The day was overcast and dreary, gray clouds hung over the usually sunny, green hills of the Shire ominously, threatening to pour on the few traveler's braving the near empty road that lead into Budgeford. The East Farthing had been subject to a few days of miserable weather and the muddy road was still full of puddles and foot-prints and cart wheels were imprinted in the soft surface. Estella Bolger enjoyed the squelch of mud between her toes, walking barefoot down the soft dirt path on a cool Trewsday morning. She was just returning from the marketplace where she had purchased the basics of a meal for her and her brother, Fredegar. In her wicker basket she carried fresh buns and preserves, a small block of new cheese, a cut of ham and a little jug of fresh milk. A cloth embroidered with flowers covered her purchases, keeping them dry should the rain start again. So far, she had been spared the rainfall, but she was wearing a thick, green hood in case and her golden brown hair was pulled back so as to stay out of her face. Stray wisps of it had escaped her careful braid and swept across her cheeks, tickling her nose. She pushed them aside and trodded on through the dirt. Enjoying the cool puddles as they splashed up about her ankles.
The earthworms were out, she saw almost a dozen wriggling about in the mud, some large and some small. She liked to watch them, they reminded her of simpler times, of her younger, carefree days. Before time had begun to snatch things away, one by one.
A chill settled in the air as her thoughts were cast to darker matters. The deaths of her parents, the sudden loss of both Bilbo and Frodo, the disappearance of Sam and Pippin and her dear friend, Merry. They had been back more than a year, yet there was something different about them all, not much physically, aside from their hardened physique and (in Merry and Pip's case) added height, but something within them had changed, they had gone from soft-hearted rascals to true-hearted knights of the Shire. Like something out of an old tale of dragons and elves. She had always loved the stories of dragons and elves, but seeing glimpses of them in her friends had been almost offputting. When she'd heard the grand tale of their adventure she'd been shocked, and greatly relieved by their heroism, but she still felt something akin to disappointment when she saw how they'd changed. Sam, who stood taller and prouder, laughing less but smiling broader. Frodo, solemn, withdrawn, and quiet, even more than he had been. Pippin, surprisingly mature and responsible, strong, tall and bright-eyed, and Merry, dear Merry, stately, noble, gentle as ever but stronger and sterner.
She remembered the day they had returned, triumphant riders, angry and hot-blooded. Merry had been brash and ended up in the cruel hands of their tyrants but she had stepped in to save him, earning herself a whiplash, the scar of which she would bear for the rest of her life. When the battle was won he had helped her free Fredegar (once known as Fatty, but no longer) from the Lockholes where he had been starved. Since then, they had hardly seen each other. As the heir of the Master of Buckland, Merry had been at hand all over the Shire, expelling the evil usurpers and righting the wrongs done to the Shirefolk. Estella had observed him from a distance, he seemed so strange now, unapproachable. He had vanished with the others as a fugitive and returned a seasoned warrior. She had deduced he had forgotten his affection for her, a simple country girl. Their friendship had obviously been lost in the grand affairs of the wide world beyond.
Oh, if she only could have experienced it with him, maybe then they would still share their old bond.
Estella sighed and swung her basket dreamily, climbing the gentle rise up to the stone bridge that overlooked a quiet, rambling river. She often stopped here, as it marked the midway point between her home and the town. There was only another two miles to go from here. She set down her basket and leaned over the cobblestone rail, staring into the lazy depths. The water was drear and gray, like the sky and the rest of the world. Estella wondered if it might just be her mood. Perhaps the world wasn't quite as dark as it felt.
She flicked a stray pebble with her fingernail into the water, amused by the small disturbance to the glass-like surface of the river. Gathering a few other stones, she dropped them in too, wondering at the small pleasure she received by throwing rocks into the river.
When her collection was spent, she closed her eyes and listened to the water, thinking of nothing but the sound of it moving over the rocks, slipping slowly away, where it would join some larger river, and then, someday, the Sea. The thought brought happiness to her again and she could swear the sun was breaking through the clouds. She grinned widely.
"You have a nice smile."
The voice had come from behind her and she spun around, her heart having nearly stopped, was now racing as she turned to see the intruder.
Merry stood before her. His blonde curls, shaggy as always, glinted in the pale light that filtered through the clouds. He was wearing his normal hobbit waistcoat and breeches, and his head was cocked mischeviously, a devilish gleam shining in his eyes. He smiled and stepped towards her. Again, she was surprised by how tall he was, nearly two heads over her. She felt a little jealous of that fact, but she was still happy to see him.
