Estella looked in the mirror. She was, in fact, beautiful. Never had she seen her face so regally white, yet glowing under shades of red. It was as if apples had been slid on the insides of her cheeks and illuminated the pale skin. Dark hair pinned up to caress the nape of her fine neck. She was an elven queen, a woman of nobility, a beautiful hobbitess.
What will my Merry think?
Her hand traced down, down her upper waist and to her hips.
What will my Merry think?
She lifted the flowing, sheer cotton. Layers of it. Ankles were revealed, small wisps of hair touching them. Her legs burned from the rough lining of the dress, washed skin felt torn against netting.
Parted lips. Head held tall. Sleepy eyes. She was ready for this day to begin and end.
She swept out of the bridal room in her glory, passing through these halls that would be her own home this moment forward. Brandy Hall would at last have a future, and she knew she was it. Estella knew this day would be the most taxing of her emotional life, she knew that preparing alone her looks would leave room for only happiness in the midst of the rush. She preferred to be alone.
'Tis a good thing that I think of only Merry, instead of the party.
Her mind raced. She felt her way along the side of the hole, escaping the outdoors she had stepped out in. Brandy Field was lit with bright waistcoats and gowns, banners, flowers, food. Heart jumping, Estella gave an intake of sharp breath. This was exactly the kind of thing Merry would love. Exactly his kind of wedding. And why shouldn't it be? It was his wedding, after all.
But it's mine, too…
Something touched her side. A shriek left her mouth, and sunk into a groan.
"You are not supposed to be seeing me, you goof!" Estella hissed and winced, who knows who could've been observing this? The custom remained. If the groom saw the bride prior to the wedding, it was held off for another three months. Merry looked down on her with different eyes. Different. They held distress. "Stella, you are gorgeous." He said with a cracked voice. He drew his long arms around her waist, comforting himself. He buried his face in the meeting of her shoulder and neck. She felt the desperation in his hands on the small of her back, the way they pressed and drew back in rhythm.
"I dunno what to do." He mumbled into her neck, burying himself further. Estella knew this was a troublesome thing, for him to risk the delay of their marriage, but his cedarwood pipe smoke scent filled her mind with thoughts of the day at hand. "You could marry me." she half whispered in a low way, running the tip of her nose along his face. "I love you." Merry barely spoke it before it ended in a kiss.
"What" Estella said between kisses, "are we doing."
"Dunno." Merry responded in intervals of breaths. Breaking free, Estella looked her fiancé in the eyes. "Can this wait?"
Distress returned to him as Merry held her. "I just want to make sure…you are going to be alright." He said. She caressed the un-hobbitlike stubble on his chin. "Yes. We've talked about this for years, love." She said. It was going to be okay. They had discussed, discussed to death even, that it was going to be okay since they were tweens. "I won't hurt you." Merry choked again, holding her close.
The gentle giant. Estella thought, then spoke aloud, "Go away and get ready to see me for the first time." Her smirk and open eyes told the almost-husband that it really was okay. He firmly kissed her moth one last time and slipped out another inconspicuous way.
Estella straightened her tousled bodice. Her heart was pounding with fear, but Merry could never know. Her battle was about to be fought, but with a unusual enemy. Herself.