A little late , but it's still Froday here!

[elderberrywine]

So first of all, a very happy birthday to the one and only elanorgardner! WOOT!
*helps her blow out all the candles - heh*

And then on to my little bit for the month.

This is the third part (out of four) of the mini-epic I have been writing, mostly because it started to fascinate me that Merry somehow ends up married to Fatty's sister. Especially seeing as how I've managed to mangle Tolkien's Fatty. Although, truth to tell, he was generally rather vague. But not to fear! There is, needless to say, plenty of F/S as well. *w*

I did say I would finish it by summer, and indeed I will. End of summer, that is.

So, anyway:

Title: Never Better, Part Three
Author: Elderberry Wine
Pairings: F/S, M/P, and others
Rating: Adult
Word Count: 10,412
Summary: Merry has possibly had worse birthdays. If so, he certainly can't remember them at the moment. Part of the Shire Morns series.




It was a polite, but oddly insistent, knock that caused Pippin to surface, most reluctantly, into consciousness. He was lying in the snuggest and coziest of fashions under a very unconscious Merry, and for a fleeting moment, had the wistful thought that if he only lay quite still, the intruder might just go away.

And yet there it was again, three sharp raps. Sleepily, Pippin ran over his mental list of possible culprits, and came to an inevitable conclusion. So it was not a total surprise when, after managing to push the quite enticing even though still unconscious Merry to the side, hoist himself grudgingly to his feet, and upon finding himself remarkably bare in the icy early morning air, groggily snatch up his jacket from where it just happened to rest at the top of the heap of clothes which had been feverishly discarded the night before, and at last crack open the door, that he found Frodo waiting outside, smiling and appearing disgustingly chipper for a hobbit who had not yet even had first breakfast.

“Do let me in Pip, there’s a good fellow,” he observed mildly, and with not giving Pippin a chance to decline, gently pushed the door a little further open and allowed himself in. “Well, I suppose that that would keep your shoulders warm,” he observed, regarding Pippin’s choice of garment with a smile, “but a little drafty about the knees, I should think.”

“Confound you, Frodo, what are you doing here? And how did you know where we were anyways?” a by now awakened Merry growled, sitting up on the pile of blankets that served as a bed and giving Frodo a bleary look as Pippin, with a noticeable squeak, dove back under the rough blankets along side of Merry.

“As for the former, inviting you to breakfast,” Frodo grinned, perching on the edge of a packing crate with the greatest equanimity. “And the latter? My dear Merry, I was living here before you were born. Trust me, a new lock on a door, especially up here where few venture, tells me one thing and one thing alone. It was not too hard to figure out where the both of you might have ended up, especially with a household full of guests.”

“Hah. Very observant. But at least we were not rearranging the furniture late at night, at any rate,” Merry grumpily commented, drawing the coverings a little tighter around Pippin and himself.

“I suppose not,” and possibly only Merry could have told that Frodo’s cheeks reddened a little at that comment. “The layout wanted something. But I have not come to discuss that. There are matters, Merry, of which you must be made aware. And, I suppose, you as well, Pip.”

“Oh, indeed.. And what ever happened to the custom of greeting your host upon arrival?” Frodo could immediately tell that Merry was not to be dissuaded from his obviously rehearsed comments. “Invited to a birthday, no less, but no ‘Hello, Merry, good to see you again, and best wishes’ sort of thing at all. Instead, sidle in late to dinner, and scuttle out as soon as… confound it, but you are being mysterious. What matters?”

“Oh, only of the utmost importance,” Frodo loftily assured him. “And it would never do to discuss such on an empty stomach. But as for your complaint, you definitely have a point. So…” and before Merry had had a chance to realize what Frodo had in mind, he found Frodo kneeling at the sacks at his side, Frodo’s arm quite firmly about his bare shoulders, and Frodo’s mouth planted most decisively on his own. It did take a moment before he could begin to respond, hazily realizing that there was no tongue being offered, and not entirely sure whether to be relieved or disappointed on that score, but Frodo drew himself back then, and calmly, and with something very close to a smirk, stated, “Consider that a hello to make up for last night. Your birthday wishes can still wait a couple of days, I believe.”

Standing up again, he turned to the pile of clothing, and picked it up and tossed in in the rather stunned pair’s laps. “Up you go, now,” he coolly commanded them, “don’t dawdle, there’s the lads. You’re keeping Fatty from breakfast, you know, and that’s never a good thing.”

Merry turned to Pippin, who was staring at the both of them with his mouth unmistakably open, and gave him a slight shove. “Come along, Pip, we are under orders, it would appear. Looks like we must obey our elders.”

“Wise choice,” Frodo airily agreed, and led the other two soon out into the drafty hall and down the stairs by the early light of dawn.


&&&&&



It was Sam who had been commandeered to gather together breakfast, and meet the party at the agreed-upon rendezvous location. So he patiently waited in the warm, steamy kitchen, where the bakers had already been up hours before, setting out the dough for the morning’s first batch of baking, and where young maids were hurrying in from the cold frosty morning out-of-doors with aprons carefully full of freshly laid eggs. A stout lass with a rather exceptional pair of arms was busily churning the butter, and the alluring scent of frying bacon and onions had just started to waft through the great room.

Cook had treated the request for a first breakfast to go for a sextet of hungry young hobbits with the calm thoroughness that befit such a experienced captain of the heart of Brandy Hall, and soon had a pair of packs fully laden with a delectable assortment of breakfast materials, not to mention a couple of well-packed steaming flasks. “Whatever you lads are about,” she stated coolly, “you’d best be giving Master Merry his tea first off, or he’ll be good for naught. Master Frodo, likewise, but I’m sure you’d be knowing that.”

And before Sam could decide whether or not a blush was in order at that last comment, he had been dispatched out the great doorway of Brandy Hall’s kitchen, and was headed towards the apple shed.

If he had only left a few moments later, however, he would have heard a familiar voice calling his name. As it was, Daisy came running after him with only a thin wrap about herself, just in time to see him disappear behind the hill that led to the outbuildings. It wasn’t the cold air that was on her mind though, as she watched him disappear from where she stood in the shelter of the corner of the snowy but well-sanded kitchen yard, but what she had just heard. With a sigh, she returned to the kitchen, resolving to catch him later.


