Disclaimer - I do not own LOTR, I just obsess about it all day.

Awhile back, I wrote two ficlets called “The Trouble with Lasses” and “The Trouble with Lads” as part of the “Of Merry and Pippin” series. Both stories centered around a single day and event (Merry and Estella’s first kiss) and was told from three different POVs: Pippin, Merry and Estella.

There was a fourth Hobbit involved in the events that took place that day, and she was in fact the one responsible for nearly everything that happened. That Hobbit would be Pervinca Took. However, I did not write her POV at the time as I felt the scene had been played to its fullest.

For her birthday, Dreamflower requested a follow up to those stories, from the “mastermind’s” POV. The plot bunny bit me hard and was unrelenting. This story is the result.

This story takes place many years after the original stories, at the Great Smials in Rethe 1418 SR. Pippin is about to turn 28, Pervinca and Estella are 32, Merry is 35, and Everard is 38 (or 18, 21, 23, and 24 in Man years).

Herein follows "The Trouble With Love: Observations and Musings by Pervinca Took." 
 
 
 
 
GF 7/26/05

The Trouble With Love: Observations and Musings by Pervinca Took

“You must know your enemy if you are to conquer them.” ~ Pervinca Took
  

Lesson 1: Know Your Opponent

Pippin is a horrible pupil. Case in point: Da’s just finished telling him for the fifth time what the three most important parts of being Thain are, and what is Pippin’s response when Da asks him to repeat it? “First breakfast, luncheon and dinner?”

No, Pip, that’s quite incorrect. I can nearly see Da knuckling his temples for his headache, and his sigh of frustration is audible even through the closed study door that I have my ear pressed up against. I am not allowed to join the sessions myself but I find them fascinating, and honestly, someone needs to learn this information and it isn’t going to be Pippin.

“No, Pippin, that is quite incorrect,” Da says now. I stifle my snicker so as not to be heard eavesdropping and mouth along with Da as he instructs Pippin again. “The first most important thing is to be fair: listen to all sides of a conflict without bias and determine the best course of action that will benefit the most and hurt the least. The second most important is to be firm: once you’ve made your decision, there is no changing it, so you must make your choice with wisdom. The third most important is honor: you give it to those under your care and they will give it back; you cannot get what you do not give.”

I hear papers shuffling now and know the lesson is coming to an end. There’s a dull thwack – a book closing? – then Da says, “I want you to write an essay on each of these three things. All essays are to be at least a page long, and do not attempt to write big and cover the page that way. If you do, you shall have to redo them and I will set a word count.”

“But Da,” Pippin starts to complain. He absolutely abhors writing assignments.

“No Peregrin, that is your assignment. You must learn this, as you are going to Thain one day,” Da says with finality, and for once Pippin keeps his mouth shut about not wanting to be Thain.

With no impending argument to look forward to, I stand up and brush off my skirts. I will have to be elsewhere when this door opens or I’ll get assignments from Da next, and not nearly as pleasant as Pippin’s. Besides, Estella should be back soon from her shopping with her mother, and I want to invite her to sit with us at dinner. She’ll accept of course, and I will refrain from mentioning that Merry Brandybuck arrives today and will also be dining with us.  

Dinner goes about as good as I expect, which is to say, not very well. I do manage to sit Estella and Merry next to each other, but they avoid each other the whole time, acting as though they are eating on opposite ends of the dining hall. It is frustrating to no end.

Ever since that day by the river nearly eight years ago, Merry has been avoiding Estella like the plague. I try to tell Ella that this is a good thing, that it means nothing. One thing you have to remember when dealing with lads like Merry is that whatever they say and do, they really mean the opposite. Therefore, if he is avoiding her, it’s only because he wants to lavish attention on her but doesn’t know how. That’s another thing you have to understand about lads: with them, it’s everything or nothing. If they can’t do something exactly as they want to, then they don’t do it at all.

I’ve seen Merry perk his ears up enough times over the years whenever I just happen to mention Estella in his presence to know that he has an interest in her, but I can’t blame the lass for getting tired of waiting. She’ll be of age this year and she has her future to think about after all, though we both had assumed after their kiss that future would be with Merry, but Merry continued to ignore her.

I must say Merry has lost my respect for him by being such a boob all these years, but he is still a hundred times better than Gordibrand Burrows. He’s more mature for starters, though you would have to catch him without Pippin around to figure that out. He’s also better looking, though his nose does rather bother me and the cleft in his chin doesn’t do much to balance that out. Plus, Estella actually likes him, unlike Gordi whom she only tolerates for her parents’ sake.

I can’t help but feel sorry for her. She’s sitting right next to the lad who will make her happiest, yet if her and Gordi’s parents have their way and if Merry doesn’t speak up soon, she’ll be wedded to Gordi by the end of the year. I heard it from Rosamunda directly that Gordi is to arrive by the end of this week while Estella is here and ask her to be promised. Why he will be doing such a thing here I cannot begin to fathom, but one thing is certain: unless I act quickly, there will be no reason for Ella to deny him.

So, where did it all go wrong in the first place? Hindsight truly does make us wiser, as Mum is always saying, and after many countless hours reflecting on the past eight years, I believe I’ve figured it out.

It pains me to admit that Estella isn’t entirely blameless in this, and if Merry didn’t act, it was for good reason. You see, she thinks Merry should have come to her immediately after the kiss and declared his feelings for her, but that was never going to happen, for several reasons.

First, the poor lad was completely taken by surprise, which doesn’t happen to him very often. This alone would have resulted in two things happening: Merry’s fragile ego being wounded and therefore needing to be mended, and Merry having to view Estella in a manner of which he had never considered before.

Prior to that day by the river, Estella had been the tom-lad friend and later the annoying lass tag-along. Suddenly, she was neither and was instead a blossoming young lass, ready and willing to declare herself to the lad of her choice. It only makes sense that Merry would have needed time to adjust to this idea. The problem is that he took too long, which leads us to the second complication.

Estella became paranoid. She isn’t the kind of lass that usually makes the first move. She’s as prim and proper as any lass is supposed be – though largely due to her mother’s influence rather than to her own personal inclinations – and she would have happily waited until Merry made the first move no matter how long that took. Merry however, being completely clueless about all things related to love, never showed any inclination to do any such thing. So I suggested that she kiss him. She went along with the ploy, but afterward, when things still didn’t look any better, she became absolutely appalled at her “forward” behavior – she even once proclaimed her mother right about such “coquettes” who push themselves on lads! – and began to believe that Merry must be appalled as well.

Her solution: she started avoiding him. This undoubtedly confused Merry even more, as he wouldn’t be certain if Estella had only been playing him for a fool or if she truly did have feelings for him. So, naturally, he started avoiding her even more than he was already doing, which of course caused Estella to fret more and, well, it got quite out of hand to say the least.

From there, it only got worse. There is a third complication now and that would be Gordi. Three years had passed since their kiss, and Estella became so discouraged of ever gaining Merry’s affection that she allowed her parents to talk her into courting Gordi. That quite naturally put a bramble into any possibility of Merry ever declaring himself, and so he ignored her all the more, even going so far as to court the Hobbiton healer for a time. Unfortunately, this only solidified Estella in the belief that Merry preferred proper lasses, for who is more proper than a healer? Never mind that the healer is now married to someone else.

So now here we are, eight years later and a week from Gordi’s proposal and time is coming short.

Dinner ends and I convince Ella to return to the apartment with me to stay the night. I know that Merry will do the same, staying with Pippin even though Merry came of age nearly three years ago and really is too old for such things. I can’t complain however. I need to get the two of them together, and I need to get Ella talking about Gordi’s intentions so I can gauge Merry’s reaction. If all goes as planned, I will know by the end of the night how Merry truly feels.  

I am forever telling Estella how incorrigible my brother is and how he and Merry make a perfect match. “Joined at the hips.” “Peas in a pod.” Like anyone needs to be told this. One look at them and it’s obvious how much they adore each other. After all, each of them is absolutely in love with himself and with the two of them being so similar, that adoration is bound to rub off on the other.

Oh, sure, they’ve had their fights and thrown their share of punches as lads will do at times, but at the end of the day, they can always be found snuggled close together in front of the hearth fire, talking in that strange way of theirs that requires looks and gestures more than actual words. I’ve seen it time and again and have become quite adept at translating their babble, though neither of them know it.

This is why I convince Estella to come sit with me in the parlor so I can braid her hair in the firelight. She’s hesitant at first, but she can never resist for long the temptation to look at Merry, so she agrees in the end and follows me into the parlor. The lads are right where I knew they would be and they’re in the midst of one of their unintelligible conversations.

Now you would think coming of age would prevent Merry from being so easily influenced by Pippin’s still far-too-childish ways. I’ve seen Merry when the imp isn’t around and I know he has more sense than this, to be sprawled out on the floor and speaking so that no one (well, almost no one) can understand him. But there’s something about Pippin that makes Merry forget himself sometimes, and he has forgotten himself tonight, so much so that he doesn’t even at least sit up like a respectable lad when Ella and I enter the room.

Oh, but he does look at her, a quick and fleeting glance that I only catch because I am watching him like a hawk. Estella misses it of course and sits on the footstool as I take position behind her and slowly run the comb through her thick, unruly trusses. I must always take my time with her hair, which is nearly as incorrigible as Merry himself, and this suits me just fine. This is after all a delicate situation and is not to be rushed.

I pretend to concentrate on my braiding, a task I could easily do in my sleep, and secretly watch my brother and cousin as they reminiscence in what I like to call “The Secret Language of Scamps.”

“Remember that time when we,” Pippin says and starts laughing so hard he can barely breathe. He lifts his hand in the air like he’s grabbing something and mimics holding something down that is trying to get away.

Now Merry starts laughing uncontrollably and nodding enthusiastically. He needs no more than that to know exactly what Pippin is talking about. “Yes! Frodo nearly passed out!”

Ah, so they’re talking about Pippin’s birthday a few years back, when he had gifted Frodo with a pet bullfinch. Frodo had naturally assumed the bird was tame, rather than captured just that morning, and when he went to open the cage and feed the poor thing, he had been attacked and nearly pecked to death by the angry little bird.

“And then he got that” – another hand gesture – “and he” – more laughter. Now they are both clutching their sides and gasping for breath, tears standing in their tightly shut eyes.

Yes, I remember now. Frodo had grabbed what he thought was a blanket in an attempt to catch the bird inside it and take the thing outside to release it. What he had actually grabbed was our mother’s dressing robe as she came rushing into the parlor to find out what the commotion was. He had yanked the robe straight off her and she had gone spinning into the settee. She still had her nightgown on, thank the stars, but Frodo’s look of horror and my mother’s look of scandal are still clearly etched into all of our minds.

I do my best not to laugh and make it seem as though I am smiling at their silliness rather than their story.

I catch Estella peeking at them, and I know she must be wondering what they are going on about, possibly even feeling a bit left out. I cluck my tongue softly at her and she drops her gaze back to the needlepoint she has brought with her. If Merry sees her watching him, this won’t work. He’s almost as sharp as I am and he’ll know right off what Estella’s watching him will mean, for all that he lacks the courage to do anything about it. No, he mustn’t catch her pining for him tonight.

“What about when Everard and Ferdi and Fatty…” Pippin snorts now.

“By the pond?” Merry asks through his snickers, for a moment uncertain.

“In the barn,” Pippin corrects and pantomimes something crashing and then shattering into several pieces.

They double over with laughter again and for the next several minutes, the only words they utter are “Yes! Yes!” “Then he-” “Up in the-” “With the, what was it?” “Yes, that!” Their hands wave about, saying what their incessant laughter won’t allow them to.

Hm, they must be speaking of the time the older lads of the Smials took it upon themselves to milk the cows, though they hadn’t the slightest clue how to go about it. That would have been Fatty’s idea no doubt. Estella’s brother was simply unable to wait for the farmers to arrive and see to the cows so he could have a glass of fresh milk. All five lads had wound up with hoof prints on their backsides for that one, though they conveniently forget that part whenever they retell the tale.

Everard actually could have stopped that one from what I was able to gather at the time, but he naturally went along, being as fond of mischief and idiocy as the rest of them, for all that he was the oldest. I suppose some lads are just incapable of growing up.

I finish brushing out Ella’s hair and start to braid it, taking great care to ensure that every single strand lays just so before reaching for the brush and combing her hair again. On the stool, Estella sighs into her needlework as Merry and Pippin explode into laughter again. She squints at her work in the dim light, but I know it is so she won’t give in to the temptation to pout with frustration.

