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When the King Comes Back ( Brandy Hall )  by Dreamflower

Merry had taken the letters from Éomer and Aragorn to his father and left him to read them alone. Although he was mightily curious, he did not want Saradoc to feel pressured.

He decided to take a walk down to the River before tea. He went to his room for his cloak. Smiling, he fastened the leaf brooch. As light as the Elven cloaks were, they were warm and wore incredibly well. Even after captivity, flood and battle, his still looked like new. But the best part was the reminder of his time in Lórien.

As he neared the dock, he noticed Estella talking to one of the Hobbits taking the Master’s messages across the River.

“Is everything all right, Estella?”

“Oh, Merry, maybe you could help. I want to send a message to my brother, but I don’t know who he’s staying with right now.”

Merry thought for a minute. “I know. Send it in care of Frodo; he and Sam are staying with the Cottons for now, but he could easily find out where Fredegar is and get it to him.”

“Oh, thank you, Merry.” She handed the letter to the messenger, who had heard the instructions, and turned to Merry with a warm smile. “What a beautiful brooch. I’ve never seen anything like it before.”

“It’s Elvish. It was given me by the Lady Galadriel in Lothlórien.”

“That sounds lovely.” She hesitated. “Merry, Esmerelda said not to press you about all the horrid things that happened to you, but -- well, weren’t there some *pleasant* things you could talk about?”

“Indeed, there were. There were Elves, and Ents and the Rohirrim; I made many good friends. Do you know I have a ‘sister’ now?” he teased.

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Her name is Éowyn. She is the sister of Éomer King of Rohan, my liege. They call her the White Lady of Rohan. She is beautiful and brave and skilled with the sword and an excellent horsewoman. We rode into battle together, so I am her sword-brother and she is my sword-sister.”

"Oh,” said Estella in a small voice.

Merry glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, and crossed his arms. “Yes. Actually, I fancy myself a bit of a matchmaker. I do like to think that it was with my help that her betrothed was able to melt her heart,” he said, suppressing a smile.

“She is betrothed?”

Oh, yes. Her betrothed is Faramir, the Steward of Gondor and Prince of Ithilien. He is a great friend of Pippin, who saved his life. It’s a very romantic story. Would you like to hear about it?”

“Oh, yes,” she said, looking up with shining eyes.

So Merry gave her the tale of Éowyn and Faramir, and then the tale of Arwen and Aragorn. And if some sad or frightening bits did inevitably intrude, they were yet on the whole, pleasant tales. As they walked back to the Hall, Merry felt quite pleased with the effect of his storytelling on the fair Estella. Now, if he could only remember more of it he might tell her the story of Beren and Luthien.

______________________________________________

Frodo and Sam were taking afternoon tea in the large farm kitchen with the Cotton family. The Gaffer and Sam’s youngest sister Marigold were also there.

Frodo watched in fond amusement as Rosie and Marigold teased their brothers, and flirted with their sweethearts. Tom Cotton was just as smitten with Marigold as Sam was with Rosie. Frodo thought that there were going to be a number of double first cousins coming to the Gamgee/Cotton family tree.

Suddenly, one of those flashes of insight he had from time to time came upon him, and he knew that Sam and Rosie would have many children-- how many children, and how many lasses, and how many lads, and even some of their names. He touched Arwen’s jewel at his throat, and smiled to himself. At least this premonition was a good one. Sam deserved to do well.

And Sam *was* doing well. He had responded to being back in the Shire like a thirsty plant to water, in spite of the chaos Saruman had wrought. His friend had changed for the better; for all that Sam would probably never lose his outward deference of manner, he was inwardly bolder, more confident, more able to take an initiative--Frodo was proud of him.





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