&&&&&



Daisy tended to rise early, a habit engrained by the fact that she was generally the chief baker of the Gamgee sisters. Since the other two had fauntlings with which to be concerned - only two thus far for May, but rounding close to half a dozen for Marigold - she was, by default, the chief baker of the Gamgee clan.

So she had been up, heading for the kitchen for an early morning first breakfast tray for Pearl and herself, since the thought of anyone else fetching it for them was inconceivable to her, when she had found Bracegirdle’s young serving hobbit in the crook of the hallway, crumpled in a ball on the floor, and quietly and hopelessly sobbing. It had taken no time at all for Daisy to crouch next to him, slip a compassionate arm about his thin shoulders, and allow him to turn blindly to her, his tears still steaming down his face, and sob his broken confession into her concerned ear. And it had taken even less time than that for Daisy’s temper to flare up at the injustice of his situation and the cruelty with which this fauntling, for he was no more than that, was being treated.

“Hush, now, m’dear, we’re to see about that, indeed we will,” she murmured soothingly in his ear, trying her best to keep the hot indignation that was enflaming her from reaching her voice. “You’ve a friend here, now, and ‘tis Daisy as I’m known, Daisy Gamgee.” The young hobbit wiped his face with his finely garbed arm, and gave a small sniffle of acknowledgement, gazing into her kind face with the awakening of hope. But a sudden look of panic quickly crossed his countenance, and he scrambled to his feet in alarm.

“I’ve been too long, indeed I have, and He’ll be awaiting his breakfast,” he muttered in dismay.

Daisy stifled the impulse to tell to young hobbit precisely what she thought he ought to do regarding the breakfast in question, for it did no good to urge him into defiance yet. “Fetch it, then, my dear lad,” she laid a firm hand on his shoulder, “but don’t you be forgettin’ now. You’re not alone, no ways, not any more.”

The lad was off scrambling toward the kitchen, however, and never gave a look back.


&&&&&



Sam, therefore, swiftly made his way to the apple shed on that brisk bright morning with no thought on his mind other than curiosity as to what Fatty was planning. Since budging Merry’s mind on any matter of this degree of importance was well nigh impossible, in his private opinion, this promised to be a feat of great interest, to say the least, and he didn’t wish to miss any of it. So it wasn’t long before he had nearly caught up with Frodo and his cousins on the path to the apple shed. Frodo was striding ahead, leading the other two, with his hands in his pockets and a smile on his face, as if there was nothing that could be finer than an early morning’s stroll on a clear frosty day, with the daybreak sparkling and glinting on the ice that still coated the bare trees. He stamped the fresh snow on the path down heartily, and whistled an aimless tune to himself, the picture of contentment.

Not quite so content, as they followed several paces behind, were Merry and Pippin. Indeed, as Sam began to draw near, he perceived that some rather testy words were being exchanged between the two of them.

“So what was he on about, anyway?” Pippin was obviously having some difficulty in keeping his voice down, and there was a rare frown on his face as he hissed the words towards Merry.

“Trying to flummox me. And doing a brilliant job of it, I might add. But you know it was no more than that, Pip,” Merry responded with a soft growl, keeping a wary eye on Frodo, ahead of the both of them.

“I’m not sure at all that I know that,” Pippin responded heatedly, yet nearly inaudible to anyone other than Merry. “I’m not sure Sam would have known that, either, had he been there.”

Curious, Sam hung back just a trifle at that comment.

But Merry gave a snort of derision. “Pip, if you think cousin Frodo will ever have eyes for anyone but his Sam, you really don’t know him as well as you think you do. The sun will stop rising in the east the day he changes his mind on that score, let me assure you. But look,” he added, his voice rising slightly as he caught a glimpse of Sam catching up to them. “Here’s the lad himself.”

Frodo, who had just reached the snow-covered wooden steps that fronted the rustic shed, turned at Merry’s comment, and only Sam could have told by the glint in Frodo’s eye and the amused quirk to his mouth that he had heard every word of the exchange behind him. “Good timing, Sam,” he mentioned mildly, tugging the rough door open. “I believe the savage beast that is a hungry Fatty, not to mention Folco, awaits us all within.”

“Stars above,” came a laconic drawl from the shadowy interior, as the newcomers hastily stamped the snow off of their feet, and entered the large shed. “I was very nearly afraid I would have to resort to breakfasting on my dear Folco, here, and his inestimable intended would not care for that a bit, I should imagine.”

“Then we have come just in time, for between Cook and Sam, here, I suspect they have gauged your appetite properly, Fatty,” Frodo laughed as Folco gave his companion a rather startled glance, and Sam gratefully dropped the heavy packs to the floor, seemingly verifying his words.

“Bless that Cook of yours, Merry; she is a veritable pearl among pearls, a treasure among cooks, indeed, the greatest of her kind,” Fatty exclaimed, instantly opening and arranging and dividing, and in no time at all, breakfast was spread across the rude wooden bench and Fatty was munching contentedly, draping himself over a musty hay bale and accepting a steaming mug of tea from Sam with a grateful nod.

“I will be sure to pass along your complements, Fatty, but I really would rather have eaten it indoors, you know,” Merry was endeavoring to persist in remaining cranky, but he couldn’t help giving a start and turn to the corner hearth, where a brisk little fire was starting to warm the shed up nicely. “Good heavens. Who fixed that? That chimney was out of commission all last autumn. We should be choking on the smoke right about now.”

“Oh, you know Folco,” Fatty explained vaguely, waving a hand containing half a meat pastry about. “It was something involving a stick, and the bellows, and possibly a magical spell, but I didn’t catch it all, really.”

“Well done, Folco. Makes the whole place much more civilized. And now that the essentials have been taken care of,” declared Frodo calmly, seating himself on an overturned empty apple barrel next to the hay bale, “we can turn - oh, thank you, love,” he added, accepting the hot mug from Sam with a warm smile, “to the reason for this conference.”

“Your mother,” he continued, turning toward Merry with a suddenly serious expression, “has been considering the future Mistress of Buckland.”

“And this is what you dragged me out of bed to tell me?” Merry questioned Frodo incredulously, accepting a freshly buttered roll from Sam at the same time with a nod of thanks. “That isn’t exactly news, you know.”

“Well, it wasn’t exactly bed, either, but suffice it to say there is something you don’t know, and that is precisely who the designated bride is to be.”

