Notes to Readers:

Thanks for the comments!

I have no time to answer your comments this morning, for I am rushing to get this chapter up! Otherwise, it won't get put up until the morrow, and I hate to wait, don't you?

Ff.net permitting, expect an update in this story every other day until we reach the end (chapter 59, yes, the ending is written, and a very lovely one if I do say so myself. Still smiling. Gonna go read it over again. Please don't neglect to review the last chapter, no reviews at the end of a story leave the Muse pensive and pouting). Angst warning: expect intermittent showers in this story, and in "Merlin", we are in heavy surf and more breakers loom ahead for the foreseeable future.

Two new stories have popped into existence in the meantime, which helps to insure I will not run up against a writer's block in "Merlin", such a relief. Look for them soon, the working titles are "FirstBorn" and "Shire".

A new chapter to "Merlin" will be added in between updates to "Flames", in case you are following that story.

***

52. Wedding

Hilly was in the corridor when Ferdibrand emerged from his room. He gave a low whistle. 'My word,' he said admiringly. 'Who's the one getting married? You had better watch yourself, cousin, Ev'ard's bride will take one look at you and forget which hobbit she's to wed.'

Ferdi laughed. He had taken extra care, this day, and the rich green of his coat, set off as it was by the dazzlingly white lace-ruffled jabot and fawn-coloured waistcoat and breeches, brought out the sparkle in his Took-green eyes. He turned a few heads on his way to the guest quarters, some not recognising the head of escort, who usually wore subdued greens and earth tones, hunter's clothes, to blend in with his surroundings.

At the door to Mentha Brandybuck's suite, he tapped and waited. The door was opened by the bride's father, and Ferdi made a sweeping bow. 'I am here to escort the bride to the wedding breakfast,' he said.

Maramadas Brandybuck nodded. 'We are ready,' he said. 'Just a moment, please.' He closed the door, and Ferdi waited, knowing the bride was taking her leave of her parents in their last private moments together before the wedding festivities began.

The door opened again, and Mentha Brandybuck stood before him in all her wedding finery, flanked by her mother and father. 'I'm ready,' she said to Ferdi, with a smile. He bowed again and offered his arm.

'You are Ferdibrand,' she said as he escorted her to the great room.

'That I am,' he answered. He half-expected her to giggle or gush or say how much she'd heard Everard talk about him, but she didn't.

'Everard speaks very highly of you,' she said. 'I thank you for standing up with him. It means a great deal to him, you know.'

At a loss for words, Ferdi fell back on the time-honoured response to thanks. 'You are most welcome, my lady.'

They entered the great room, and he seated her with a flourish. 'If you please, my lady, I must leave you, but only for a moment.'

'I promise not to stir,' she smiled, a twinkle in her eye, and Ferdi thought that, just perhaps, Ev'ard might not have made a mistake in his choice of bride.

He went to Everard's room, tapped, and when the door opened, said, 'Your bride awaits.'

'Wouldn't want to keep her waiting,' Everard replied, nervously fussing with his own jabot.

'Here, let me,' Ferdi said, and quickly had the lace pinned properly in place. Taking his gloves from his pocket, he gave Everard's coat a few quick flicks, pulled a sleeve straight, and stepped back to survey the effect. 'You'll do,' he decided, and together they strode towards the great room.

Ferdi seated Ev'ard next to his bride, who looked up and blushed at her beloved's stammered greeting. She put her hand on the table, and Everard covered it with one of his.

Ferdi served them their breakfast, catching the Thain's eye as the latter performed the same services for Reginard and Rosamunda.

Course after course of festive food was served, songs were sung, stories offered by relatives of the brides and grooms, some reminiscing about the brides' and grooms' childhood experiences, others sharing wisdom from their own marriages, advice to the about-to-become-newlyweds.

Ferdibrand kept one eye on the door. When a Took cousin appeared in the doorway, with a nod to indicate that the Sun was approaching her zenith, he nodded to the Thain, who rose from his chair, lifting his glass. 'A toast!' he called. The room fell silent save the scraping of chairs as the rest of the Tooks and visiting Brandybucks rose, glasses held high.

Pippin turned to Reginard and Rosamunda, who sat smiling, hands entwined. 'Laugh long, live long,' he intoned, and lifting his glass higher, he finished, 'Love forever!'

'Hear, hear!' the wedding guests called out, raising their own glasses, drinking the ritual toast. Then it was Ferdibrand's turn to toast Everard and Mentha, after which a group of laughing Tooks surged forward, split to seize both brides, lifting them high, singing as they bore them away to their waiting parents, and Mayor Samwise.

Ferdibrand turned to Everard. 'It's not too late to change your mind,' he said.

Everard snorted. 'You jest,' he said.

'Of course I do,' Ferdibrand said. 'But if you keep her waiting, she might change her mind...'

'That would never do,' Everard said, and linking arms, the two friends followed the crowd.

Mentha smiled when she saw her hobbit approaching, embraced her mother, then her father, and finally stood to meet Ev'ard and Ferdi, her hand in her father's. Ferdi looked to the Mayor, who nodded with all the dignity due the occasion, and Ferdi took Mentha's hand from her father's, placing it in Ev'ard's palm, then moved to stand beside the Mayor, to witness the vows. At the same time, Pippin was performing the same service for Regi, and he moved to the Mayor's other side.

