A Slight Case of Magnificence

Summary: Just before one of the turning points in his life, Merry finds himself in an unexpected situation. A Fourth Age tale.

Setting: Buckland, Late November, 1438. Pippin is 48, Merry is 56, Estella is 53, Faramir Took is 8.

A/N: Much thanks to everyone who has been so faithful about reviewing and reading. It means a lot more than I know how to say. I’ve tried to get this chapter out to you a little quicker than the last one. I very much hope that you enjoy it.

A/N 9-18-03: My apologies for having written "Dell" instead of "Dale." That was a silly mistake and I’m really embarrassed by it. Thank you to Shirebound, though, for pointing it out to me. It has now been fixed.

Disclaimer: Characters and places do not belong to me

Chapter Four: Holed Up

The Master’s quarters at Brandy Hall were rather like a large apartment attached the Southernmost end, complete with private gardens and a separate gated entrance. It had often times annoyed Merry to have to come the long way from the road, all around the rest of the smial just to get there, but this night he was glad for it. It made for a much less noticeable approach and he wanted to avoid hoards of Brandybucks who would panic the moment they recognized the Master’s new houseguests.

They entered the gates and in the grass clearing near the entry, Merry hastily tied the ponies to the hitching post. Then he produced two elaborately carved keys from his breast pocket and unlocked the door. Faramir noted this with interest. The doors were never locked at his home. Before he could ask about it, though, Merry had ushered them into the cloakroom.

"Stay here." He commanded then edged past them into the main sitting room.

The room was empty, the fire that normally burned bright and lusty long into the evening had been left to dwindle so that it was hardly more than embers. The sight put a shiver down Merry’s back.

"Estella!" He hissed.

When there was no response he called out slightly louder. "Estella?!"

For a moment he found he could not move nor think, then a clap of thunder shook the rainy night and brought him back to his senses.

"All right," he murmured to himself, "perhaps she has gone to the main hall."

He turned and made his way back through the cloakroom. "I must tend to the ponies." He said. "Stay here."

"Do you need help, Merry?" Pippin asked and stepped forward to follow him.

"Stay here." Merry repeated.