“Some child whom she can lord over, no doubt,” Pippin suddenly interjected rather heatedly. “Some silly young chit who would do anything to become the Mistress of Buckland.”

“Including marrying me?” Merry gave him a wry glance, but his expression quickly softened at the look on Pippin’s face. “Never mind, love, you know she can plot and scheme all she likes,” he added hastily, wrapping a comforting arm about the young hobbit’s shoulders. “It’s not going to change a thing.”

“You know, silly young chit might be taking it a bit far, my dear fellow,” Fatty suddenly cleared his mouth of the remnants of a perfectly boiled egg, and pensively contemplated his nearly empty mug, “since the fair damsel in question actually happens to be my sister.”

“What?” Merry’s mouth dropped open in astonishment as he whipped his head around to stare at Fatty. “Estella? Whoever put that idea in her head?”

“It was certainly not Estella’s inspiration,” Fatty gave him a wry glance. “I just might mention that she is not terribly keen on the point just now, no offense intended, of course.”

“None taken,” Merry responded automatically, still staring at Fatty in bewilderment. “But in the name of all that’s good, why her?”

“Quite frankly, that is a question that the entire clan Bolger is still trying to work their way around. But suffice it to say, your mother has decided upon my lovely sister. Possibly she feels that Estella is yet young and impressionable, and that she has nothing to fear in the way of resistance from her, or possibly she believes my parents to be so overwhelmed by the offer, that they will concede their daughter without a qualm. In either case, she is, almost laughably, very mistaken.” Fatty’s tone, as he spoke, was uncharacteristically serious, and he had even laid down his toast. “Quite honestly, Merry, I would rather walk on hot coals, or go without elevensies for a week running, being very nearly the same thing, rather than see my sister hurt on this score.”

“Erm, well, Estella seems really quite decent, although I must admit I don’t know her to speak of, but that would be the last thing I’d care to see, as well,” Merry interposed hastily, but still appearing rather bewildered. “Be that as it may, she really isn’t much more than a child, is she?”

“Oddly enough, old thing, while you and I have been getting on in years, she has been doing likewise,” Fatty raised an eyebrow. “She’s only a couple of years younger than you are, you know.”

“Oh, well, I see,” Merry fell silent, and stared unseeingly at the apple in his hand, still trying, obviously, to sort the whole thing through. “But how do you know all this?” he asked after a short silence, looking up at Frodo and then Fatty again. “Are you really quite sure?”

“You may have noticed,” Fatty pointed out mildly, “that my father was part of the Bolger contingent. Traveling is not something he’s fond of, and though he thinks your father is decent enough, my dear Merry, your mother rather puts him on edge. He would never have joined the party, trust me, except for the fact that his daughter’s future is at stake, and he would never consider casting her to the wolves, metaphorically speaking, without giving the wolves a thorough look over first, and making his own judgment as to her chances of besting them, when needs be.”

“So he’s against it then?” Pippin suddenly spoke up, with an obvious glimmer of hope.

“Not necessarily,” Fatty gave him a patient but sympathetic glance. “Only if Estella is. And I must add that she’s being rather dismissive about even considering the idea at the moment. I don’t think the notion of marrying anyone had ever popped into her head until this whole matter came up.”

“Well, I’ll just have to tell mother that the entire thing is preposterous, and I’ll marry when I feel so inclined, and the other person involved will be not her affair at all,” Merry gave a decisive nod, his chin rising at a stubborn tilt that both Frodo and Pippin immediately recognized.

“You know,” Frodo pointed out quietly, after a moment’s silence during which only Folco and Sam continued to eat breakfast as they watched the others with a fascinated objectivity. “You might not want to be quite that hasty, Merry.”

“What do you mean by that, Frodo? Surely you don’t think this is a good idea?” Merry glared at him and Pippin cast him a wounded look.

“Not what I meant, exactly; only you can make that choice,” Frodo spoke calmly, but continued to regard Merry seriously. “However, what you might want to consider is this. Your mother, now that you are coming of age, will not let this matter rest. You know that as well as I. As do you, Pippin,” he added, giving Pippin a stern glance that momentarily quelled the inevitable outburst from the rebellious tween. “Now, here, apparently, she has produced a candidate, and I might add a surprisingly good one at that. You know you could do far worse. But Estella will not be of age for, what is it, Fatty? Two more years? Surely it would be reasonable enough to wait until then before making any formal sort of commitment. That is, of course, if it would not be objectionable to Estella, either.”

“Personally, I think she actually would be rather reasonable on that score,” Fatty mentioned, with a rueful shake of the by-now quite empty pack. “As I have mentioned, getting married is not an event upon which she is particularly keen - appears to be rather a Bolger trait, seemingly - and postponing the question for a couple of years would be entirely agreeable to her as well, I daresay. My parents are quite decent about that sort of thing, but there are a few maiden aunts who have been out trawling hither and yon for suitable mates, and I’m most convinced Estella would just as soon not have to face any more of that lot.”

“And perhaps you and Estella would find you had a lot in common, really,” interposed Folco optimistically, only to be quickly disconcerted by the expressions on the rest of the party. “Just, possibly, I should think,” he added lamely, and then rose hastily to check the fire again.

“It’s more a matter of buying time,” Frodo continued, glancing back at Merry with a sympathetic smile. “For the both of you, actually. I’m not saying that you should agree to your mother’s proposition, Merry. What I am saying is that perhaps you should not merely dismiss it out of hand.”

“Whatever course you and she may ultimately decide upon, there is plenty of time to manage it in a circumspect manner. It is really none of my, or anyone else’s, concern. But,” Fatty added with a sudden flash of fire in his eye, “I will not have Stella looked down upon as the lass who was dismissed without a second thought by the Master of Buckland. I can assure you, on the strongest of terms, that I will not stand for that.”

“You will not have anything to worry about, on that score,” Merry retorted quickly and proudly. “Very well. I will take all of this under consideration. And we may as well have second breakfast indoors, as civilized folk do. I don’t think there is any more to be said on this matter, at this point in time.”


&&&&&



It was thus not an unexpected occasion when Esme summoned her son into her private drawing room later that morning. “Well, there you are,” she gave him a steady look from over the top of her teacup. “Don‘t be ridiculous. Have a seat,” she added, gesturing toward the rather ornate chair on the far side of the room from the cheerful fire. “No need to stand, as if you were the foreman, or some sort of servant.”

