, now smiling sheepishly, every bit a moonstruck lad of twenty summers. “Oh, Pippin, how I love her! She is just the best thing that has happened to me in a long while. She is everything to me. I do so hope I can make her happy.” He bit his lower lip.

Pippin laughed again. He placed a small hand on each of Boromir’s large shoulders and gave an affectionate squeeze, marveling at how like steel the muscles there remained. He could not help recalling the first time he had noticed this in Boromir, so long ago on that cold trek down Caradhras. Boromir had been so kind to him then, and his cousins, and Sam, trying to ward off the deadly cold, and constantly pulling hobbits out of snow banks. It had been Boromir who had spoken against the folly of taking hobbits into the perils of that freezing, dangerous place. It was Boromir who had insisted on the fire that had surely saved all their lives, and later cleared a path through the deep snow, and helped carry the hobbits down the path, starting with Pippin himself.

He found himself suddenly immersed in memories of that horrible time. They freshened in him, echoing and expanding until it was almost like he had been transported somehow to that time and place once more…

"But happily your Caradhras has forgotten that you have Men with you," said Boromir, who came up at that moment. "And doughty Men, too, if I may say it; though lesser men with spades may have served you better. Still, we have thrust a lane through the drift; and for that all here may be grateful who cannot run as light as Elves."

"But how are we to get down there, even if you have cut through the drift?" said Pippin, voicing the thoughts of all the hobbits.

"Have hope!" said Boromir, "I am weary but I have some strength left, and Aragorn too. We will bear the little folk. The others no doubt will make shift to tread the path behind us. Come, Master Peregrin! I will begin with you."

He lifted up the hobbit. "Cling to my back! I shall need my arms," he said, and strode forward——Pippin marveled at his strength, seeing the passage that he had already forced with no other tool than his great limbs. Even now, burdened as he was, he was widening the track for those who followed, thrusting the snow aside as he went.

Pippin leaned forward and briefly touched his forehead to Boromir’s, a habit long in practice between Pippin and Merry when either cousin felt at odds about something one or both might find worrisome. Pulling back, the hobbit gave a small laugh, a twinkle in his bright green eyes.

“Shall I pluck out a whisker or two,” he said, “to remind you not to bother yourself with such doubts? Stop worrying! I know you, Boromir. You shall make her very happy. You shall take care of her, and she will love you until the end of her days. You worry too much, and think too little of your abilities to make others happy. You were a confident soldier; now be a confident groom.”

He grinned at the bridegroom now, and was pleased to see the grin returned. “You have known many difficulties, my friend, and many a woeful day. Today, be happy! Do you not know how much faith I have in you? Do you know so little of me, or think my judgment amiss? I know you…I know you! Trust me, now, as I have trusted you. I would not miss this day for anything, and don’t you miss it by worrying, you great goose! Now,” he said, taking a moment to inspect his charge much as a Captain might inspect the troops, “you look splendid, your Saro loves you and nothing will make her happier than to see you looking so dashing and handsome.” He gave a decided nod and added, “Now, let us make ready! Our ladies await us!”

Boromir suddenly embraced Pippin, laughing aloud, and Pippin, returning his friend’s embrace in untrammeled joy, joined him in his merriment. Diamond was right. He did have a way with Boromir, and both Man and hobbit knew it, and could laugh at themselves about it.

“Very well,” Boromir said with a nod of his own. “Let us make ready.”

“Yes, it shall soon be time for the ceremony,” Pippin said wisely. “Shall we see how Merry is faring?”

“A most excellent idea,” Boromir said, his face now brighter, less worried. “Let us go, before we rumple our suits and have to comb our hair. Again.”

They rose and walked into the long hallway towards the room where Merry and Estella were staying.

When Boromir and Pippin first knocked, then walked into the room where Merry was waiting, both—hobbit and man—couldn’t help feeling chagrined. There sat Merry, cool and calm, his appearance absolutely perfect. Not only did he look perfect; he appeared to be perfectly content. Merry knew he looked perfect. No fussing and worrying for him.

“By the Light,” Boromir muttered under his breath.

“You would know it, wouldn’t you?” Pippin agreed.

Merry laughed at them. “Well, it’s not my fault I’m so handsome! You needn’t disapprove so.”

“How?” Pippin asked, “How ever do you do it? I have never understood.”