As the traditional vows were repeated, Ferdi caught sight of Pimpernel standing in the crowd, tears running down her face. As he watched, Diamond moved to her side, placing a gentle arm around her sister-in-love's shoulders, holding her close through the rest of the ceremony, tears sparkling in her own eyes as she faced the loss of her own husband, sooner than later if the talk was to be believed.

Ferdi wondered how folk could do it... give your heart away, knowing it would be torn asunder someday. It was almost unheard-of for a Hobbit to marry again after losing a mate. He guessed the best way to go was the way of Frodo Baggins' parents, drowned together--better, if you left off the drowning part, and just concentrated on the "together".

Ah, well. He'd given his heart years ago, in hopeless cause, so all his musing was moot anyhow.

***

As the guests filed into the largest pavilion for the wedding supper, the Thain stood up and clapped his hands for attention. The crowd quieted, and he cupped his hands to his mouth, the better to be heard.

'Tooks and guests! We must observe proper etiquette, in respect for the newly married couples. Therefore, there will be no dancing atop tables...' there was a chorus of groans throughout, but Pippin waved his arms and continued, '...until Ferdibrand, here...' he gestured to Ferdi, standing by Everard and his new bride, '...demonstrates the proper technique.' There was a general cheer, and the musicians struck up the first tune.

At the end of the first dance, Marmadas Brandybuck steered his daughter over to Ferdibrand. 'Take good care of her,' he said solemnly, then winked.

'Rest assured,' Ferdi answered. 'I'm not head of the Thain's escort for nothing, you know.' Marmadas bowed and stepped back, and Ferdi swung Mentha into the dance, leading her gracefully through the figures.

'Who would have thought that a hunter could dance so well?' she twinkled up at him.

'One must be light of foot to stalk birds through the tall grasses without startling them into flight,' he answered.

'Ah,' she said. 'From the stories old Merimac told, you stalked bigger game as well.'

He laughed. 'I do not know that I would call ruffians "game",' he said. ' "Vermin", perhaps.'

Mentha added her laughter to his own. 'Funny, that's just what old Merimac called them. You must have been cut from the same cloth.'

Ferdi sobered. 'That is quite a compliment,' he said. 'The Badger was one of the finest, bravest hobbits I ever knew.'

'He said the same about the Fox, you know,' Mentha answered. The music ended and he bowed as she made her courtesy, then taking her hand, he placed it in Everard's waiting palm.

'Mistress Took, I commend you now to the care of Master Took,' Ferdi said gravely.

'I thank you,' Mentha said, taking her husband's arm. Ferdi bowed again and moved away, to seek refreshment and watch the dancers.

There was a pause in the dancing to allow the dancers to refresh themselves, but the music did not stop; instead there was singing, until the dancers felt themselves adequately rested and ready to begin again.

Ferdi's eye was caught by Pimpernel and her children, sitting at one side of the pavilion, her oldest daughter looking on wistfully. As Ferdi recalled, Rudivacar had danced each of his daughters in turn at the last festal event the Bolgers had attended. Something moved him to put down his cup and walk over to them, pulling his gloves back on, ready to dance.

He smiled and nodded at Pimpernel, then bent to address little Mignonette. 'My lady, may I have this dance?'

She looked up at her mother hopefully, and Pimpernel nodded with a smile. Looking back to him, the lass said, 'I would be most happy to partner you, kind Sir.'

Ferdi gave his courtliest bow and pulled a snowy handkerchief from his pocket, extending one end to her with grave courtesy. Holding either end of the handkerchief, much as if she were a tween not yet "in company" yet allowed to dance with protective close relatives, the two of them moved into the midst of the swirling figures.

At the end of the dance, Ferdi repeated the ritual with her younger sister, much to the amusement of the Tooks around him, while tweens and older lasses of marriageable age, who sighed for him to partner them in a dance, watched wistfully.

As he brought the youngest Bolger daughter back to her family, Ferdi hesitated, then said, almost shyly, 'I don't suppose...'

Pimpernel smiled and said, 'It is a happy occasion, and it is my duty to bless the day by joining in the celebration.' She held her hand out to him, and he took it, the feel of her fingers somehow right, even through his gloves. He led her out, placed a hand at the small of her back as she rested her own hand lightly on his arm, took up her other hand in his, and then they stepped into the dance, perfectly matched, moving and breathing as one. He reluctantly released her hand as they moved through the figures, and each feminine hand he touched as the dancers passed around the circle somehow felt wrong, until Pimpernel's fingers were safely in his grasp once again and they moved into the next part of the dance.

'Remember Bilbo's birthday party?' she smiled.

'That was truly a farmer's dance,' Ferdi said, 'flying skirts and flying curls and heels kicking up the dust in the lantern-light...'

'Much more fun than all this stiff-and-proper elegance,' she said.

'It's the company that makes all the difference,' Ferdi said. 'You make a lovely partner, whether kicking up your skirts, or floating through formal figures...'

'You spoil me terribly, Ferdi,' she smiled. 'If you're not careful I might begin to believe your fine words. You'll turn my head!'

He kept back the words he wished to say, only nodding with a smile of his own as he raised her hand above their heads for a twirl.

As the music ended, he felt a pang of regret, even as she sighed. 'That was lovely,' Pimpernel murmured, looking up at him. 'Could we... would you mind terribly, if we danced the next as well?'

'For you, my lady, I would dance the night through,' he answered with a smile.

'One more dance is all I ask,' she said, and he nodded.

'Then let us make it a fine one,' was all he answered, and swept her into the swirl of dancers once again.