With a slam of the door, he disappeared back into the night.

~~~~

Pippin and Faramir stood in the musty cloakroom for some time without speaking or moving. Only after the meager heat from the adjacent room began to creep in did Pippin realize how miserably cold he felt. With a shudder he peeled off his wet cloak and then began to feel around the walls in the dark for an unoccupied peg on which to hang it.

"Da?" Faramir asked then, finally feeling that it was all right to speak.

"Mmm?" Pippin fumbled but neatly saved himself from falling over an umbrella canister.

"Why does Uncle Merry keep his door locked?"

"Because this isn’t Tuckburough."

"Well, why don’t we lock our doors in Tuckburough?"

"Because it isn’t Buckland."

Pippin heaved a sigh of relief as he found an empty peg and promptly hooked his cloak over it. Then he turned to greet what he knew well enough would be another question. He was met instead by an enormous sneeze.

"Achoo!"

Pippin was startled, then he laughed. "Where did that come from?"

Faramir shook his head and started to answer but sneezed once more.

"Achoo!"

The lad shuddered with chill and stood still, afraid to speak again for fear of another head-rattling sneeze.

The smile faded from Pippin’s face. He knelt down and peered at his son. "Are you cold?"

Faramir shuddered again and closed his eyes. "I’m all wet."

"Well of course you are!" Pippin muttered harshly, "Why didn’t you take off your wet things? Haven’t you any sense at all in that head?" He unfastened Faramir’s cloak quickly (pulling rather more roughly than he intended, to be honest) and hung it on the same peg as his own. It fell to the floor and he re-hung it, only to have it flop down a second time.

"Gah!" Pippin yelled in frustration and kicked the cloak against a bench.

"I…I didn’t…" Faramir struggled to give reason for why he hadn’t taken off his wet things but tears of anger were suddenly welling in his eyes and he fought instead to hold them in.

"Come on." Pippin said sharply and, lifting the boy bodily, carried him over to the fireplace in the sitting room.

"But Uncle Merry said--"

"Never mind what Merry said. Goodness, Farry, you’re soaked clear through to the skin!"

Faramir stood still as his father removed the wet clothes but he jerked away when Pippin started unbuttoning his damp underthings.

"Da!!"

Pippin laughed and sat back on his heels in surprise. "Whenever did you get so modest? Come here."

"Daa…"

"Honestly, Farry. There’s no one here but me and there’s nothing under there I haven’t seen before."

"But Uncle Merry…"

"Uncle Merry’s seen that before as well, believe me."

"Aw, Da!"

"Well, it’s true!"

"Uggh!" Disgusted and embarrassed and still a great deal angry, Faramir gave in and stomped back to his father. Scarlet flaming from his ears to his nose, he allowed himself to be stripped bare though he kept his glare firmly fixed on the ceiling.

"All right, then," Pippin gave him a gentle push toward the hearth, "Get as warm as you can. I’ll see if I can’t find a blanket around here. You think Estella would keep a better fire going in the Master’s quarters. Or a servant, or whosever’s job it is…" His voice trailed off as he moved from the fireplace and began searching nooks and cupboards for some spare blankets. "Ah-ha!" He crowed, spying a stack of what appeared to be towels on the topmost shelf of a very tall cabinet. The way the cabinet was constructed, it was intended that one would have to use a footstool to reach the upper shelves. There was no footstool present, as far as a quick glance could determine, but Pippin decided this was of little consequence. In fact, if he stood on the bottom shelf and bent just so he could just about reach the top…

At that moment, several things happened at once.

Daffodil, Merry and Estella’s maidservant, entered the apartment with a basket of fresh laundry on her hip. She saw the naked hobbit lad, promptly screamed and dropped the basket and all it’s contents top down onto the floor. Faramir saw her see him and screeched as well. He scrambled to find a place to hide from her eyes and tripped over a tea table, taking a stack of papers and a vase of flowers down with him. Pippin, startled by the commotion, tried to turn and see what it was all about. Doing so, he shifted his balance and began to fall back, nearly taking the cabinet with him. He just managed to keep the whole affair from toppling over, but didn’t see the large volume of agricultural reference sliding off a high shelf. It knocked him neatly on the head. He cursed. Loudly.

And that was when Merry walked in.

~~~~

It took several minutes to calm Daffodil down and get her to believe that Pippin and Faramir, despite all that she’d heard did not in fact have the pox nor were they going to give it to her or anyone else either.

"You’ve just got to trust my word," Merry sighed, putting his hand upon her shoulder, "I know I haven’t got any proof of what the healer said but you’ve got to believe that I would never have brought them here if there was any chance of…well, of anything bad happening."

Daffodil took a shaky breath and looked at the Master. She knew that he and the Mistress were very kind hobbits. They were the only ones, for example, who had never called her "Daffy" as everyone else did and instead insisted on calling her "Dilly." It was a small thing, but that kind of thing meant a lot when you were unfortunately named. And it was far from the only nice thing the Master and Mistress had done for her. She looked into Merry’s warm gray eyes and nodded.

"All right," she said, "I trust you."

"Good," Merry smiled "Good, Dilly, thank you."

"May, may I ask you one thing, though, Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Why is Master Faramir not wearin’ any clothes?"

"Indeed, a good question. Faragrin?" Merry called over his shoulder to the lad who was still crouched naked behind an arm chair, "What happened to your clothes between now and the few minutes ago I last saw you? Have you misplaced them?"

"Da made me take them off."

"Well, would you rather I let you catch your death of cold?" Pippin grumbled, speaking up from where he had plopped down to nurse his head, "You were soaked through to the skin." He rubbed the bump that was beginning to rise beneath his hair and frowned in their general direction.

Merry closed his eyes and sighed. "We’ll get you something dry to wear, Farry. Just hold on."

He knelt down and began to rummage through the pile of laundry that Daffodil had dropped near the door. It was mostly towels and linens, but there were a few items of clothing as well. Merry found one of his dressing gowns, pale blue flannel. It would do.

He crawled over to Faramir’s hiding spot and handed him the garment, sitting back on his heels as he did so. Faramir accepted it with his eyes lowered.

"I’m sorry I broke your vase."

"Oh?" Merry glanced over to the shards of pottery near the up-turned tea table. "Well, that’s all right. Estella and I never cared for that much anyway."

