DISCLAIMER: Sorry, nothing/no-one who is even vaguely familar belongs to
me.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: (1) OK, so St. Valentine's Day is is just around the corner. Now, being an old romantic, I hate the way that this celebration of love has become so commericalised. This day should be about true love, not how many cards/bouquets of flowers you receive. So, in honour of the true menaing of Valentine's Day, I have written this series of romance vignettes, containing some of our favourite LOTR characters.
(2) In this chapter, I refer to the month of Wedmath, which, accroding to the Shire Calender, is the eighth month of the year, i.e. equivalent of August. Also, this chapter is post-Quest.
R&R, please? *Flutters eyelashes*
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
LOVE AT SECOND SIGHT
The letter arrived on the first day of Wedmath.
Estella's grey eyes gleamed with excitement as she beheld the envelope lying on the breakfast table. Fosco had been writing regularly since going to take care of his aunt - he was, after all, her only living relative. Estella sighed at the thought of him, the hobbit whom she was due to marry in under three months. Their separation had been hard upon her, but Fosco's letters made this parting bearable. That, and the knowledge that soon, they would be together for the rest of their lives, gave her the strength to continue.
"Another letter!" her brother Fredgar groaned as he handed the envelope to her. She accepted it eagerly, clutching it to her chest before hurrying back to the confines of her bedroom.
Most girls would have torn the envelope to shreds by now, eager to read their beloved's news. But Estella, being particularly prim and proper, believed that love letters should be treated with great reverence, so she began her ritual.
The curtains were open, allowing light to spill into the room. She unlatched the window, sighing as the scent of dying summer blossoms filled her lungs. Birds chirped cheerily in the oak tree in the garden as she turned back to her bed, where the letter now lay.
The hobbit-lass sat down carefully, smoothing a crease from her dress. Nimble fingers ripped the folds of the envelope with great caution, lest she tear the vital parchment inside. Allowing the letter to slip onto the pristine white sheets of her bed, Estella inhaled a deep breath to still herself in preparation. Just the sight of his untidy scrawl caused her heart to flutter, let alone the words of love she had come to cherish so much in Fosco's absence.
Carefully, she unfolded the letter, eyes scanning the writing with a delight that soon turned to dust. Her hands trembled with outrage as she ripped the paper, her breathing ragged. The scraps littered her tidy floor as she stormed outside, slamming her door and violent sobs wracking her body.
* * * * * *
He knocked. Once, twice, three times. But there was no answer from the Bolger house.
"Fredgar!" Merry shouted, banging his fist against the door again. "Are you in there? Come on! We're going to be late!"
He stood back, surveying the hobbit-hole. The Bolgers were, by nature, obsessed with cleanliness. Each window had been thoroughly polished until it gleamed with a force to rival even diamonds. The grass covered their garden like a smooth sheet of silk, and no wildflowers were allowed to grow where nature had intended. Even the pathway was swept until the last speck of dust was eliminated. He whistled a low note, tapping his foot impatiently. That useless Fredgar had probably forgotten - again.
Finally, the door swung open. "Go away! We don't want any visitors!"
"Fredgar!" Merry gasped, seeing the fury in his friend's eyes and the knuckles that had turned white from being clenched so hard. "What in the Shire's the matter?"
"Nothing!" He snapped. "Go away, we're in the middle of a family crisis."
"But what about the meeting? You know, to compile the guest lists for The Wedding."
The impending marriages of Peregrin Took to Diamond of The Long Cleeve and Estella Bolger to Fosco Hornblower were the talk of Hobbiton. Since the two brides-to-be were best friends - practically sisters - they had wanted a joint wedding. Although their future husbands were a little less enthusiastic at first, considering some bad feelings that remained from childhood, the two men had warmed to the idea. In Fosco's absence, Fredgar was given the task of overseeing the groom's affairs, and Merry was needed - as always - to advise his younger cousin. The event was turning out to be so spectacular, it was nicknamed 'The Wedding' across the Shire.
