[Nurumaiel]

Posco's mouth fell open and he pushed himself away from Lily as far as he could, which was not far, for his chair confined him. Every ounce of shyness that she had dispelled over the past few days swelled up in him again, and he could not speak for it. No words came to his lips, only the fear that she was speaking too loudly and would be overheard, only the thought that she was frightening and imposing and so much of a stranger. Where was his gentle Lily, the one he had loved, the one who had born with him patiently through all his difficulties in speech when other girls would just walk away laughing? Unless they became angry with him, as Lily was now. This could not be Lily, this lass. Lily had always smiled encouragingly at him when his shyness and sometimes his honesty confused and entangled him, and now she was angry. He could not think of what to say to her, anymore than he could think of what to say to the Elf that was dining at the other table.

He reached up and pulled the brim of his cap down so his eyes were hid, and he studied the floor intently. 'Please, Miss Lily,' he said, and then he was lost. Please what? What was he to say to her? What did he want her to do? Calm herself? That would be foolish to ask. And he'd have to admit that she had made him frightened and shy, and she would be even angrier. He glanced up at her again, and her eyes were smouldering. There, all hopes were gone! He had returned to the Inn in hopes that she was not angry with him, and she had smiled at him kindly and spoken to him warmly. All deceiving him! She was angry at him. This could be nothing but anger.

He stood, abruptly, and his cap fell from his head. He grasped it as it tumbled to the ground, and he fumbled with it confusedly, looking everywhere but at her. His eyes fell on the table; he saw their breakfast had been served. 'Please, Miss Lily,' he said again, and this time he had a request to make of her, 'sit here and eat your breakfast. I must go outdoors and get some fresh air.' Now her eyes would be even angrier, certainly. She would hate him, surely. He did not look at her as he fled from the Common Room.

Outside the door he stood taking deep, shaking breaths. In the space of a few moments his own dear Lily, smiling and kind, had changed into a girl filled with anger, demanding for an explanation. Had he not promised to give her one? He could hardly speak now. And come to think of it, he could hardly breathe now. He put his hand on his chest and then immediately to his eyes, for to his annoyance he found them hot and stinging. Why was he so compelled to cry? She had not frightened him so very badly. No, she had not frightened him very badly, but she had scared all hope away. She was angry with him. She did not love him. He had feared as much. The moonlight had been playing tricks with her, and by it she had been compelled to confess love for him.

The tree that she had climbed the previous evening was not far; he staggered towards it as if he was drunk, rubbing frantically at his eyes with one hand and clutching his heaving chest with the other. It was so difficult to breathe! He felt as though someone had planted their fist in his stomach and knocked the air out of him. He must calm himself, or he would have no hope of either breathing or resisting his urge to weep. He climbed to a high branch in the tree, pressing himself against the trunk so he would have support, and also so he would be better shrouded by the green leaves.

So this was it! He had sacrificed his sanity by staying with Aunt Malva, and sacrificed his peace of mind by letting Blanco go off without him, and all to find that Lily was angry with him. Not only angry with him, but so angry as to speak in hot tones and act as though she cared nothing for him. Truly she did not. She could not. If she cared for him she would not shout at him so when she knew he was a timid sort of fellow.

A timid sort of fellow! Bitterness sprang into his heart. Well, it was no surprise she did not care for him, when he was so meek and shy. Didn't the lassies like to have strong hobbits who they could depend on a bit more? 'No doubt,' said Posco to himself, 'Lily would have preferred it if, when she had been shouting at me, I had stood imposingly over her with a stern, angry look in my eye, and then fallen upon her with passionate kisses, exclaiming on how beautiful she was when she was angry. Well, I don't do that, and the hobbits I've seen that have are fools who break the lass's heart the next day.' He swiped furiously at his eyes. The tears were leaving, and he could breathe steadier now.

'What would she want in a husband?' he demanded to himself. 'If she wants a hobbit who would love her in a quiet manner, one who will work to provide for her and her children, one who will defend the home with courage and strength if it is in danger, then she has me. If she wants a hobbit who would loudly proclaim his love for her through song and poem and passionate embraces, one who would care more for society and parties than the prospect of raising children, and one who would be rich enough to hire hobbit guards to defend the home rather than himself, well then! she can go home and search for such a hobbit, but she won't have him in me. If she wanted such a hobbit I would not marry her no matter how much she pleaded, for I would make her uncommonly unhappy.'

He paused, and reflected upon her angry manner and flashing eyes of only a few moments ago. 'She can't abide my trouble with talking,' he said, but this time directing his speech not to himself but to a little bird who had perched on the branch and was gazing at him with an inquisitive, rather nervous eye. 'I say things honestly, but I never can express them right for I'm not one for talking, and it always makes folk upset. If it upsets her, too, she might as well forget her little idea about marrying me, for I would be constantly offending and hurting her, without the least intention of doing so.'

His head fell wearily against the tree and his hands dropped, startling the little bird. He watched it flying away, and he sighed. 'My one hope of ever being happily married was that I would meet a girl who was gentle and quiet, but fun-loving too; a girl who would not speak very loudly because it startles me; a girl who would be patient enough to bear with my shyness and awkwardness; a girl who would encourage me with smiles and kindly looks. Lily seemed to be all of this, and I loved her. Now she is loud and angry, and impatient with me. But, confound it all!' he burst out passionately. 'I love her still!' And he looked miserably up at the sky.