“Your father had other business this morning,” she continued, the slightest edge of scorn creeping into her voice, “but rest assured, Meriadoc, that this matter has been thoroughly discussed between us. You will find him entirely on my side of it.”

Thankful for the preview supplied by his friends, although he had never said as much to them, Merry coolly sat where indicated, and made no signs of curiosity or impatience.

Esme, a bit disappointed by this attitude, stood up regally and walked over to the velvet curtained window, staring at the snowy landscape outside. “You come of age tomorrow,” she spoke abruptly, a bitter harshness in her words. “From this day on, you are considered to be your father’s heir, and the future master of the Brandybuck holdings. You will be wealthy all your life, and will become, most likely, the most powerful hobbit in all the Shire, as has been your father before you. And in exchange for all of this privilege, you have had but one duty to carry out, and yet you have not done so.”

“I find it impossible that I must, once more, remind you that it is your task to marry, and continue the line of your family,” she had swung around now, to face her son, unable as well as unwilling to hide the anger in her expression. “Your years, thus far, have been fruitlessly wasted, in juvenile debauchery, and those whom you might have once chosen are no longer available. So since you seem ridiculously unwilling to make this choice, it appears that it is your parents who must do so for you.”

Merry, hiding the fingers that dug tightly into the palms of his hands in his effort to remain calm, responded with an amazingly good semblance of polite interest, “That is very good of you and father, mother. Might I have the joy of asking whom you have chosen for me?”

Esme gave him a sharp look. “Satire doesn’t suit you, Merry. You’d best leave that to Frodo. And as for your question, we have decided upon Estella Bolger. Her family has been approached, and does not appear to be loath to consider the proposition. Quite fortunately for you, I might add. The list of candidates is rather thin, especially considering the three Tooks are out of the question. The less you have to do with the Tooks, the better off we are, I should think.”

“That was rather brilliant of you, mother, to choose the sister of one of my friends,” Merry mentioned steadily. “I’m not too likely to summarily cast that choice aside, now, am I?”

Esme permitted herself a slight smile at his astute guess, and nearly imperceptibly, nodded her head in acknowledgement. “So am I to assume that we have agreement upon this matter?” she asked coolly.

“Well, there might be a few points that you have not considered,” Merry rose, and walking over to the small table upon which his mother’s tea things had been laid, idly ran a light finger around the rim of a dainty cup. “Estella does not come of age for two years yet, and apparently her family would prefer her to wait until that time. So it would not do, I should think, to enter into any sort of formal engagement at this time. There is much that can happen in a couple of years, and it’s entirely possible that you might wish that you could revisit this selection before the two years are up. Surely her brother’s activities have been brought to your attention, and I do not believe that the fruit falls all that far from the tree in that particular family.” He gave a swift smile at her quickly hidden start.

“So, indeed, mother, I believe that we may have, shall we say, an understanding. I am perfectly willing to speak to Estella, and, if she is agreeable to the idea, informally connect ourselves for the next two years. At that point, we shall see.” He started to walk toward the door, before his mother could attempt to regain control, but could not resist the last word as he turned back one last time to face her.

“And, mother? The idea of wealth and power, difficult as it is for you to accept, I know, are not the temptations you apparently believe them to be. Push me too far, and I swear to you that I will leave. And I shouldn’t think that you would care to be in Bilbo Baggins’ place.” He left behind a speechless Esme, the cup dropping to the fine carpet from her suddenly nerveless hand.


&&&&&



“Come along, love, I can’t bear it a moment longer,” Pearl exclaimed impatiently, stalking through the ice-covered garden. In summer, this was a lovely place, a fragrant bower of roses, lilies and peonies, but now it was just a tangle of ice-coated thorny sticks, and drifts of snow. “You’ve news for me, I can tell, but this place just makes me wild with its rules and expectations and hidden snares. How Pippin bears it, I’ll never know, but maybe he doesn’t see what I see. At any rate, I must be out or I shall scream.”

Daisy gave a breathless laugh as she followed Pearl. Not that she had any choice in the matter, with her hand held so tightly in that of the other lass, but she never had resistance in mind. Instead, she scrambled behind until they found their way out of the formal garden and down the sloping banks that led to the Brandywine.

“Ah,” Pearl sighed with relief, as they came upon a low bluff that overlooked the broad river. “This is more like, indeed. Look, the ice is starting to break up and the river will begin to flow freely again. Spring can’t be that far off.”

She found a broad rock, and dusted the snow lightly off, beckoning to Daisy. “Here we are, dearest, just the two of us again, and far from any prying eyes, I should think. Give me a kiss first, my dear, and tell me your news. Then I’ll tell you mine.”

She listened carefully as Daisy told her of her encounter that morning with Bracegirdle‘s young serving hobbit, her brow clouding over more and more as Daisy continued. “That swine,” she hissed emphatically, as Daisy finished. “Wasn’t it the same problem with that young lad who went on to marry your sister, the first Yule you spent at the Great Smials? But this is even worse, for I don’t think the poor thing is even a tween yet. I don’t care if that odious Bracegirdle owns his family’s farm and half the county besides, there must be something that can be done to stop his preying on those under his thumb, for good.”

“I tried to tell Sam too, but seemingly I must seek him out later, for he‘s off with the lads. I’m sure that he and Mr. Frodo will be thinkin’ of something,” Daisy added, with a confident nod.

“Perhaps, yes,” Pearl replied, slightly hesitant. And when Daisy gave her a curious glance, she added, with just a bit of color rising in her cheeks, “Well, currently they are involved in another matter. That’s my piece of news, of which I’ll tell you in just a moment. But there’s another reason they may not be able to help much in this case.”

“Why ever not?” queried Daisy, baffled, and not getting Pearl’s point at all.

“Because, my dearest, there still are many, mystifying as it is to me, who consider Frodo and your brother to be in a similar position. I know, my dear, it is absolutely impossible, “ she added quickly, forestalling Daisy’s protestation at the thought. “But there still are those small-minded hobbits who say Frodo beds his employee, and a much younger hobbit at that, and will not be open to admitting any other motive.”

Daisy finally found her tongue then, giving a blunt and rather rude opinion of those who held such views.