I know she can’t help but feel bitter. Back when she and Merry were still friends, they used to have a language of their own. Nothing as extensive as what Merry and Pippin have now, but they could still look at each other and know who would keep watch, or who would climb the tree or dive into the river.

Now she feels that their language is stilted, as good as dead. At best, she feels as though Merry ignores her out of spite, for being so forward with him. At worst, she thinks he’s managed to convince himself that she no longer exists. On the few occasions when they do have to interact, they speak over each other out of nervousness and never meet each other’s gaze, and then they are running away in opposite directions as quickly as their legs will carry them. Without a doubt, losing his friendship has been hardest for her.

“That wasn’t me!” Merry exclaims now. “That was-” And he indicates someone’s height and girth, his curly hair and the way he walks.

Pippin sputters and nods. “That’s right! That’s right!”

Well, I know they’re talking about Doderic Brandybuck, but I lost track as to why.

Ella sighs again and this draws Merry’s gaze to her. Ah, there it is! He’s watching her intently, though he continues to nod along with Pippin. He’s taking his fill of her while she isn’t looking, unable to look away himself.

It’s unfortunate that Estella can never catch him at this, but he is too quick and is always looking the other way and acting perfectly natural by the time she looks up. She has convinced herself that she has lost him, that she had moved too quickly and been too bold. While I admit that, in retrospect, our little ploy might not have been the best way to go about getting these two together, it did leave Merry Brandybuck hopelessly besotted with Estella. The initial problem, I believe, is that he had somehow come to the idea that he is not strong enough for her, which of course is ridiculous. Besides, if Merry isn’t worthy of her, then Gordi certainly isn’t.

But one fact remains evident for everyone to see: Merry hates Gordibrand Burrows. Well, maybe ‘hate’ is too strong a word, but he certainly doesn’t like the lad and has held nothing but the coldest regard for him since he and Estella first started courting. He even went so far once to yank the poor lad's breeches down his ankles at another of Pippin’s birthday parties. Gordi had been quite upset naturally, but he had failed to take any retaliation.

I wonder if Merry’s heard about the purpose of Gordi’s pending visit or that he’s even coming at all. Their parents are keeping it all very hush-hush until it’s official, until Estella gives her consent, so I’m betting on Merry not knowing, unless he heard it from Fatty. Whether he has or not will not matter for what I am about to do, for while Merry may be a rather forward-looking lad, he still has a tendency to overlook the more obvious implications of things.

I wait until Merry peels his eyes off of Ella before I speak, loud enough to carry over Pippin’s excited chatter.

“Gordi will be here next Sterday then?” I ask Estella as I braid her hair, effectively keeping her from looking back at me. She has no choice but to discipline her features and act natural.

“He is,” she replies. “He should be here by elevenses with his parents.”

Now Merry isn’t even pretending to listen to Pippin anymore. He watches Estella from the corner of his eye and waves his hand ever so slightly at Pip: Be quiet. Pippin drops his talk to a whisper and I can tell by the way he absently fingers the rug and stops kicking his legs in the air that he is no longer saying anything of any importance. Not that Pippin ever says anything of any importance…

“Do you really think he’s going to ask you?” I say, my voice softer now that I no longer need to shout, but loud enough still that Merry and Pippin can hear.

Ella’s silent for a moment, then says, “Ask me what?” Her shoulders are tight but she goes about her needlework, being much more convincing than the lads at acting normal.

“You know,” I say in a secretive whisper. I nudge her on the back ever so slightly with my knee and pull her hair just enough to prick at the roots. She winces a bit but shows no other signs of what I have done and this goes unnoticed by the lads completely.

“I would suppose so,” she replies now. “He’s been speaking of it often enough. Even went so far as to tell me he knows already where we’ll live.”

If you had blinked, you would have missed it. Merry blanched. I knew it wouldn’t take him long to catch on and even Pippin appears to be getting an inkling, if only from seeing how upset Merry has become.

You can always tell when Merry’s upset. He goes white in the face and his eyes squint up ever so slightly. If he’s upset enough, he’ll even clench his fists and dig his nails into the palms of his hands. Usually, he only does this after someone has been foolish enough to insult or hurt Pippin or Frodo in some way, but… ah, there it is. His fingers are curled inward. Not exactly a fist, but close enough.

“And where is the dream home?” I ask. “At Brandy Hall?”

“Oh no,” Estella answers immediately. “No, neither of us would feel very comfortable there, and it wouldn’t do to live too close to my parents either. He was thinking somewhere near Stock, close to the woods but off the lane a bit. That will please Fatty at least. He won’t have to cross the Brandywine to visit us and he’ll have the perfect excuse to drop by The Golden Perch every night of the week.”

“Sounds lovely.”

“The way he tells it, it is.”

“Are you going to tell him ‘yes’ then?”

Estella doesn’t answer right away. She’s thinking of how to phrase it in front of Merry so as not to hurt his feelings too much. Merry holds his breath, waiting on her response as though his life depends on it. Finally, Estella shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s such an important decision. It’s not one to be made hastily.”

“But surely you’ll say yes?” I ask. Ella tilts her head ever so slightly, as much as she can with me still braiding and brushing her hair. She knows what I’m up to and she doesn’t approve, but now that I’ve asked the question she knows she has to answer.

“I suppose. I really have no other choice,” she says at last, and I let that last word hang in the air.

Merry looks down at the rug, gnawing over what Ella has just said. He would have caught Estella’s reluctance and lack of enthusiasm. He would have caught that this was not her ideal choice for her life, that if given another choice, a more favorable one, she would take it in a heartbeat. How now to show him that he is the other choice?

Silence reigns for several minutes. Merry has grown tired of his and Pippin’s earlier discussion and he lays now in quiet contemplation. I cannot begin to guess what is going through his head, though Pippin undoubtedly does.

I smile down at my brother, who is watching Merry intently. It will take some convincing, but I can get Pippin working with me on this. The two of us working together have always been an indomitable force and if I get him concerned enough about Merry’s well being, I can nearly guarantee his help. And if he doesn’t help willingly, there are always my powers of persuasion or, shall I say, blackmail.

I finish Estella’s braid and bend down to peck her on the cheek. “Cheer up, love,” I say. “At least you’ll have the family you always wanted, a lad and a lass. He’s a good enough kisser, you’re always saying, so having a bairn or two from him shouldn’t be too horrible.”

I don’t know whose horrified reaction is more amusing. Ella whips around on the stool, upsetting it entirely, and has to jump up to keep from falling. “Vinca!” she says, scandalized, her face blushing scarlet. “Of all the things to say!”

Behind her, Merry is positively gaping at us, at her, all remaining color now completely drained from his face. Oh, this is something he has never thought of before and now that he is thinking about it, he doesn’t like it at all. Even Pippin understands the implications behind that one, and he catches my eye. He quirks an eyebrow and gives a bemused shake of his head: What are you up to?

I smile innocently. “Look at the time,” I say. “Time for us lasses to be in bed. Good night, lads.”

I pull Estella after me to my room. Neither lad says anything as we disappear behind my door but Estella is near boiling.

“Vinca! What are you about, saying such things, in front of the lads no less!” she hisses.

“In front of Merry.”

Estella crosses her arms. I’ve crossed a line.

“I’m sorry, Ella, but you didn’t see his reaction. He’s so jealous of Gordi right now, he can hardly see straight,” I say.

“And what of it?” Estella asks. “What have your ploys and schemes ever managed to do? He doesn’t think anything of me and if he’s jealous of Gordi it’s only because he hasn’t got a lass of his own yet.”

“But don’t you see? He wants you to be his lass,” I say.

Estella shakes her head and puffs sadly. “No, he doesn’t. He never has and I’m tired, Vinca. I’m tired of waiting for something that’s never going to happen. Gordi is a good lad, and he’s kind enough, and you’re right. It wouldn’t be so horrible; it would even be nice. When he does ask, I’m going to say yes.”  

I wait until Estella is asleep before I sneak out of the room. I intend to listen at Pippin’s door to gather more information, as I’m sure the lads are still awake. I don’t get that far though. I hear a muttering coming from the parlor and tiptoe out there to find them both still sitting before the cold hearth. Pippin has his arm around Merry’s shoulders, and their heads are bent together, their foreheads touching. They are talking so softly I can barely hear their whispers, much less make out what they are saying. One thing is clear at least: Merry is troubled.

I smirk to myself and return to my room. My plan is right on schedule.
 
 
 
 

To be continued…

“Never go into a situation without first knowing the facts. This will sometimes require the services of a secret investigator.” ~ Pervinca Took
 
  

Lesson 2: Good Detective Work is Half the Battle

The trouble with love is that it really does turn you into a fool. Any kind of hobbit sense you were born with goes right out the window as soon as you find yourself fancying that special someone. Rather than putting your energy and time towards important endeavors, you start to pine away the days over completely useless activities, such as remembering the way he looked on a certain day, or the way he says your name or even the way he laughs, a trait you once found annoying but now cannot get enough of. I must say, I don’t understand it at all, how that one realization can change so much.

I suspect, however, that people simply make it harder on themselves than it truly needs to be, if only for the sake of saving grace should the person they’re enamored with not return their feelings, which is also silly. Why anyone would choose to torment themselves with endless questions of “does he?” or “doesn’t he?” is beyond my comprehension, even after all these years of watching Estella and Merry so fabulously deny their feelings for each other.

Well, no more. It’s time I take these two by the hand and show them how simple it really is. However, considering how pigheaded those two can be on this matter, I’ll need an accomplice and I know just the one.

I wait a day or two and let the matter of Gordi’s impending visit stew for a bit. Estella does a fine job of pretending everything is normal, but Merry is decidedly less carefree and jubilant that he usually is.

My many attempts to eavesdrop on him and Pippin have been of little help: they don’t say much to each other even when they think they’re alone. Not that this is particularly odd, but Pippin being so forlorn is, even when considering his typical tween moodiness. Pippin is truly worried about his friend, just as I had figured. He won’t be able to stand watching Merry go on like this for very long.

On the third day of Merry’s visit, I make my move.

Merry likes to bathe early in the day, between first and second breakfasts, so I wait until he leaves the apartment with his washroom parcel before tapping on Pippin’s door. As Merry is usually quick about his baths, I know I’ll only have a few minutes to bring Pippin to my way of thinking.

“Come in,” Pippin says to my knock.

I enter his room, which is quite dangerous territory and a very brave move on my part, for despite Da’s many threats and the chamber maid’s constant efforts, Pippin never seems able to keep his room clean. Nearly always, it looks like a thunder storm just blew through it. Because of this, I am surprised to see that his room is currently quite tidy. I can even see the floor, which most likely hasn’t seen the light of day since last Mid-Year.

“Having Merry doing your cleaning?” I say as I close the door and lean against it.

Pippin is sitting on the floor, looking casual. Far too casual. What is he doing, just sitting there like a normal hobbit? I didn’t even think Pippin was capable of such inert behavior. I quickly glance around the room but don’t see anything amiss, other than its general tidiness that is.

Pippin looks up at me with a frown. “He isn’t. He made me clean up when he got here though. ‘I’m not sleeping on the floor with it looking like this!’ He can be so particular at times. He even made me throw away the plants I had growing on my windowsill.”

“Pip, those plants were dead,” I state.

“They were growing something,” he retaliates.

“Yes, they were growing fungus because you watered them too much after they died,” I point out.

“Is there something that you wanted?” Pippin asks now, tired of small talk and wanting me to leave.

“What are you doing?” I ask instead, delaying the purpose of my visit in an attempt to find out what exactly Pippin is up to.

“I’m sitting in my room. I thought even you could figure that out,” Pippin answers.

“Well yes, but I don’t see why. It’s quite warm out today for so late in the season and I thought you’d be out enjoying it. Or at least, getting ready to enjoy it,” I point out.

“Who says I’m not getting ready?”

“You. Just now. When I asked what you were doing,” I reply.

“What do you want?” Pippin asks now, his frown deepening.

I leave the door and stroll toward him. He glances up at me warily and his shoulders tense. His left hand twitches ever so slightly in his lap; he wants to reach for something. Oh, he is hiding something! What could it be?

