Author: Pendora
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I wish I could say I own these Hobbits, but I don’t. Instead, I am left to dream about them all day long.
Author’s Notes: In the first ficlet here, I have Estella and her family spending the Yule season at Brandy Hall. Now, I know there has been some controversy about the Bolgers and whether or not they had been over the bridge before Fatty did so during the War. But as Fatty was one of Merry’s closest friends, I never understood how Freddy (or Estella, in this instance) could not have been to Buckland. So I’ve taken the liberty of assuming the Bolgers did visit the Hall throughout Freddy and Estella’s childhood.

In the second ficlet Merry mentions a lass Pendora, which, as you may notice, happens to be my penname. But this Pendora is in no way supposed to represent me or be modeled after me, the name just seemed to fit her. Pendora is my original character and is (in my universe) the one lass Merry really had a serious relationship with before Estella. But they were too young and, well, I suppose you’ll just have to read the story (after I write it, that is). My challenge (in addition to the Yule theme) was to include a hailstorm, Pippin’s home, and Estella. And many thanks to my mom for beta. I came down to crunch time, and I thought who better to beta my story than the person who has proofread and edited all my school papers, essays, etc. throughout the years. Thanks Mom!

Brandy Hall, 1397 (Merry is 15 and Estella is 12, or 10 and 8 in Man years)

“Stella! Get out of here!” she paid no attention to me, but continued to prance about the room, picking up various packages and shaking then gingerly.

“What are you doing?” I hissed, throwing a hasty glance over my shoulder; we weren’t supposed to be in here. Grandmum had officially declared the main dining hall “off-limits” that morning, when the last of the presents had been piled on the massive table. Everyone gave to everyone at Yule, and with so many Brandybucks and all their visiting guests, the dining table was fairly overflowing with gifts wrapped in brightly colored paper.

“Stella!” I moaned again. “What are you doing, you’re going to get us into trouble!”

“I’m guessing what’s inside each of them.” She finally answered, as she poked curiously at a strange looking, lumpy package. She thoughtfully scrunched up her nose in thought, obviously stumped by this one.

“Hmm, it’s too firm to be a scarf.” Stella shook the peculiar bundle. “And much too big.” She added as an afterthought.

“Stella!” I whined for a third time. She, however, was perfectly content to ignore me, and poked the package some more.

“Perhaps it’s…it’s,” she shifted her eyes to the ceiling and tapped her chin in a thoughtful, grown-up sort of way, which for some reason infuriated me. She was showing off, that’s what she was doing. “Perhaps it’s a bundle of handkerchiefs,” her face brightened as this idea struck her. “Which somebody tied into a bunch of knots,” she continued slowly, no doubt confusing even herself with this ridiculous thought. “As a joke.” Now she was just making stuff up.

Suddenly, I heard footsteps down the corridor, and panic seized me. If we were caught in here, sneaking looks at the presents, before Yule, we would both be in for it. And I decided I had gotten into enough trouble with Estella since her arrival.

“Quick! Put it back!” I hissed frantically.

“No.” she said indignantly. “And who are you to order me about?” Her brown eyes flashed. Why was she always so willing to pick a fight?

If this had been any other occasion I would quickly have given Estella Bolger several reasons why I had the right to order her about. But this was urgent, and there was no time, the footsteps were drawing nearer. I raced across the room and snatched at the package. It would not budge from Stella’s firm grip.

“Give it to me!”

“Merry, let go! I had it first!”

“I don’t care! Somebody’s coming and we have to put it back!” I tugged hard at the package.

“But I haven’t guessed what it is yet!” Stella tugged harder.

The bundle was pulled back and forth between us, as our iron wills set in, neither of us willing to relinquish our hold. Stella was glaring at me with a look that could kill, when suddenly, I heard the distinct sound of ripping paper.

I gulped and Stella’s furious expression immediately changed to one of horror. We both looked down to watch the package tear in two between our hands, sending us both sprawling. I winced as my backside hit the unforgiving floor.

Stella gasped slightly and I followed her gaze to the gift we had just been squabbling over. The wrappings had fallen away to reveal an almost hideous looking stuffed rabbit, with black-button eyes, whose head had been completely torn off!

“Oh no!” Stella breathed, horrified. “That’s the rabbit Aunt Osmunda was making for ‘Tunia. She spent months on it.”

“Months?” I squeaked.

“She’s going to be furious.”

“She most certainly is.” said a voice from the doorway, causing me to start. “And I believe you two have some explaining to do.”