“Exactly, my dear,” Pearl couldn’t help laughing at her assessment, “and so very true. Some folk, though, refuse to admit love as a reason for anyone’s behavior, and must always see more practical gain as a motive. We know better, of course, as do all of Frodo and Sam’s friends and relations. I suspect even Esme Brandybuck cannot deny the true nature of their relationship any longer, much as she pretends otherwise. But it is not right to expose them to that sort of slander one more time, when there may be other methods of putting an end to this.”

Daisy was still looking distinctly stormy at the affront to her brother, so Pearl hastened to continue. “Despite the lady of the house’s friendship with that scoundrel, there are many in Brandy Hall who cannot abide him, and I suspect there are those who may just be beginning to be of this opinion as well. Including one who may have knowledge of where his weaknesses lie. That is an avenue I’d like to try first. Fatty Bolger is not the only one who can think strategically. Oh, which brings me to my bit of news. Merry’s mother is planning to marry him off to Fatty’s sister, Estella.”

“Fatty Bolger’s sister?” Daisy couldn’t help her jaw dropping open at this thought. “Now, if that ain’t the most unlikely thing!”

“Exactly,” Pearl grinned, just a trifle maliciously, at the idea. “I wonder if once, just once, Esme Brandybuck hasn’t quite thought this thing through. This does promise to be fun, my dear, and how delightful to have front row seats.”


&&&&&&



It was well after elevensies, and quite nearly luncheon, when Pearl and Daisy finally found Estella. She was, as her brother might have guessed had he been asked, in the stable, perched on a hay bale in her pony Windy’s stall. Her knees were drawn up to her chin, and her skirts and arms were tightly wrapped around her long legs when Pearl spotted her in the shadows. She watched them approach without a word, but Pearl gave her a casual greeting, obviously not expecting much of a reply, and set a flask and a homespun bag on the bale beside where she sat.

“Didn’t see you at either breakfast,” she remarked nonchalantly, “and when I didn’t see you show up at elevensies, I thought I might take a look around. Nice stable, I must admit. Here, Daisy can keep you company for a bit. I want to go look after our ponies.” And without waiting for a reply, she left for the far end of the stable from which the Took ponies were shortly heard to neigh a soft greeting and nicker amiably.

In the meantime, Estella examined Daisy carefully. “I don’t know you,” she pronounced firmly. “But you don’t look much like the rest of the lot about this place.”

“I guess not,” Daisy gave a comfortable laugh. “You’d not know me, ‘tis true, but your brother and mine are friends.”

“Ah,” commented Estella, with a bit more interest. “Well, the only one about him that I didn’t much recognize would be the blond one I’ve seen with Frodo Baggins. He must be your brother; you both have the same look about you.”

“Aye, that’d be him,” Daisy nodded pleasantly. “Samwise Gamgee, an’ I’d be Daisy Gamgee an’ right pleased to meet you.”

“Estella Bolger,” the young lass responded with a sudden grin, extended a hand out to a rather startled Daisy.

“So now that we are all quite cozy, we can have a bit of a chat,” Pearl appeared suddenly out of the gloom. “But first, be a dear and hand me that bag, would you, Stella?” As Estella complied, Pearl drew four plump gold streaked apples from its depths, and casually dropped it down again. “There’s some food in there for you, but better yet, a treat for our friends,” she smiled, tossing one of the apples to Estella. “For Windy, and I’ll be back again in just a moment.”

This time the whickering was distinctly more enthusiastic from the other end of the stable, but Pearl was as good as her word, and had returned just as Windy had finished off his treat.

“And now,” Pearl stated, suddenly serious, as she sat herself cross-legged down on a bale, and Daisy followed her lead on another. “We must have a conference, we three.”

Estella had the same indignant response, as Daisy told her tale once more, and angrily gave the dusty hay beneath her a pound with her fist. “What a villain!” she exclaimed vehemently. “I hate that sort of cruel bullying toad. Surely we can’t let this go by!”

“I was hoping you’d feel like that,” Pearl gave a satisfied nod, “because, you see, I was watching you last night, and you rather fit into my plan. However, there is one more conspirator whom we must approach. One who has a far better knowledge of the individuals concerned than do we, and whom, I hope, may end up playing a key role on all this. But quickly, my dears, we must catch her before her afternoon nap.”


&&&&&



The fourth conspirator listened carefully, and with a dismissive harumph, declared, “I always thought there was something off about that hobbit. Esme thinks the world of him, but I must say her judgment can, at times, be a little less than sound, much as I hate to criticize. Well, then. A Bracegirdle he may be, but not the only one about, you know. And he does fancy himself a fair dab at cards but, my dears, really. So, then, here’s what we shall do.”


&&&&&



Not long after luncheon, a fine snow had begun to drift down, but that did not stop the messenger. She gave a quiet whisper into her pony’s ear as she stealthily led him past the well-stuffed and dozing stable lads. “Hisst, now, love, I know you’ve been as bored as I, just waiting about. But now we’ve a task to complete, and it will take some fine work on your part, my pet. It’s for a good cause, and there’s the open road before us, so off we go, my brave one.”

The grey pony whickered so softly that only she could hear, and tossed his head just the slightest bit. But soon as they were free of the stables, he lowered his head purposefully and they were off into the darkening misty afternoon, the drifting flakes quickly hiding any trace of hoof prints.


&&&&&



Merry had taken the afternoon to work out the best way to present his proposal to Estella; his friends and even a reluctant Pippin leaving him carefully to himself, but when he went to find her, just before teatime, she was nowhere to be found. Pearl Took had made a rather vague comment about going off on some sort of errand, and neither her parents nor her brother seemed overly concerned.

It was that information with which he had to content himself for the time being, and he resolved to seek her out at dinner, if she showed up then. He wasn’t, he had to admit to himself, entirely distraught regarding having to postpone this meeting for now. With a relieved sense of having done all that could be done, at least for the moment, he set off to find Pippin.


&&&&&



Palentine settled back on the bed with a hearty groan. “Damme, but the old girl does know how to set a table,” he declared to his wife with a grin. “You’ve got to admit, Lana my dear, there are some compensations to making my sister a visit.”

Eglantine gave her husband a fond smile as she stood by the side of the bed in their spacious and comfortable guestroom, braiding up her long greying hair in preparation for bed. “It’s that cook of hers, dearest. You can hardly imagine Esme does any of it herself. Perhaps you could persuade her to change residence?”

