I
Hobbiton, Westfarthing. Halimath, September 11, 1419, S.R.
Six Weeks and Six Days Before.
The taste of breakfast still lingered on her lips as he led her into a small room, presumably a study, or what had once been one, and pushed her into a hard-backed chair that sat in front of a disorderly table littered with miscellaneous papers and drawings. Lotho shoved these aside, sliding them across the table and onto the floor, disturbing the dust on the dull, splintery planks that peeked out below a faded carpet with frayed, ratty tassels on either end.
It was the first time she had been allowed out of her room, or rather, the first time she had been physically able to leave it; the remnants of last week's fever still echoed faintly in her hollow bones, her dry throat, her shaking hands. Even the small walk down the hall had left her lightheaded and out of breath, as though she had just finished an uphill run on a cold, wet morning. What she wouldn't give for the hot cup of tea lying abandoned and cooling on her nightstand. It would have been the first warm thing to touch her mouth in months…
Lotho, also looking quite in need of a morning stimulant, seated himself opposite her, sinking into his chair and casually resting one leg on the knee of his other, as though to prove that the desperation he had displayed in Michel Delving many days before had not gotten the better of him. But it made no difference to Estella, who could recall the past week only in feverish delirium. She tiredly watched his vain demonstration, setting him with a blunt stare he did not have the courage to meet, lest his feeble act crumble in its exposure.
Lotho felt her eyes go through him. Anxiously, he reached for his pipe and lit it up, putting it to his lips and puffing frantically to expel this sensation of naked defeat. He shook the match and tossed it into a blackened saucer littered with at least twenty others. The smoke curled lazily about the room; the smell was intoxicating, and it seemed to settle him.
With his free hand he reached into his waistcoat pocket and pulled out what looked to be a silver timepiece. He popped open the front, staring at the clock's face in a way that clearly indicated he was interested in more than just the time.
"My father had a pocket watch like this one once. Gave it to me when he died." Lotho let out a short breath that resembled a humorless laugh. "Handsome thing, really."
"Charming," Estella croaked, her face pale and expressionless, her voice a rasp.
Lotho smiled tightly, still avoiding her gaze, hypnotically watching the soft tick of passing seconds. "I'll let you in on a little secret, Miss Bolger…"
II
Budgeford, Bridgefields, Eastfarthing. Winterfilth, September 25, 1416, S.R.
Estella,
I write to you in secret on behalf of my cousin Pervinca, who will forever be in your debt. She is resting now, and very tired, but the doctor expects a full recovery over the next few weeks. Over the past two days, when she has been well enough to speak, she has asked only of you. She has implored me to express her sincere gratitude and to offer you an explanation of what you witnessed, though I am sure much of the truth was clear to you.
The following account is one I swore to relate fully and honestly at Pervinca's request. You will no doubt appreciate the sensitive nature of this information. It is your right to disclose any part of it as you need or wish; whatever choice you make will be a right one. We entrust the following to you now as a matter of obligation, in recognition of your invaluable actions. You probably saved my cousin's life. We are at your mercy.
As the Thain's daughter, Pervinca has long been expected to wed Mr. Grigory Whitfoot upon her coming-of-age; sharing the same birth year, you know this to be quite soon. Mr. Whitfoot, as you may also know, is the eldest son of our Mayor. Last summer, however, Pervinca met a hobbit lad named Podo Foxburr, the son of a local farmer. The two fell in love and began courting in secret. Two months ago, Pervinca became pregnant with Mr. Foxburr's child. Terrified, she told no one—not even her parents or siblings. She lost the child three days ago, but survived because of your quick and intelligent efforts.
Pervinca has expressed how fortunate she was that you were near and saw her in distress. Her condition has caused her to be more withdrawn of late, and she has tended to stray from large gatherings to walk and think alone—which is why you found her wandering so far from Mr. Frodo's birthday celebration. She told me how you fetched a doctor and helped carry her to Bag End, and comforted her in her time of need, not straying from her side though you hardly knew her.
I love Pervinca as my own sister. She has confided her secret in the two of us alone. To the rest of the Shire, the truth is the story that she asked you to tell me on the night of the party—that she suffered a great fall in the dark, and was very badly injured.
