Flowers, Gems And Estella – Chapter XXXII
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Estella had said little since her return home – a simple hello to her parents, and a few forced answers concerning her stay in Buckland. Fredegar was right in saying that Mrs. Bolger would no doubt question Estella’s antics – whether or not she had found herself a suitable husband and whatnot, the intended purpose of her visit – but she was more relenting than Estella imagined she would be. She somehow sensed that her daughter had not left completely happy, and her melancholy answers only proved this hypothesis.
“Did you have a good time with your cousins in Buckland, Estella?” she said once all the luggage was inside and everyone was seated around the dinner table that evening.
“Fine, I suppose,” she said, her voice low as she poked at a pile of peas on her plate.
Mrs. Bolger looked to her husband, whose face was also contorted in confusion, as if unsure of the truth in Estella’s words.
“Did you, er – make any new friends?” he said, trying not to offend his daughter.
“A few,” she said, still with a monotonous tone.
Now it was clear to everyone that Estella was not happy about something, especially to Fredegar, who knew that had she been in a batter mood she might have spoken of her friendship with Celandine.
“I’m going into town this weekend,” Fredegar said, “Would you like to come with me, Estella? I might go up to Hobbiton and see Frodo and Sam – you can visit with Rosie, if you wish.”
To this Estella did not even respond, and when the meal was over she hid herself within her room and spoke not a word to anyone else – not even to Mrs. Bolger, who came by her room later that evening to say her usual goodnight, before turning in. She knocked softly on her door, but heard nothing from within, and retreated to her own room after knocking again.
This same schedule repeated itself for nearly three days, until Mrs. Bolger could clearly see that something was upsetting her daughter, something that had to do with her visit to Buckland – she found herself unable to even talk to Estella, though, except while at meals, and Estella would never say anything more than a simple, “Okay,” or, “Just fine,” to any question that she asked. On the evening of the third day, when she came to Estella’s door to say goodnight as she always had, she took the opportunity to delve deeper into the troubles of her daughter.
“Estella, my dear – if something’s troubling you, it would do you well to talk about it.” She waited a few moments before continuing, but heard nothing. “You’ll make yourself sick, dear, keeping your emotions bottled up like this – I’m not trying to make you talk or anything, but if you need someone who’ll listen, I’m here. If it’s something that I might have said that’s troubling you – I’m sorry.” There was still silence within, and Mrs. Bolger once more admitted defeat.
Estella, had she been in the room, would not have spoken anyway, and would have remained as silent as the room that she was absent from. She was currently outside in the stables, brushing the golden hair of the ponies and sharing with them some carrots. She patted the snout of a beige colored female as the equine happily chomped on the snack.
“At least someone here’s happy,” she said sadly.
“And you’re not?”
She jumped in surprise, and looked behind her to see her father coming towards her – wiping her hands on the front of her dress, she made to leave.
“It’s okay, you don’t have to leave on my account,” he said, “Stay, you and I need to talk more anyhow.”
“Talk about what? If you think there’s something the matter with me –”
“I think nothing of the sort, my dear – I want only to talk about you’re doing these days. Talk about your trip to Buckland, you’ve spoken very little of that. Did you have fun at all?”
“Yes – yes, I did,” she said hastily, wanting the conversation over with as quickly as possible, “I had a perfectly wonderful time, and it was lots of fun, and I was very sad to leave.”
“No elaborations? The Estella I knew before would have talked nonstop about the antics and adventures she’d had, and all the new friends she had made – but perhaps, the Estella I knew is no more.”
Estella fell quiet here, contemplating her words – she did not enjoy lying to her father. “Well, I did make a few friends – Celandine Brandybuck, and her brothers Doderic and Ilberic – the two of them very much like Pippin Took, playing pranks and whatnot. Mentha and Melilot Brandybuck, they’re the ones who invited me down there in the first place – they’re quite nice, but –”
“Too different from you, eh?”