“Not a hope in the world,” he gave a tragic sigh, as his wife comfortably settled herself at his side by the glow of the well-banked fire. “She’s been with Saradoc since he was a wee thing, and is distressingly loyal. I can’t pretend I haven’t already tested her on that score. Well, tomorrow promises to be a fair blow-out, what with it being Merry’s birthday and all, so we’d best get our rest.”

“Mmm,” sleepily agreed his wife, tucking herself closer into his embrace, and in no time at all, there was no sound to be heard in the darkening room but the occasional muted snap of the dying embers.


&&&&&



“Are you nervous about the morrow?” Daisy asked curiously, as she met Pearl’s eyes in the mirror. She was carefully brushing out Pearl’s reddish hair, because it did have a tendency to tangle so, but she stopped for the moment, awaiting an answer.

Pearl smiled slowly back at her, her grey eyes frankly catching Daisy’s concerned gaze. “A little,” she admitted. “If I’m not good enough, the whole plot falls apart, and I’m not sure what we would do then. But Delphinium is certainly skillful, and far more cunning than I had imagined. And she clearly has a soft spot for Estella, which might turn out to be a very good thing for her, in case she actually does end up marrying Merry.”

“But,” she continued, her smile widening as she reached up and caught Daisy’s hand. “Enough of this. Let my hair do what it will, love, since it’s bound to anyway, and let’s find something better to do. It’s unmistakably frosty tonight, but I know where it’s warm.”

“In bed?” laughed Daisy, as she helped Pearl lift her own homespun chemise up over her shoulders.

“Oh, certainly, there too,” Pearl purred, with a sly grin. “But not just only there. Let me show you.”

And since Daisy was not at all inclined to disagree to this request, the candle was quickly snuffed, and both lasses dived under the coverlet with alacrity.


&&&&&



Delphinium Brandybuck methodically applied the curling tongs to her grey bangs, always her last step before retiring, but her mind was unusually active this cold night. It had been an undeniably interesting past few days, and tomorrow promised to be stimulating indeed. She had found, to her amazement, that she quite enjoyed having young lasses about the Hall. It was amazingly invigorating, she thought with satisfaction, to have some lively young minds about her for a change.

And if rumor proved to be true, she realized thoughtfully, as she removed the warming pan from the bed and slid under the heavy bedclothes, Estella Bolger would be around the Hall on a permanent basis. She found that she quite approved of this notion. The lass would do Merry a world of good, no doubt of that, if the lad had the good sense and great fortune to land her. In addition, she did not at all appear to be the type of lass who was easily quelled, and with Esme Brandybuck as a mother-in-law, that was a significant factor.

Esme meant the best, she told herself complacently, as she drifted off to sleep, but Brandy Hall could definitely do with a bit of fresh air.


&&&&&



Saradoc gave his wife’s door a polite rap before opening it slightly. “I did not notice the bride to be at dinner tonight,” he mentioned mildly, as he stood in her doorway.

His wife, seated before a large ornate mirror, was dabbing her face with some sort of mysterious cream. She turned, at his entrance, and gave him a cold glance. “Her mother advised me that she was somewhat under the weather,” she informed her husband briefly. “She ought to be up by tomorrow.”

“Hmm,” Saradoc received this news thoughtfully. He started to leave, but then turned back, with the ghost of a smile on his face. “Having second thoughts, Esme?” he inquired softly. “Don’t get another shot at this sort of thing, you know.”

“Doesn’t matter much now, does it?” Esme snapped, dropping the cloth in her hand on the table before her. “After all, her family has been consulted, and the proposal is public by now, I should imagine. Unless she or Merry decline, it’s a given proposition.”

“And Merry?” he studied her face carefully. “Will he decline? You have spoken to him, then?”

“And who else would?” The scorn in her eyes was not hidden as she stood and faced him. “Yes, he agreed to ask her. But that will be rather tricky if the silly goose has decided to run away. She is not the ideal candidate, I give you that. But there are not many to choose from, Saradoc. At least she is young and, I expect, should prove to be biddable.”

“Well, if anyone will be able to train her in her duties as Mistress of Brandy Hall, Esme, it would be you.” Saradoc studied her a moment longer in the candlelight, the expression in his face softening slightly as he did so. “Not an easy position, is it, Esme?”

She said nothing, her eyes falling to the ground, but her husband could see the drawn lines about her eyes that no cream could remove.

“Well, old girl, tomorrow comes all too fast,” he murmured, but before she could raise her eyes again, he was gone.


&&&&&



Bracegirdle lay heavily in his bed, snoring lustily. Dinner had been especially fine this evening, and he had indulged himself heartily. So heartily, in fact, that he had had no mind for any other pleasure, and made straight for his bed upon reaching his room.

In the small attached parlor, Tom spread out the woven mat that served him as a bed. Tucking himself under the one small blanket which he had been allotted, he lay, shivering slightly, but thankful that the evening had been, for him, uneventful.

As he finally began to warm up his bed, he drowsily considered, once again, the words of the kindly lass who had spoken to him that morning. Daisy, wasn’t it? And something that began with a “G”. He briefly wondered what she had meant, but it had been a long day, and before long, he was asleep, dreaming of his family’s farm and the ripening green oats swaying in the spring breeze, and his smiling mother standing in the doorway, her arms open in welcome.


&&&&&



“So what is that child up to, anyway?” rumbled Odo Bolger, standing before the window, and gazing out into the darkened snow-swept night. “And how can a hobbit get a decent night’s sleep with this glass nonsense in their room? Not like a proper hole, indeed, it isn’t.”

Rosa gave a brief laugh and walked up behind him, wrapping her arms around his comfortably expanded waist, and resting her chin on his broad shoulder. “I suppose we are the old-fashion sort, Odo love,” she agreed. “It does strike me as odd as well, but look,” she pointed to the side of the window. “There are curtains, you see, so we can pretend we are snugly underground, at least. And as for our daughter, well, she didn’t really tell me much. Only that she’d be back by luncheon tomorrow. I suppose she’s gone back to Budgeford, and will tell us all about it when she gets back. You know Stella, my dear, words are useless to her when there’s action to be taken. The opposite of her brother, of course. I used to think as that lad was all words.”

Odo chuckled as he swept her against his side. “That and eating, my dear. But he’s given us a surprise or two these past few years, now, hasn’t he?”

“Stars above, he has indeed,” she laughed comfortably, reaching out to draw the curtains. “Well, I expect they are fast growing up, as fauntlings always do.”