I glimpse something under the bed, a bit of parchment. Hiding my smile, I slump against the wall opposite his bed and slide down to sit on the floor. Pippin knows better than to move and give himself away completely, but his frown is a scowl now and he knows I see what’s under the bed: a letter. My curiosity doubles. Pippin doesn’t often receive letters, and he almost never sends them, so it’s very odd that he would have one.

We stare at each other for a while, Pippin holding his breath, waiting. He knows me far too well and that works to my disadvantage at times, but only when I let it.

“Who is that from?” I ask sweetly.

“It’s from Hobbiton,” he says.

“From Frodo?”

No, it’s not. He would have just said as much if that were the case. He itches to reach under the bed and push the letter farther out of sight, but he refrains. It would be pointless to do so now anyway. Instead, he asks again, “What do you want?”

“Is it a lass?” I ask, not relenting. “Is she pretty? I must say, Pippin, you’re taking an interest much sooner than I thought you would. Have you gifted her with anything yet? Let’s think on this. What would you have given the lucky lass? A bottle of her favorite lotion? No, much too intimate. A lace ribbon in her favorite color? No, that’s far too practical. Oh! I know: a jar full of pond weed, and her very own tadpoles.”

Pippin breathes a long-suffering sigh. “Why are you here? Just to torment me?”

“No, that was just an unlooked-for benefit. You didn’t honestly expect me to pass it up, did you?” I ask with a sisterly smile.

“I suppose not,” Pippin says glumly, refusing to perk up. “So what do you want?”

“Fine, fine,” I say, giving in for the moment. “I’m here to talk about Merry.”

“Why?”

“Well, I’m sure you’ve noticed how miserable he seems of late,” I say.

“And I suppose you wouldn’t know anything about that,” Pippin replies, his eyes squinted now and his lips set so thin they’re nearly invisible.

“Don’t get upset with me because he hasn’t found the courage to say anything to Estella after all these years,” I reply back. “If he’s miserable, it’s his own doing.”

“You shouldn’t be so impudent,” Pippin has the gall to chide me. “He has enough to worry about without adding Estella Bolger to his troubles. He was doing quite well with it all until your not-so-subtle hinting that he was about to lose her for good and for all.”

“Oh, really? And what troubles might these be?” I ask, trying to put this puzzle together. Maybe, the letter is Merry’s. Maybe, he has another lass, a secret lass, in Hobbiton, that’s he’s been conversing with through the post. But, he’s in love with Estella, I’m certain of it. Unless, he’s attempting to get back at Estella by giving her some of her own medicine. No, that makes no sense. Why would he keep the lass a secret then? Unless…

“That’s none of your mind,” Pippin answers now, cutting short my thoughts. “If that’s all you wanted…”

“No, it isn’t. I’m quite fond of Merry, though you would never believe that,” I rush to say before Pippin can roll his eyes. “And I’m especially fond of Estella. I want to see her happy, and if she agrees to marry Gordibrand, she won’t be.”

“Then she shouldn’t agree,” Pippin says. Well, at least he can see things as simply as I can. If only some of that would rub off on his friend.

“I agree,” I say with another smile. “I’m sure that you want Merry to be happy as well, and we both know that Estella will give him that.”

“Yes, but…”

“The problem is that Estella has convinced herself that there’s no hope with Merry. We need to show her that there is, then she’ll tell Gordi ‘no’ and Merry ‘yes’ and all will be well,” I say cheerily. “Are you with me?”

“No.”

My jaw drops. I knew he was going to be stubborn about this, not wanting to go behind Merry’s back and all that, but to flat out refuse? To not even consider? “Why not?” I ask, sitting up.

“It’s none of our business,” Pippin says.

“They’re our friends,” I say. “Of course it’s our business!”

“It’s not a good time, Vinca,” Pippin says. “And I have to say, I think Estella would be better off with Gordibrand.”

I positively gape at my brother, unable to believe my ears. How can he be saying this? He can’t honestly be this dense, and I know for a fact that he isn’t, even though he’ll pretend that he is to anyone who doesn’t know better. “Are you ill? How can you say such a thing?” I ask.

“There are things, circumstances,” he says helplessly. He lowers his voice and leans forward. “He’s of age now, you know, and his parents have been after him to take on more responsibilities. He hardly gets a moment’s rest anymore. And…" He pauses, considering his next words carefully, another behavior of which I didn't think Pippin was capable. Finally, he finishes, "Well, if it all turns out as is to be expected, then it really would be for the best for Estella to be with Gordi.”

I narrow my eyes at Pippin now, trying to hear between the words he’s saying. My mind races, trying to piece this all together.

So Merry does have a secret lass. More responsibilities would include settling down, and he has not been courting any lass since the healer, not openly. Perhaps his parents found out about this secret lass and are trying to have Merry declare the relationship openly. As the Master’s son, he would have any number of available lasses approaching him for his favor, taking up valuable time that he can’t spare, unless they knew he was spoken for.

I stand up, seething. “He’s got himself another lass, hasn’t he? He’s gone and given his heart to some coquette when he knows perfectly well it belongs to Estella! She lives in Hobbiton, doesn’t she? I bet it’s that Angelica Baggins. She’s always tagging about after him at parties and whatnot.” I clench my fists. Oh, the next time I see her…

Pippin sighs again and stands up himself. He shakes his head at me and his expression clearly says that he believes I’ve completely lost my senses. “Really, Vinca, your ability to take a simple comment and twist it about into such fantastical stories that would have the whole of the Shire wagging their chins with the gossip is quite impressive and never ceases to amaze me. However, you’re quite incorrect. This has nothing to do with any other lass,” he says calmly and sincerely.

“Then who is that letter from?” I ask.

Now Pippin does roll his eyes. “What does it matter? It has nothing to do with this. Now, if you are finished, you need to leave and put your mind to things more suiting of a lass, like knitting.”

“Knitting?!” I say, insulted.

Then I gather myself together. I’ve quite lost control of the situation, which is unusual for me, and I’m running out of time besides. I must gain the upper hand again.

I look at Pippin, considering him. He is going through an odd time of late, being in his mid-tweens and having to get used to the Thainship looming over his head. Heaven knows he can go from carefree to gloomy in a heartbeat for no clear reason whatsoever. Maybe he’s just going through one of his mood shifts. It’s harder than usual to make him see reason when he’s like this, yet there has to be some way to get through to him.

“Merry and Estella belong together,” I say, calm now myself. “We know it and they know it. If they’re not willing to do anything about it, then we have to. It’s for their own good. Don’t you want to see Merry happy? Aren’t you his friend?”

“I am, but it’s not as simple as all that,” Pippin says, then chews on his bottom lip, trying to figure out how to get rid of me without physically tossing me from the room, I’m sure.

I rush on while he’s too flustered to talk. “Look, you’re going to help, because you know as well as I do that it’s for the best.” I step closer to him and pull myself up to my full height, which isn’t much more than Pippin’s anymore, but I still know how to make it mean something. “You’re going to help, or I’m going to tell Da about your little secret under the bed.”

“You disappoint me, Vinca. Your blackmail is usually better than this,” Pippin says. “What is Da going to do about a letter? Just because I don’t want you seeing it, doesn’t mean I’ll have any problems with him seeing it.”

“True,” I say. “Very well. You’ll help, or I’ll tell Mum it was you who butchered her favorite rose bush.”

“Vinca! You mustn’t! That was an accident!” Pippin says, his face pinched with desperation, no doubt remembering Mum’s wrathful reaction at the sight of her winter roses strewn about the garden path a month ago. She’s still bent on finding the gardener responsible for the destruction.

“I won’t tell if you help.”

“You know I’ll just tell Merry that you’re blackmailing me,” he points out. “He’ll figure it out on his own even if I don’t tell him.”

“That’s also true, but it’s not a worry,” I say. “All you have to do is get Merry to talk about his feelings for Estella, then I’ll get Estella to take a walk with me and we’ll just happen to overhear. We’ll have to do this outside, after dinner, at six o’clock. Take him to the gardens, where Mum’s roses are. Wait about five minutes, then get him talking.”

“I don’t know,” Pippin says, reluctant still but knowing he has no other choice.

“This will work!” I say excitedly. “Merry will tell Estella, without him even knowing about it, and Estella will know how he feels and then Gordi will be out of the portrait. It’s perfect.”

Pippin seems ready to protest some more, but Merry chooses just this moment to come back from his bath. He takes one look at Pippin with his hands tucked into his pockets and at me with my hands clutched together, and quirks his eyebrow at us.

“Am I interrupting something?” he asks.

“Yes, several things,” I say. “Everything, in fact.”

“I do what I can,” Merry says. He goes to the wardrobe and deposits his parcel into his pack, and that's when I spy it: another letter. Merry thinks nothing of tossing this new letter onto the writing table, then he looks up and sees I'm still there. "Is there something else I can help you with?”

“No, that's quite enough for now. Good day, lads,” I say and leave the room, a small uneasy feeling settling into the pit of my stomach. I throw Pippin a quick and pointed glance before closing the door behind me. He nods, ever so slightly, and that’s all I need.

I decide to ignore my misgivings – they’re such bothersome things and very rarely amount to anything - and make my plans instead. I have to figure out how to get Estella to walk out with me after dinner without her meddlesome mother about. It appears I will also need to attempt a peek at those letters, for good measure.

Still, I’m confident that all will go according to plan. I smile to myself and stroll away from the room, humming.  

The plan doesn’t go quite as I expect. It starts with Merry not wanting to go with Pippin out to the garden and continues with Rosamunda insisting that Estella and I join her and my mum at Nell’s to inspect her newly redecorated apartment. There is no getting out of it, so Ella and I follow reluctantly behind our mothers. I only just manage to mouth to Pippin to wait until we return before getting Merry outside. He nods miserably.

Our time spent at my sister’s is not a complete waste however. I do learn through Rosamunda’s constant gossiping that she is much more excited about Gordibrand’s pending visit than anyone, short of Gordi’s mother that is. In fact, Rosamunda is ready to wed poor Estella off right this moment. During their short visit, they’ve already been to nearly every shop in town, planning what to buy for the house and beginning to design the invitations and the wedding dress.

Rosamunda absolutely adores Gordi and has always dreamed her daughter would marry him, being as he’s the son of her lifelong best friend. This is clearly something the two mothers have been planning since they were tweens themselves and as I’ve been able to gather over the years, they have had this agreed upon since Estella and Gordi were barely more than faunts. Once Merry seemed to be out of the portrait, the families had all but thrown Estella and Gordi together, and while Gordi had gone willingly, Ella had not.

I can understand why Ella is hesitant to disappoint her parents; she’s always trying so hard to please them. She will also be crushing Gordi horribly and upsetting his parents, and she risks creating a lot of discontent between the two families if she refuses Gordi for no reason. That’s a lot of weight for her unsteady shoulders, but if she can just know how Merry feels, if Merry just tells her, then none of it will matter. The weight of those expectations will disappear and all that will be left is her joy.

Ella sits on the settee the entire time we are at Nell’s, quietly staring down at her nails or fiddling with the tassels on the pillow she’s clutching in her lap. Her mother doesn’t even notice her daughter’s dour mood, or how Ella forces a chipper smile onto her face every time her mother looks at her.

Ella isn’t doing very well at all, poor thing. The closer it gets to Sterday, the more jumpy and agitated she becomes. She keeps telling herself that she’ll say yes, keeps trying to convince herself that she can be happy with Gordi. I have to admit, they do have a fair bit of fun together, but it’s not in a manner one would expect of a courting couple. They are far too formal with each other, though all the Shire can see that Gordi has nothing but eyes for Ella.

Hm, this is all quite complicated, isn’t it? Yet the solution is still so simple, if only we can get out of here and out to the gardens.

The clock ticks by at a snail’s pace, and by the time our mothers are finally ready to leave Nell and Fendon in peace, I am all but jumping out of my skin. I yank Estella up by the hand, call farewell to Nell, and drag Estella through the tunnels to our apartments.

“Vinca,” she complains. “You’re going to rip my arm off.”

“I have to get away from them. I have to get out of here,” I say and realize this is the perfect excuse to get Estella outside in the gardens. It is not so late that Da will prevent us from going out and by now, Pippin should have figured out a way of convincing Merry to go for a stroll as well.

Only, when we get back to the apartments, all I find is Da snoozing in his armchair. I make the excuse of needing my shawl and head down the hall to my room, listening at Pippin’s door on the way. Silence. Drat that Pippin! Where are they? I open the door a crack just to be sure and the room is completely devoid of my clueless brother and moping cousin. I grit my teeth and grab my shawl and another for Estella, then retrieve her to go outside.