My back was to the door, but I didn’t need to see Stella’s gaping mouth to tell me who was there. I recognized that voice, and knew it belonged to the one person I didn’t want to see right now. I took a deep breath and slowly turned around to face my grandfather.

Oh, but we were in dreadful trouble.

*****

Great Smials, 1411 (Merry is 29, Estella is 26, and Pippin is 21, or 19, 17, and 14 in Man years)

“Come on, Mer, open it.” The look in his eyes was one of pleading, though behind this I could also see the tiniest spark of dare, willing me to comply.

“Pip, I can’t open it now.” We still had two days left until Yule, and even though I wanted to know what was in this package even more than Pippin, it was an unwritten law in the Shire that no presents were to be opened until the final day of the month.

“If you aren’t supposed to open it yet, why did she give it to you today, eh?” he asked mischievously, a twinkle in his eyes.

“And who is ‘she’, may I ask?” I foolishly hoped that playing dumb would shut up any further questions Pippin might, no, was certain to have. “I haven’t even told you who its from.”

Pippin cackled at this, though I could see nothing funny about it. “Oh Merry, don’t be such a goose. One would have to be a fool not to know who gave you this gift.”

“Then I marvel that you found out at all.” I muttered, irritation rising to its peak.

“Oi!” Pip yelped. “Not fair! As a matter of fact, oh wise one, it just so happens that I gained this knowledge in a very clever, cunning manner.”

“And how was that?”

“I watched from over the banister when she gave it to you. Wasn’t that clever?”

I scoffed in reply. “There are hardly words to express your cunning.”

Pip did not seem too put out by my sarcasm, but continued to chatter and pepper me with questions. It took some pleading, coaxing, and eventually firm commanding on my part, but I finally managed to shake him off, and slipped away.

I tucked myself away in a corner of one of the large pantries. The dried apples, nut cake, seasonings, and many other scents created a pleasant aroma, one that was familiar to me, and brought back many memories of excursions to this very spot as a child.

I sat cross-legged and stared down at the parcel in my lap. It was flat, square, no bigger than my hand, and was wrapped neatly in delicate white paper, with a large red ribbon. Red: my favorite color.

I lifted it to my nose and caught a faint whiff of irises and nutmeg. It reminded me of the gentle creature who had given it to me and I smiled softly to myself.

“Hiding in the pantry? Honestly, Merry, it was just last week you were saying you were too old. And you should’ve known you would be found out soon enough; everybody hides in pantries. Haven’t you got anywhere more original to sneak off to?” Stella’s skirts flounced as she plopped down beside me.

I groaned. “Haven’t you got anything better to do?”

“Actually, no.” She smiled slyly. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I’m on holiday, as is everybody else, and I’m free to antagonize you for as long as I like. What are you doing?”

“It’s none of your business.” I snapped.

She eyed the package resting in my lap. “Who’s the present from?” There was a saucy tone in her voice, which put me on my guard. One never knew what this lass was up to.

“That’s none of your concern, so just keep your snub Bolger nose out of places it doesn’t belong.” She was not the least bit taken aback by my cutting remark – nobody seemed to mind my sharp comments today – but ignored it completely.

“I’ll wager it’s from a lass.”

“So what if it is.” I replied hotly. Stella was crossing dangerous water now, and we both knew it, but that only encouraged her; Stella could never resist a dare. “And besides, it doesn’t mean anything.” I continued. “I’ve received loads of gifts from dozens of lasses this Yule.” I scrutinized Stella’s face looking for evidence she had bought my story, and would leave me alone. As usual, I couldn’t read a thing in her confident face.

“So, what you’re saying,” she drawled, tugging at one of her curls, absent-mindedly. “Is this is an ordinary gift from one of your ordinary lass friends?”

“Yes.” I said, trying to appear confident.

“And,” she continued, letting go of her curl. “It’s in no way special, or significant of your relationship with said lass.”

I nodded once, a jerking, uneasy movement.

“And it’s most likely something as commonplace as a book, or card.”

I just stared at her, wondering where she could possibly be going with this. She was getting that glow in her eyes, the one that’s always there when she’s feeling pleased with something clever she’s done. It seemed that of late, that clever thing was very often at my expense.

“And so, since you yourself say it’s nothing special,” she was still using that honey-sweet voice that was so obviously an attempt to cover something up. “It would be perfectly all right if we opened it! ” as she blurted out the last two words, she leaned over and snatched the package from my lap.

My cheeks burned angrily. “Give it back!”

“Why so flustered? Perhaps you are hiding something, after all, hmm?”