Odo gave her a fond kiss, but then stopped suddenly and became quite serious. “About Stella, now. Do you think they would treat her right, here, Rosa? I would hate worse than anything for her to not be happy.”

Rosa raised an eyebrow at this. “Can you imagine, my dear, our Estella ever agreeing to anything she has not thoroughly thought out? Nothing is to be decided for good yet, anyway. By the time she says yes, if she says yes, you can be quite sure that she will have good cause. And I believe that Esme Brandybuck would have her hands a little fuller than she imagines.”

“But for now, Odo dear,” she drew him away from the window with a merry grin. “Let us try out this magnificent bed. Who knows? We may never have reason to sample one of the Master of Buckland’s fine feather beds again, and I would hate to say no to that experience.”

Odo Bolger gave a wide smile at that reasoning, and snatched her unceremoniously up into the air. “Very well, my fine plump partridge,” he murmured throatily. “Shall we see which is softer? That downy bed, or you?”


&&&&&



Pippin pushed Merry unceremoniously to the side, once they had finally entered their haven, and rapidly bolted the door. Then his grip was tight on Merry’s shoulders, his lean body pressed Merry roughly to the door, and his mouth was fiercely and unceremoniously on Merry’s. Merry closed his eyes, and returned Pippin’s kiss with equal intensity, his own hands sweeping to Pippin’s waist and holding him impossibly close. There seemed to be no sating Pippin though, as he pushed even closer and continued to hungrily claim Merry’s mouth for his own. But it wasn’t until Merry suddenly realized that the odd sound he was hearing was Pippin’s jagged sobs that he finally gently drew back, and stared into Pippin’s shadowed face. The only light in the room was through a bare window on the far side, as well as the candle in its holder which he had placed on a small table as he entered, but the moon was hidden in cloud and the candle was guttering. Even so, he could see the streaks of tears on Pippin’s face, and his heart went out to him.

“Hush, my dear, this isn’t about me not being a tween anymore after tonight, now, is it?” he asked softly, reaching up to wipe the tears from Pippin’s cheek.

“I suppose,” Pippin admitted, with a sharp gulp. “But not just.”

“Tell me then,” Merry murmured, leading him unresistingly to the pile of odd cushions and blankets that served them as a bed in their retreat. “Out with it, my lad.” He drew Pippin down into the nest of bedclothes just as the candle finally guttered out. But the moon had managed to slip momentarily out from the clouds, and Pippin’s face was lit in a pale light, the tracks of his tears glinting silver.

“I don’t know, sometimes, I just don’t know,” Pippin faltered, sitting down with his legs drawn under him and looking down at his hands, and not at Merry’s face.

“What don’t you know, love?” Merry urged him quietly as he sat beside him, an arm around the tween’s thin shoulders.

Pippin was silent for a few moments then, staring at his hands as he unconsciously twisted them in his lap. “If that’s what I really am,” he whispered at last.

Merry stared at him, mystified, until Pippin raised his eyes to his. “Your love, I mean,” he breathed.

Merry opened his mouth to protest, but Pippin was quicker, laying an insistent finger on it. “No, not yet. I must have this out. Am I your love because Frodo wouldn’t have you? Am I your love until your mother finally marries you off? Am I your love whom you’ll remember fondly when you think of your youth? Is that who I am, Merry?”

Merry looked at him with a slowly emerging understanding written on his face. “You’re none of those things, Pip,” he said at last, quite deliberately. “You are my love, my dearest Peregrin, because you make me happy, like no one else can. You are my love,” he continued, brushing Pippin’s wayward curls behind an angled ear tip with a tender hand, “because I want to spend my life with you at my side. And I at yours, for that matter. You are my love because you have the gift of lightness that I need, but there’s a depth behind it, too. In short, my dearest Pip, you are my love because I love you, and I can’t imagine ever not loving you, not as long as I live.”

Pippin had not said a word as Merry spoke, but his eyes had never left those of Merry. “Oh, Merry, I‘ve been so afraid.” His voice was low but with only the slightest quaver, as he raised his hand to Merry’s shoulder. “Sometimes I think that I’ve always been second best, and you could have done better. I’m not always terribly practical, or even mature, and you always are. There are even times when I feel like the tag-along fauntling, always trying to catch up with all the rest of you. But I do love you so, Merry, as hard as I know how, and I have never dreamt of anyone but you.”

“Pippin. Listen to me now.” Merry’s voice was stern as Pippin’s came to an abrupt stop. “You must put this out of your head. I was infatuated with Frodo once, yes, I will admit to that. And quite possibly I thought I was in love. But I wasn’t. Not by miles. But it wasn’t until I fell in love with you, with your wonderfully impossible, bewitching and utterly marvelous self, that I truly knew that. Things will be changing for both of us, for me sooner than you, but for both of us eventually. But what I feel about you will never change. Trust me, Pip, my beloved Pip. As I trust in you. Anyone I marry will have to accommodate you, or I simply won‘t marry. That‘s really all there is to that. And at any rate, if Estella will go along with this arrangement, we‘ve really just put off any decision for a couple of years, and both of us can back out when and if we will.”

“What did she say?” Pippin asked in a small voice and a last sniffle, unable to hold back his curiosity on this point.

“Well, she didn’t,” Merry frowned. “Apparently she’s gone missing. Getting cold feet, possibly. Can’t say as I blame her. Anyway, either Fatty will locate her, or mother will have to come up with a new candidate. But it doesn’t matter, Pip. You are what matters and what always will. Come here, love. We’ve got tonight to ourselves, before I’m suddenly stricken ancient tomorrow, and I mean to make the best of it.”

With that, he set to work on the buttons of Pippin’s fine linen shirt, interposed with kisses to the pale flesh as he exposed it, and Pippin sighed gratefully as he fell back against the cushions. His heart sang within him once again, and even though the clouds slid in front of the moon once more, leaving the room quite dark again, he did not need any moonlight to assist him in finding his way around the strong and beguiling body of his beloved Merry.


&&&&&



Fatty gave the bed in his room a rueful glance. It would do for a solitary guest, he supposed, but he was optimistic that would not be his state for long. Possibly Merry might be able to spare the time tomorrow to investigate the possibilities of a larger bed to be had. Whistling a cheerful tune to himself, he began to prepare himself to retire. These family occasions could be quite entertaining, in their way, and the next day promised to be a quite out of the ordinary one.