“It’s a bit late for a stroll,” Estella comments as we exit the Smials but she doesn’t protest any further than that. She too needs a bit of fresh air and she finds the gardens distracting enough from her worries. “If only we didn’t have to go back in so soon.”

“I know, Ella,” I sympathize as I scan the gardens with sharp eyes and listen for the slightest hint of whispering or stirring. They had better be out here, but not wanting to ignore my friend, I pause to pat her on the arm and place a supporting arm about her waist. “You’re coming along with it all quite nicely, for all that I know you’re miserable.”

“There just seems no way out of it,” Estella states sadly. “I’ll be happy with Gordi. He really is very sweet and he cares for me. That should be enough, shouldn’t it?”

“It should be, but it isn’t,” I say and start us walking at a leisurely pace. “It’s not enough if you don’t return his favor. Surely he must know by now that you do not feel the same way as he does.”

Ella shrugs. “We haven’t spoken of it much, neither of his feelings nor mine, though his are clear enough to see.” This is another problem with lads. As long as they’re happy, they assume that everyone else around them is as well.

We walk in silence, Ella not being in the mood to talk and myself being preoccupied with trying to spy my brother and cousin. We pass the roses, seeing no one, and turn the bend around the hill. In the distance I see the barn and realize where exactly Pippin has squirreled away with Merry. I steer us in that direction, and Ella is too absorbed in her thoughts to notice or question.

Please, please, let them be in there. If they are not, I shall have to strangle Pippin when he finally turns up from wherever he’s been. Oh, Da and Mum will be upset I’m sure, but once they hear my side of the story, they will have to admit there was no other option.

We are nearly at the north barn wall when we hear them, speaking in unguarded tones around the other side of the barn. Ella pauses and attempts to turn around, but I hold her steady. “Let’s have a bit of fun,” I say in my most devious of whispers, and she sighs. I tip my head toward the voices. “Come on,” I mouth.

She nods, as always falling prey to her need to just be near Merry, whether he’s aware of her presence or not. We sneak up to the north wall and tiptoe around the west side of the barn so there will be no shadows to give us away. We sneak along the wall until we can hear what Merry and Pippin are saying; it is not what I expect it to be.

“-taken all of them with him,” Pippin is saying. He sounds worried.

“He did, that’s why Sam wrote,” Merry says and sighs. A piece of parchment crinkles. “He clearly acquired more from elsewhere: the dwarves no doubt. I should have guessed there was something amiss when he didn’t come to Yule.”

Estella and I quirk our eyebrows at each other, completely forgetting our original purpose for spying. Estella mouths, ‘Sam?’ I shrug and try to remember the name while listening to the conversation.

“You don’t really think it’s anything serious, do you?” Pippin asks.

“Sam’s worried. That’s serious enough for me,” Merry replies.

“But, he wouldn’t really do anything silly or whatnot, would he?” Pippin asks. Whatever they’re talking about, he’s being quite stubborn on accepting it.

“We’ve known for years this was coming. It was ever only a matter time and if he wants any hope of seeing Bilbo again, he’ll have to go soon,” Merry states, not much happier with the situation either. “He’ll be fifty this year, which seems to be their magic number, and all that Sam’s describing is much too familiar: the uneasiness, the wander-lust. All this talk of maps from the Outside is unsettling me.”

Bilbo? Fifty? They must be talking about Frodo then, and suddenly it occurs to me where I’ve heard that name before. Sam would be Frodo’s gardener lad, the one Nell used to tease with her attentions when she was a tween, just to see him blush. And Da calls me merciless. But why would a gardener be writing to Merry and reporting on Frodo’s activities? That hardly seems appropriate, but I am in no position to say anything about it.

“Not much does worry Sam,” Pippin admits with reluctance. “But… Frodo wouldn’t truly leave, would he? What about Bag End and all that? Maybe Sam's just overreacting like he does at times. You know how he can get when it comes to Frodo.”

“We’ll have to visit Frodo soon and see if we can get a word with Sam while we’re at it,” Merry says at length. “We’ll be able to determine more if we can see him for ourselves, and then I can decide on our next step.”

“I don’t know. He can be very close when he wants to be,” Pippin replies.

“From us, yes. From Sam… Well, Sam has his methods, hasn’t he? He’ll help us if there’s a need to. The more I think on this, the more I want to get up there. It won’t hurt matters just to check in. Besides, he’s to be coming for your birthday next week anyway. We’ll just say that we’ve come to collect him and ensure that he doesn’t shirk his familial duties like he did at Yule,” Merry states. Another long pause follows, during which more parchment – the letter – is shuffled about, likely folded up and tucked away for safekeeping. At last Merry says, rather gravely, “We’re still agreed?”

“Yes.”

Agreed? About what? To visit Frodo and bring him here? No, it seems like something more than that, but what?

“Is that why you won’t approach Estella?” Pippin asks now, and Estella stiffens next to me.

Finally! I let out a soft breath and clutch at Estella’s dress sleeve, effectively pinning her to her spot. Well, at least Pippin hasn’t forgotten his word, even if he did forget everything else, the imp.

“Merry?” Pippin asks after a long pause. “I know you’re tired of this and all, but you really should say something to her.”

Estella takes my hand and clutches it tightly, hardly daring to breathe. I hold my breath as well, waiting, hoping for Merry to say the right thing. At last, Estella will have it from Merry’s own mouth. At last, she will know without doubt how he feels.

Merry sighs again. “What good would it do? She’ll likely be married by then.”

“No, I mean, tell her now,” Pippin says. “You should try.”

“I did try once, remember?” Merry says, his voice soft, too soft. I creep up a bit closer, taking Estella with me, our footfalls perfectly silent. “By the time I got my wits about me, Gordi had got there first. He thinks the world of Estella; I will not undercut him. Besides, she doesn’t care anything for me anymore, if she ever did. Your sister probably put her up to that prank in the first place.”

Ella makes a small sound of distress at this. I squeeze on her arm just slightly to remind her to be quiet.

“Estella likes you,” Pippin presses. “I heard her say so when I was spying on her and Vinca one time, but she thinks you don’t like her.”

“Speaking of Pervinca putting someone up to something… Why are you pressing this?” Merry asks, more than a bit annoyed. “Is that why she was in your room this morning?”

“No. … Yes, but that isn’t the point. You’re in love with her, Merry. Estella, I mean,” Pippin says.

Beside me, Estella’s breath hitches and she waits for Merry’s response.

“I am,” Merry says, “but it doesn’t matter, not then and certainly not now. Besides, you know perfectly well that I cannot be making such declarations when things are so uncertain. I’m not deciding anything until I’ve seen Frodo and spoken to Sam.”

“It’ll be too late by then,” Pippin says. “Gordi will have already been here and spoken.”

“Then it’s up to Estella to do as she will,” Merry states.

I tighten my grasp on Estella. From the tension in her body, I can tell she wants to bolt, to run around the barn and tell Merry that she’s in love with him too, yet it will do no good for him to know we are listening in. I gently but pointedly place a hand over her mouth and she settles down somewhat.

“I’m sorry, Merry,” Pippin says sympathetically. “This all has come at a very bad time.”

“We should go up to Frodo’s before Sterday,” Merry says, effectively throwing a bramble into my plans. “I don’t want to be here when he comes.”

“I’ll ask Mum and Da. I’m sure they won’t mind. We’ll go first thing in the morning. A surprise attack is the best defense, after all. … What? I listen to my lessons sometimes, don’t look at me like that.”

I roll my eyes. That is the worst thing Pippin can possibly suggest. Thankfully, Merry has more sense. “No,” he says. “We can’t just drop in on Frodo, and you have essays to finish writing. I’ll send him a post first thing in the morning. That way, Sam will know to look for us also. He’ll know what our visit’s about.”

Well, this is a much better plan. I might even be able to use it to our advantage. For now, Estella knows the truth and can make her decision with this knowledge. I motion that it is time for us to leave, and I pull Estella behind me. We say nothing until we are back on the garden path, then Estella all but skips beside me, humming happily.

“Oh, Vinca, did you hear? Merry’s in love with me!”

“Imagine that?” I say, trying not to sound sour and hurt for being ignored every single time I had told her the same thing, but it’s hard to be upset when Ella’s so perfectly happy. “So what are you going to do about it?”

Ella pauses, considering. “I don’t know. Should I approach him? He’s obviously not going to make the first move. Should I let Gordi go first and then approach Merry? That would be the ideal, but if I wait to speak with Gordi, Merry will likely be at Frodo’s and I’ll have to wait even longer to speak with him.”

I laugh, every bit as giddy and happy as Ella is. “No worries, my love. We’ve till morning to plan everything out.” And we go to my bedroom to do just that.
 
 
 

To be continued…

“There comes a point when you need to stop planning and simply act. If you can do this correctly and catch your opponent off their guard, that’s even better.” ~ Pervinca Took
 
 

Lesson 3: A Surprise Attack is the Best Defense

“This is a delicate situation,” I say in a hushed whisper.

Estella and I are back in my room, lying atop my bed with no intentions of turning in for the night. A solitary candle is burning low and I have our shawls tucked up beneath the door so no light will spill out into the hall. Merry and Pippin will be returning eventually, and we don’t need them to know that we are still awake. Pippin likely thinks he gave us the slip; if he sees we’re still awake, he’ll grow suspicious.

“Why is it delicate?” Estella asks, her voice equally hushed. She twirls her hair dreamily and looks at me happily, a smile still teasing at the corners of her mouth.

“You stopped listening as soon as he said he loves you, didn’t you,” I say with a smile. Estella only grins in response. “Merry said he wouldn’t be making any decisions regarding you until he sees Frodo. I don’t know what Frodo has to do with any of this, but this does mean we might have to wait until they return for Pip’s party before you approach Merry.”

Ella frowns now. She doesn’t like this plan. She opens her mouth to protest, but I hold up a hand and beg her to have patience.

“There’s something else he said,” I continue. “After all that prattle about Frodo and Yule, he said, ‘We’re still agreed.’ What could that have meant?”

Ella shrugs. “Those two always have some sort of scheme up their sleeves. Perhaps they’re going to prank Frodo for missing Yule.”

“Maybe,” I say hesitantly, unable to shake the feeling that there is something more behind Merry’s words than simple jest. Still, it is unlikely I will be able to get that information from either him or Pippin anytime soon. I’ll just have to proceed without knowing the full story and hope for the best. “Would there be any way at all to delay Gordi’s proposal until after Pippin’s party?”

Estella thinks on this for a moment and finally shakes her head regrettably. “I don’t see how. That’s the main reason he’s coming.”

“Perhaps you could tell him that you need time to think about it,” I suggest. “It will only be three days more.”

Ella doesn’t like this plan either. “I can’t ask him to wait just so I can speak with Merry. That would be giving him hope and that would be cruel. It will be unkind enough to tell him that it’s over.”

I nod. “Then you’ll have to approach Merry before he leaves. Hopefully, since you’re decided on it that will decide him as well, though I don’t see how he could possibly resist you.”

We start to giggle at this, but I stop myself before it can get out of control. Going soft in the head now will not get things resolved. Ella settles down soon after, and we fall into silence as we contemplate the best way to approach Merry.

Soon, we are putting the plan together. We map out the core dialogue, then go back to work out the tangles. Then we go back again and come up with various possible responses to anything Merry might say to try to deter Estella from her purpose. I pull out several sheets of parchment and write everything down so Estella can go over them and memorize them.

We’re so absorbed in our planning that we almost miss when they return. We hush ourselves and listen, in case they are saying anything else worth knowing, but all we hear is the shuffling of their feet as they make their way blindly down the hall to Pip’s room. I wonder why there would not be any lights to guide their way and glance up at the clock as Pip’s door opens and closes: it’s eleven.

I insist that we go to sleep then also. It will do us no good if we sleep in and miss Merry when he leaves to dispatch his letter. Of course, Estella's so excited, it takes her nearly an hour to drift off, still humming softly to herself.  

We are awake early the following morning, despite the late hour we had kept the night before. I stick my head out the door for a brief moment, long enough to discern that both Merry and Pippin are still here. Then we freshen up and return to our work while simultaneously listening for any hint that Pippin and Merry are up and about. We do not have to wait long.

Pippin’s door opens at five after seven. There is some soft whispering between Merry and Pippin, and even with my ear pressed up against my door, the only things I can make out are “hurry up” and “wait here.” Then Pippin’s door closes and soft footfalls set off down the hall.

