Flowers, Gems And Estella - Chapter III
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“You should finish that stack of pancakes if you want to be Fatty again anytime soon,” Estella said to her brother, who was sitting at the oak table trying to swallow one of her delicious breakfasts. It worried her that he still wasn’t eating as much as he used to – he’d barely changed in the two months they’d been out of the Lockholes.
“I just don’t feel like eating, Stella – can’t help it, I just don’t want to swallow anything. Not even your pancakes,” he said sorrowfully, picking at his plate. He lifted the fork above it, watching the maple syrup drip idly.
“If you don’t want those, then what do you want to eat? Biscuits and gravy – waffles – eggs and bacon?” Estella’s heart dropped lower with every shake of Fredegar’s head.
She left him to stare at his plate, and exited the house for the backyard, scaling the green hill. She drew her cloak close in the early winter air. The sun was rising as she reached the zenith, splashing the surrounding foliage with a deep, red shade. It seemed the wounds caused by the ruffians were healing – better than before even, as she never remembered the Shire being so lovely for this time of year. Although Sam had mentioned using some kind of special Elven dirt – and the mallorn sapling in the Party Field that was already rivaling some of the other trees – she supposed that was his doing too. But where he had gotten that special dirt, she could think of nowhere else but from the faraway lands to which he had traveled.
It wasn’t the first time that she’d wondered where they had gone, and what had happened. What could have happened to them that affected them in so many ways – what could have caused that dark light she often saw in Frodo’s eyes, when he thought no one was looking? And Merry and Pippin – for one thing, how’d they get so tall? And the armor, the scars – that older wisdom she saw in their eyes, although not so much in Pippin’s – he was still a reckless tween after all.
It’s like they’ve been to Hell and back – and they return home, and try to make a simple transition back into the normal life of a hobbit – but how can it be a simple transition? How can any of it be simple? It was hard enough for her to adjust after the Occupation – but that was probably a walk in the park compared to what the four of them did on their travels.
Estella gave her brother the excuse that she was in need of some produce from the market, and made her ways towards the town of Bywater. It was bustling enough for its size, and many hobbits were at the market, looking at newly delivered products from far-away lands. Some were lands with which the Shire had never done trade with before, and many goods Estella had never seen.
A glitter of silver caught her eye, and she looked upon an intricately carved brooch. It was in the shape of a budding flower with wide spread petals. In the center of the flower was a small jewel. For a moment she thought it a diamond – but what would such a beautiful piece be doing in Bywater, where folks were more likely to purchase tools for farming? She didn’t dare ask the price of it.
“That’s most likely of Elven make – probably from Rivendell, it looks like a necklace of Arwen’s.” She looked up to see Merry standing next to her, with Pippin on the other side of him. He was pointing at the piece she had been looking at. She pretended not to hear him, as if she didn’t know he was talking to her, which he may not have been anyway.
“Estella, right? What do you think about it?”
“Oh – well, it’s very beautiful. I suppose it is of Elven make – I’ve never seen anything like that made by Shire hands before.” She didn’t want to seem ignorant – but she had no idea what they were talking about! Rivendell? Arwen? She pretended to be in a hurry so that she might escape from them. They bid her a polite farewell, and continued on their way.
“That sure was strange – Merry Brandybuck, acting civilized, and polite?” she said to herself, not looking where she was going – and bumping straight into someone. Estella fell upon the ground in a great heave, while she heard the lass above her shriek an apology.
“Oh, goodness! I’m so sorry – you’re not hurt, are you?” she said, grabbing her hand so as to pull her up, “I guess I wasn’t looking where I was going – I always seem to be doing that.” She grinned sheepishly as she spoke.
“Well, I suppose it was my fault too – I was –” But when she thought about it, she realized she didn’t want to reveal the details of her inability to pay attention. She only shook her head, and continued to brush off the dust that resulted from her fall. “I guess I saw something pretty at a stand, and kept walking while looking at it.”
“Have you seen any of the silver jewelry – they say it’s Elven made,” she said, a bright smile upon her face, “Oh, sorry! I’m Rosie Cotton – don’t believe I know you,” she said offering a friendly hand.
Estella had seen Rosie a few times before – it was at Bilbo’s infamous birthday party, she remembered the last to be – but had never really chanced an in-depth conversation. The Cottons were poor farmers, not very high on the social ladder. She imagined that was the reason they hadn’t ever mingled – which was a shame, she realized as they walked and talked down the market together. Once she bid Rosie goodbye for the day, she returned home, hoping that Fredegar had perhaps eaten something in her absence. However, he refused the dinner she offered to make when she returned home.
“Have you eaten anything today?” she asked of him, somewhat sadly.
“Well – a slice of buttered bread, and a sip of water. Mother forced me to swallow a small sandwich – and I managed to keep that down,” he said, smiling weakly.
“What am I going to do with you, Fatty?” she said, and sat down at the carved oak table with him. Her hand was held against her forehead in frustration. Fredegar said nothing, only slumped his head in response.
“Well, now we don’t have to buy as much food as we did before. The grocery bill’s gone down several coppers since before the Occupation – I don’t think you’ll have to take a job this winter,” he said, grinning. That was just like Fredegar, always looking for something better, somewhere closer to the sun. That bright sun that had not brought much happiness into her life – but maybe everything was changing, changing for the better. Times would be good enough again soon, good for all of them, even her, which had never happened that often.
“You’ll see Stella,” Fredegar said, almost as if he’d read her mind, “Things will be better. For all of us.” She smiled at this thought, watching the sun go down behind the grassy hill, mixing reds and oranges with the dominant blue-violet.