"There isn't going to be a wedding!" Estella's sob echoed through the hallway.
Merry stared at Fredgar with a measure of surprise. "Is she telling the truth?"
His friend nodded solemnly, his tone softening. "Can you come back later? I don't think that Estella can deal with visitors just now."
Merry's voice came out as a whisper. "Give her my sympathies." With that, the hobbit turned, and was soon lost to sight.
'Poor Estella,' he thought. She had been so completely smitten with Fosco, and he seemed equally besotted with her. Yet, despite how cruel and malicious he knew it was, Merry could not help the relived sigh that escaped his lips. Estella was too good for that Hornblower. What was one of the loveliest lasses in the Shire doing with the former bully, who had made many small hobbits, Samwise Gamgee in particular, afraid to go to school? How could she love the one who had been responsible for countless fights? Everyone was so sure that he had changed his ways, but Merry had developed the opinion that a snake may shed its skin, but the pattern of the scales never changes.
He sat down by the roadside for a moment, thinking. Estella Bolger... The girl had grown up as a target of many pranks pulled by the notorious Pippin Took and Merry Brandybuck. Surprisingly, she seemed to have a sense of humour and once she had rid herself of the initial embarrassment, the girl was able to look back and laugh - although the thing that amused her most was seeing Merry's reaction when Pippin accused them of flirting.
Suddenly, Merry was drawn from his reverie by the sound of a lass sobbing. Standing, he scanned the area, and felt his heart skip a beat as she came into view.
Her cheeks marred with tears, her hair in disarray, Estella was sitting on a tree stump not far away. She buried her face in a crumpled handkerchief as the autumn breeze whipped her auburn locks into her face. She looked so helpless... Merry was filled with the urge to enfold his arms around her, and place a kiss on her quivering lips - but he resisted, knowing that such an act would most likely earn him a slap across the jaw.
"Estella!" He called softly. She looked up, red-rimed eyes peering at him from an ashen face. Merry strode towards her, and knelt before the crying lass. "Are you all right?"
"He didn't even have the courage to say it to my face!" came the muffled reply. "Do you know how he broke off our engagement?" she asked, her voice laced with bitterness. "In a letter!"
A letter... a letter she had probably imagined to be another love letter. Because of his active role in their wedding preparations, Merry knew all about Fosco's correspondence with Estella. What a spineless way to break someone's heart. It did not surprise him in the least that the damned Hornblower did not have the decency to break her heart to her face. "You should forget about that coward, Estee," he whispered soothingly.
"No-one's called me Estee for years," she replied. "I used to hate that name when I was younger, but I suppose that nickname's grow on you."
"Yes, they do," Merry said with a laugh. "What was it we used to call Diamond again?"
At the mention of her friend, the unshed tears in Estella's eyes spilled over. "How will I ever tell her about the wedding?" she wept. "And what will people say?"
"Don't worry, Estee. You've had a difficult day." He unveiled a clean handkerchief from the pocket of his mustard waistcoat and offered it to his friend, seeing that her own was sodden with tears.
"And it's not even noon!"
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Merry," Estella said once her tears had stopped and she had calmed down enough to speak coherently, "Thank you."
"What for?" he asked. "I was just doing what any friend should do."
She smiled bittersweetly, bending to pluck a flower from the grass. She twirled the purple blossom of Forget-me-not in her nimble fingers, before crushing the flowers. Forget-me-not was said to be the bloom of true love - but if what experienced was true love, then love was a myth. "This may seem strange, Merry," she began, "But, despite what he did to me, I still love him. How can that be?"
"You still love him?" Merry's eyes widened. He was actually quite handsome when he was shocked - but she smothered the thought.
"I don't understand it either," she sighed. "But I do. And I'm scared," she clutched her friend's hand. "I'm scared that I'll never be able to forget him, much less get over this!"
