Four Mornings in Winter

December 1417

When she reached Bag End, her toes and fingers were stiff and numb. Before she could knock, the door opened and warmth and light streamed out like an unexpected embrace.

“Stars, my chestnut, you must be frozen to death!”

He pulled her inside and held her, his mouth a tender welcome on her lips. He wore the new shirt (as she had hoped), and the upper buttons were open. He took her hands, pressed them under the fabric on his chest and smiled at her contented sigh when she felt his warmth fill her and circle in her blood.