“How? Why, the answer is simple enough, my dear ass. I have confidence. You have always worried overmuch, Pippin, though you try not to show it,” replied Merry. “And you, Boromir! You look as though you are about to bolt. One would think a Man such as yourself would not suffer so from restlessness. Get a hold of yourself, my dear fellow!”

Boromir sighed. “You, too? Pippin only just said the same. Am I so disquieted, then?”

“You are, you are,” Merry nodded his head, smiling. “Have you taken your medicine? There’s a wise fellow, then. But there is another draught that could ease your mind. What you need is a little wine.”

“Yes, some wine!” Boromir grinned and rubbed his hands together, remembering the fine wine they had drunk the previous evening, to toast this joyous occasion.

Merry stuck his head out of the door, captured a passing cousin by the elbow and asked that wine be brought to the room. Soon enough, the three were sipping their wine, and this companionable act seemed to calm Boromir a bit, but not nearly enough to suit Merry. He’d had enough experience looking out for Pippin to know what to do; he knew Men and Hobbits were not so different, no more than lads, really, even if they were all grown up.

A story, then. Stories had always calmed Pippin, provided they were not too exciting or frightening. It worked for Pippin, even to this day, he thought, smiling to himself, and it worked just as well on Theo and Faro. He had even used this little trick once or twice with Estella, for thunder frightened her terribly. When she felt frightened, Merry would hold her in his lap, and in a low, soft voice, he would tell her a story, or get her to tell him a story. She’d caught on soon enough, but found she liked it when Merry would ease her mind with a story of some pleasant memory.

Very well, then, a story would be just the thing—though of course he was not about to hold Boromir in his lap! Something nice, some fond memory, something they had in common would be best, something that would make the big southerner forget to be worried for a while.

In order to make his storytelling strategy work for adults, Merry knew he would need to introduce the tale in a manner subtler than that he used for the lads. One simply could not start out with once upon a time, after all. One must make an older listener a part of the tale. This was otherwise known as "drawing someone into a conversation" but it worked out to be the same, in the end. With his mind settling on the desired story, Merry inwardly nodded in satisfaction. Yes, this was the perfect story for this occasion.

“This is very good wine,” Merry began. “Not exactly miruvor, but nonetheless, very, very good.”

“Miruvor,” Boromir said, his face lighting. “I cannot recall the last time I thought of that, I can tell you! What a miserable reason to drink such a fine cordial, but what a good it did! That was a night to remember, now.”

Merry inwardly congratulated himself. He liked to make his listeners think they had thought of the story, themselves. Somehow, listeners seemed to enjoy a tale more when they thought the memory had sprung from their own thoughts.

“What a miserable night that was,” Pippin said. He had curled up on the bed, since there was only one chair in the room. Boromir took a seat on the edge of the bed. He was beginning to relax, but Merry noted he seemed to be perching more than he was sitting. Right. Time to get the story going.

“Do you remember that marvelous fire? How happy we were to have had it? I dare say it definitely saved our lives,” Merry prodded.

“Do you recall the way Gandalf lit the fire?” Boromir’s eyes gittered like those of a lad hearing a favorite tale of heroic proportions retold by an elder. “Remember when he thrust his staff into that bundle of wood and spoke the words of power, and blue and green flames burst forth like a flare—and then he brought forth the Cordial of Imladris. To Gandalf!” Boromir raised his glass.

“Do I ever remember it,” Pippin said. “And I seem to remember you had a part as well!” Pippin then raised his glass to Boromir. “To good old Boromir! If he had not insisted we take as much wood as we could carry…”

“You praise me overmuch,” Boromir said. “I only tried to show a little common sense.”

“Well, it was uncommon sense if you ask me,” said Merry. “Do you remember, Boromir, when we were standing round the fire…”

Boromir chuckled, and now Merry could see him loosen upstart to relax; he stopped perching and settled back comfortably. “Do I remember?” Boromir said, and took a sip of wine. He rolled the wine around in his mouth and savored the taste, and Merry was quite sure he was also savoring the memory now…

The fire had begun to crackle almost merrily, though they were all quite miserable, huddling about the fire as they tried to drive awayfend off the painful cold. Icy fingers seemed to worm their way through every stitch and hem in the travellers’ garments.