For my part, I must disclose another truth—that I am very sorry for the way I acted at our last meeting two years ago. When a hobbit goes looking for truth at the bottom of a pint glass, he often finds only his old, lad-ish ways. I was a damn fool as a lad. I thought I deserved everything I wanted; I thought myself amusing and charming; I thought everything was a game—with winning your affections being the greatest game of all. But you know the truth in all that.
My actions have never reflected the great respect I have for you. My words never will. I say this not to cajole you into my cousin's confidence, though it is smart of you to suspect as much. I say this because acknowledging that I was wrong seems a better way of saying thank you—for everything—always.
Sincerely,
Meridadoc Brandybuck
III
"I'll let you in on a little secret, Ms. Bolger..."
Estalla paused this time before speaking, taking a moment to swallow and wet her throat. "About pocket watches?"
"About your brother."
Estella's face betrayed nothing as she waited for him to continue.
"I don't really care to hang him," Lotho admitted. "He is, after all, your brother, so he must have some merit."
"A compliment, I suppose?"
"A prelude to a proposition."
Estella's chest rose and fell with a breath, but her eyes remained steady. "There is nothing you could possibly propose," she said calmly, the words easing out of her like a creak from hinges on a slowly opening door, "that I might be the least bit inclined to acquiesce."
"Are you so certain?" Lotho asked, turning the pocket watch over in his hand.
"Quite," she said, but the way her certainty seemed to amuse him secretly terrified her.
"Pity. What I was going to propose, of course, was that if you were somehow able to retrieve your brother for me, I might be inclined to spare him the drop. A generous proposal..." He continued to study the watch carefully, exclusively. "I'm sure your father Odovacar would agree…"
Estella paused again, allowed herself a slow blink, then asked evenly, "What has my father got to do with this?" Whether her restraint was born of discipline or exhaustion, not even she could say.
IV
Merry,
I am glad to hear that your cousin is recovering well from her fall. Please deliver the enclosed card to her, along with my sincere wishes for a full recovery. I look forward to seeing you both at Freddy's birthday party next month.
Estella B.
V
"What has my father got to do with this?"
Lotho did not answer immediately. As she waited for his response, the quiet stillness of their exchange lapped dimly at the edges of her awareness. For some minutes now, the subtle ebb and flow of their breaths and blinks, the small movements of their mouths when they whispered, the stagnant flurry of dust in the faint light, and the soft, steady tick of the timepiece had been the only cosmic movement.
It was only then that she noticed one of his fingers tracing the same small circle on the inside cover of the watch. Round and round, round and round. She watched helplessly, the water of that pregnant moment pooling in her eyes, breaking softly and silently down her face.
VI
Budgeford, Bridgefields, Eastfarthing. Winterfilth, September 22, 1418, S.R.
Estella,
Burn this letter after you read it.
I am going away. I do not know for how long, and for your own safety I dare not tell you where or why. If anything should happen, and you need somewhere safe to go, I want you to know about the secret burrow in the Scary Hills. Find the abandoned smial with the blue door beyond the barley field east of Potter's Lane. Behind a cupboard in the kitchen is a door. Enclosed is one of two keys that will open it—your brother has the other. Take the stairs down, then follow the tunnel. Turn right when it forks. It will take you to a hideout.
Tell no one.
And don't worry; I'm just being paranoid.
Yours,
Merry
P.S. Your father's pocket watch is also enclosed. He left it when he and Fatty visited last month. I am sure he misses it.
VII
"Where's your brother, Estella? Your father couldn't tell me, but I have a feeling you can."
Lotho set the pocket watch on the table in front of her, then at last looked up to meet her gaze. His worn face showed no sympathy, though the small smile he'd held before had fallen away.
Meanwhile, a million things raced behind her tearful stare.
Beyond the barley field…
Tell no one…
Whatever choice you make will be the right one…
Behind a cupboard in the kitchen…
No one…
Whatever choice you make…
I am sure he misses it…
Tick, tick, tick, clicked the timepiece.
"I don't know."