I wait a few moments to open my door a crack and just manage to glimpse Merry making his way through the parlor, alone. Perfect. I wait another minute, then nod to Estella. We follow after him at a good distance, waiting until we come to a place where Estella can approach him without anyone overhearing. This doesn’t happen until after Merry reaches the post messenger’s quarters and hands over his letter.

“Take this to Frodo Baggins of the Hill in Hobbiton,” Merry advises the messenger. “Wait there for a response; I want the reply by this evening. Here’s a brassy for your troubles.”

“Thank you, Mr. Merry,” the post messenger replies, every bit as surprised as Ella and I are.

A brass-piece for delivering a message to Hobbiton, when the standard rate is three farthings?* And of course, Frodo will pay the lad again once he arrives at Hobbiton. Merry and Pippin must be desperate indeed to visit Frodo to cough up so much coin.

We wait until Merry is coming back around the corner, then I duck into a supply closet to hide and listen. A few moments later, I hear the sound of Merry’s “ooph” and Estella’s meek “sorry.” They have bumped into each other.

“Excuse me, Estella,” Merry says politely, probably trying to get around her.

“Merry, how lovely to see you,” Estella says, sounding more anxious than she should.

There’s a bit of a pause, then Merry replies, “You’re up early.” His voice is uncertain and guarded. I can almost see the wheels turning in that head of his, trying to determine what is about to happen and failing miserably.

“I need to be getting back to my room before Mother awakens,” Ella says. “I really wasn’t supposed to have stayed the night with Vinca.”

“Aren’t your guest rooms on the other side of the Smials?”

“Yes, but… uh, I must not have been paying attention. Clearly.” A nervous giggle follows this statement.

“I see.”

I shift my position in the closet to keep a broom from poking me in the back and miss a bit of the conversation.

“-up early as well,” Estella is saying. “I hope you are well. You’ve seemed a bit down of late.”

Another pause, this one longer than the first. Merry doesn’t know what to make of this. This is the longest conversation he and Estella have had in years and it’s throwing him off. Finally he says, “Ella, look, I really should be getting back before Pip starts missing me.” There’s a scuffling sound; Merry must be trying to get around Estella again.

“Merry,” Estella says, her voice shaking slightly. I close my eyes and try to give her encouragement and support through the door. If she will just keep calm, she’ll be fine. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Yes?” Merry replies, sounding cautious. Far too cautious. Estella will have to step lightly.

“Well,” Estella begins, then continues all in a rush, “as you know, Gordibrand Burrows will be here in a few days and he’ll be asking me a question, and I’m supposed to say yes, but I don’t want to.”

“This sounds like something you should be speaking to Gordibrand about,” Merry says.

“But it’s you I need speak with,” Estella insists. There’s another pause and I know Ella is attempting to gather her wits about her and remember what she is supposed to say. Unfortunately, Merry beats her to it.

“Look, Ella, whatever you’re about to say, I beg you not to. It will only lead to hurt, one way or another,” he says sternly but not unkindly. “Now if you’ll excuse me…”

There’s some more shuffling, and another pause, too long for comfort. Don’t let him go!

Thankfully, Estella pulls herself together. “I don’t excuse you,” she says, and she blessedly sounds ready for an argument. “I’ve been ignored by you long enough Meriadoc, and I’ve something to say to you. I’ll follow you all the way back to Pippin’s room to say it if I have to, and not care if half the Smials hears me in the process.”

Yes! That was perfectly said. I can almost see Merry’s paused step and slow turn around. “Ella,” he starts, dread in his voice.

“No. You listen,” Ella asserts. She pauses, and when she speaks again, she is once more soft-spoken and tender. “Gordi is going to ask me to wed him, and I don’t want to say yes, not to him. But, if another lad were to ask… If you were to ask, I’d say yes in a heartbeat.”

“Estella,” Merry mutters, his voice strained.

There’s another pause – oh, if only I could see what is happening! – but if Ella is doing this as we had practiced, then she is stepping closer to Merry, within arm’s reach.

“I love you, Merry.” There’s a soft thump against the closet door. “It’s always been you.”

This pause is longer than any other and I can’t begin to guess what is occurring on the other side of this dratted door. I cannot even hear anything anymore; all has gone perfectly silent. Then at long last comes Merry’s voice and there’s a pain there I have never heard before. “Oh, Estella, I can’t.”

“What?”

“I cannot ask you. I cannot make you that offer.”

“Because of Gordi? I don’t love him and I will tell him so when he arrives,” Estella says, her confidence holding. “You will not be to blame, if that is what you’re worried about. I’ll make it clear this is my decision alone.”

“Estella,” Merry starts, then has to clear his voice for the hurt in it. “Even if you did dismiss Gordi, I still would not ask you.”

What?! I gape at the door, unable to believe my ears, and I can all but feel Estella’s heart breaking. What is Merry saying?

“I do not understand,” Estella says and there is a tremble to her voice. “You wouldn’t ask? But you love me, I’m certain of it.”

“I’m sorry, lass,” Merry says softly, so softly I can hardly hear him, “but things being as they are, I am not available to you at this time, whether or no. If I were selfish, I’d ask you to wait another year or two, but that could all turn out for naught and you’d be here alone. There’s just no way of knowing.”

“I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”

“I cannot say. I don’t even know myself yet if there’s anything… But I cannot promise to marry you, not at this time.”

“I’ll wait then,” Estella offers weakly, and there are tears in her voice. “I can wait, as long as it takes. One year or two, five or ten. As long as it will mean that I will have you in the end, that’s all that matters.”

There’s another pause, during which Merry takes several deep breaths. When he speaks again, his voice is constricted but determined. “I don’t want you to wait.”

“That’s not your decision.”

“No, it’s not, but I beg you to make a different one.”

“Why?”

“Because… There are circumstances, and as much as I tell myself it will all amount to nothing in the end… I cannot shake this dread. I wish I could explain it to you so you will understand. There’s this feeling I get sometimes, of gripping cold freezing me straight through, claiming me and surrounding me, till there’s nothing left; it’s all a peril,” Merry finishes, and his voice sounds hollow and cold, like a death knell from a distant land.

“Merry?”

“No.” There’s a shuffling sound: Merry has slipped free of the door. When he speaks again, he sounds more himself, but choked and close to tears. “I will not have you wait for that. I will not have you; I don’t want you. Now please, excuse me.”

Not more than a few moments pass before the closet door is thrown open and Estella is sobbing in my arms, Merry now nowhere to be seen.

I don’t know how but I somehow manage to get us into one of the main sitting parlors a couple of tunnels away. I lock the door behind us and settle us onto a settee, patting Estella’s back and holding her tight while she sobs.

It is some time before Estella is calm enough to talk, and in that time I manage to gather up enough wrathful rage to rip Meriadoc Brandybuck to shreds should I ever see him again. If he truly loves Estella, he has a funny way of showing it. What has got into that lad’s head anyway?

Finally, Estella is able to recount what happened. I was more or less correct with my assumptions, but what she told me of that long pause after she declared her love is enough to break my heart as well.

Estella had kissed him. Not a searing and seductive kiss as their first had been, but a short and sweetly shy one; this was not a game this time around. This was true and sincere, and the kiss had reflected that with its timid intimacy. Merry had then returned the kiss, then they were in each other’s arms, simply holding each other, their foreheads touching and their hearts pounding to burst out of their chests. Estella had smiled, but Merry had not, and when he opened his eyes, they were moist with unshed tears.

“Oh, Vinca, I’m sure he wanted it just as much as I did,” Ella says to me now. “I’m certain of it. But…”

Merry had held her tight, as though he were afraid she would slip away if he did not. He had smelled the scent of her hair and skin, and sighed with content. Then, he had tipped his mouth to her ear and whispered, “I’ve dreamt of this for so long. So long.” Then he had pulled himself away and held her at a distance, and finally with great effort he let her go. “But I can’t.”

I had heard the rest. I may not have seen the tears streaming down Merry’s face or the look of dread and doom in his eyes, but I heard his words of rejection. They are enough to make me weep, if I were not so angry.  

We miss first breakfast, but neither of us are very hungry. We simply sit in the parlor, Estella with her head on my shoulder, occasionally sniffling, sometimes weeping, but the rest of the time merely feeling numb. Everything around us is surreal, like objects moving underwater, and time holds no meaning.

Finally, when Estella is clear-eyed enough to leave the parlor, I take her to her guest room and see her settled. I pour water from the ewer into the basin and wring out a cloth so I can wipe the tear tracks from her face. I then sit next to her as she lays on her bed, and I hum under my breath as I stroke her hair back from her pale face. She eventually drifts off to sleep, and after ensuring she has more water and a steady supply of handkerchiefs, I leave her.

Then I go to hunt down Merry, my blood boiling with rage. I’m so furious I can hardly see straight and am only vaguely aware of servants and relatives alike jumping out of my way as I go barreling through the tunnels.

I have several different scenarios planned out on what I will do to the boor when next I see him. Some scenarios involve me wielding a rather hefty umbrella. Others entail me only backing him into a corner and giving him a rather large piece of my mind, but these ones are not nearly as satisfying. All of them end with him begging for mercy and of course receiving none, for he doesn’t deserve it. What he does deserve I have not the words for, but by my word, I’ll give him exactly what he has coming.

Unfortunately, I do not find him. After searching the tunnels through and storming through the apartments and the hills around the Smials, I finally spy Fatty and get him talking. It seems Merry and Pippin disappeared soon after first breakfast. Merry was going to take Pippin somewhere quiet so he could complete his essays, and Merry was rather feeling the need to get out of doors himself. “He didn’t look very well at all,” Fatty states, to which I snort with disgust.

I continue my search for my cravenly cousin, even going back out to the barn, and still I do not find him. Finally, I slow myself down and think on this rationally. I may not know where he is now, but I do know where he’ll be later. He has got to come back to retrieve Frodo’s response to his letter. I will merely wait for him there.

With this plan in my mind, I leave the Smials behind completely, walking until they are no longer glimpsed behind me. I need to get some fresh air and clear my mind, and try to figure out just where exactly this had all gone wrong.

Of course, no plan is foolproof, and when you’re dealing with Merry and Pippin it is only wise to expect a certain degree of sabotage. What happened this morning however went completely beyond anything I would have anticipated. Merry did not simply sabotage us; he obliterated us completely. I need to take time to regroup and determine my next course of action and this time, I will show no mercy.

I wander about the hills aimlessly, so deeply engrossed in mapping out my tactics that I spare nary a thought to anything else around me. And this is how I get trapped by Everard Took.

Ev has been Merry and Pippin’s friend for as long as I can remember, and a pest and a pain besides for even longer. He’s our third cousin on our father’s side, being a great-great grandchild to the Old Took, same as us. He has his moments of civility but overall, coming of age has done little to stifle his rambunctious inclinations. I’d rather pretend he didn’t exist, but of course, he would never let things be that simple for me, and he proves it now by calling out to me as I walk past him and his friends as they are lounging about under a tree, doing absolutely nothing productive whatsoever.

“Hallo, Per. Have you seen Merry?” Ev asks me. “He was supposed to come bird-calling with us but he never turned up.”

“I have not,” I reply curtly and attempt to continue past. The last thing I want to do right now is talk about Merry. I have far too much on my mind to be distracted by this lot and getting into a conversation with Everard Took is guaranteed to lead to distraction.

“You haven’t seen him?” Ev says, a tease in his voice. “Well, that’s a lie.”

I stop and turn back to him, my hackles raised and arms crossed. “Actually, I have seen him,” I say. “Several times, as a matter fact, far too many to count and certainly more than I would like. But I have not seen him of late, if that is what you mean.”

Ev smiles in that annoying lopsided way of his. He’s so smug and sure of himself, it’s enough to drive you mad whenever you are unfortunate enough to be in his presence. “Oh, but you’re still lying. You have seen him recently.”

“I have not.”

He turns to the other lads and starts talking to them as though I am not there. “You see, lads, the way to tell that she’s lying is that her lips purse up, just so, and she taps her foot, just once.”

“You think you know everything,” I say in disgust, clutching tightly onto my arms to prevent myself from reaching out and strangling him. He’s not the one I want to be strangling, and while he will do in a pinch, I’d rather save my energy for the real culprit.

“Oh, but I do know everything,” Everard counters.

