Author's note: "Well, I'm back." I cannot believe how long it's been! More than a year! I'm so sorry! Well, here's the next bit, and I hope y'all like it!

Disclaimer: Same as previous chapters.

Chapter Eight: Absence of All Kinds

Bilbo was an orderly hobbit by nature, so as soon as his love for Glory made itself known, his daily schedule began reorganizing itself so that he was strolling past the market as she did her shopping, attending any party that she had even a chance of being invited to, and ordering his unsuspecting gardener to spend a quite excessive amount of time cultivating morning glory vines on the Bag End fence. Despite this unnatural amount of effort spent trying to see her and give tribute to her through his plants, he spent much less time actually speaking to her than he had before. Though he loved her for how easy she was to talk to and how eagerly she smiled at him as he spoke, his newfound concern about her impressions of him bred horribly nervous behavior every time she came near him.

Not the least of his troubles in speaking to her was how he would find himself distracted by the minute details of her physical appearance. The ruddy tint that the sun cast on her long, fair eyelashes could fascinate him for a full minute. When he sat down to write his letters or journal, his pen seemed to move of its own accord and use up all its ink on sketches of a small hobbit lass swinging on a gate, the same girl wailing mournfully as she tumbled off a bridge, and, most of all, Glory as a woman in her pink coming-of-age dress. Tangled curls, wistful eyes, dainty hands, flying skirts scattered themselves across his pages. When he managed to begin a journal entry, it disintegrated into love sonnets. When he wrote letters, the spelling, grammar, and organization of thoughts were atrocious. The sturdy, mildly pleasurable life he had built began to bore him, and he passed through it in a haze of daydreams.

The reason for this new attitude was unknown to Glory, so she became increasingly glum about her already small chance of having Bilbo return her feelings, or at least so she thought. Bilbo's sudden shyness was an obstacle that kept them from even having the ordinary conversations that she so looked forward to. This went on for nearly two years, and she honestly began to feel that she had nothing to look forward to. She felt that Bilbo was growing more distant, and she only kept her hope alive by reminding herself that he didn't seem to be interested in anyone else so far. This "hope by default" line of reasoning only provided a minimal amount of encouragement. Just when she thought she couldn't take it anymore, two very important things happened.

The first was the cause of the second, really. One event was heart-achingly sad, the other surprisingly wonderful, and both left their mark on the still-impressionable hobbit who set her heart so stubbornly on those she loved.

The sad event was the move of Dora Baggins' family from Hobbiton to a further settlement. Glory had come to rely on Dora for good advice, a willing listener, and keeper of her secret about Bilbo. The idea of their communication being reduced from daily companionship to letters and perhaps the occasional visit was a cruel one to both of them. Dora knew how miserable Glory had been, and the idea of leaving her without the support she had grown accustomed to drove the loyal Baggins to distraction. Just as she had lied to Bilbo about her "happiness" regarding his relationship with Amaryllis all those years ago, Glory affected a carefree, almost cheerful manner to ease Dora's remorse. Dora, however, was wise for her age and knew Glory well, and would scold her roundly when she sensed that her friend was pretending contentment for her sake.

Dora's branch of the Baggins family had a farewell party the night before their departure. As at all hobbit parties, much merriment ensued, and Glory had fun when she forgot the occasion they were celebrating. At the coaxing of the rather tipsy guests, she and Dora even sang a very silly love ballad they had composed in their early tween years, which contained the verse:

He gave her some flowers, a hat, and a fan!

They walked down the lane and he held onto her hand!

He gave her a ring and said "Please be my wife!"

And they lived together for the rest of their liiiiife!

The other verses were more of the same, though perhaps even more ridiculous, and the girls accompanied the singing with an energetic dance that seemed to have been cobbled together from a waltz, a polka, and a plain jig. They were laughing and embarrassed by the time they finished, but the others cheered good-naturedly.

Bilbo chuckled at the antics, but nursed an uncomfortably wistful feeling in his heart. She's still young, and she's happy. She never even thinks of me, most likely. I wish I was used to living without hope by now.

Quite contrary to his gloomy thoughts, Glory was glancing his way, full of concern that he would think her behavior childish or foolish. Now that she was past her coming-of-age, the difference in their ages didn't seem so great, but she still sometimes saw him the way she had when she was a child, as someone far ahead of her who could look back with scorn on how she would never quite catch up.

She saw that his eyes looked sad and wished there was something she could do. But surely nothing I do matters much to him either way.

Finally, the party staggered to an end as guests gave the soon-departing Baggins' their regard and made their way home. Glory was one of the last to leave, staying long after her family had gone, and she gave Dora a long hug even though she was going to see her off the next day.

