Chapter 31. Bird in a Trap

'I don't understand. Why does he not simply say "No" to his father? He has never hesitated in the past.'

Merry had told his father and mother about Paladin's plans for Pippin.

'Evidently his parents have had an understanding with Fredregar's parents since the lad was born. They just never bothered to tell my cousin about it until now.'

'There's nothing formal and binding in an understanding... why has he given up this fight before it has begun?' Esmeralda said in aggravation. 'I knew my brother was up to something, but I never thought...'

'It is more complicated than that,' Saradoc put in. He picked up a letter from the desk. 'The Thain has already announced the handfasting. He's sent out invitations, probably to every relative in the Shire.'

'Oh, no,' Esmeralda moaned.

'But Pip's just barely come of age!' Merry protested. 'He's too young to take on a wife...'

'But he has good prospects,' Saradoc said dryly. 'And I imagine that's why his father announced a handfasting, and not a wedding. It's enough to secure Peregrin's future, and once the handfasting is done, why, it doesn't really matter when the wedding takes place.'

Merry nodded glumly. 'For it will take place. Or even if one of them should...' he could scarcely speak the word for the lump in his throat, the possibility had been so recently real, 'die...'

Saradoc gave a heavy sigh and finished his son's thought, 'They would still be considered married.' He shook his head. 'At least for all legal purposes. And i' truth, when a hobbit's affection is given...'

'But it's not!' Merry cried in an agony of despair for his poor, trapped cousin. For trapped, Pippin certainly was, hands tied by the handfasting invitations as surely as the orc ropes had bound them on that long, desperate journey towards Isengard. But he won free that time, a small voice mocked in the back of his brain. He rubbed at his face to dispel the thought. There was no escape in this situation. And little Stella Bolger is hardly an orc, he muttered to himself. A pest, perhaps, a gadfly...

His mother interrupted his thoughts, putting a hand on his arm and saying, 'But what about Diamond of the north-Tooks of Long Cleeve? Had he spoken to her already? That could be considered a previous engagement.'

Merry shook his head. 'No. He told me she was too young, that he would speak at a more appropriate time.'

'Speak at a more appropriate time!' Esmeralda snapped. 'What a pity my brother did not feel the need to show the same consideration as his son!'

Merry was sick at heart. 'He will not fight this,' he said, shaking his head. 'He can defy his father without a qualm, but he will not shame the lass.'

Esmeralda put her hands over her face. 'Oh, my poor lad,' she mourned. 'My poor, bright boy.'

Merry remembered being taken on a hunt as a youth, finding a brilliantly plumaged bird held in a leg trap, desperately beating its wings, one broken in repeated attempts to take flight, finally clubbed to stillness by the forester.

Saradoc said heavily, 'Well, I guess I had better invite Estella Bolger to the Hall for a visit, that they might get to know one another a little better before the handfasting. It's the only kindness I can think of in this.'

'The north-Tooks are due next week for a visit,' Esmeralda said.

'It might mean some awkwardness, but we might as well get past it now as later,' Saradoc said.

***

Esmeralda greeted Estella Bolger kindly. It was hardly the girl's fault that they were in this situation.

'I must tell you again how much we love your portrait of Frodo,' she said over tea in the parlour.

Estella glanced up at the painting, then looked back to the Mistress. 'It is how I choose to remember him,' she said politely.

'But how...?' Merry asked.

She turned to him with a smile. 'I remember everything I see. Most of the time it is a blessing. I can close my eyes, and see Frodo as if he were standing here before me.'

'My birthday is coming up,' Saradoc said. 'I would like you to paint a portrait of Meriadoc, for my wife.'

'Oh, Husband!' Esmeralda said, overcome.

Estella smiled. 'Since I'm here to visit anyway, I would be happy to do so.' She turned her eyes to Merry. 'Would you have time to sit for me? Or shall I sketch and then paint from memory?'

'What kind of memory?' Merry asked.

Her smile brightened. 'Oh, there's so much to choose from,' she said mischievously. 'Like the time you and Fatty were wrestling and ended up in that mudhole? Or the time you climbed to rescue that cat from a tree and it jumped upon your head with all claws flying...?'

'I can make the time to sit for you,' Merry said hastily.

Pippin sipped his tea and had nothing to add to the conversation.

***

Estella asked to meet Merry and Pippin's ponies. 'You can tell so much about a hobbit from his pony,' she teased. Meeting each pony in turn, she ran her hand down the shining neck, took a carrot from her pocket to offer on her flat hand, and murmured an endearment in words that only she and the pony understood.

'Well?' Merry asked as she stepped back.

'I think you both have very fine ponies,' she answered.

'So what can you tell about the hobbits who own the ponies?' he pressed.

'Now that would be telling, wouldn't it?' she laughed. 'If you can't work it out, I certainly am not going to enlighten you!'

Taking Pippin's arm, she said, 'Let's walk back to the Hall. All this exercise has given me quite an appetite.' She looked up at Pippin. 'And I don't know why, but I feel exactly like a mother bird, looking at you. I just want to stuff you full of food every time I see you!'

'You and everyone else,' said Pippin.

***

The north-Tooks arrived with a little less than their usual jollity. Farmer Took looked quizzically at Pippin, standing beside Estella as they waited to greet the arrivals with all the rest in the welcoming party. Pippin turned his eyes away from the hurt in Diamond's.

'I'm glad to see you on your feet, lad,' Farmer Took said quietly, when ponies and waggon had been put away, and they were walking to the Hall. He couldn't say much, with that lass walking at Pippin's side. He couldn't ask the questions begging to be asked. It was all he could do to make small talk without choking on the words. 'We'd heard you were laid pretty low.'

'I'm alive,' Pippin replied. For a hobbit who would be handfasted in a few weeks, he certainly looked sombre. 'That's something, anyway.'

After he had been closeted in the study with the Master later in the day, Farmer Took understood. He shook his head. 'Pity the lad,' he said. 'I thought such things had gone out of fashion.'

'The Thain has always been a law unto himself,' Saradoc muttered. 'Ever since it was thrust upon him without a by-your-leave by old Ferumbras...'

'Aye,' the farmer sighed. 'When you have to give orders long enough, whether you will or no, in the end you start to think you must live everyone else's life for them.'

'Well, Peregrin's never allowed his father to live his life for him. Not until now,' the Master said.

'I admire the lad his honour,' Farmer Took said slowly. 'But then I knew he'd got courage. He's shown it time and again.' He drained his glass of brandy. 'Well,' he said, 'I must go and explain to Pearl and to Diamond. I'm afraid they've had reason to think hard thoughts about the lad since the invitation for the handfasting arrived, though they didn't want to believe it of him.' He sighed. 'Well, it's not the lad's fault, nor the lass's, either.' He shook his head. 'It's a bad business.'

Saradoc could only agree.