“Then you must surely know how much of an annoying, childish braggart you’re being right about now,” I say and his friends laugh.

“Well, I know that you’re not leaving, so I can’t be that annoying,” he replies, smooth as ever, that little smile still plastered on his face.

“I am far too kind for my own good, but I will soon remedy that,” I say tersely and start to leave again.

“You shouldn’t be pushing things with Merry, you know,” Ev says now, stopping me once again. He loves to do this, to let me get so far and then say something that will inevitably bring me back.

“And what things would those be?” I ask.

“Things with Estella, of course,” he answers. He must have heard something from Fatty about what had happened this morning, but since Fatty didn’t know all the details, then neither will Ev. He proves this be continuing, “He has his reasons for keeping quiet, you know.”

“Yes, I do. He’s a coward,” I say, bristling as I think of poor Estella, who is likely sobbing into her pillow at this very moment. I really should be getting back to her.

“A coward? That’s rather harsh. Do you have any idea how hard it is to approach a lass that you favor?”

“I suppose you’re going to tell me you’re an expert on the matter, seeing as you have no lass of your own,” I say, riled up more than I should be, but unable to help myself after all that has happened. I need someone to argue with and Ev is the best for taking my frustrations out on, as he’s too dense to notice when he’s being scolded. “Then that would make you a coward as well. Honestly, what is so hard about approaching a lass and telling her of your intentions? You lads make everything so difficult.”

“You lasses are the ones that make it so difficult,” Ev counters. “You’re not easy to please you know, and you always want the proposition done in a specific way that we lads have no hope of knowing, and then you get mad at us for doing it wrong. I’m sure you have your ideal fantasy of your suitor coming up to you and making his intentions known.”

“I don’t actually. I have no interest in such things.”

“See what I meant about the foot tap,” he turns to his friends, and they nod.

“If you must know,” I say, “my lad will come to me as I’m sitting under a tree reading a good book, and he will have red and white roses in his hand, and he will give them to me and ask for my favor.” I narrow my eyes at him. “And I will say no, that I do not need any such thing from any lad and am perfectly happy on my own. I will then proceed to hit him over the head with my book, which shall be quite thick for extra heft, and throw the roses right back at him, hopefully scratching him with the thorns in the process for good measure.”

“Ah. I see then.”

“If that is all,” I say and start to walk away again. Just as can be expected, he calls out to me again.

“And for your information, I do have a lass.”

I turn back around and stare at him with unmasked doubt, momentarily forgetting my ire at this astonishing news. “You do?” I ask dubiously. The thought of Everard Took paying court to a lass is nearly unimaginable and more than a bit funny. Or, it would be funny if I were in a better mood.

“Yes, I do. She’s quite lovely really, when you can get her to stop being such a shrew, which isn’t very often I must admit. Many would question my choice in setting my sights on her, but they don’t know what I know,” Ev says.

“And what might that be?” I ask.

“That arguing with her is the fun part,” Ev answers, “and on that rare occasion when I do break past her wiles, she’s really a very sweet lass, who’s just a little bit afraid of letting anyone get too close.”

I shake my head at him, not believing him for a second. “Really? And who is the unlucky lass?”

“Oh, you know her already,” he says evasively.

“So then who is she?” I repeat, greatly interested to hear whatever name he will pull out of the blue.

“You should be able to figure that out, seeing as you already know her, and know everything else besides,” Ev says, that smile creeping onto his face again. He’s laughing ever so slightly now.

“Now you’re the one who’s lying. I’ve never seen you speak with any lass,” I say.

“Yes you have, on many occasions. In fact, I spoke with her for quite a while just today and you were there the whole time. I must say, she quite enjoyed herself, for all that she acted like she didn’t,” Ev says.

“I’m sure she did,” I say to humor him. “You likely put her right to sleep with your babble.”

“Am I really that boring?”

“Yes, you are.”

“Then why are you still here?” he asks, no longer attempting to hide the fact that he’s laughing at me, and his friends start snickering with him.

They’re laughing at me! Right in front of me! How dare they! I clench my fists to my sides and openly scowl at them all. “You are insufferable and you will pay for this humiliation, Everard Took.”

“Is that a promise?” he laughs, a wicked little glint in his eyes.

“I loathe you,” I say and walk away.

Just as I’m about out of earshot, he speaks again. “I love you, too.” His friends break down into hysterics, clutching their sides and slapping their knees.

“You are a thorn in my side,” I call over my shoulder but do not stop. If I turn back around one more time, I will not be responsible for what happens to him.

Oh! He is beyond insufferable! He’s absolutely intolerable! Whoever this poor lass is – and I highly doubt there is a lass – she must be desperate for suitors to put up with someone like him.
 
 
 

To be continued…
 
 

* - In my universe, 1 brass-piece = 3 coppers or 12 farthings. Merry is thus paying the post-messenger four times the standard rate.

“Never give up, no matter how fruitless the pursuit may seem.” ~ Pervinca Took
 

Lesson 4: Always Have a Back-up Plan

I spend the rest of the day seething over Everard so much that I nearly forget my purpose, even though I spend the next few hours comforting Estella. She is better off than she was that morning and already she is calmer and less emotional. She is still horribly subdued however and only vaguely listens as I tell her exactly why Merry Brandybuck is a louse. Then Fatty shows up just after tea and I leave him to watch over his sister while I see to other things.

Merry and Pippin remain elusive all day, but I know they’ll be waiting for that post messenger later, so after dinner I perch myself outside of the messenger’s quarters, not bothering to hide. There’s no reason for me to do so now and besides, I want him to see me. I want him to see the heated anger in my eyes and I want to see the shame in his.

Thankfully, the post messenger arrives first, returning just after dinner, the letter from Frodo tucked under his arm. He regards me curiously but tips his head formally all the same. “Good evening, Miss Pervinca,” he greets.

“Good evening,” I return the greeting and point at the letter. “Is that the post for Merry? He bade me to retrieve it for him.”

The messenger looks at me uncertainly. “Mr. Merry did not mention you would be picking it up for him, Miss Pervinca.”

“Something came up and Merry is unable to come, but he wants the letter immediately, as it’s an urgent matter; I’m sure he told you it was urgent,” I explain. “He bade me to pay you an extra copper for your troubles.” I reach into my pocket and hand him a copper. This messenger is making a lot of money off this errand.

He considers the money for a moment, for propriety’s sake, then accepts the coin without further protest. He hands over the letter and retires to his apartment.

I lean back against the wall and commence waiting. I stare at the letter and turn it about in my hand. I’m very much tempted to open it, but I know that will only cause more trouble. Besides that, it is Sam’s letter that prompted Merry to send word to Frodo. That is the letter I need to get my hands on, along with the other one that Pippin was hiding earlier. Unfortunately, my search of Pippin’s room turned up nothing; Merry must be keeping the letters with him.

There is something about all this that is not adding up, and the biggest is Merry’s proclamation that he is not available to receive Estella’s affections. And what did he mean last night by Estella already being married by the time they leave, when they’ll be leaving in the morrow? And what are they agreed upon? There has to be something more behind that statement than simple jest. They are hiding something, that much is certain, but what?

I am no closer to an answer when they arrive at the close of the hour. I hear them before I see them. Or I hear Pippin at any rate. He’s going on and on, about that time at the Harvest festival or this one present they both received for Yule, trying to prompt a response from Merry and receiving none.

They finally come around the corner and they pause when they see me. I notice immediately that Merry’s eyes are slightly puffy, and he has a ghastly pallor about him. I’ve never seen him look so bedraggled. I’m torn between sympathy and vengeance but for Estella’s sake, I cannot quaver. I keep my arms crossed and stare at them hard.

The stare doesn’t work on Pippin; he’s far too used to it. He approaches without hesitation, a curious tilt to his head. Merry follows closely, his eyes focused on the letter in my hand. He frowns at it; he knows I could sabotage them in a second if I had a mind to.

“What are you doing with that?” he asks at length. “That’s mine.”

I say nothing, but turn and walk away. Having no other choice, they follow after me, out of the Smials into the chilled late-winter air and over the hills until we are out of earshot of anyone else. Then I turn on them.

“Vinca, what are you-?”

“Shut up, Pip.”

“Don’t get angry with him,” Merry says, immediately coming to Pippin’s defense.

“And you!” I say hotly, pointing at Merry with the letter. “Estella has been in tears all day. She’s absolutely crushed. How could you do that to her?”

Merry crosses his arms. “It was unfortunate,” he says, rather a lame statement and not much of a defense.

“It was idiotic,” I correct him. “She wore her heart on her sleeve for you, told you she loves you, took the first move – again – because you were too cowardly to do so, and what do you do? You tell her you’re not available, that you will deny her no matter what she does because of that, which is nothing but a lie as far as I can see. Why aren’t you available?”

“That is none of your business,” Merry states.

“I’ll be the one to choose what is my business and what isn’t,” I say.

Merry sighs, frustration evident, and mutters something about Took logic. At length, he responds, “Pervinca, I appreciate that you are concerned for Estella and it puts me at ease to know you’re here to look after her, but I do not have to explain my actions to you. You’ve meddled enough in this business as it is. Now give me the letter.” He holds his hand out, waiting.

“You may not owe me an explanation, but you do owe one to Ella. She deserves one after all you’ve put her through over the years. Do I have your word you’ll speak with her?” I ask, holding the letter back though neither of them make a further move for it.

“I will gladly explain everything to her when I am able, but no sooner,” Merry promises. “That is the best I can offer.” He extends his hand a bit further.

I shake my head at him, a day’s worth of anger getting the better of me. “You disappoint me, Merry. Everyone knows how you feel for Estella and yet you do nothing about it. And spare me your lectures on responsibilities and sensibilities and how you kept quiet for Gordi’s sake, because those are all lies. You kept quiet because you were afraid. Even after she came to you first, you were afraid you didn’t have what it would take to hold her interest. Well, you were wrong. You had her all this time without even paying her any mind. She would have given herself to you completely if you had but shown her some courtesy.”

Merry does nothing at first. He just drops his hand and simply stands there, accepting without comment everything that I say, which rather ruins the moment truth be told. I feel myself deflate somewhat, though not enough to make me sympathize with him in the slightest. He deserves to feel miserable, as far as I’m concerned.

Then Merry lifts his head and looks at me hard, his eyes narrowed and a look of suspicion about him. “You seem to know an awful lot of my feelings on this matter. How is that exactly?”

I feel the hairs on the back of my neck rise in response to that look and the cold tone of his voice. I’m spared having to say anything though, as Pippin speaks up then, talking to Merry softly. “I told you she’d likely find us if we didn’t go off further.” Pip turns to me then, and in doing so he effectively places himself between Merry and me. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough to know that he’s in love with Estella, and yet this morning, he denied it all and said he would never have her,” I reply hotly, not about to back down. “If this is your idea of a joke, it’s in very poor taste Merry.”

Merry doesn’t budge, not one inch. He remains perfectly still and this is enough to tell me that I’m walking on a very fine line indeed. I suddenly find myself grateful for Pippin’s presence. I step back a little and wait for an answer.

“What I said last night was in confidence to my friend,” Merry says. “You had no right eavesdropping.”

“Oh! You’re going to lecture me on eavesdropping! That’s nice.”

“How did you know about the letter?”

“Because Estella followed you when you went to deliver it,” I say. I am not about to reveal that I know anything about the other letters.

Merry doesn’t believe this explanation but he can’t exactly call me on the lie either. He waits several moments as he carefully considers his words before continuing. “Vinca,” he says, his voice tight and drawn, “I’m telling you only once: keep out of this from here on out. Now give me my letter and leave before you test my patience.”

Pippin takes action then. He grabs me by the elbow and walks me off apace. When we’re far enough away, he hisses into my ear, “What are you doing? You’re making a bad situation worse. Merry doesn’t need to be lectured by you right now. Let me worry about him. Now give me the letter and leave this be, and whatever you heard, forget about it.”

“Gladly.” I hand the letter over. I’ve had more than enough of this entire affair. “You were right, Pip. Ella is better off without him.”

I stalk away, not waiting for a reaction from either one of them. I reach the bottom of the hill and look back at them. Merry is still standing where he had been, and Pippin is unfolding the letter, bending over it to read it in the rising moonlight.

I leave them behind and return to the Smials to find Estella. There has to be another solution to this heartache and I intend to discover it before the night is done.  