“You wish.” I muttered under my breath. The smirk on her face was so irritating that if she hadn’t been a lass, and if I hadn’t been far too old for such things, I probably would have smacked her then and there. But Estella had me cornered, and she was well aware of it. As it was, I was forced to settle with giving her my darkest scowl, and sticking out my tongue, and not even caring just then that it was a very childish action.

“Tell you what,” she smiled good-naturedly. “You open that present right now and let me see what’s inside, and I’ll never tease you about it in public, or even breathe a word about who it’s from.”

“You don’t even know that.” I pointed out, feeling I had scored a point. Not that it really mattered. If Stella didn’t know the facts, she’d probably just make something up.

“No, I don’t.” she admitted, much to my surprise. “But you know I’ll find out, all in good time.” Aye, I knew it, I knew it all too well. “I won’t tell if you won’t.” she whispered confidentially, as though we were great friends making a secret deal, when in truth, she was nearly blackmailing me.

“There’s nothing to tell. I haven’t done anything wrong.” I pointed out.

“I suppose you haven’t,” she agreed. That was too easy, I thought. Estella continued, “That is, you haven’t done anything wrong if you don’t consider it a fault to open a gift before Yule’s Day and hide your true relationship with and feelings for a certain lass from your parents.”

I was trapped. Leave it to Estella Bolger to find out about my sweetheart before even my father (who always knew what I was thinking) had the chance to. I let out a deep sigh and took the package from her. As I slowly undid the ribbon, I silently prayed Pendora had had enough sense to give me an ordinary gift, as friend to friend, or else Stella would have grounds to tease me for the rest of my living days.

As my stomach churned nervously, I pulled back the folds of paper to reveal a stack of neatly folded, crisp white handkerchiefs. Ha! I couldn’t help but think. For it looked as though I had won after all. Lasses were always giving lads white handkerchiefs as gifts. It didn’t mean anything, except that usually they were from lasses whose mothers were making them give the lad a gift, just to be polite, as a courtesy. There was nothing special about a handkerchief, and it looked as though Stella wouldn’t have anything to tease me about, after all. I almost began to feel the danger was past, and nearly laughed in relief. But just before throwing Stella a triumphant glance, I turned over the top handkerchief. From over my shoulder I could almost feel Stella’s eyes widen.

For there in the corner of the white linen, amongst clusters of irises stitched in purple thread, were nestled the embroidered letters M and P.

I was done for.

Stella began to giggle. No doubt even she hadn’t expected something this good. “Oh, gracious!” she blurted. “This is rich. Whoever she is, she must be a very bold lass indeed, to give such a gift. M is for Meriadoc, to be sure, and the P? Well, I think whoever this initial belongs to just made my task of discovering her identity much easier. I mean, really Merry, how many lasses are there whose name begin with P?” She didn’t wait for an answer, but instead went off into another hysterical fit of giggles.

My whole face burned with anger and embarrassment. No wonder Pendora had given me this gift in secret. She had meant for it to have a special meaning and significance. Painfully shy Pendora was telling me, the only way she knew how, that she did indeed have feelings for me, that she accepted my doting attention, and she hoped for our relationship to someday become something more. I stared at the fancy embroidered letters until they seemed nearly to become embedded in my mind, leaving a burning feeling seared on my heart. As they danced and floated before me, I felt my eyes fill suddenly with hot, unexpected tears. Poor Pendora. Poor sweet, loving Pendora. She had put warm devotion into this gift, and it had come straight from her heart. If she only knew who sat beside me, mocking her love-driven present.

A sudden anger swelled up inside of me, and before I could think I scrunched the handkerchiefs into a sweaty ball beneath my fist. I turned on Estella and screamed with a passion I didn’t know was stirring in me until it spilled out. “Stop it! Just stop it, and try to think about somebody else besides yourself and your own wit for once!” Tears were streaming fast and thick down my cheeks, but I didn’t even care if she saw. “You think you’re so clever and accomplished, and full of wit and talent and beauty, but you’re nothing but a loud-mouthed, over-bearing, prying,” I fumbled for a word that would describe all I was feeling, but I was too upset to think up something profound, and so for lack of anything better I blurted, “Snub-nosed… lass!”

Estella did not look angry or annoyed, or even amused. She just looked shocked. I didn’t see why she should be so surprised. It was far from being the first time I had shouted awful words at her, and the Valar knew it certainly wouldn’t be the last. But she just stared, her brown eyes suddenly large and, perhaps, almost sad. I was too hurt and frustrated to even attempt to figure her out, so I quickly scrambled to my feet and without casting a backward glance, stormed out of the pantry.