Bilbo had fallen asleep in a chair near the edge of the festivity, and woke up just as Glory was departing. In his sleepy state, he forgot to be cautious, and he hopped up and called out. "Are you going, Glory?" Wait for me! his addled mind added. Take me with you… marry me! He almost chuckled aloud at his heart's internal foolishness.

"Oh, yes, I think so," Glory answered, startled by his sudden awakening and gratified that he had at least noticed that she was about to leave.

He looked around and saw how black the night was outside of the circle of light provided by the lanterns in the Party Field. "You shouldn't go all alone at this hour!" he exclaimed. The Shire was a safe place, of course, but Bilbo's mind suddenly began spinning out images of Glory getting attacked by a some wandering beast in the woods, or falling off the bridge and drowning, or just getting frightened in the smothering dark…

"Oh?" Glory responded, not daring to hope that he would actually walk with her.

"Yes, can't I see you home, please?" Bilbo blurted out hastily, then quickly felt silly. He was fully awake now, and beginning to regret his half-asleep candor.

"Oh, why, certainly! If it's not too much trouble," Glory answered, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Good," Bilbo said curtly, hoping he could manage to make small talk without suffocating from nerves or confessing anything he shouldn't.

With a final wave to Dora, they were off. They walked in silence for a while, then relieved a little of the tension by talking about the cursory details of the party. From there, they moved on to the health and wellbeing of their respective families, and this conversation disintegrated comfortably into local gossip. They both walked uncommonly slow, wishing to stay together for the longest time possible and hoping that the other wouldn't notice.

The conversation had slowed down by the time they reached the bridge, but they both felt much more at ease than they had at the beginning of the walk. But just as this relaxation set in, Glory did something that surprised herself and her companion very much.

She was feeling almost cheerful, glancing over at Bilbo as they walked and going into small silent raptures over how distinguished he looked in the moonlight. As she always did when such a fortunate event occurred, she began planning in her mind just how she could describe it to Dora to present it in the best effect. In the midst of this planning, she realized that she would only see Dora for a few rushed minutes the next day, and after that she would be confined to writing letters, which were so dreadfully slow, and perhaps could even be read by someone, making it very unwise to tell much in them. The precise ramifications of her friend's move hadn't really affected her until now, and this new agony on top of her already gloomy worldview hit her like a sudden stab of pain. She felt tears building up in her eyes, and she hastily blinked and began rubbing her lids. Against her will, a little choking sound escaped her tight-clamped lips.

Bilbo looked over and saw her pinched expression. "Glory, dear, are you all right?" he cried, the endearment escaping his lips before he had time to consider his words.

She nodded, afraid to speak, and Bilbo's alarm rose. He hadn't seen Glory cry since she fell into the river all those years ago. And though no tears had quite overflowed yet, Bilbo was sure that she was crying, or at least on the verge of it.

"Don't cry, I can't bear it, you're always so happy!" he babbled on.

Always happy? If I'm ever happy or sad, it's because of you! Glory thought, and the dam she had constructed burst. Tears flowed down her face and she began sniffling disconsolately. Embarrassed, she turned away from Bilbo and covered her face with her hands.

The respectable Baggins began sputtering sympathetically, wondering what on earth he could do, if anything. His skills at comforting crying females had not much improved since the last time he saw Glory weep.

"What shall I do?" he worried out loud, gathering up enough courage to pat Glory's shoulder. I'll do anything you ask, sweet Glory.

Glory didn't answer, just tried to gulp down her sobs and slow her gasping breath. Bilbo took a step closer to her, awkwardly moving his hand off her shoulder after realizing how ineffectual that manner of comfort seemed to be.

He stood hapless for a few more moments, then began stroking her hair, telling himself that it was just to soothe her, but knowing all the time that he was really just seizing the opportune moment to achieve something that he'd been longing to do. Her sobs were slowing down; perhaps they'd stop soon. Even as he wanted to stop her pain, he wished he could stay near her like this.

Glory spun around suddenly. She had calmed her tears, was planning to laugh it off and insist she was fine and walk home as hastily as possible, but she froze when she saw Bilbo just a few inches away. I wish you could say so close to me, she thought, unconsciously echoing her companion's thoughts.

Then before she had time to even compose her expression, his arms were around her and her face was nestled against his jacket. Her tears began all over again, for when happiness comes too suddenly, it stings just like sorrow.

She was afraid that he would think that he had caused the tears (which he had, after all), and let go, thinking that he had offended her. But Bilbo held her stubbornly, unwilling to release the sudden joy he had found and so engulfed in something like relief that he didn't even notice her discomposure. And Glory pressed even closer to him, not knowing or caring what his actions meant, only thinking of how strange it was that he could break her heart and mend it, all in a few moments time.

A/N: Well? What do you think? Keep in mind, this DOESN'T mean that they know each other's feelings. More complications shall ensue, I promise! But isn't this SWEET? Please review, I'm so sorry that this took so long!