"Let me tell you a story," Merry said, motioning her to sit with him on the grass. To his obvious surprise, she actually sank to the ground. Most Bolgers would have been appalled at the thought - what is she stained her dress? - but Estella was in such a state of shock, Merry doubted that she cared much about neatness, particularly if her appearance was anything to judge by. Hair dishevelled, dress creased, she was definitely not at her best.
"I know a woman called Eowyn," he said. "She met Aragorn - you know, the King of Gondor - but his was before he was crowned. Anyway, if what Legolas and Gimli tell me is true, she fell in love with him instantly. Problem was, he was betrothed to Arwen. As you know," he placed his hand over hers a squeezed it affectionately, "Eowyn was devastated at first. She thought that she would never love again, and she even wanted to die at the height of her grief, so she rode to battle, and was almost killed. Then, when she was in the Houses of Healing, she met Faramir, and they fell in love." Merry leaned back. "That just goes to show that sometimes your first love isn't your true love."
Estella absorbed this new information as she nodded, wishing that she could correct him on his last point. Fosco was not her first love; as a tweenager, she had thought she was in love with another hobbit - a hobbit who sat by her side in the grass, trying to heal her shattered heart. Her childhood friend Meriadoc Brandybuck.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Pippin and Diamond's wedding was perfect. Considering that Merry was Estella were responsible for the planning, it couldn't be anything less.
Most of the Shire was in attendance, along with some special guests from abroad. King Elessar and Queen Arwen of Gondor were in attendance with their young son, Prince Eldarion. Prince Faramir and Lady Eowyn had come, along with her brother Eomer and his queen Lothiriel, with their children in tow. Even Legolas and Gimli had abandoned the kingdoms under their care to make an appearance. And, of course, the Gamgees were there, Elanor and Rose having been flower-girls. Still, Pippin could not mask his disappointment at the fact that neither Boromir, Gandalf or Frodo could come. The former had departed this life years ago, and the other two were gone from Middle-Earth. But their absence did not completely dampen the ceremony.
Estella sat on a bench, watching the festivities. She had immersed herself in the preparation for Diamond's wedding, determined that if she could not be the one getting married, she would at least make this day as perfect for her friend as possible. And Merry had been more than willing to help.
He gazed at her from across the field, a sigh escaping his lips.
Sam nudged him. "Go ask her for a dance, Merry."
"Are you crazy?" he replied. "She won't want to dance with me!"
Sam drew himself up to his full height - which was still a few inches shorter than Merry, who towered above most hobbits. "Meriadoc Brandybuck, you have liked that lass since you were both in your tweens. It's high time that you let her know how you feel. You almost lost her once. Are you going to let that happen again?" The gardener's tone softened. "Look, I know you're scared of rejection. I was too. But, like my Gaffer used to say, 'Nothin' ventured, nothin' gained.' I took a risk with Rosie, and now I'm married to her. Think about what this could do for you and Estella. Now go and ask her for a dance!"
Swallowing his nervousness, he strode across the makeshift dance floor to the lass who sat alone watching her brother dance with little Elanor Gamgee.
"Hello, Estella," he said, his throat suddenly dry. She smiled, and he felt his knees go weak. "Would you like to dance?"
She hesitated. "Actually, I don't feel up to dancing." As he made to turn away, trying to mask his disappointment, she added, "But I'd be glad of the company."
* * * * * * * * * * * *
The waning crescent moon hung in the sky above, like a slither of perfect mithril. Sitting on a slight hill, Merry and Estella gazed at the sky above.
"You see that?" He pointing to a star that glittered more powerfully than the rest. "That's the star of Earendil."
"It's beautiful," she replied, smiling. Their eyes met, and they leaned towards each other. A trembling hand reached out to brush a curl away from her face. Estella closed the distance between them, covering his lips with her own. Merry pulled her into his arms, deepening the kiss.
"I love you," he whispered when they parted.
