Flowers, Gems And Estella - Chapter XX
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It was little more than a week until Merry’s birthday party, when Celandine gleefully invited Estella up to her room, a look of triumph on her face. As she had put it, “I’ve finally found the perfect dress for you to wear – you’ll love it, and Merry will love it, and who knows what will result from that!”
The dress in question was made of beautiful green silk, with an intricate pattern of swirls and loops stitched into the bodice – it was low cut, but nothing scandalous. “Nothing like Mentha and Mellie might wear,” Celandine added. The ends of the short sleeves were cut in a zigzag pattern, with the same design as the bodice sewn into them. The skirt cascaded beautifully down towards the floor in folds and swells – and whereas on the bodice, the stitching was done heavily and thick, with many threads, the skirt had tiny, intricate fibers sewn into it, which also swirled and looped in a whimsical manner – miniscule jewels made it sparkle like a diamond filled night sky, especially when the Estella moved as she was trying it on.
“It’s lovely,” she said, admiring it in the mirror, “But why me? Why don’t you wear this, since it’s your dress anyway?”
“Because, Estella,” Celandine said, as is it were the most obvious thing in the world, “As far as I know, there’s not going to be a lad there who’s madly in love with me – although, there might possibly be one there, you never know – Peregrin Took, for instance. And besides,” she said, getting back on topic, “It wouldn’t look that great on me anyway, I’m too short for it.”
“If you’re too short for it, then why was it in your closet in the first place?”
“Because it just was, okay? See, it’s perfect on you – not too short, not too long. Nice.”
“But it seems too – fancy for me. The rest of me really isn’t that glamorous – like this normal, dull brown hair,” she said, holding up a lock of hair to prove her point, “And my face really isn’t anything special.”
“What? There’s nothing at all the matter with your face!”
“I know – but there’s nothing really spectacular about it, either,” she said, preparing to take the dress off, “It’s plain and dull – I don’t really stand out, except that I’m perhaps a little taller than most lasses.”
“But your height is something that accentuates you – it makes you look noble, as well as beautiful. And one would need to be tall, to be able to kiss Merry!”
“Celandine!”
“And your face, there’s nothing wrong with it – which is just fine. You’ve a seemly, lovely face – and if you think your hair looks boring, which it doesn’t, that’s because you haven’t done anything with it – for the party, we can put it up, and curl it.”
“Like I need any more height.”
“But you would look stately and distinguished – and I know that Merry would like that! He’s such a mischievous lad himself, he needs a dignified lass like you to hold him down and make him behave!”
“I don’t relish having to make him behave.”
“And that’s why I think this dress looks absolutely stunning on you!” Celandine finished, “Of course, we’ll have to find you another one even more dazzling, for when Merry proposes – I daresay that relationship is hardly ready for that yet.”
“Yes, it can’t ascend to the next level if it doesn’t exist.”
“But there’ll be time for that later,” she continued, not even listening to Estella, “And of course, we’ll have to find you the perfect wedding dress for when the occasion comes!”
“Celandine!” Estella shouted once again, and made to lightly punch her on the shoulder. Celandine moved out of the way, and ran towards the open door, Estella in hot pursuit. They ran down the stairs, through the kitchen and out the back door, where blinding sunlight bathed the green expanse of the backyard.
Estella, in an attempt to get Celandine, pushed upon her shoulder, tackling her to the ground – she fell in a disheveled heap, Estella upon her, tickling her within an inch of her life.
“Stop! Stop!” Celandine laughed, “Stop please – uncle!”
“Oh no! You’re not getting away that easily!” Estella cackled playfully, “You’re going to take back what you said about me!”
“Never!” Celandine shouted in the manner of one ready to face death – she was not facing death, however, only the threat of being maliciously tickled.
“Estella! Cellie! You two out there?” they heard coming from the house. The voices were two high-pitched, squealing, female voices that Estella was horrified to recognize.
“Mentha and Mellie!” Celandine said fearfully. It wasn’t that they hated the two lasses – but given past experience, they would have liked to have as little contact with them as possible. “Run, Estella! Over there, towards the trees!”
Estella looked to where Celandine was pointing – to the east was a large grove of trees that seemed not to end, surrounding which was a stone hedge about two feet high. She broke into a fevered run, hearing again feminine voices receding from the house. She reached the hedge and easily jumped it, continuing into the forest to hide from her pursuers.
Within, the sunlight seemed blocked out by the green canopy overhead – she heard not the usually sounds of birds, squirrels and other wildlife. There was only the sound of leaves underfoot, and her hurried panting as she ran deeper within the forest, unaware of where she was going – everything looked the same to her, if anything were the matter she noticed not.
