Flowers, Gems And Estella - Chapter VI
<><><><><>
Merry pulled the cloak closer around his shoulders, looking up at the darkening gray sky. “You finally talked to her, did you?” he asked of Sam. He had been stunned to hear that he had actually held a conversation with long-time love interest Rosie Cotton – and was very pleased.
“Well – yeah. It started out rather slow – me being silent and all – and then, it just became – easier, to talk to her.” Sam said. He was nervous, yes – but one had to admire him. For what he had done, what he had come through – the things that only Frodo knew the extent of.
“You can go to Mordor and back, facing down Orcs and a giant spider – but you still have trouble talking to a lass. You amaze me, Samwise.” Sam grinned, his forehead turning red under tufts of sand-colored hair.
“Well, maybe I wouldn’t have trouble if I talked to her – more, I mean. More than I am now.”
“Which is exactly why you need my help,” Merry said, slapping him on the back and grinning at him in a way that made Sam a bit afraid.
But it turned out he had nothing to be afraid of. It was early evening when they arrived at The Green Dragon, but still chilly – tiny flakes of snow were already falling from the darkening sky. The main room of the pub was nearly half-full and emptying – Merry and Sam found a seat at the bar where Rosie was working.
“Evening chaps,” she said to them, winking at Sam almost indiscernibly, “What’ll it be for you two?”
“Evening to you, Rosie ma’am – an ale for me, and Samwise here will have a –” He broke off, allowing Sam to speak for himself. But he didn’t – only sat there staring, and not even at Rosie, but at the ceiling! Merry gently nudged him in the side with his elbow, whispering to him when he came to, “Sam – what do you want to drink?”
He stuttered for a moment, pretending to be interested with the wood grain of the bar, circling his finger around a dark brown knothole – then muttered, “Same for me thanks.” Merry had to repeat this to Rosie, who smiled and retreated to prepare their drinks.
“So – exactly when did you talk to her?” Merry said, now doubting that Sam had ever done such a thing.
“Well – I came in last week, and – I swear that I talked to her, and I wasn’t nervous – and you’re looking at me as if you don’t believe me!”
Merry grinned. “Anything else you want to add?”
“No,” Sam said sheepishly, feeling defeated, “But I really did talk to her!” he hissed quietly. Merry shook his head, and was about to say more when Rosie came up with their drinks.
“Here you are, lads – drink up!” she said, then looked up as a tiny bell rang, signaling that the front door had been opened. A cold chill swept inside with little flakes of new snow, sweeping around hairy bear feet on the winter wind. The door slammed shut, halting the flakes on the floor where they were. A slight brush of long fabric around the feet set them moving again, following along with the flower-print dress up to the bar.
“Evening Estella!” proclaimed Rosie upon seeing her new friend. Merry looked over on the other side of Sam to see Estella’s dark brown hair covered in white flakes of snow, already melting. The drops of icy water played with the light to create tiny prisms of bright yellow and dark brown in her hair, making it look like something magical and mystical, if only for a moment – like a crown of tiny jewels that accented her hair, making her look of noble and royal decent. Like a lady of Rohan she looks, dignified and righteous in her being.
“Merry, you okay?” Sam whispered as he softly nudged him in the shoulder, “You’ve been staring over at Estella since she sat down.”
So he had. He didn’t notice it until now – now when Sam had to jolt him out of thoughts at which Pippin would have had a field day ridiculing him. He averted his eyes back in front of him.
“Do you think she noticed?” he sheepishly asked of Sam.
Sam grinned, glad for once not to be the hobbit-lad caught with the red face of embarrassment. “No, I don’t think she saw – she was talking to Rosie.” He turned away from him, still grinning, and took a sip of his ale.
Merry turned away from Sam, gazing at the large barrels of wine that reached nearly to the ceiling, or at the window that revealed falling snow outside in the winter night – basically anything but Estella. She was pretty, he had to admit – but so were other girls that he knew a lot better, and knew him better. They were many in Buckland fighting for his affection and the chance to be Mrs. Brandybuck – or perhaps, more the opportunity to be Mistress of Buckland, which was an honorable title and carried quite a few privileges, he supposed.
The fires died down, leaving the four of them alone in the tavern. “Best head out before that snow gets worse,” Rosie said as she wiped a large glass dry, “Let me close up here, and I’ll come with,” she said more to Sam than Merry.
“May we escort you home, Estella?” Merry asked kindly, bowing slightly towards her in a polite manner.
Estella looked to Sam, who was still gazing at Rosie behind the bar – she smiled to herself. “Yes, I think you may,” she said, then in an indiscernible tone, “Perhaps we’d better leave Sam and Rosie to walk themselves home.” Merry nodded knowingly. They bid goodbye to Sam, who waved almost as if he knew not that they even existed.
They drew their cloaks close in the frosty air – the cold felt foreign to them from being inside a warm room all evening. The snow was still coming, stronger than ever.
“I believe this may be our biggest snowfall yet – I only hope that the Brandywine won’t freeze over, like it did when wolves invaded the Shire,” Merry said, idly musing as he watched the white drift and swirl around them. It created a magical setting against the black night sky and homely village structures – like a storybook picture of pristine silence.
“So – how’s Fatty, er, Fredegar, as he seems to be no longer worthy of the name?” Merry asked.
Estella lowered her head a bit – a faraway look was in her eyes as she pondered the fate of her brother. “Oh, he gets a little fatter every day – nothing compared to what he used to be though, as hard as I try.” She said nothing more, and he asked no further – it was obviously still a vulnerable subject for her to talk of.
“Do you think Sam and Rosie will find their way home in this?” he said, waving his hand around at the wintry scene before them as her house came into view, “Rosie lives a ways off – and Sam’s all the way in Hobbiton!”
“Well, what about you? You live all the way off in Buckland – quite a ways from Bywater, don’t you think?” she said.
“I happen to be staying with Frodo Baggins in Hobbiton, Miss Bolger – so I have just as long a walk home as Sam does, and I don’t revel in this fact – and it seems we have arrived at your humble abode,” he said, looking at the cozy hobbit hole that was still lit from within.
“Well – thank you, I guess, for escorting me home,” Estella spoke.
“No problem at all, Miss – I feel it’s my duty to keep the ruffians at bay so that young lasses like yourself may make their way home safely and whatnot – don’t you agree?” he said, grinning and puffing out his chest heroically.
Estella grinned as well. “Well, thank you for your services – it was quite brave of you to do this for me.”
He shook her hand and strode off into the cold winter night – whistling a cheerful tune Estella didn’t recognize, the spring in his step unsettling flakes of snow from around him. It seemed he was skipping through the cold night – skipping? Estella shook her head and went inside.
She found Fredegar sitting before the fire in deep sleep. Estella looked to the table beside him, noting the crumb-laden plate – at least he’d eaten while she was out. She retrieved a thick blanket from his room, and carefully laid it over him – a smile slowly crept over his face as he snuggled into the welcome warmth. Estella smiled herself, and retired to her own room.