"Merry," she breathed, relaxing. "Don't do that!"
His blue eyes twinkled and she had a sudden urge to punch him, or hug him or both. She restrained herself and did neither, standing shyly away and letting the moment fall awkwardly. He came and stood beside her, leaning over the water.
"Do you stop here every time?" he asked, his hands, which were luckily the same size as the always had been, fiddling with loose rocks. She shrugged and looked down at the river.
"I suppose so," she answered. "It's quiet here, and pretty."
"Sounds like the perfect place for you."
She felt herself blush. What had he learned in those foreign places? If possible, he was being even more bold and brazen than usual. She forced a laugh.
"Thank you," she answered, not knowing what else to say. The silence came between them again, like a wall, a wall that Merry had left to grow in his absence. She couldn't help but feel a little bitter, even if she knew well what had transpired on his and the other's adventure. For what he had done, she had no right to complain, they had saved them all.
"I haven't seen you in awhile," Merry noted, voice soft and almost sad. Estella nodded, not wanting to look at him.
"Yes, well, you've been kept very busy since you got back."
She hoped there was no accusation in her voice as she spoke. Merry's eyes flickered a little, the blue almost gray today, matching their pale surroundings. He sighed and dropped his gaze, staring down into the water.
"I know," he admitted heavily. "I've tried and tried to get away, but there were so many things to do and fix. Every time I turned around someone else needed help. I snuck away today 'cause I knew you'd be here on the bridge."
That was true. In her simple, predictable life, Merry knew that Estella always headed to market on Trewsday. It was part of her and Fatty's quiet, hobbit routine, a reliable part of their daily lives. Familiarity, an absolutely integral part of the Shire that Merry had lost on his journeys and was now struggling to remember. Estella had noticed it, along with other strange new mannerisms.
"Was there something you wanted to see me about?" she asked, looking him in the eyes again. They were pale blue, reflecting maybe the mood of the day or his weariness. He did look tired, and though he seemed content on the surface she could detect a restless spirit struggling inside him. Another side effect of his adventures. Though she knew she had no right to, she felt sorry for herself. Would he ever be the same? Would they?
"Nothing specific," he replied, leaning casually over her, his smile bright and full of humor. At least that much hadn't changed. But she couldn't help noticing that the mischevious spark in his eyes had faded into something different, something stronger. Determination, resilience. It was unfamiliar, but not unwelcome.
"I just wanted to spend some time with my favorite girl in all the Shire."
Familiar words, familiar tone, yet somehow strange to her, like sliding into a different bed. Still warm and soft, but different, a scratchy sheet or creakier frame. Still, she couldn't deny the hold he had over her heart.
"I thought you'd forgotten about me," she said softly, her voice neither hurt, nor accusing. Simply surprised. Merry's face seemed to fall a little and he stuffed his hands in his pockets, clearing his throat.
"I'm so sorry, 'Stella," he apologized quickly. "I didn't mean to neglect you, everything's just been so busy, I hardly ever get a moment's peace these days. The War brought so much change to the Shire, no matter how Frodo sought to protect it."
"The war changed a lot of things, not just the Shire," Estella said, and then immediately regretted it. She sounded so ungrateful and stupid! A foolish girl who couldn't appreciate that the entire way of life of her people had been saved by the sacrifice of her four brave friends and hundreds of other strangers whom she couldn't even name. She leapt to apologize.
"Oh, Merry, I'm sorry! I don't mean to be ungrateful, really, I just, I don't know."
She sighed. "I just miss the old days, the quiet days."
"Me too," Merry admitted, lifting his face to the gray skies. "In some ways at least. But I think that our adventure was good for us, and good for the Shire, it woke them up. Even for a little while. It helped us all remember that we're not the only ones in this world."
"We did need waking up," Estella agreed, a smile breaking over her face. "And I won't lie, after hearing Bilbo's stories and learning even a little of the world beyond, I often wished for something to happen, something that would bring us to our knees, something that would show us there is more to the world than just the Shire."
"You certainly did get your wish," he grinned, looking out over the meadows before leaning over and whispering in her ear. "Just be sure to keep that wish to yourself, hmm?"
She laughed. "Don't worry, I will."
They lapsed into silence again, somewhere off in the faraway treeline, a bird was calling. Merry cleared his throat, looking nervous and uncertain.