As I marched down the corridor I tried to brush the tears away but they just kept falling. My face was hot and my fingers felt cold and numb. I realized that all I wanted just then was my mum. There was some irony in this, though, as she would certainly be horribly displeased with me for all I had said to Estella. I knew Mum understood that Stella and I had never exactly seen eye-to-eye, but she was also a firm believer of always speaking kindly to others, even those whose presence we find unbearable. I struggled with whether or not it was worth a fierce scolding from Mum just to hear her comforting words and feel her motherly embrace when she was done with her lecturing. But I felt so lost and alone, and I was so utterly confused.

From down the corridor behind me, a strange sound reached my ears. I did my best to push it away and continued walking. But I couldn’t ignore the fact, somebody was crying. Well I didn’t care; she could go ahead and cry. It was what she deserved. Estella would never have my pity, or my friendship, never, ever again. She had taken everything from me, and as I marched on, angry thoughts continued to flood my head.

I will never forgive her.

*****

Brandy Hall, 1426 (Merry is 44 and Estella is 41, or 29 and 27 in Man years.)

“It’s hailing.”

“I know, love.”

“But how can it be hailing? How can it be hailing during Yule?”

“I don’t think the weather pays much attention to the holidays. And perhaps this is just a special year.”

I turned from the window to look at my wife and her round, protruding belly. She stood at the edge of the bed folding a basket of fresh laundry. Her hands were busy as only a homemaker’s hands can be, and her face glowed with the sheer joy that is becoming a young mother. She looked more beautiful to me than she ever had, and I smiled proudly at her, and Estella paused in her work to smile back at me. A special year, she had said, yes, of course this year was special.

“Aye, but we knew that months ago, didn’t we.” I remarked, as I turned back to the window, studying the small white balls that were falling from the sky. They bounced off rooftops and landed with a plunk! into the River.

“We certainly did.” Estella agreed with a happy sigh, pausing in her work, a fresh napkin lying idly in her hands. I left the window and threw myself down on the bed to gaze up at the wood panels in the ceiling. “What do you think of Camellia?”

“What? Who in the name of wonder is Camellia?”

“For a name, for our daughter.”

Stella’s mouth twisted in utter abhorrence. “Gah!” She made a slight gagging noise, and her disgust made me laugh aloud.

“Camellia always makes me think of a lass I knew when I was a child.”

“And…” I prompted. “What was wrong with her?”

“She was always sticking her nose in the air as though she were something special.”

“Oh, you mean that thing you’re always doing, Snub-Nosed?” I teased, shoving my own nose in the air in imitation. A dishtowel from the stack came unfolded as it was hurled through the air at me. “All right, all right.” I surrendered, shielding my head with my arms. Stella had lifted a pillow, threateningly, and I wasn’t taking any chances.

“No, no dearest,” I fumbled, as I sat up. “You don’t understand. Snub-nosed is a term of endearment.” I peeked cautiously out from behind the dishtowel that had landed unceremoniously on my curls.

Estella began to laugh, no doubt at my comical headwear, and I laughed with her. “Not so fast, Mister Brandybuck,” she cautioned. “You aren’t off the hook just yet.”

“No? And what’ll it take to make amends?” I asked, though I had a feeling I already knew the answer.

Stella leaned over towards me and planted a smacking kiss on my cheek. “All better.” She declared happily.

“Not quite. For the final touch…” I planted a similar kiss on her snub little nose.

“Aw, you think you’re clever, don’t you?”

“Well aren’t I, Madam Snub-nose?”

“Not as clever as I, Sir Flat-nose.” She giggled like a lass and quickly climbed off the bed, before I could retort, to finish her folding.

I folded my arms under my head and leaned back on the bed, still laughing a bit and feeling very content.

“What if the child’s a lad?” Stella asked suddenly.

“Simple. We’ll call him Meriadoc Twice the Magnificence the II.”

“Hi, hold up you! Who said we had to name him after you?”

“Well did you want to name your son Haughty Estella the II?”

“Don’t be cheeky, you scoundrel. But seriously, there are plenty of fine hobbit names on my side of the family.”

And so we debated baby names for some time, arguing the beauty of the lass’ names, and the solid nobility of the lads’ names, but it was Estella who finally settled the argument. “Why don’t we just wait until the baby’s born, and pick a name then. That way we’ll be sure to choose a name that fits this child.” She said softly, as she lovingly patted her belly.

“Yes, but fits the child in whose eyes, mine or yours?”