After a while, she slowed down, tired from running for nearly an hour – the time made no difference to her, though, it all slowed down, so as to make it seem that she had been there only a few minutes. She walked around a ways, not really heading further into the forest, but at the same time not heading back, as in her mind it was too soon to return, for Mentha and Melilot might still be there. Eventually though, she decided it would do her best to head back, and reversed her position, walking back the way she thought she came.
The day wore on, and still she had not made it back – everything looked the same, and there were no markers for her to recognize, had she remembered any in the first place. Although she heard not the rustling sounds of forest creatures around her, she felt that she was not alone – she found herself looking over her shoulder often, and all around her she could almost make out hushed whispers. The only things around her were the innumerous tree trunks, tall and forbidding – surely they were not whispering to one another, were they?
After a while, too soon in her opinion, the sky overhead became dark, and nearly all light diminished from her sight – the trees around her, with their twisted shapes, became deformed monsters in her scared imagination, with long, curled fingers, ready to grab out at her – ready to rip and tear at her flesh. It was a fearful sight, and she hurried her pace so as to get back quicker.
She felt something grab at her foot – it was only an outlying tree rot, to be honest – but the thought of a hungry, blood lusting beast raced through her mind, and she broke into a fearful and blind run, not looking where she was going, only that she would get away from whatever it was that had just torn her dress.
She saw not the sloping hill before her, and unknowingly fell down it – to her, in the darkness, she may have been plummeting down the dark, convulsive throat of a horrendous dragon. She tumbled past rock and tree, landing on level ground with great pain in her ankle. She looked down to see that it was quickly swelling, a dark purple color – she rose to her feet, but fell over in pain. Whether it was broken or not, she knew not.
“Help,” she cried out weakly, but all around her was the unforgiving darkness – no answer came upon her ears. She curled up against the nearest tree, tears of sorrow and loneliness streaming down her face as she wept openly. The air around her was ice cold, a cloudy fog formed before her each time she took breath – there was more fog around her than that, though. Everything suddenly seemed to be engrossed in thick haze, making the forms of the trees around look even more imposing. White wisps of fog swirled into shapes in front of her eyes – a giant white wolf, with evil, glowing red eyes stood before her, ready to pounce upon her. It bared its teeth, revealing rows of white razors like swords – other fearsome beasts joined it, beasts with horns and tails, eyes that glittered maliciously, claws that attached to wide hands paws that might swipe her dead in a moment. Fear gripped at her heart, until her eyes closed over in petrified fatigue – she was unconscious before her head even fell upon the cold ground.
When she awoke, the fog was still present, but she could see no signs of the creatures she’d witnessed earlier – off in the distance, she noticed, was a dim light. A fireball, floating off in the distance through the forest, or perhaps a firefly close to her eyes – she couldn’t tell, for her perception of distance was not impeccable. It came slowly closer, piercing through the dense fog, and she heard from it her own name being called, “Estella! Estella!” It was a low sound that barely reached her ears, but escaladed in volume slowly.
“Help! I’m over here!” she called as loud as she could, which wasn’t very loud at all – but her seeker was apparently able to hear it, as the light froze in the air for a moment, then came running in her direction, until the sound of hooves reached her ears, and she could see a short figure on horseback in front of her.
“Estella! Oh, are you okay? Here, I’ll help you.” She was unable to see much more than the dark image of someone crouching over her through the impending fog, until she felt a warm cloth wrapped about her – and she saw Merry’s face above her as the fog immediately dissipated, upon which was a concerned and fretful look that marred his normally jovial features. Everything looked now clearer as she looked around her, though still having no idea of where she was.
“Your ankle looks bad – is it broken at all?” he asked pensively.
“I-I don’t t-think so,” she said, the shivering of her body muddling up her speech, “It’s s-swelling and I t-think it’s just s-sprained.” She tried to stand upon it, but Merry stopped her.
“You shouldn’t walk on it – here, grab onto my shoulders, I’ll carry you.” She grasped his shoulder with what little remaining strength she had, and he easily hauled her up onto the pony’s back, placing her sidesaddle before mounting the equine himself, sitting in front of her.
“Can you hold onto my waist?” he asked of her, “I don’t think I’ll be able to hold onto you and the reins, and we don’t want you falling off.” She grasped her arms around his wide waist, barely reaching halfway around the thick armor he was wearing. He clicked his tongue to signal the pony, which started off at a fast trot, traveling a path Merry seemed to know well. Trees flew past in flashes of dark brown – the trotting motion of the pony’s hooves beat a steady rhythm in Estella’s head. That added to the warmth she felt from Merry’s body in front of her, she was soon fast asleep.