"It is ugly." Faramir agreed.

Merry wanted to laugh but suddenly found he couldn’t take his eyes of the lad. That was the exact sort of thing that Pippin might have said at that age. For a moment it felt as if time had fallen backward and Merry was sixteen again, comforting Pippin after some bit of unintended trouble.

But then the moment passed and Merry was old again, helping his little cousin up to his feet, gathering the lengths of extra fabric that hung down from the robe and piling them in his arms. He heard Daffodil behind them, saying to Pippin:

"Looks like you’ve got a right big knot on your head there. Ought to send for some ice to be brought from the kitchen cellars."

"Oh, Dilly," Merry interrupted, turning from Faramir, "I should have told you right away. You see, it’s to be a secret that the Thain and his son are here, all right? I can not have all of Brandy Hall panicking the way you did when you found out they were here."

"But you said they didn’t have the pox." Daffodil stepped away from Pippin.

"Yes and it’s true, they don’t. But hobbits are more likely to panic first and listen last. I honestly can’t deal with that at the moment. So for the time being no one else besides you or I or the Mistress is to enter or leave these quarters. And not a word of this business is to be spoken to anyone. It is to be our secret, all right? I need to be able to trust you as you trust me."

Daffodil nodded solemnly. "You can trust me, Sir."

"Good." Merry straightened up and stretched. "Now would you happen to know where I may find my wife? Has she gone to the main parlor or the kitchens perhaps?"

"Why, no sir. She’s in her bed she is."

"But it’s so early."

"Well, Healer Boffins was by yesterday and he said that she’s not to leave her bed for the duration. It’s an order, he said."

"She’s been ordered to her bed?!" Merry’s face turned ghostly white. For a second it looked as if he were about to swoon, but instead he turned on his feet and nearly ran down the hall to the bedrooms.

Pippin, Faramir and Daffodil all stared after him in shock.

~~~~

"Merry, Merry," Estella soothed, patting her husband’s head which lay at a rather uncomfortable angle against her chest, "It’s all right. It’s only a precaution. You know that."

"Merry, please. I’m fine. Everything is fine."

"Oh, Estella, but what if it is not? Three months? Three months is an awful long time for precaution. Are you sure he said there was nothing actually wrong? He didn’t…he didn’t suspect anything?"

"No and he intends for us to keep it that way. Therefore, I’m not to leave this bed for the next three months. Believe me, I’m not thrilled at the notion but if that’s what it’s going to take, I’ll not argue."

Merry had calmed now a great deal. "It will be good to see you off your feet," he admitted, "You work far too hard."

"You’re a fine pot to be calling the kettle black." Estella smiled. "And anyway, I do hope you’ll find some time in your schedule to keep me…entertained. It does get quite dull in here all alone."

"Yes…entertained." Merry grinned slyly and kissed his wife. But then he sighed and sat back. "Though I doubt I’ll be much for entertaining for some time yet. Not with certain guests about. And all matter of things that need straightening out."

"So Pippin and Faramir have come to stay?"

"For the time being, yes. I’m sorry, Estella."

"There’s no reason to be sorry. Nothing else you could have done. I would like to see our Faramir. Is he about yet?"

"Of course he is. But are you ready to see visitors?"

"Goodness, I’ve spent the past several hours counting the cracks in the ceiling and noting how the curtains need a good dusting. Of course I’m ready for visitors. I am aching for them, to be honest."

Merry kissed her again before he rose. "I don’t know what I would do without you, my heart."

Estella gave no reply. It was the sort of thought she didn’t care to think about.

~~~~

When he was lead into the bed chamber, Faramir was surprised at the appearance of Auntie Estella. While she was still as pretty as she’d ever been (he considered her second only to his own Mum) she’d got awful fat. Almost as fat as Goldie’s Mum had been this past summer when they’d been out to visit Hobbiton just before Goldie got a new sister and stopped writing to him because she said she was too busy. The sight was disturbing to him because while Goldie’s mum was always getting fat and then slim again, Auntie Estella had never been like that. She was a bit plump, it was true, but in a nice, comfortable way like Uncle Merry. This didn’t suit her at all.

"Farry?" She called out uncertainly, "Aren’t you going to give your Auntie a kiss?"