The trouble with love is that it takes two to make a match. Estella had her match, until he turned out to be an imbecilic ass with an intelligence equal to that of a garden slug, and the personality to match. I decide to declare my first plan of attack a bust and move onto Plan B.

I wait until the next morning after Merry and Pippin ride out for Hobbiton. They leave just after first breakfast and I join Estella at her table where she is sitting with her parents and brother. By now, Fatty must surely know of everything that has been happening between his sister and Merry; he takes one look at me approaching and he excuses himself from the table. He grabs Ev and Ferdi from a nearby table as he goes, and they quickly retreat from the hall. Cowards.

I do not sit myself down and instead insist that Estella accompany me for a short hike. Her mother and father are fretting about her, so it isn’t hard to convince her to come outside. Within the hour, we are dressed for a brisk walk and we leave the Smials, stopping only at the kitchen to retrieve the picnic basket and blanket I have waiting there.

We walk over the quiet hills to a glen out toward Pincup, a good hour from the Smials. I lay the blanket upon the ground and we sit under the birch trees lining the top of the glen to look out over the tiny valley. The day is cool but not cold and the walk has warmed us. The sun is dim above, shining through thin clouds, and the wind is soft and gentle. No harsh sound disturbs us and only the distant twittering of birds can be heard. This is the perfect place for Estella to relax.

I set out the picnic for second breakfast: buttered scones, fruit and tea. Estella merely nibbles at her food but already she is looking better for the walk and sun. Her eyes are still puffy and her cheeks slightly hallow, but the pale sheen of her face is gone. She leans back against a bole and closes her eyes. She lifts her face to the sun and hums with content.

“Feeling better, love?” I ask and place her discarded plate on her lap.

She feels the weight of the plate and looks down at her half-eaten food for a moment, then commences picking at it. “I’ve come to a decision,” she says between bites. Her voice is soft but clear.

“Oh?” I ask. “Please tell me you haven’t decided to wait for Merry to come around.”

She shakes her head. “I’ve waited eight years. That’s quite long enough. No, I’ve decided that I deserve better than Merry,” she says, surprising me that she has come to this conclusion so quickly. This will make my job much easier. “Of course, convincing my heart of that will be harder than convincing my head, but it is true enough. I can’t even remember why I fell for him in the first place; he hasn’t been very kind.”

“He certainly hasn’t,” I confirm. “You just tell yourself that every day until you believe it all the way through. And I’m going to tell you something else: you deserve better than Gordibrand as well. There are plenty of other biscuits in the jar as they say; we’ll find you a worthy lad. A lad who can actually admit when he has feelings for someone, unlike some other lads I could name.”

“A lad who doesn’t ignore me and isn’t afraid to make the first move,” Estella continues. “A lad who’s strong and kind and listens. A lad who doesn’t make jokes.”

“Exactly. A lad who will sweep you off your feet, but put you down again when you want him to,” I say. “There are plenty of lads eager to court you. We’ll go through them one by one until we find you a perfect match.”

“That could take a while,” Estella points out.

“We have all day, dear, and I came prepared. I even brought elevenses and luncheon,” I say happily and open the lid of the picnic basket to reveal the rest of the food. I then reach in and pull out several sheets of parchment, an ink bottle and quill.

“What is that for?”

“I made a list last night of all the eligible bachelors in the west and east Farthings.” Estella looks at me dubiously. “What? If we’re going to find you a suitable lad, we need to be strategic about this. All we need to do now is go through the list and consider all their good traits and bad, and their familial connections. That way, we’ll have a clearer picture of who we’re looking at and weed out all the undesirable ones,” I explain.

Estella laughs, a sweet sound after so much crying. “You certainly have thought this out,” she says. “Methinks you’re spending too much time listening in on Pippin’s lessons.”

I blush at the tease, but it’s true enough. “I’m only looking out for you.”

“I know, but you do so in the most amusing ways at times.”

“There’s nothing wrong with having a strategy,” I defend. “Even Mum has a plan when there’s a banquet and some such.”

Estella laughs and leans over to peck my cheek. She rests her head on my shoulder. “I know, dear. I wasn’t poking fun. So, who’s on the list?”

“I thought we’d begin in Budgeford and work our way out, disregarding Buckland of course,” I say and start with the first name. “What do you think of Paolo Chubb?”

“He’s twice removed!” she exclaims, sitting up again.

“So?”

“He’s far too old.”

“Fine, fine. Well, if we’re going to go by age as well…” I trail off and go over the list, scratching out a few more names. “Now, what about Alsterson Boffin? He’s only once removed,” I suggest.

“I’ve not spent much time with him,” Estella says uncertainly. “He’s a quiet sort.”

“All the better. You won’t have to constantly tell him to be silent,” I point out.

“Vinca! You want a lad you can talk to, about anything. You can tell him your dreams, your fears, all of it, and he’ll do the same. That’s the ideal,” Estella lectures.

“If that’s what you want,” I say obligingly. “I’ve seen Alster speak for quite a while when he’s a mind to. He has a birthday coming up, yes?”

Estella nods. “We’ll be going.”

“Try talking to him then, but by all means don’t force the chap. If there’s nothing there within the first minute or so, then he’s not the one for you,” I say. “Now, what about Morrison Bridgeford? Your parents will certainly approve of him; he’s from a very affluent family.”

“He is nice, but he spends most of his nights visiting the inns from what I hear,” Estella comments with a frown. “He’s also courted three different lasses in the last year alone.”

We go through the list one by one. Some lads are crossed off the moment we get to them and others we spend quite some time over, considering all the potentialities. All through elevenses and luncheon, we weigh the good against the bad of each lad, until the list is narrowed down to eighteen. Now we go through them again, getting more specific and considering family connections while we’re at it. This brings the list to seven and I nod at the names that remain.

“These are very fine lads indeed,” I say and smile over at Estella.

She’s smiling also, but her smile is subdued and contemplative. She considers the list and bites on the inside of her lip.

“What?” I ask, knowing already I’m not going to like what I hear.

“Don’t be angry,” she starts, confirming my suspicion. “I thought about it hard last night and after going through this list, while these are good lads, I can’t help but think I’d be better off with Gordi after all.”

“Don’t say that,” I say.

“Why ever not?” she asks. “Everything we’ve said a good lad should be, he is. He’s kind, dependable, attentive, and caring. He has a sense of humor without being a jokester. He listens to me and we can have the longest talks at times. He’s even willing to move over the River for me so Fatty will be able to visit. Plus, I already know him. I’m comfortable with him. What more could you hope for?”

“But you don’t love him,” I point out.

“I never let myself love him,” Estella corrects. “Somewhere in the depths of my heart, I was always clinging to the hope that Merry might show some sense someday, but now…” She breaks off, her voice quivering slightly. She takes a moment to compose herself again before continuing. “I am fond of Gordi. I think I could love him if I tried. At least, I have to give him a fair chance. It’s what he deserves.”

“But, isn’t his sister courting Berilac?” I ask, trying another tactic. “Won’t that be a bit… awkward.”

“I’m sure there will be holidays that we’ll be celebrating at Brandy Hall,” she answers. “We’ll just have to steer clear of Merry. It shouldn’t be too hard; I’ve years of experience with it, after all. This is what I want.”

“Ella,” I start to protest, but she cuts me off.

“No, I am decided on this. When he arrives on Sterday, I will beg some time alone with him and tell him everything,” Ella says. “If he’ll still have me after what I’ve done, I will accept his proposal and we will announce our engagement at dinner. If he won’t, we’ll come back to your list.”

There is no talking her out of it, I can tell. She has that determined expression in her eyes and her shoulders are set, unbending. All I can do now is wait.  

I stay with Estella all that day and the next, watching her discreetly to ensure she is happy with her decision. She practiced with me what she is going to say to Gordi, so I know she’s set on doing this. She seems satisfied enough with her plan and becomes more carefree as the week comes to a close. By the time I see her to her room on Highday night, she’s positively humming, if a bit on edge about tomorrow.

I am making my way back to my apartment, trying to determine if this is truly for the best and knowing my opinion matters for naught, when someone suddenly grabs me from behind and pulls me into an empty sitting room. I twirl around, my heart in my throat, only to find that it is Everard.

“Ev!” I exclaim hotly and smack him on the arm. “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” he says apologetically and reaches up to rub his arm. “That hurt.”

“Sorry,” I say in turn, “but what did you do that for?”

“I had a question," Ev says. "What about pink or yellow roses?”

It takes me a moment to register what he had said. “What? Roses?” I ask, completely flustered. “I never know what you’re talking about.”

“What do you think of them?” he elaborates.

I gawk at him for a moment, as best as I can through the dark, trying to figure out what exactly has got into that head of his, which admittedly could be almost anything. It’s always a fruitless endeavor, trying to figure out what he is about, so I give it up and answer him. “I like them well enough.”

“But they’re not your favorite?”

“No, my favorites are dahlia, crimson and gold. Why?”

“Those are summer flowers, aren’t they?”

“Yes.”

“Hm,” he hums. He’s quiet for a moment. It’s difficult to see his expression and impossible to guess what he is thinking. After a time, I hear him shift his weight from one foot to the other and suddenly, he’s a step closer. “I’m sorry about the other day,” he says softly. “You just seemed ready to start a fight with someone, and considering who that someone was, I thought it’d be best if you took it out on me instead.”

I narrow my eyes at him, not that he can see me do this. Maybe he knew more than he was letting on the day before. “What do you know of all this?” I ask.

“Just what Fatty has told me,” Ev answers. “I finally had a good long talk with him yesterday. I didn’t know it was as serious as all that. I tried catching Merry to speak with him myself before he left, but he and Pippin have been awfully close of late. It’s difficult to get a word with either one of them anymore.”

“Do you know of any reason Merry would deny Ella?” I ask.

“No. It makes no sense to me. Anyone with eyes that can see knows he’s in love with her,” Ev answers, and I know he’s telling the truth. I nod acceptance to this and sigh dejectedly. I feel his hand on my shoulder, heavy but gentle, and soothingly warm. “She’ll come through this, Per.”

I nod. “I know, Ev,” I say, though I don’t believe it, not yet. I will have to wait and see what tomorrow brings. On my honor, if Gordibrand denies Estella, there will be one less hobbit in the dining hall at dinner.

Ev removes his hand from my shoulder and opens the door. He looks back at me and the lit sconces in the tunnel dimly illuminate his face, casting him in soft orange and red. “You know, you’re the only one who calls me Ev. No one else bothers to shorten my name.”

“You can blame your mother for that,” I reply. “Do you mind it?”

“No. I quite like it actually.”

I smile. “Good,” I say. “You’re the only one who calls me Per. Why is that?”

Now he smiles and lowers his head bashfully. “Oh, no reason. I just like the sound of it, I suppose; like a contented cat that’s curled up, sleeping in your lap,” he answers, and I feel my face warm at the comparison and bless the darkness of the room that he can’t see it also. He clears his throat and nods towards the tunnel. “I’d best be going. Good night, Per.”

“Good night, Ev.”

And just as suddenly as he appeared, he’s gone.  

I do not get much sleep that night. I spend the late hours worrying about tomorrow, imagining every possible way things might end. At best, Estella will realize she’s been in love with Gordibrand all the while, and Gordi will have no qualms with coming in second so long as he has Estella to call his own, and everyone will be happy. At worst, Gordi shuns her, Ella is crushed completely, and the two families end up at feuds.

In between worrying over my friend, I keep returning to Ev’s odd behavior and the way he had looked as he stood in the doorway, half in shadow and half in soft candlelight, smiling so shyly, which is quite unlike him. Yet this is quite typical of our relationship, if you can call it that. One moment, we are bickering like dogs over a bone, and the next we are getting along as though it is the most natural thing. We never seem able to simply meet in the middle somewhere and it’s more than a bit frustrating.

Unable to make odds or ends of either dilemma, I give up trying to figure anything out and turn onto my side, and drift into forgetful sleep.  

Gordi and his family arrive at noon. They meet Estella and her family in the dining hall for luncheon and I watch from a distance as Estella leans over to Gordi and whispers in his ear. He nods, then everyone sits to eat.

I itch to get up and join them, but there is no way my mother will let me get away with that. So all through luncheon, in between bites of food and sips of tea, I sneak peeks at Estella’s table. Their parents are talking away, for the most part ignoring their children. Fatty is eating enough food to feed three hobbits. Estella is subdued, picking at her food and squeezing her dining cloth into an unrecognizable bundle of thread. Gordibrand is keeping conversation with his sister, Ivory, but he sits close to Estella, occasionally reaching under the table to prevent her from destroying the cloth completely. His back is to me, so I cannot see his expression to read his thoughts.