Of all the Fellowship, Boromir seemed best equipped to deal with the cold, perhaps because of his fur-lined cape, but far more for his having some knowledge of the White Mountains. He had herded his halflings—for he had come to think of Merry and Pippin as his charges—ahead of him, and now had them standing just in front of him, right by the fire. He used his big body and his cloak as a screen to shield them from the blasts of freezing wind. A piece of wood cracked and crackled, sending large sparks out as it was fully consumed by the flames. It settled, and as it did, a few embers rolled out of the fire pit. They were caught by a gust and blown right under his halflings. Merry nimbly stepped aside, but Pippin had backed up and tripped on Boromir’s feet, falling on his rump in the snow.

"Hoy, Master Took!" Boromir said, hauling Pippin up. He trod on the glowing charcoal and put Pippin back on his feet before the fire. "You are not so nimble on your feet as your cousin, I see."

Pippin scowled at him. Merry laughed. Pippin scowled at Merry. "I am so nimble on my feet, and that fool of a Brandybuck knows it,” Pippin said in protest.

"Actually, Pippin is rather a good dancer,” Merry conceded. "The lasses back home all fan their dance cards for him. Mind, I am not without talent myself in the matter, but yes; I have to defend my cousin. He is very nimble on his feet."

Pippin grinned at Merry and, on a whim, broke into a jig. Merry laughed heartily; this was the cousin he loved so dearly, full of irrepressible cheerfulness even in terrible circumstances. Boromir watched the youngster’s brief dance, and laughingly agreed. Yes, Pippin could dance.

"Well, you are not the only one that can dance!” Boromir said. "I’ve been known to take a turn on the dance floor once or twice, myself.”

Pippin regarded Boromir with a decidedly skeptical eye.

"What?” Boromir exclaimed, "Think you that because I am of a fair size, I cannot dance? I assure you, Master Peregrin, just because I am big does not mean I am a clumsy oaf!"

Pippin didn’t look convinced. Merry laughed loudly. Now the others were being drawn into the conversation. Aragorn especially seemed both interested and amused.

"What are you all staring at?” asked Boromir. "Do you all now expect a demonstration?"

A slow smile had begun to spread across the Ranger’s face. He raised an eyebrow. Legolas, too, was now paying attention. Soon Gimli and Gandalf, Sam and Frodo, each and every one of the other eight of the Nine Walkers were all looking at him.

"What? What?” Boromir said with an exasperated air. "It isn’t as though we have a band to play for us——not so much as a flute or fife, in fact. Besides, this is hardly the time or place.” It was then that he noticed the halflings all exchanging glances. First one, then another began to clap a steady beat. Frodo stood forth and began to sing.

"There is an inn, a merry old inn,

Beneath an old grey hill,

And there they brew a beer so brown

That the Man in the Moon himself came down

One night to drink his fill…”

"So then, this is a challenge?” Boromir laughed. The clapping and singing continued. "You!” he said to Pippin, "This is all your fault, imp! You, at least, shan’t go unpunished!” He lifted Pippin, who gave a laughing yelp, and Boromir began to dance to the tune while Pippin laughed in delight, his legs dangling as his friend half-tossed him in the air. Then Boromir lifted Pippin to his shoulders where the young one had to hold on for dear life, for now the dance increased in speed and vigor. Boromir was indeed light on his feet, his size giving the lie to any doubt. He was, indeed, quite good! The clapping and singing increased in tempo. The faster the song, the faster the dance, and the warrior never missed a beat. Pippin looked more like he was riding a bucking pony than anything else, and Frodo’s song was accompanied by delighted laughter from everyone, even Gandalf, but none laughed more heartily than Pippin and Merry.

Boromir noticed Frodo had a good voice. The song tickled his fancy, and he was grinning as broadly as his halflings were. At last the song was finished and applause broke out along with calls of "well done, well done!” Boromir put Pippin back on his feet, then he, Frodo and Pippin all bowed like mummers after a successful play had been finished and the curtain rung down. For a careless handful of moments, distress and cold had been replaced with the warmth and comfort of joviality and companionship.

Laughter pealed throughout the room. They were on second glasses of wine by this time. All three were now relaxed, though Pippin was more rumpled than he liked. He’d been so caught up in the memory he had forgotten to mind how he sat, though thankfully he was still presentable.

But the real reward for Merry was Boromir, smiling now, at ease, having regained his confidence. Merry was quite pleased with himself. Sometimes, he was very glad to have learned so many skills in looking after Pippin. Yes, at times it had been difficult, but in the end it was always more than worth the effort. A tap on the door silenced their merry noise. Diamond popped her head in, regarded the three friends and smiled to herself. How it warmed her heart to see the three so happy together.