She placed a finger on his lips. "You talk too much," she said, before smothering his retort with another kiss, knowing that this time, she had found her true love.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: (1) OK, so St. Valentine's Day is is just around the corner. Now, being an old romantic, I hate the way that this celebration of love has become so commericalised. This day should be about true love, not how many cards/bouquets of flowers you receive. So, in honour of the true menaing of Valentine's Day, I have written this series of romance vignettes, containing some of our favourite LOTR characters.
(2) In this chapter, I refer to the month of Wedmath, which, accroding to the Shire Calender, is the eighth month of the year, i.e. equivalent of August. Also, this chapter is post-Quest.
R&R, please? *Flutters eyelashes*
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
LOVE AT SECOND SIGHT
The letter arrived on the first day of Wedmath.
Estella's grey eyes gleamed with excitement as she beheld the envelope lying on the breakfast table. Fosco had been writing regularly since going to take care of his aunt - he was, after all, her only living relative. Estella sighed at the thought of him, the hobbit whom she was due to marry in under three months. Their separation had been hard upon her, but Fosco's letters made this parting bearable. That, and the knowledge that soon, they would be together for the rest of their lives, gave her the strength to continue.
"Another letter!" her brother Fredgar groaned as he handed the envelope to her. She accepted it eagerly, clutching it to her chest before hurrying back to the confines of her bedroom.
Most girls would have torn the envelope to shreds by now, eager to read their beloved's news. But Estella, being particularly prim and proper, believed that love letters should be treated with great reverence, so she began her ritual.
The curtains were open, allowing light to spill into the room. She unlatched the window, sighing as the scent of dying summer blossoms filled her lungs. Birds chirped cheerily in the oak tree in the garden as she turned back to her bed, where the letter now lay.
The hobbit-lass sat down carefully, smoothing a crease from her dress. Nimble fingers ripped the folds of the envelope with great caution, lest she tear the vital parchment inside. Allowing the letter to slip onto the pristine white sheets of her bed, Estella inhaled a deep breath to still herself in preparation. Just the sight of his untidy scrawl caused her heart to flutter, let alone the words of love she had come to cherish so much in Fosco's absence.
Carefully, she unfolded the letter, eyes scanning the writing with a delight that soon turned to dust. Her hands trembled with outrage as she ripped the paper, her breathing ragged. The scraps littered her tidy floor as she stormed outside, slamming her door and violent sobs wracking her body.
* * * * * *
He knocked. Once, twice, three times. But there was no answer from the Bolger house.
"Fredgar!" Merry shouted, banging his fist against the door again. "Are you in there? Come on! We're going to be late!"
He stood back, surveying the hobbit-hole. The Bolgers were, by nature, obsessed with cleanliness. Each window had been thoroughly polished until it gleamed with a force to rival even diamonds. The grass covered their garden like a smooth sheet of silk, and no wildflowers were allowed to grow where nature had intended. Even the pathway was swept until the last speck of dust was eliminated. He whistled a low note, tapping his foot impatiently. That useless Fredgar had probably forgotten - again.
Finally, the door swung open. "Go away! We don't want any visitors!"
"Fredgar!" Merry gasped, seeing the fury in his friend's eyes and the knuckles that had turned white from being clenched so hard. "What in the Shire's the matter?"
"Nothing!" He snapped. "Go away, we're in the middle of a family crisis."
"But what about the meeting? You know, to compile the guest lists for The Wedding."
The impending marriages of Peregrin Took to Diamond of The Long Cleeve and Estella Bolger to Fosco Hornblower were the talk of Hobbiton. Since the two brides-to-be were best friends - practically sisters - they had wanted a joint wedding. Although their future husbands were a little less enthusiastic at first, considering some bad feelings that remained from childhood, the two men had warmed to the idea. In Fosco's absence, Fredgar was given the task of overseeing the groom's affairs, and Merry was needed - as always - to advise his younger cousin. The event was turning out to be so spectacular, it was nicknamed 'The Wedding' across the Shire.
