Flowers, Gems And Estella - Chapter XXVI
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Mentha and Melilot were never clued in as to the events of Merry’s birthday party, concerning he and Estella – this was probably for the best, Estella realized, as Celandine eagerly awaited the post to arrive the coming days.
“He hasn’t visited you at all since the party,” she said when Estella asked the reason to her actions, “And it’s been nearly a week! I suspect he’s been all busy writing you an absolutely beautiful love letter – and therefore, it should be coming any day now.” And so she waited, as if she herself were awaiting a letter from her own sweetheart, always with an excited expression, her chin cupped in her hands with her elbows leaning on the windowsill in the living room.
Unlike their flighty cousins, Estella did tell Doderic and Ilberic about her newfound love for Merry – it came as no surprise to them, and they honestly admitted they had suspected it all along.
“Well, we could see it, you know – first time you laid eyes on him, Estella, you were in love with him – since the first time you met him,” Doderic said, nodding in such a way that any other hobbit might have found it difficult to argue with him.
“Oh, really,” Estella said, “Well, I’ll have you know the first time I met dear Meriadoc was when I was six – and he was not the most charming hobbit lad I’d ever known.”
“Well then, I guess that’s just a testament to how much he’s changed – or maybe, that just shows exactly what kind of lad you’re interested in, Estella.” Ilberic raised his eyebrows after he said this, his brother nodding, agreeing with him. “Maybe that just says that you like the – less than charming lads, the ones that will push you into the river and laugh about it to your face.”
“Well, while you may consider yourselves the epitome of gentlehobbit behavior,” Estella said, in a rather know-it-all tone, “May I remind you that, unlike Merry, there is no lass in love with you?”
“As far as you know, Estella.”
“Did you have any lass making declarations of love while you were at the party?”
“No – but I did dance with one. If that counts for anything.”
Estella would have said more, but judging by Celandine’s shouts, the post had just come – and there was a letter for her in it.
“It must be from him, the address is from Brandy Hall!” she said eagerly, handing Estella the rather thick letter.
While letters had never held much excitement for Estella, and it was never commonplace for her to eagerly open one, hungrily wrenching the contents from within, she had also never been faced with the prospect of getting a letter such as this one – once it was in her hands, she ripped it open, throwing the envelope to the floor and eagerly reading the letter.
My dearest Estella,
I pray this letter reaches you in good health, and my sentiments go out to the members of my extended family – I hope that they are well, and I expect they enjoyed themselves at my recent party.
You probably know that flowery language is not my strong point, so I will skip such tongue as is foreign to me, and stay where I am best acquainted. I spoke with your brother just the other day, and I am glad to hear that he finds our relationship satisfactory, as it is on his good side that I prefer to stay.
I would like to call upon you sometime soon – nothing much, just to keep up with how you are faring – perhaps Wednesday, if it pleases you? Brandy Hall is once again spotless, thanks to many helping hands’ hard work, and – well, I suppose that I rather boring talk, isn’t it?
Since I know you may not be one to appreciate bursts of ornate and florid speech, I shall refrain – as I mentioned above it is not something I claim to be good at. But if I were able, I would write you a poem that would rival the works of the Elves – and while their physical grace is unmatched by myself, the love Beren had for Lúthien cannot surpass mine for you.
All my love,
Meriadoc Brandybuck
P.S. You may be wondering exactly who Beren and Lúthien are. As it is a fascinating story, I promise to tell you upon our next meeting.
Estella heard nothing around her when she finished reading the relatively short letter – that was probably because everyone behind her, who had been reading the letter over her shoulder, held their breath, waiting for her reaction.
“Well, you can’t say it was very long, can you?” Doderic said.
“Dod!” Celandine said, punching him in the side, “It’s Estella’s letter, what matters is what she thinks.”
“Well, I do think he’s right,” Estella said, looking down on the script, which was none too fancy, “But it’s very thoughtful, in his own way I suppose – it’s sweet, coming from him. What counts is the meaning behind the words, as few of them as there are.”
“So, what are you going to say in your letter?”
“My letter?”
“Well, you have to write him back, of course – to tell him that he may call upon you, and that Wednesday would be perfectly lovely a time to see him again.”
“Or, I could just make the moderately simple walk to Brandy Hall, and talk to him in person – why, I’d be there in a just a couple hours, whereas the letter would take over a day to reach him.”
“But the letter just seems so much more – romantic. It’s like you’re two lovers, who are miles apart and have missed the sight of one another sorely, and the only way for the two of you to communicate is through the written word,” Celandine said, sure of her words, “Yes, Estella, that is what you much do – tell Merry he must come here to see you, for you are a lady and must not bruise yourself to have to walk over there, when he is much more able to do it himself! Gentlehobbit, indeed.” She nodded at the end of her speech, as if to prove her point.
Estella shook her head, and allowed Celandine to hole her up in her room after supper. “Write!” she said, pushing her down in a chair before the desk, a parchment of paper and bottle of ink before her, “And make it heartfelt,” she added, in a gentler tone.
Estella sat there with quill in hand, wondering how to begin – she had never written a letter such as this before, and the prospect of it confused her. Looking once more at Merry’s letter, she decided a simple beginning was as good as any.
My dearest Meriadoc, she began, but stopped there, unsure of what to say next.
“Having trouble?” Celandine said, looking over her shoulder, “Just listen to your heart – that’s what I always do.”
I am glad to hear that you are well – words cannot describe the sorrow I would feel if danger were to befall you.
“Really brings the mood down, don’t you think?” Celandine said behind her, and upon a stern look from Estella, “All right, all right, I won’t help you.”
Your letter was lovely, and I know that you must have spent a great amount of effort writing it – I am flattered even more, to know that you would take such time to please me, with such sincere words.
I had a wonderful time at the party – my compliments to the chef, the potato soup was excellent. I already had news of my brother’s approval, before I even told you of my feelings – he was quite happy, really, to find that I felt so strongly for a lad, but admitted that I could have made a better choice.
Estella stopped here, and smiled slightly to herself at the thought of her brother actually saying those words – she had wanted to avoid the premise of revealing to Merry that she’d already known of his feelings before he told her. Her evasion of the subject, she thought, had gone quite nicely.
His words, though, I must disagree with, for I feel as if there is no one in all the Shire more worthy of my admiration than you – and while I may not know much of the lands beyond the Shire, I can say with confidence that I doubt there are any beings as noble as you.
I understand your inability to write beautiful and flowery language, as you call it – but one does not need to write in an eloquent language, to write from the heart. I myself can admit that simple correspondence between friends is the best of my abilities, having never written anything of this sort.
You have my permission to visit me, on Wednesday, or any day that you deem appropriate. I await your call, and wish you good health. I should like to hear of this Beren and Lúthien that you speak of, for theirs seems a beautiful tale.
Sincerely yours,
Estella Bolger
She read over the letter upon completion, and prepared to allow Celandine to read it – turning towards the bed where she had been sitting, she found her instead sleeping, and therefore unable to read her heartfelt efforts.
“I guess you won’t get to read this then,” Estella said, taking the letter with her downstairs to find an envelope. After sealing it and braving the late evening weather to place it in the postbox, she came upstairs to find Celandine still asleep, who by the time she awoke the next morning, would not get to read the letter, already on its way to Brandy Hall.