“It’s time, now, my dear Boromir,” she said. “Pippin, darling, brush up your breeches before you go, so you don’t look so rumpled.”

Boromir, Merry and Pippin rose. Saro would be waiting.

The band had begun to play and the music wafted softly through the sweet air. Springtime in the Shire was lovely, and in the gardens of the Great Smials, it was even lovelier. Saro stood under an arbor of fragrant jasmine that the Tooks had collected from the forest and cultivated over generations until the vines produced plentiful and wonderfully scented little star-shaped blooms. Her hair, worn loosely bound in a pale green ribbon, tumbled down her back in a chestnut cascade adorned with jessamine and baby’s breath. Her wedding gown hugged her trim waist in a cream colored silken sheath that flaired gently so that the hem floated gracefully about her ankled. Her mantle, the same pale green as the ribbon in her hair, she wored fastened with a brooch given her by her sweetheart. It was a small gold bee festooned with bright yellow gems seperated by delicate bands of jet. But as lovely as her raimen was, her appearance was most marked by the happy glow of her cheeks and the bright joy that glimmered in her warm hazel eyes. All who beheld her plainly saw that whether dressed as a drudge or a fine lady, on this day her happiness would have made her look like a queen.

Sam stood at the end of the garden, awaiting the bride and groom and brushing or tugging his clothing now and again, just to be sure he looked his best. Rosie was dressed in her best frock, a bright blue trimmed with a delicate pink, and Sam wanted to make her proud. Stealing a glance at her, he beamed. His Rosy made him feel like a new groom every day, and he was never so happy as when he knew he had pleased her. Saro watched him looking at Rosie like a moonstruck lad. He had rehearsed the ceremony endlessly, Rosie had told her. Saro watched his face suddenly brighten, laughter lighting his eyes, and turned to see the cause.

She saw first Merry, then Pippin come barreling round a corner, followed closely by her sweetheart. The three had come to an abrupt halt, and after a little jostling, were now shuffling about, laughing and smiling at each other. They looked all of twelve years old. Then they saw her, and all three gazed at her, open-mouthed at her appearance. She lifted a finger to her own jaw and pretended to close her mouth with her finger. They got the message, and their mouths closed in the same instant, as if one had given a count of three.

The groom and his two witnesses ceremoniously walked down the garden path until they stood before Sam. They turned and faced back down the path as Shire tradition demanded and bowed a kind of hobbit salute to the bride, waiting under the arbor just a short walk away, then took their places on either side of Sam. With Diamond on her left, Estella on her right and Elanor with little Lily Thornbush walking ahead of her strewing fragrant flower petals, Saro made her progression down the garden path. Estella smiled up at her and whispered, "See how he is looking at you? I told you that you look wonderful."

When she arrived at the end of the garden path, she and Boromir stood side by side. He looked at her, and again, she thought he looked all of twelve years old. They knelt before Sam with hands laced together and exchanged vows and rings. Sam placed traditional flower-crowns on their heads and laid the customary kiss on the cheeks of bride and groom, then bade them rise as a couple, once two different people, now joined as one. Boromir kissed Saro and the guests began to cheer.

The kiss was a long one. As it lingered, the guests’ cheers grew louder until the newlyweds finally parted, upon which the musicians struck up a lively tune. Now chairs were cleared away, Sam took his place with Rosie; Pippin joined the musicians, tucking his violin under his chin and lowering it again. He cleared his throat and swallowed. His mouth was so dry that there was a little clicking sound when he swallowed, so he quickly crossed the stage and took a pitcher, which had been put there for the musicians, poured himself a glass of water and took a sip. He raised his fiddle and drew the bow across the stings softly, then nodded to himself. He took center stage, positioned the violin and began to play an introduction. The musicians accompanying him took up the tune as they had rehearsed it so many times.

Boromir and Saro stood amid a circle of hobbits, who stood patiently awaiting the dance, or, as they called it, The Dance. The newly-weds stood in the heart of the circle. Each guest held the hand of those next to them, so that the bride and groom stood in the symbolic embrace of friends and neighbors. This was yet another hobbit tradition, and no wedding could be considered complete without it.

