Work Text:
Rose Cotton shook her head in dismay. What had Mayor Whitfoot been thinking to sit Frodo next to his awful Aunt Lobelia at the Winter Feast? Rose managed a trade with the owner of the seat opposite them. She sat and thrilled to the way Mr. Frodo lit up. “Rosie! How are you?”
“Lovely.”
“As always,” he answered and Rosie blushed as Mrs. Lobelia looked ill. Under cover of the heavily decorated table, Rosie slid her foot across and gave him a friendly tap on his toes. They chatted and Rosie felt an answering stroke of his foot across hers. She boldly caressed him again, loving the sensation. She decided to be even bolder, later. The sight of him with his handsome head thrown back, his skin gleaming, as he drove into her, merciless, would be wonderful. A Winter Feast indeed.
“Frodo!” Mayor Whitfoot bustled up. “Come help with the roast pig!” Obediently, Frodo got up and followed Whitfoot to the kitchen.
Rosie was horrified. Mr. Frodo was walking away but there was still a foot under her own! If it didn’t belong to Mr. Frodo then who…?!
Rosie peeked under the table.
LOBELIA!
Forever afterwards Rosie claimed it was a mouse that had made her scream.
End