Flowers, Gems And Estella - Chapter V
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Estella watched the birds disappear over the treetops, their last caws echoing in her mind – she knew that their leaving meant winter was not far off now. This time last year she had watched the birds leaving, almost standing in the same spot as she did now – on the top of the hill behind her house, surrounded by falling leaves of brown, red and gold – but with very different thoughts. Even at this time last year the threat of the Outsiders had been felt – they weren’t yet locking up those who dared to resist them, but no hobbit could remember such a time when so many tall, scruffy-looking men wandered within their borders.
She looked over the fields that her family owned, feeling a sense of renewal from the year before. The rising sun set a beautiful hue on the empty fields that a few days ago had hosted several bushels of corn – corn that would hopefully feed them that winter. It was worrisome, to see how much they had harvested this year, in comparison to the previous years of her youth. Would they have enough to get them through the cold winter, when so much had been destroyed during the Occupation?
She looked to their neighbors’ fields – theirs were not so different, a little better, a little worse – if they had to suffer that winter, then they would suffer together, all of them.
A crunch of dead leaves alerted to her senses the presence of her brother, Fredegar, looking everyday more and more like his old self. “Morning, Stella – it’s awfully cold to be outside, don’t you think?”
“And why is that any concern of yours? I’ve got a cloak, in case you can’t tell,” she told him, grinning.
“Well, excuse me – but I was only thinking of my little baby sister, and how cold she might be out here away from the delicious breakfast that our mother has ready for us inside – of course, if you want to stay out here, that’s perfectly fine with me, you kno –” He stopped short at that moment, realizing that Estella was no longer there. He looked back to see her running down the hill towards the house.
“Last one to the kitchen is a scum-faced ruffian!” she yelled back at him.
“How dare you imply that someone such as yourself could actually beat me to the table?” he joked, running after her. He ran as hard as he could, but to no avail – Estella’s head start ensured that Fredegar was to be the scum-faced ruffian.
Mrs. Bolger looked up upon the entry of her children into the kitchen, smiling at the sight of them – Fredegar finally looked as if he had meat on his bones, instead of the limp, sickly form he had taken after being shut in the Lockholes – and Estella, for once not pretending to be happy, but actually allowing herself to be as such, smiling brightly as she rushed to the table. It was something that Rosamunda did not see often in her daughter.
The two of them downed their breakfast, then agreed to race one another out of the house and into town. They nearly collided with their father on the way out, shouting back at him, “Bye!” in hurried tones.
“Now what’s got them in such a state?” Odovacar asked of his wife. Rosamunda shrugged, and withdrew from the oven a steaming pie, which she placed on the windowsill. A plate of handmade rolls sat waiting, and she placed them in the oven next, not noticing that one roll was missing, and was currently being eaten in the next room by her husband.
Estella drew her woven-cloak close in the chilly air as she and her brother raced each other to the town of Bywater. Fredegar won the race that time, although no terms had been set as to what the loser was this time.
Several hobbits were in town, compared to what there had been a few days ago, when she had last been in town. Many were there to sell the last of their harvest before winter, she noticed by the numerous carts laden with corn, wheat and other produce. There were also those who were buying supplies that they might not be able to get until spring when the markets reopened.
“Good thing Father already came to sell our crop – we might not have been able to with this rush,” Fredegar stated, “Perhaps there’s still some trinkets to be seen in the marketplace.”
Not many small shops were still in existence – even fewer of them were still selling those unnecessary luxuries, such as jewelry. Estella looked around for a glint of silver from the necklace she’d seen – or any piece of silver for that matter. She was thinking she wouldn’t see it – and there it was. The manager of the establishment was closing up and packing things away into boxes. The Elven necklace was one of the few pieces still there – there was also a bracelet made of flowers linked to one another, and a necklace similar to it.
“Oh that’s pretty, isn’t it?” Fredegar commented. Estella merely nodded. The shopkeeper looked up when she heard him speak.
“Oy there! Yeh interested in some jewelry? I’ll give yer a discount, as I’m closing up shop ‘ere!” she said, with a very pronounced accent that Estella recognized as Northern.
“Oh, uh – well, we were just looking at these pieces. They’re very lovely,” Fredegar said.
“Aye, tha’ they are. I don’ make ‘em meself though – these ‘ere are of Elven-make. I had a few tha’ were from over beyond the Misty Mountains – was told Dwarves made ‘em, from the Lonely Mountain, wot.”
“That one’s really nice,” Estella said, pointing to the necklace with the flower pendant, “How much is that?”
“Oh, this ‘un? Well, I can’t sell yeh tha’ particular piece – ‘ave this ‘un on reserve. But I’ll see if’n I can get another ‘un next spring for yeh – I won’t take yer money now.”
“Exactly when will you be back?” Estella asked.
“Well, I’m headin’ ter Bree-land shortly ‘ere now – a few days time, I reckon – I’m goin’ up ter the North Farthing after tha’ – up near Long Cleeve, where I’m from, stay there a few weeks. I’d say ‘round first of April I’ll be back ‘ere.”
“You said it was on reserve. Who to?” Estella asked.
“Well, I normally don’ give away the iden’ities of mah customers – but I know it’s from somewhere’s in Buckland. I don’ remember ‘zactly who ordered it, though. I’ll be stoppin’ there soon, in jus’ a few days, wot wot,” she said.
“Ah, I’m sure there’s a lot of Bucklanders able to afford that piece,” Fredegar said once they’d left, “Wouldn’t it be a surprise if it ended up being someone like Merry?”
“What? Merry actually buying something with a lass in mind? You need to eat something Fatty – you’re hallucinating,” Estella joked.
“You’re right – I’m sure it’s some other Bucklander who’s buying it for you, Estella dear,” he said, grinning.
“Now you’re just being completely insane – I don’t believe there’s any hope for you at all, wot wot.” They shared a hearty laugh as they made their way into town. Fredegar insisted that they stop by The Green Dragon for a bite to eat and a spot of ale, as he put it. Estella joked that there was some lass he was intending to meet there, and they ended up racing one another there, Estella claiming that the loser was to be a snot-nosed, pickle-faced Outsider. Fredegar ran after her, reminding her that she was in a public area and such language was atrocious for a young lass.
The pub was scarcely filled when they arrived – they supposed the evening rush had not yet begun.
“Most of our customers as still at market, trying to sell their harvest, or to buy some goods before winter,” the bartender told them, “And from the looks of things, they’re just in time.”
Estella looked outside to see that the sky had turned dark and gray all of a sudden – an early snowfall looked to be not far away. She turned back to the bartender.
“Does a lass named Rosie Cotton work here by any chance?”
“Why, yes she does – one of the best workers I ever had in here. I suppose you’re wanting to see her then – a friend I’m guessing you are?” Estella nodded. “Well, she’s not here right now – but she’ll come in later, to serve the evening rush. You can see her then.”
“I guess I will then,” Estella said.