Boromir gathered Saro to him, kissed her lips once more, and then the pair just seemed to melt into a slow, graceful dance. The hobbits all around them "ooo-ed" and "aaaw-ed," impressed with the talents of both bride and groom, and enchanted by the way the two had locked eyes, looking almost as if the world had fallen away from them.

Then Pippin lowered his violin, and in his high, sweet voice, he began to sing. His brilliant eyes lit up and sparkled, and suddenly Diamond fell in love with him all over again. He was singing for the joining of these two, true, but when one watched and listened, one could tell he was singing about that and much, much more, and this is what he sang…

When years go by and we look back on memories

Of The Dance we shared beneath the stars above,

For a little while the entire world was bright,

For a little while we could have touched the sky,

And we never knew if things would turn out right,

We never knew what the next hour might show,

And now I'm glad I didn't know

The way the story would turn out, the way it all would go,

Our lives were better left to sad or happy chance.

I could have missed the pain and tears,

But then I would have missed The Dance.

Looking back upon our story,

All the joy and all the glory,

If I had known, I might have changed it all,

If I had known, I might have refused the call,

If I had known the pains and fears,

If I had known the joys and tears,

Who can say how it may have gone,

Who can say what I might have done?

Years from now when we look behind,

What will we any of us find?

And we never know if things will turn out right,

We never know what the next hour might show,

And now I'm glad that we don't know

The way the story will turn out, the way it all will go,

Our lives are better left to sad or happy chance.

We could miss the pain and tears,

But then we will have missed The Dance.

When years go by and we look back on memories

Of The Dance we shared beneath the stars above,

For a little while the entire world was bright.

For a little while we could have touched the sky,

And now I’m glad I took every single chance,

And I could have missed the pain and tears,

But then I would have missed The Dance…

His voice fell softly, and those who knew him well caught the little hitch in his voice, not enough to spoil the performance, but enough to make the song all the more touching. There was not a dry eye in the garden. Pippin put down his violin and gave a bow, then moved to the bride and groom. They both knelt and accepted his tight embrace and light peck on the cheek.

"Dear Pippin," Saro smiled through her tears, "Unless I’m mistaken, you wrote that for us, did you not?"

Pippin couldn’t speak, and so he nodded his head and wiped away his tears of joy. Boromir knew there was much he wanted to say but could not, and that Pippin knew that he knew this.

Both Saro’s and Boromir’s arms went around him and he got a kiss on both cheeks at once. It made him start laughing in that way that only Pippin had.

"Happy, happy days to you both, my dears." he whispered. He skipped back up to the stage, once more took the violin and began to play a raucous reel. Suddenly every hobbit in the garden began to dance about the bride and groom, hands still linked, a way for everyone there to join in blessing the union. Dance after dance was played, and the feast followed.

The evening stars had kindled, a big half-moon had come out and all the white flowers in the garden seemed to be glowing under the silver light. The wedding feast had been both bountiful and of highest quality, the wine and ale flowed like the Brandywine, the music without question the best that had been heard in many years of weddings. The talk among the guests was that The Thain should play more often.

The hours passed and the guests began to leave in dribbles and draggles, and soon the Great Smials were back to their normal population. Only a few special guests remained, among them Sam and Merry and their families, and of course, Boromir and Saro. Also remaining behind were Lily and Holly Thornbush. Saro’s only kinsman had not come, for his health was still not all it should have been. At times he had been taken by falling fits, and old Fennel had insisted Bob should not tax his abused body by a journey, however short.

A special room with a high ceiling had been prepared for the bride and groom, a room tucked far back into the depths of the Great Smials. There the newlyweds would settled for the night, and would leave in the morning for the Grey Havens, to take a sea-voyage.

Diamond had gone to turn down the bed for herself and Pippin, leaving her husband to show Boromir and Saro to their room. When they got to the door, Pippin opened it for them and bowed in the silliest way. Saro giggled. Boromir knelt, took Pippin’s shoulders in his hands and gave them an affectionate squeeze. Not content with this, Pippin put his arms around Boromir’s neck and gave him a peck on the cheek.

“I must go, now,” he said, “Diamond will be awaiting!” He gave Boromir a playful wink.

Saro knelt and put her arms around him to thank him for his hospitality. Her heart swelled with fondness for her new husband’s adopted family of hobbits, and most especially for Pippin and Merry. On the tail of that thought came the relization that the hobbits were now her adopted family, too. She had known this in her mind, but until now, her heart had somehow missed the point. Her eyes brimmed with happy tears and she blinked them back and swallowed hard. She nearly lost her balance, but the halfling steadied her. Instead of waiting for a peck on the cheek, he kissed her, and right on the mouth, too.