"There isn't going to be a wedding!" Estella's sob echoed through the hallway.
Merry stared at Fredgar with a measure of surprise. "Is she telling the truth?"
His friend nodded solemnly, his tone softening. "Can you come back later? I don't think that Estella can deal with visitors just now."
Merry's voice came out as a whisper. "Give her my sympathies." With that, the hobbit turned, and was soon lost to sight.
'Poor Estella,' he thought. She had been so completely smitten with Fosco, and he seemed equally besotted with her. Yet, despite how cruel and malicious he knew it was, Merry could not help the relived sigh that escaped his lips. Estella was too good for that Hornblower. What was one of the loveliest lasses in the Shire doing with the former bully, who had made many small hobbits, Samwise Gamgee in particular, afraid to go to school? How could she love the one who had been responsible for countless fights? Everyone was so sure that he had changed his ways, but Merry had developed the opinion that a snake may shed its skin, but the pattern of the scales never changes.
He sat down by the roadside for a moment, thinking. Estella Bolger... The girl had grown up as a target of many pranks pulled by the notorious Pippin Took and Merry Brandybuck. Surprisingly, she seemed to have a sense of humour and once she had rid herself of the initial embarrassment, the girl was able to look back and laugh - although the thing that amused her most was seeing Merry's reaction when Pippin accused them of flirting.
Suddenly, Merry was drawn from his reverie by the sound of a lass sobbing. Standing, he scanned the area, and felt his heart skip a beat as she came into view.
Her cheeks marred with tears, her hair in disarray, Estella was sitting on a tree stump not far away. She buried her face in a crumpled handkerchief as the autumn breeze whipped her auburn locks into her face. She looked so helpless... Merry was filled with the urge to enfold his arms around her, and place a kiss on her quivering lips - but he resisted, knowing that such an act would most likely earn him a slap across the jaw.
"Estella!" He called softly. She looked up, red-rimed eyes peering at him from an ashen face. Merry strode towards her, and knelt before the crying lass. "Are you all right?"
"He didn't even have the courage to say it to my face!" came the muffled reply. "Do you know how he broke off our engagement?" she asked, her voice laced with bitterness. "In a letter!"
A letter... a letter she had probably imagined to be another love letter. Because of his active role in their wedding preparations, Merry knew all about Fosco's correspondence with Estella. What a spineless way to break someone's heart. It did not surprise him in the least that the damned Hornblower did not have the decency to break her heart to her face. "You should forget about that coward, Estee," he whispered soothingly.
"No-one's called me Estee for years," she replied. "I used to hate that name when I was younger, but I suppose that nickname's grow on you."
"Yes, they do," Merry said with a laugh. "What was it we used to call Diamond again?"
At the mention of her friend, the unshed tears in Estella's eyes spilled over. "How will I ever tell her about the wedding?" she wept. "And what will people say?"
"Don't worry, Estee. You've had a difficult day." He unveiled a clean handkerchief from the pocket of his mustard waistcoat and offered it to his friend, seeing that her own was sodden with tears.
"And it's not even noon!"
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Merry," Estella said once her tears had stopped and she had calmed down enough to speak coherently, "Thank you."
"What for?" he asked. "I was just doing what any friend should do."
She smiled bittersweetly, bending to pluck a flower from the grass. She twirled the purple blossom of Forget-me-not in her nimble fingers, before crushing the flowers. Forget-me-not was said to be the bloom of true love - but if what experienced was true love, then love was a myth. "This may seem strange, Merry," she began, "But, despite what he did to me, I still love him. How can that be?"
"You still love him?" Merry's eyes widened. He was actually quite handsome when he was shocked - but she smothered the thought.
"I don't understand it either," she sighed. "But I do. And I'm scared," she clutched her friend's hand. "I'm scared that I'll never be able to forget him, much less get over this!"