“Very much so – Celandine, though, was quite lovely. She was somewhat like me, though perhaps more of a social creature than I – she’s only twenty-eight, but she seemed much wiser that her years – at least wiser than most of her Brandybuck cousins, which wouldn’t be too difficult, considering most of them.”
“Mentha and Melilot?” he said, to which Estella nodded, “The Master of Buckland, er – what’s his name – Saradoc, did you meet him at all?”
Estella fidgeted with her hands a bit. “Oh, yes – once or twice,” she said, and chuckled to herself, remembering their last meeting, “But during dinner once I accidentally spilled a small piece of meat in his lap – he thought it was quite funny, though.”
“Really? When was this?”
Estella winced, realizing that she had given away much more information than she intended. “Oh, at this big party they had at Brandy Hall – just about everyone was invited, and by no means was it an intimate gathering.”
Her father raised his eyebrow slightly, getting the feeling that Estella wasn’t telling him the entire truth. “Yes, I believe Fredegar spoke of it – he was there too, then?”
“Yes – and Frodo Baggins and Sam Gamgee. Rosie was there as well – have you heard that she’s expecting?”
“No, I haven’t! Well, Sam must be very pleased with this news.”
“Actually, I think he’s more nervous than excited.”
“They’re some of the Travelers, aren’t they? Sam and Frodo?”
“The ones who were away before the Occupation? Yes, and Pippin Took too.”
“I’d heard there were four of them, though – who else?”
“Um,” she said, stuttering slightly and weighing her words carefully, “Meriadoc Brandybuck, I think, if Sam told me correctly.”
“Meriadoc? Thought he had a nickname or something, like Pippin instead of Peregrin.”
“Well, if he has, I don’t know it,” Estella lied, “Maybe Fredegar would know.”
“He probably would – I believe your brother mentioned him recently, not sure exactly what he said, though.”
“Well, it was his birthday party that Fatty came down for – the large party I spoke of?”
“A birthday, then? How old was he? He’s the same age as you, isn’t he?”
“Actually Merry’s three years older than I –” She cut her words short, realizing what she had just said.
“Merry? Is that his nickname? I thought you said you didn’t know him.”
Now’s the time to tell the truth, she thought – I just wish it wasn’t so hard to tell. “I lied, before – I do know him.”
“Oh? Well, is he a friend of yours?” her father said, looking to her with a grin.
Estella sighed. “No – I mean, yes – I mean, he is a friend, sort of –”
“Sort of? Is he not exactly your friend – or perhaps, more than a friend?”
“The latter,” Estella said quietly.
“I see,” Odovacar said, “Well, does he know of your feelings?”
“Yes, and – he feels the same, if that’s what you wanted to know.”
“So, the two of you are –“ He broke off, not sure what to say next – Estella seemed to get the gist of his words, and nodded. “So, let me guess – you’re sad because you’re so far away from him now, right?”
“That’s somewhat true – we didn’t part on the best of terms, and we both said things I think we regret now.”
“You basically said that you hated one another?” he said, and noticing that tears had begun to fall from Estella’s eyes, “I’m sorry, that wasn’t the best thing to say.” He placed a comforting arm around her shoulder, and Estella rested her head upon his, her tears now gushing forth from her eyes like tiny waterfalls. A sob escaped her throat, and he moved to embrace her with both his arms, speaking comforting words. “There, there, my dear – it’s all right. Go ahead, cry it all out – you’ll feel better.”
It was several minutes before Estella was able to lift her head from her father’s shoulder – she sniffled some, and hiccupped. “You okay?” her father asked, and she nodded, “It’s getting late now – get yourself to bed, you’ll feel better in the morning.”
She did as she was told, and he closed up the stables before making his way into the hole as well. His wife was barely awake when he came into their bedroom, and rose at his entrance.
“Just talking to Estella is all,” he said, bidding her go back to sleep.
“Did you find out what’s troubling her?’
“Yes, I did – the problem with our daughter, dear wife, is that she’s in love.”