“Not just yet, lassie!” he laughed, “Soon enough you shall fall upon your back!”

Saro shrieked with surprised laughter, blushing. Boromir had doubled over, laughing until his belly hurt. He waved his arms at Pippin as if to shoo him away.

“I bid you both goodnight!” Pippin grinned and wriggled his brows. “Don’t stay up too late,” he added teasingly. “You must travel some way tomorrow!” He turned and walked briskly back up the hallway with a little strut. His Diamond would be waiting…

After a short while, Saro was lying in the bed, gazing at her now-husband with love-drunk eyes. Boromir joined her, and enveloped her in his arms, arms strong enough to crush her, but which settled around her softly and gently. She threw her arms about his neck and drew him to her.

They kissed, at first tenderly, then more passionately. Saro began to unbutton Boromir’s shirt, and…

Pippin’s fingers skillfully worked the buttons down the back of Diamond’s dress. His fingers, once more playing down the skin of her bare back, again elicited a shudder from her. Her frock fell about her ankles like a scarlet puddle, and Pippin took in a hissing breath at her beauty. In only the light of the moon shining through the window, she looked like a creature from a fairy tale. She took his hand and led him to their bed and…

Estella twined her fingers in Merry’s hair as she kissed him. She loved the way his mouth tasted of Old Toby and fine wine. Now he pinned her with his wonderfully large blue eyes, wearing the little knowing grin that made her want to slap him and kiss him all at once. Her hand rested on his chest and her fingers, cool and soft, drifted in slow circles, lower and lower…

Sam and Rosie lay like spoons in a drawer. They were both glowing. Rosie knew that in but a few moments, her Sam would be ready to love her yet again, but for this moment, he lay quietly with his hand on her belly, where a new baby was only just now growing. Sure enough, she soon felt him kiss the back of her neck, then move on to her ear, the place he knew was one of her "tender spots" as he liked to put it. A shiver ran through her, and she turned around so they could share a kiss and…

Saro lay with her head on Boromir’s shoulder. He was stroking her cheek with the back of his hand. She had not been sure what to expect in him as a lover, for she had not yet known any man, but she had not counted on his gentleness and patience…and then, to her delight, she found he knew exactly what to do at precisely the right time. She had never known a lover before, indeed, but she was sure that none could have made her feel quite like this. She sighed contentedly, took her dear husband’s—husband’s!—hand and placed one of his fingers between her lips. She began to gently nibble and…

Pippin cuddled Diamond. They were now at that time in their trysts when Pippin would give her the giggles, making little jokes about his abilities as a lover. Not that there was anything to laugh at, not with Peregrin Took. He could be so silly, though, and loved to make her laugh after they had made love. She looked deeply into those brilliant green eyes, eyes that captivated; eyes that struck to the very soul, eyes that one could drown in. She kissed his lips, which was one of his best features in her opinion. There was a long silence in which they only lay looking into each other’s eyes.

“Darling?” she said.

“Yes, my love?”

“Let’s try to have another baby.”

Pippin grinned. He took her in his arms again. “Well,” he said, “If we are to try, then we had better get to work!” He drew her to him, and their kiss deepened, and then…

Merry laughed. Estella, in one of her silly moods, had put on his coat. It was all she had on, and she was jumping on the bed like a little lass. Merry watched all the right places jiggling as she jumped. He reached out and captured her ankle, making her fall on her back. He crawled across the bed to canopy her, and pulled back the lapel of his coat and …

Sam rolled away and fell on his back, gasping. Rosie always left him feeling like this, all deliciously boneless, warm and drifting-like.

The old moon crawled across the sky, and the sun would be up shortly, but in the Great Smials, few noticed. In the Great Smials, couples did not mark the sailing moon, nor measure the dimming of stars, as they were busy painting the night with moons and stars all their own.

Deep in the depths of the Great Smials, a bride and groom lay together. Now spent, they lay quietly, drunk on the love they found in each other’s eyes, unknowing that even as they lay there, a seed in Saro’s belly had begun to grow.

The morning stole up on the couples like a thief, and the Sun must have puzzled her head at them, as they all slept half the day away, for she did not know they were all tired, now. After all, it had been, for all of them, a beautiful night for a Dance.