Faramir flushed hot then because he realized he was being rude. Grandma Eg had told him it was never nice to pay too much attention to someone’s size, no matter how often his Da teased Uncle Merry and that people didn’t like it the same way he didn’t like it when people pointed out how very small he was.

So he smiled politely and did his best to reach up and give her a hug and a kiss though it was hard with her great tummy getting in the way.

"Oh, you hardly fit now!" She laughed and squeezed him tight.

Then Uncle Merry lifted him up and placed him next to Auntie Estella on the bed. There was a queer look upon his face and, with a start, Faramir realized that Uncle Merry was nervous.

"Farry," he began steadily, "Have you any idea why Estella…well, why she looks like that. Why she is so big?"

Faramir thought about saying that she probably ate too much but that didn’t sound at all nice so he merely shook his head.

"Well it’s because she, well, we, are going to have a baby."

"Really?!" Faramir’s face lit up like a firework. "Is it going to be a lad-baby?"

"Well, well we don’t know yet. We won’t know until it comes."

"Where is it? Does it take a lot of time to get here?" Faramir was surprised at the way Uncle Merry had spoken about the baby. He’d always assumed babies came from some place local but Uncle Merry made it sound as though they had to come from far away. He wondered if they ordered them from Dale, the way his Da ordered gifts for birthdays and Yule. That made sense, he supposed. Everything good seemed to come from Dale.

"Well, no," Merry fumbled with his words, "See, that’s what I meant. The baby’s here. In there, actually. In Estella’s tummy."

Faramir was aghast. "How did it get there?!"

"Um." Merry looked pained.

But Estella laughed lightly. "Why, that’s just the way it works, darling. Babies sometimes turn up in mummys’ tummies and they stay there until they’re grown enough to come out and be regular babies like you’ve seen."

"Does it always work that way?" Faramir’s mind turned all this information around. He felt ready to burst with all the questions springing up in his head.

"Yes." Estella smiled. "It’s very normal."

"Did I used to be in someone’s tummy?"

"Of course."

"Whose?"

"Your Mum’s." His Da said, speaking up for the first time. He’d been standing in the corner very quietly since they came in. "That’s why she’s your mum."

Faramir took this in. "What if I was in someone else’s tummy? Some other lady besides Mum. Would she be my mum then?"

"Well, you wouldn’t be you then." Uncle Merry stated logically.

Faramir nodded. Then he gazed at Auntie Estella’s tummy. "Is it nice in there?"

"Certainly," Uncle Merry laughed, "Warm and snug and cozy. Lots of good food."

"Like a hobbit hole!" Faramir was pleased to have made this connection.

"Yes," Uncle Merry glanced at Faramir’s Da, "Exactly like a hobbit hole."

"Would you like to have a listen?" Auntie Estella offered.

"Oh yes!" Then Faramir put his head where she directed him against her tummy and grew very still as he listened. After a bit his sharp hobbit ears picked up the sound of his Aunt’s heartbeat. Then, ever so faintly, another heartbeat.

Everyone seemed to hold their breath as they watch Faramir listen with an expression of the most intense concentration upon his small face.

"I can hear it," he whispered. "He’s a lad-baby."

"How do you know?" Uncle Merry asked quietly.

"He told me."

Uncle Merry looked at Auntie Estella over the boy’s head.

A smile crawled across Faramir’s face as he reported the next bit of information:

"He’s a hobbit!"

"Well of course he is!" Estella burst out, offended. "What else would he be?"

But Uncle Merry only smiled gently. "Did he tell you he was a hobbit?"