Stella was about to retort when something made her drop the apron she was folding. She was staring into the laundry basket and when she reached in she pulled out a pile of small white linens. “Merry, what’s this?” She spread one out on the coverlet. To me they looked like ordinary handkerchiefs, but when I leaned forward I saw the corner was filled with intricate embroidery work, sprouting purple flowers and ivy leaves, and in the center, two letters entwined together…

I jumped back. “Stella, where did these come from? I thought I had thrown them away years ago.”

“Where did these come from, you tell me. I’ve never touched the things, save for now.” She looked at them with distaste. “This must be the load of laundry Cora washed, and I haven’t seen these hankies in years. In fact, not since-“ she stopped, but I knew when she meant.

“Not since that awful day when you first laid eyes on the things.” I finished for her. Stella was just staring blankly, her eyes fixed on the lone handkerchief resting upon the coverlet. I knew she had always felt awkward talking about Pendora, and I did my best to reassure her. “Cora must have found these in my old trunk somewhere, and just assumed I would want to use them, and figured I’d most likely forgotten about them, which I had. I’m sorry, Stell, I’d meant to throw them away ages ago.”

Estella smiled gently, but it was a serious smile, and a gesture she didn’t practice very much. She had turned so sad and sober that I wished I had just ridden myself of those cursed handkerchiefs when I should have, long ago. “In a way I wish I could’ve known her.” She was saying softly. “I wonder what she’s up to now.”

“Probably with some dashing, charming gentlehobbit, happily married.”

“So she ended up as lucky as me then?” Now she was smiling, her true Stella smile, and the sadness was gone from her voice. “Although, not quite as lucky as I. For I’ve all that, plus something more.”

“And what is that?” I asked as I rose from the bed.

“A magnificent gentlehobbit, and a new babe on its way.”

“You and I are both lucky, dearest.” I whispered tenderly in her ear as I came up behind her, encircling her and the unborn babe in my embrace. She leaned back and gently placed my hand over her stomach. “You feel that? That’s its wee foot.” She laughed with delight and craned her neck to face me. “Isn’t it a miracle?”

I smiled down at her and could only nod. I suddenly felt a flutter beneath my palm as Estella began to squeal. “Oh Mer, it’s kicking! It’s kicking! Can you feel that?”

The tiny movement made our child seem so much more a part of us just then, and I laughed and crowed as well. “I feel it, darling! I feel it.” The little one must have released the jitters that were making it fidgety, for the kicking motion stopped, and it was still.

Stella sighed contentedly and leaning back, nestled her head under my chin once more. For a long while there was perfect peace, and stillness as we gazed out the window together. I was content to stay this way forever, until I remembered something. “Oh! I’d almost forgotten. I have a present for you.”

Stella didn’t bother to turn around. “Well I should hope so, it’s Yule after all. I should be very upset if you didn’t get your only wife a holiday gift. I’d never forgive you, you know.” She teased.

“No, I mean, a present for now.”

“Now? But Merry, you can’t, it’s against the rules of Yule.”

I couldn’t help but smirk. “The rules of Yule didn’t seem to stop you when you opened ‘Tunia’s hideous rabbit.” Stella craned her neck again. She was glaring at me. Pleased with her playfully peeved reaction, I dared to continue. “Or when you blackmailed me into opening Pen’s hankies.”

“Nice try, you sneak, but you were just as much to blame as I in both those incidences.” She ground my toe beneath her heel, ever so slightly, just to make her point.

I poked her gently in the ribs. “Regardless of whose fault it was, we both did it and I thought, well,” I faltered now, unsure how to continue.

“You thought what, love?’

I cleared my throat. “I thought it could become sort of a, well, tradition of ours, I suppose, to exchange a special gift two days before Yule. After all, that is the fateful day, on both occasions, that the two of us caused ourselves so much trouble.”

Estella stepped out of my arms and turned completely towards me. Her face was radiant. “Oh, Merry, that’s the sweetest idea I’ve ever heard out of you.” She threw her arms about my neck and pecked my cheek. “All right, I admit it, you are clever.”

I grinned. “I hoped you’d say that.” I left her and went to rummage about in the closet, emerging a moment later with a small package. “Here you are, m’lady.” I presented the gift with a flourish.

Estella snatched it gleefully from my hands. “Thank you, love! Oh, but Merry, you should have told me about this sooner. Now I’ve nothing to give you. Not ‘til Yule, that is.”

“Next year, perhaps.”

“And for now, you’ll just have to help me open this one.” She extended the gift towards me, and we both began ripping the paper, as eager as children. So as the hail came down outside, we took part in this new tradition we had started together. I looked down into Estella’s laughing face and she smiled adoringly up into mine. We were together and we were happy, and that was all I needed.

I was content.