"Let me tell you a story," Merry said, motioning her to sit with him on the grass. To his obvious surprise, she actually sank to the ground. Most Bolgers would have been appalled at the thought - what is she stained her dress? - but Estella was in such a state of shock, Merry doubted that she cared much about neatness, particularly if her appearance was anything to judge by. Hair dishevelled, dress creased, she was definitely not at her best.
"I know a woman called Eowyn," he said. "She met Aragorn - you know, the King of Gondor - but his was before he was crowned. Anyway, if what Legolas and Gimli tell me is true, she fell in love with him instantly. Problem was, he was betrothed to Arwen. As you know," he placed his hand over hers a squeezed it affectionately, "Eowyn was devastated at first. She thought that she would never love again, and she even wanted to die at the height of her grief, so she rode to battle, and was almost killed. Then, when she was in the Houses of Healing, she met Faramir, and they fell in love." Merry leaned back. "That just goes to show that sometimes your first love isn't your true love."
Estella absorbed this new information as she nodded, wishing that she could correct him on his last point. Fosco was not her first love; as a tweenager, she had thought she was in love with another hobbit - a hobbit who sat by her side in the grass, trying to heal her shattered heart. Her childhood friend Meriadoc Brandybuck.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Pippin and Diamond's wedding was perfect. Considering that Merry was Estella were responsible for the planning, it couldn't be anything less.
Most of the Shire was in attendance, along with some special guests from abroad. King Elessar and Queen Arwen of Gondor were in attendance with their young son, Prince Eldarion. Prince Faramir and Lady Eowyn had come, along with her brother Eomer and his queen Lothiriel, with their children in tow. Even Legolas and Gimli had abandoned the kingdoms under their care to make an appearance. And, of course, the Gamgees were there, Elanor and Rose having been flower-girls. Still, Pippin could not mask his disappointment at the fact that neither Boromir, Gandalf or Frodo could come. The former had departed this life years ago, and the other two were gone from Middle-Earth. But their absence did not completely dampen the ceremony.
Estella sat on a bench, watching the festivities. She had immersed herself in the preparation for Diamond's wedding, determined that if she could not be the one getting married, she would at least make this day as perfect for her friend as possible. And Merry had been more than willing to help.
He gazed at her from across the field, a sigh escaping his lips.
Sam nudged him. "Go ask her for a dance, Merry."
"Are you crazy?" he replied. "She won't want to dance with me!"
Sam drew himself up to his full height - which was still a few inches shorter than Merry, who towered above most hobbits. "Meriadoc Brandybuck, you have liked that lass since you were both in your tweens. It's high time that you let her know how you feel. You almost lost her once. Are you going to let that happen again?" The gardener's tone softened. "Look, I know you're scared of rejection. I was too. But, like my Gaffer used to say, 'Nothin' ventured, nothin' gained.' I took a risk with Rosie, and now I'm married to her. Think about what this could do for you and Estella. Now go and ask her for a dance!"
Swallowing his nervousness, he strode across the makeshift dance floor to the lass who sat alone watching her brother dance with little Elanor Gamgee.
"Hello, Estella," he said, his throat suddenly dry. She smiled, and he felt his knees go weak. "Would you like to dance?"
She hesitated. "Actually, I don't feel up to dancing." As he made to turn away, trying to mask his disappointment, she added, "But I'd be glad of the company."
* * * * * * * * * * * *
The waning crescent moon hung in the sky above, like a slither of perfect mithril. Sitting on a slight hill, Merry and Estella gazed at the sky above.
"You see that?" He pointing to a star that glittered more powerfully than the rest. "That's the star of Earendil."
"It's beautiful," she replied, smiling. Their eyes met, and they leaned towards each other. A trembling hand reached out to brush a curl away from her face. Estella closed the distance between them, covering his lips with her own. Merry pulled her into his arms, deepening the kiss.
"I love you," he whispered when they parted.
She placed a finger on his lips. "You talk too much," she said, before smothering his retort with another kiss, knowing that this time, she had found her true love.