Luncheon inches to a close, then Gordibrand stands and offers his arm to Estella. She accepts, and after a few words with their parents, they walk out of the hall alone. I desperately want to follow, but I keep my seat. I have to allow them this time on their own and besides, Estella will find me later to tell me all that happened. I check my pocket for a handkerchief, just in case, and excuse myself to my room.

I attempt to distract myself by making a sketch of Estella as she had looked the day before under the birch trees, but the attempt is in vain. My mind refuses to settle into the task and I end up fidgeting the whole while. I pace about my room, picking things up, turning them over only to put them down again. I avoid the clock to the best of my ability, but find myself sneaking glimpses at it all the same. 12:49. 12:52. 12:55. Ugh! Why must it go so slow!

Finally, at 2:13, just when I’m readying to charge out of the room to hunt down my friend, my door opens and Ella enters. “Well?” I ask, hardly daring to breathe.  

They had gone to the rose garden and sat in front of Mum’s special roses, where Pippin was supposed to have taken Merry if he hadn’t been trying to give us the slip. They had sat down, and after a moment’s silence, Gordi had turned to her.  

“What’s the matter, El?” he asked. “You’re on edge with worry.”  

“I have something I need to speak with you about,” was all Ella could manage to get out.  

Gordi nodded. “I assumed as much.” He placed his hand lightly over hers, not pressing but supportive. “Take your time. I’ve got you.”  

Estella wasn’t sure how she started, but suddenly she was pouring the story out, from its very beginning on the distant banks of the Brandywine and that long ago day she and Merry first kissed. She didn’t stop until she came to the present moment, to the admission she knew she needed to make. Gordi remained silent throughout, and his hand remained where it was. He had inched closer to place his other arm around her shoulders during the course of the story to offer further support.  

“And then, just three days ago, I found Merry alone in the morning,” Estella said, her voice shaking with her effort to control herself. “I told him… I told him that I love him, and I kissed him. … I told him I would deny you if he would have me.”  

Now Gordi stiffened, but he still did not move. He gulped his emotion down, his eyes now glued to the ground, and asked, barely audible, “And what did he say?”  

“He would not have me,” Estella answered, just as softly.  

The silence stretched thin, until Estella thought she would not be able to withstand it a moment longer. Then Gordi had said, “Do you no longer wish to be with me? Did you ever?”  

Now Estella moved, covering his hand with her other. “I thought not, but I realize now I have not been fair to you. I do care for you, Gordi. I will love you if you will still have me, but I will understand if you no longer wish to be with me.”  

The silence that followed was the longest. Gordi finally stood, leaving Estella’s side to pace a bit and then stand staring at the roses, lost in thought for endless minutes. Estella had waited, hardly daring to breathe or stir, until Gordibrand turned back to look at her.  

“Had I known I was competing with Merry Brandybuck this whole time, I would have been more charming,” he said, his voice tight but not unkind. “You hurt me with your actions, El, but your words pierce right through me.”  

“Gordi, I-”  

“No, I let you have your say. Now let me have mine.” Gordi waited for Estella’s nod, then came to sit beside her again, though he did not touch her now. “I’ve loved you for years, and it hurts beyond words to know you did not feel the same, that you’ve misled me all these years when you were merely waiting for him, and it’s only now that he’s denied you, you will accept my affections as the consolation prize. You have been less than unfair. You used me Estella, used me as your patsy while you pined away for what you really wanted.”  

Estella could only nod and lower her head in shame. Gordi stood again and walked back to the roses. He fingered a petal absently and continued. “You tell me now that you can love me, but how can I ever trust that? How will I know that when you say the words, they are the truth?”  

“Because I will not speak them until they are,” Estella promised. “I was cruel, I know, and there’s no excuse for it other than I’m terribly weak and more than a bit foolish, but have you never done anything foolish for love?”  

“You’re not weak, Estella, and as for foolish… Well, we can all be accused of that,” Gordi answered. “For I’m a fool as well, because I knew you were holding back from me and I was too afraid of the answer I might get to ask you why. So I was cruel in my own way and twice the fool as you.”  

“So what happens now?”  

“Now? That depends on you, doesn’t it. Despite everything you just told me, I cannot imagine my life without you. I suppose being second choice is better than third, and if I’m going to come in second to anyone, it may as well be Merry. So I will meet your promise with this: we will not wed until the day you can tell me you love me, for I will not take you as a wife if you do not feel the same for me as I do for you. But should you come to realize you can never love me, please tell me.”  

Estella nodded, tears streaming down her eyes. “I would not wish to deceive you again.”  

Then Gordi had reached into his inner waistcoat pocket and removed a small box. “This isn’t how I planned to do this. There was going to be prose and maybe even if a bit of song if I worked up the courage.”  

“You can still sing.”  

“Perhaps another time.” He opened the box and inside was an opal raindrop pendant on a chain of gold. He knelt before her and held the gem toward her heart. “I love you, Estella, and there is no other lass I love more. Will you marry me?”  

“I will.”  

Gordi removed the necklace from the box and slipped it over her head. Estella had leaned in to kiss him, but he refused the attention. “That will do for now,” he said, and wiped the tears from her eyes.  

“I’m going to do everything I can to ensure that he trusts me again,” Estella tells me. “We’ve so much to work through but I’m confident that I can make this work.” She smiles giddily, more happy than I could have hoped to see her. “We’re betrothed.”

“Oh, Ella!” I exclaim and hug her tight, grateful to see her so happy. It’s all I ever wanted.
 
 
 
 

To be concluded…

Epilogue: If You Can’t Beat Them…

The proposal is announced at dinner that night and the celebration that follows is heart-warming in its sincerity. Even Fatty approves of the match; he lifts Gordi into a giant bear hug and kisses his brow, already calling him brother.

Gordi accompanies Ella and me over the next couple of days, and I get to know him in a way I never did before. I even find myself liking him despite my previous misgivings. It’s hard not to like him when I see the way he treats Estella, so caring and patient. He may not have Merry’s charm or dazzling personality, but he is sincere in all he does. I suppose that is the most important thing.

Most of the time, Ivory joins us, and we lasses get to talking about any number of things while Gordi sits back and listens with a soft smile on his lips. Then Fatty will come early in the afternoons, and our small excursions outside become all day affairs as we laugh and joke about and stroll around the hills looking for the earliest berries we can find.

Merry and Pippin return on early Trewsday morning, with Frodo in tow. They come into the dining hall as everyone is sitting to second breakfast, and Merry makes no hesitation on congratulating Gordi for his fortune. The tension is only slight, born mostly of lost chances and secrets revealed, but then Merry nods at Estella and leaves to see his cousin fed, and the tension passes.

Pippin’s birthday comes and goes, and soon the guests leave as well. The Bolgers and the Burrowses leave together, to continue the celebration of the engagement at Budgeford. Frodo stays on only a day longer, and Merry looks better for having had his company. Whatever he and Pippin were worrying themselves over on Frodo’s account seems to have passed, for the moment at any rate.

Then Merry himself leaves, but before he goes, he pulls me aside for a private word. “Is she truly happy with her choice?” he asks, sincerely concerned.

“She is,” I answer, still more than a bit miffed. “You still cut her deeply. I hope it was worth it.”

“I’m the one who lost her, Vinca, so spare me your wrath,” he says, so forlornly that it squashes the rest of my ire.

“I’m sorry, Merry,” I say. “I did want it to be you.”

“I’m glad she’s happy,” is all he says, then he shoulders his pack and follows Pippin out the door.  

~ One month later ~ 14 Astron, 1318 SR~

Merry doesn’t stay away long. In fact, he is spending so much time at the Smials of late that I’m almost beginning to think he’s moved in permanently. Everyone attributes it to Gordi now being officially promised with Estella, and while that may have something to do with it, I know the truth. Not the whole of it, as they would never be that careless, but I still watch them and I know there is something amiss.

He and Pippin are closer than they’ve ever been, keeping mostly to themselves. They make frequent one-day trips to Hobbiton and back, and I know it is not Frodo that they are meeting. Then, this morning, they receive another letter, the first in a long while from what I can tell. They leave in a rush soon after receiving it, and in their haste they leave it resting upon Pippin’s bed. I catch a glimpse of it, but all it contains are two words written in hasty, rounded letters. “Come. Now.”

So something has happened, and I’ll likely never know what it is. Having nothing else to do, I retrieve my own letter and a book, then go outside.

The sun is warm but the wind is cool, so I pull a shawl around my shoulders. I find my favorite oak tree and sit beneath it. I read the letter from Estella first and smile to see the joy in the words she has written. She still hurts over Merry’s rejection she admits, but she sees now she has made the right decision. It will still be some time before she can fulfill her promise, but she says there is no rush and Gordi is beginning to trust her again already.

I tuck the letter into my pocket, then open up my book to absorb myself in my reading. I had snuck the book from Da’s study a week or so back and he’s yet to notice that it’s missing. It is about negotiation strategies in farming disputes and other such matters, and I am learning quite a lot when a shadow suddenly falls over me. I look up, squinting out of habit.

“Ev. I should have guessed,” I say in greeting. I'm not really surprised to see him. He's been doing this a good deal lately, coming up out of nowhere and bothering me for no reason. Once it was to ask me what I thought of the weather, of all things. I've come to find it quite adorable actually, though of course I never let him know that.

“Is that a good book?” he asks now, pointing at the tome resting in my lap.

“It is actually. It’s about how to get rid of bothersome pests,” I reply curtly.

“So it’s a gardening book then? I never would have guessed from the title. Do pests really need negotiating with in order for them to leave the roses alone?” Ev asks.

“It appears that they do, though it doesn't seem to be helping me much, does it?” I say. “Is there something you want?”

Now Everard becomes nervous, and it is only now that I realize his hands are behind his back. I sit up, on guard. “Well,” he starts. He clears his throat and shuffles his feet. “You’re sitting under a tree, reading a good book – a quite hefty one… I just ask that you remember I bruise easily.”

“What are you talking about?” I ask, completely at a loss. Why can I never guess what Ev is going on about?

“Only this,” Ev says. He hesitates a moment, then brings from behind his back a bouquet of crimson and gold dahlias. “I know you said red and white roses, but seeing as you threw them back at the lad, I figured they couldn’t be your favorite. Plus, I’m already a thorn in your side, so you don’t need anymore. You didn’t say how the lad went about asking for your favor, so I hope it doesn’t matter what I say… I’m not even really saying anything, am I? Though it’s not for lack of trying. I have several drafts scattered about my room of what I want to say, and I thought I had them fairly well memorized but they all seem to have escaped me now.” He stops suddenly, blushing like I’ve never seen him do so before. His eyes are glued to the ground as he offers the flowers to me. I take them, dumb-struck, and he looks up at me expectantly.

“Th-thank you,” I stammer at length. “Th-they’re, um, they’re quite lovely.”

“You’re not going to beat me up, are you?” he asks, that little lopsided smile back in place, making him look young and vulnerable.

“No,” I say automatically, my mind still too numb to think coherently. What is happening here?

“Good, um, well I… You’re welcome,” he finally settles on saying. He pauses, waiting, but when I still fail to respond, he nods his head bashfully. “Well, I’ve interrupted you long enough seemingly. I will leave you to your book.”

And with that he leaves, with me still sitting there, holding the flowers just as I had when he first offered them, staring after him with my mouth agape. I don’t know how long I sit like that before I look down at the bouquet, and find that there is a card tucked in between the flowers. I pull it out and turn it over.

“To the loveliest shrew I ever knew,” the card reads. I laugh in amazement and shocked delight, and bring the blooms to my nose and smell deep.

I know the only dahlias to be found this time of year near the Smials are a good five miles away, in the Florist Largo’s glass house, which meant Ev had walked for a good two hours just to bring these to me. It also occurs to me that there is no way he could have known that I would choose today to read under the tree; he must have been waiting for quite some time, going out nearly every other day to retrieve fresh flowers. The thought of that reels in my mind and I don’t know whether to make head or tales of it. All I know as I stare at the blooms is that I must have been foolish and blind not to see this coming.

But that’s the trouble with love: it always catches you when you’re not looking, and I am in love with Everard Took.

Only, how do I tell him?
 
 
 

The end.
 
 
 
 

GF 8/8/05