"No. He told me he was hungry."

~~~~

After some discussion, it was determined that perhaps it would be a good idea for all of them to have a bite to eat (Faramir agreed enthusiastically with this) and so Daffodil was sent down to the kitchens to fetch supper. Faramir seemed reluctant to leave his future cousin and, luckily, Estella was happy for the company. The two were sitting companionably on the bed and chatting when Merry left the bed chamber to find out where Pippin had slipped off to. He’d been unusually quiet all through the visit, not even bidding a hello to Estella. This annoyed Merry.

He found his cousin in the Master’s office, his feet upon the writing desk. If it was possible to smoke in a moody fashion, he was doing so. Merry sat down on the floor beside his chair.

"How’s your head?"

"Got a great big lump. I’m certain it looks quite handsome."

" I wonder what Opal Frogmorton would have to say about that."

"She’d probably suggest knocking it back in with a hammer."

Merry smiled. That sounded like exactly what the old healer would say. "Would you like a drink, Pip? There’s a decanter of brandy on the windowsill."

"No, thank you. I’ve got enough of a headache as it is."

"Fair enough. I think I’m going to have a spot, though, if you don’t mind."

"Merry?"

"Yes?"

"Why didn’t you tell me?"
Merry glanced at his cousin then looked back to his feet and sighed. "I suppose I was afraid."

"Of what? Of me? Do you not think I would be happy for you? Delighted, even. Merry, you’re going to be a father."

"That’s exactly what I am afraid of."

Pippin looked at him, confused. "I don’t know what you mean."

"I don’t know either, Pip. I don’t know why I didn’t tell you. I meant to, but…" He stood up began walking to the door and waved his hands uselessly as if what more there was to explain could not be put into words.

"We used to tell each other everything, Mer."

Merry hesitated, grasping the doorframe.

"Yes," he said, "but there weren’t so many things in the way then." Turning away from his cousin, he left.

Pippin watched him go then flung his pipe against the closed door. It dropped to the stone floor and lay dead.

With a sigh that sounded dangerously close to a sob, he put his head down on the desk and went to sleep.

~~~~

When Pippin didn’t come out of the office for supper, Merry said not to bother him.

"It’s his loss, as always." He said and handed the untouched portion over to Faramir, who’d been eyeing it with interest since finishing his own plate.

Then he left to help Daffodil set up one of the spare bedrooms for Pippin and Faramir to sleep in. It took longer than he expected and when he returned the supper dishes were all neatly stacked and Faramir was sound asleep beside Estella on the bed.

"Poor dear," she said, running a finger softly over the curve of his ear, "He must have been exhausted."

"All that food he put away, I’m not surprised it made him sleepy." Merry pulled his nightshirt over his head and crawled onto the bed, careful not to shake it too much and disturb the other occupants.

"Do you think our child will eat like that?" Estella looked a bit frightened at the thought.

"No. He’s just a Took."

"There’s an awful lot of Took in both of us."

"Yes, but…well, it doesn’t bear thinking about. He will be half Brandybuck and half Bolger. The common sense in that should knock out any stray bits of Took he’ll have floating about."

"You’re saying ‘he’ now just like Faramir."

"Well, didn’t he get it straight from the source?"

"Merry…"

"I’m only kidding. I’m sure if it’s a she she will be half Brandybuck and half Bolger as well."

"I should hope so."

"And entirely as lovely as you."

"Oh, Mer. I missed you so these last few days. It’s getting to be that I hardly want to be apart from you for even a minute."

"Rest soundly then, for I’m not going anywhere for a long time."

"Goodnight, Merry."

"Goodnight, love."

He lay there for a long time, not quite sleepy yet. He watched the moonlight grow full and the trees outside throw shadows across the ceiling.

When he felt Faramir awaken and stir a bit later he asked the boy if he would rather be moved in to sleep with his father.

"No thank you." He replied firmly.

Merry took note at the cross tone. "Did your Da do something to anger you, Faragrin?"

A brooding pause, then a whisper. "He said I didn’t have any sense in my head."

Merry just barely managed to keep himself from laughing. "Pippin? Said that about you?"

"Yes."

And there was such fury in that voice that Merry decided not to let the conversation go further.

"Well, never mind then," he said, tousling the lad’s hair gently. "You have plenty of sense in your head. Now go back to sleep. Everything will be better in the morning."

Faramir nodded and seemed to return to slumber right upon command.

Merry lingered awake still longer, thinking all sorts of thoughts, both pleasant and troubling. Then he sighed and drunk in the nice feeling of being in bed beside his wife, a child cuddled between them. It wouldn’t be long at all before that child would be their own.

Faramir turned in his sleep and buried his nose against Merry’s chest. It added the final warmth inside Merry that he needed to give in to rest.

‘He’s not such a bad stand-in until then.’ Was his last thought before drifting into dreams.