"Estella," he said slowly, running a hand through his sandy curls. "I-I missed you a lot while I was gone, I thought about you all the time. I hope you can forgive me for being so absent this past year. I know there's no excuse, but-"
"There's plenty excuse," Estella interrupted, determined not to make her friend feel anymore guilt. "You had a duty to Frodo, and you have a duty to the Shirefolk. What you did for us all is beyond anything you feel you might owe me."
"I don't deny that I have a responsibility to the Shire and to help Frodo on his quest," he said, voice seeming somehow hard, as if he was upset by what she had said. "But I have a responsibility to you too, Estella, and I've neglected it and I'm sorry."
"What's to be sorry about?" she said, feigning a small laugh. "I'm your friend, friends understand."
"You're not just my friend, Estella," he said, sounding almost frustrated. "You're my..."
He stopped, lips slightly parted.
"Your what, Merry?" she prodded gently. He looked at her a long moment, as if deciding whether or not to speak.
"You're one of my best friends," he answered finally, tugging one of her golden curls. She looked at him, almost disappointed, and then smiled.
"Of course," she replied, voice dejected, not looking at him. Guiltily, he fiddled with his hand in his pocket, thinking of something to say, anything that could lessen the pain he was feeling, seeing her again.
"It's all very well to hear about sorrows and imagine yourself living through them heroically, but it's not so nice when you really come to have them, is it?"*
Estella shrugged, tossing a pebble into the river. "What sorrows are you living through, Merry? You won the war, you've saved the Shire. You should be very happy."
"I can't be happy when you're not happy," he said matter-of-factly, his voice soft. She glanced at him sharply and then laughed.
"What makes you think I'm not happy?"
Merry turned and leaned against the stone wall of the bridge, resting his elbows on the rocks. He cocked his head and a twinkle filled his blue eyes.
"All I have to do is look at you to see you're unhappy," he told her, somewhat teasingly. "You're thinner, you don't smile as wide anymore, or laugh as long. Your eyes don't sparkle. What's wrong? Don't be afraid to tell me."
Was she afraid? No. That wasn't why she balked at his probing. She just didn't want him to know how much she had missed him, how deeply his long absence had affected her, how much deeper still his emotional abandonment scarred.
"I'm not afraid," she told him stubbornly. "Really Merry, I'm quite alright."
"Not true," he teased, pushing off the wall and turning to face her, bending over so that his hands rested on his knees. He grinned crookedly and it was all she could do not to laugh. "Just tell me, 'Stella."
She tried not to grimace when he used his nickname for her. It had always seemed so sweet and endearing coming from his lips, but now it seemed odd, awkward, like it shouldn't be coming out of his mouth. Merry noticed her face fall and straightened, putting a hand on her shoulder.
The look in his eye was so sincere, so sad for her, that she almost broke down, giving in. But she checked herself just as her lips began to part to form the words.
"Please, Merry, I'm fine," she said, insistent, pushing him away. "I just need to be alone for awhile is all, I've been feeling out of sorts lately."
He didn't look convinced, but she did feel bad noticing the hurt look in his eyes. He nodded and withdrew from her.
"Fair enough," he said with a sigh, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I just had the day free, so I thought we could spend it together. But if you don't want to, that's alright."
Estella wanted to apologize as he turned away, to take back her harsh words. He looked so disappointed, and she hated disappointing him. Still, she knew if she spent much time with him, he would get the truth out of her, one way or another. So she kept quiet, watching him walk away.
However, he stopped suddenly and turned back, striding towards her purposefully, his eyes lit with determination.
"I almost forgot," he said, attempting a little half-smile as he pulled a small bundle of wildflowers from his coat pocket. "I picked these this morning, for my best girl."
Properly ashamed of herself, Estella tentatively reached out and took the lovely gift, her hand brushing his as she did so.
"T-thank you, Merry," she said, surprised. "They're beautiful."
"Come see me in Buckland sometime, we miss your pretty face down there."
Then he did something truly unexpected, he bent down, kissing her cheek, shocking her when his lips lightly brushed the corner of her mouth, before he drew back, red-faced but obviously proud of himself. Giving her golden curls one last stroke, he turned back to the road.
"Bye, 'Stella," he called over his shoulder, heading down the muddy path, a skip in his step. Color blooming in her cheeks, Estella watched him until he was a speck in the distance and then slowly bent and picked up her wicker basket, placing her flowers on top. With one last glance over her shoulder, she headed home, feeling the gentle touch of Merry's kiss on her cheek, like a butterfly wing or a raindrop.
She was so lost in her thought that she didn't even notice the sun breaking through the clouds above.
***Quote taken from one of my favorite books, Anne of Green Gables.