Only Get Through by Zdenka  

Azalea breathed a sigh of relief at seeing the door to her hobbit-hole come in view. The now-empty basket on her arm had been full of food for her nieces and nephews; sharing food was forbidden these days, but what the Shirrifs didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. So far Azalea had avoided the Shirrifs by a combination of quietly sneaking around them, boldly walking past with an air of Great Respectability, and, when those methods failed, pretending to be a doddering old lady—but it was good to get home again and stop looking over her shoulder. She closed the gate behind her and hurried through the garden, eager to tell Lily all the news from their family.

The round, violet-painted door was hanging crookedly on broken hinges. Azalea gasped and ran inside, so agitated that she dropped her shawl, hat, and basket in a heap in the floor instead of hanging them up. “Lily? Lily! Are you all right?”

After a moment, Lily’s voice sounded from the pantry. “I’m in here, Lea.”

Azalea hurried to her side. Their tidy pantry looked as if a whirlwind had swept through it; jars and bottles had been pushed onto the floor, spilling their contents, and a jar of Lily’s prized peach preserves was smashed in a corner. Lily was kneeling in the midst of the mess, working on cleaning it up.

“Oh goodness me!” Azalea said in distress. She threw her arms around Lily and held her tightly. “What happened here? Are you hurt at all?”

Lily looked as if she had been crying, but she sniffled and managed a smile. “I’m not hurt. Some of the Big Men came here, Gatherers from the Chief. When I didn’t open the door quickly enough, they kicked it open. They stole half of what was in the root cellar, and then they rummaged the pantry and took whatever they liked.”

Azalea held Lily for a moment in silence, her cheek resting against Lily’s grey curls. “We’ll manage with what’s left,” she said, making her tone come out cheerful. “We always do.” Indeed, ever since the two of them had caused a minor scandal in their youth by moving in together instead of accepting the suit of some respectable neighbor’s son, they had always found some way through, in good times and bad. And this was their dear snug hobbit-hole; Azalea would not let some Big Men with clumsy feet make them feel unwelcome in it. She looked to where the door was hanging askew. “Tomorrow, we can ask Myrtle’s Davy to fix the door. Let me help you clean up; it will go faster with two of us.”

Lily leaned gratefully into her embrace. “I’m only glad you’re back,” she said. “Everything seems more bearable now that you’re here! Did the Shirrifs give you any trouble?”

“None to speak of,” Azalea said. “Who would think that a respectable old hobbit-lady could be up to any mischief? They stopped me and questioned me once, and I said I forgot what time the curfew was and pretended I’d gotten things mixed up, and they let me go. Their heart wasn’t really in it.”

Lily sighed. “What times these are! When they don’t want a hobbit to share food with her own family and her neighbors.”

Azalea got up and fetched a broom to sweep up the broken glass. “Unpleasant times indeed,” she said. “But we only have to get through it; sooner or later, everything will be put to rights. Tell me, what shall we have for supper once the Chief and his Gatherers are gone?”

Lily managed a smile, and some of the worried lines eased from her face. It was one of their favorite games, to plan out all the good things they would eat and the pleasant things they would do once the Chief was no longer in charge. “A beef roast,” she answered at once. “The outside rubbed with rosemary, and with slivers of garlic stuck into it.”

“The very thing!” Azalea approved. “And blueberry lemon tarts for dessert. Myrtle will give us some lemons from her lemon tree if we share the tarts with her afterwards.”

“And that soup with mushrooms and tomatoes . . .” Lily added enthusiastically. Somehow, the work seemed to go much faster when there were nice things to talk about. When the pantry was restored to its usual neatness—though barer than it had been, alas—Lily made some tea, and they both sat down at the table to drink it.

“Now,” Lily said, “tell me all the news from our family! Is Mira walking yet?”

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