A soft knock on the door interrupted him for the moment, but it proved to be a blushing kitchen lass with a basket and flask that she promptly delivered, compliments of Cook. Fatty found that he quite approved, as he opened it up, for the half dozen teacakes, slices of well-buttered nut bread, small wedge of sharp cheese, and diminutive jar of preserved peaches was just the thing to wash down with a bit of tea. Once again, he paid silent tribute to the captain of Brandy Hall’s kitchen, who obviously felt that no hobbit should go to bed feeling peckish. A jewel among hobbits, indeed.


&&&&&



Folco fell asleep almost immediately, as was his custom. He wasn’t entirely sure of the proposed outcome of tomorrow’s events, but there was no point, in his mind, to unproductive fretting over the unpredictable reactions of those about him. The bed was quite comfortable, there was no odd noise to distract him, and the chimney to the small fireplace in his room drew in quite a satisfactory way. Drowsily, he suddenly remembered the sitting room window. There had been a slight gap on the left-hand side between one of the panes and the frame, which let in just the smallest amount of cold air. He would have to find a chance tomorrow to draw Merry aside and let him know. Filled with the satisfaction of a good deed almost nearly done, he was soon dreaming of Iris and the extremely efficient smial they would have together.


&&&&&



It was very nearly a look of suspicion that Sam gave Frodo once they were alone in his small tower room. Sam had been unbuttoning his weskit, while Frodo was busily wedging the chest and a small table against the bed to ensure that it did not unceremoniously dump the both of them again this night, when he remembered the whispered conversation between Merry and Pippin which he had just caught the tail of, earlier that morning.

“Did you do summat to set Merry off this morning?” he casually asked, keeping a close eye on Frodo’s profile, which was currently turned in his direction.

“Oh, possibly. Tell me, Sam, do you think we could jam the back of that chair under the side of the bed? No, that would make it all uneven, wouldn’t it,” he continued, answering his own question and, stopping his labors, resting his hands on his hips with a frown. “Wouldn’t answer to the health of the chair if we did that, either. And I really wouldn’t want to be responsible to Aunt Esme for reducing her furniture to kindling, either. She always seems to have plenty of grievances, but I’d hate to give her a legitimate one.”

Sam, however, was more than familiar with Frodo’s avoidance tactics, when there was a question he did not wish to answer, and refused to be distracted as to the matter of the furniture. “Flummoxed, seems t’me he said,” he stubbornly continued, tidily folding the weskit and lying it on the chair in question, one of the few furnishings Frodo had not yet appropriated. “That’d take a bit o’doing, and no mistake.”

“Well, Merry can be so set about things, at times.” Frodo replied evasively, still not looking in Sam’s direction. “Are you sure we aren’t going to want that chair, my love?”

“You’d not be answering the point, m’dear,” Sam mentioned mildly, beginning on his shirt buttons.

“But you haven’t answered mine,” Frodo began, and then stopped what he was doing, and sitting heavily on the corner of the bed that was still accessible, looked up at Sam with the barest quirk of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Oh, very well. I did throw him off balance a trifle, because sometimes I think that Merry needs that. He occasionally makes up his mind about a person, like you for that matter, before he’s had a chance to get to know them, and I just wanted to be sure that he didn’t do that with Estella. Estella, I have a feeling, will be utterly perfect for him, but he’ll never agree to her if it’s simply his mother’s idea. But she is Fatty’s sister, after all, and I shouldn’t wonder if by the end of this visit we may see her true colors a little more clearly. And I suspect that Merry will be feeling a little more positive about her, and his mother a little less so, and that’s entirely to the good. In addition, I might just have pushed Pippin and him into discussing their future. Possibly I’m an interfering busybody, but Merry really does need his friends to show him the other side of things, sometimes, and it’s so much easier when he’s a bit jumbled up, so to speak. And now, my dear, are you ever going to get that shirt off?”

As that seemed to be all the answer he was going to receive to his query, Sam gave a mental shrug, and finished off the shirt in a thrice. But Frodo was nearly as quick, and only moments later, they were both quite bare, and on top of the fortified bed. “Interfering busybody, is it?” Sam chuckled as he lay on his back quite thoroughly covered by Frodo. “Still watching out for all of us, aren’t you, m’dear?”

“Mmmm,” was Frodo’s incoherent reply. He halted his exploration of the side of Sam’s neck for the moment, and murmured, “Well, I’m the oldest, you know. Hate to see anyone’s life go off track if there’s anything I can do to prevent a wreck.”

“Ah,” Sam groaned, as Frodo’s tongue hit an especially promising spot. “And then who’s to watch over you, Frodo-love?” His knees had risen on either side of Frodo by now, and if he could only get Frodo aligned just a trifle more to the right…

“Oh, you of course, my dearest lad,” Frodo raised himself up slightly and groped, by the fleeting moonlight, for something near the top of the bed. “As if I’d ever want for looking after, Sam. How perfectly impossible. That’s one thing you’ll make sure I’ll never lack for, I’m quite certain of that. Ah, and here it is!” He produced a small ramekin from the pile of his clothing with a flourish and a grin. “This time I remembered.”

“Aye, an’ I as well,” Sam laughed in delight. “May as well be savin’ mine for later. Let’s see how the bed lasts this time, me dearie.”

Not long after, there was another screech of wood, and a muffled crash from the tower room in Brandy Hall, but none of the other residents, not even those only a little further down the hallway, were awake to hear it.


&&&&&&



Moonlight came and went during the long dark night, and drifts of snow continued to blow intermittently across the road, but both pony and rider refused to be halted. “Almost there, my brave one,” she whispered in the grey pony’s ear, “and there will be a warm stable and plenty of hay for you, and even an apple, I should imagine. It’s a long road back again tomorrow, as well, but it’s for a good cause. And it certainly can’t be any worse than sitting around an over-heated drawing room being examined like the newest pouter hen, so on, my dear. None will ever think of looking for us this way.”

The pony gave his head the slightest toss in response, but went back to eating up the miles with a long easy stride, and his rider continued to search for the landmarks that she had been given as best she could, in the murky night.




And here are the links to parts One and Two, if you missed them.

Part One may be found here:

http://www.greatestjournal.com/users/elderberrywine/17621.html#cutid1

and Part Two here:

http://www.greatestjournal.com/users/elderberrywine/17673.html#cutid1