*sigh*

Getting very sick + writer's block + major projects and tests in EVERY CLASS = one very late chapter.

I apologize. HOWEVER...I have FINALLY gotten this done!! Thank you to everyone who waited so patiently.or not patiently ( Ü), I have not forgotten this story or you.

And without further ado...:

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

"You WHAT?" Tulip cried, her face a mask of horror and disbelief.

We were in my bedroom, where I'd hurriedly dragged her after she appeared in the main hall, still grumbling about "that stupid nag - he'll kill himself one of these days - and I won't be sorry, oh no, not at all. I'll rejoice, in fact - good riddance to the idiot pony." I had immediately pounced on her and recounted the day's events that she had missed. She now stared at me with wide, startled eyes.

"What were you THINKING, Stella?" she demanded.

I shrugged miserably. "And here I was, hoping for some support. Remind me to never again come to you looking for sympathy."

"Sympathy?" echoed Tulip shrilly. "Sympathy? This is not some childish little woe-is-me blunder. Merry loves you!"

Throwing a pleading glance toward the rafters, I muttered, "Why am I always the last person to know about these important personal details?"

"Because you always manage to muck things up," said Tulip, staring at me as if this were an obvious fact, and if I failed to recognize it I had the intelligence of her gelding.

I was about to vehemently deny this when I realized that she had a point. And at the moment, I'd managed to tangle myself up so thoroughly into this mess that I could hardly see a way out. "I know," I admitted finally, rubbing the heel of my hand across my face. "You're right. I always let my temper get in the way of my common sense."

Tulip snorted in derision.

I shot her a look. "Contrary to popular belief, I DO possess some common sense. - But that's beside the point," I went on hurriedly. "Do you suppose it's too late to apologize?"

"To Merry? ...I don't know."

I blinked in surprise. "No, to Fred!"

"Fred?" Tulip exclaimed. "Who CARES about Fred? He's being a selfish, manipulative little pig at the moment, while Merry's heart is most likely shattered!"

I met her gaze coldly. "Don't you dare speak of my brother in such a manner," I murmured with forced calm.

Tulip, her face flushed with emotion, barreled on. "I can and I will! Fred knows you'd do anything for him, and he's using it against you -" she caught my furious look - "whether he means to or not. And that's not fair to Merry OR to you!"

"But he's my brother!" I protested.

Tulip drew in a steadying breath. "Stella," she began evenly, "Your loyalty towards Fred is touching. It is also completely misplaced. Your brother's life will go on if you marry. He loves you and would prefer not to lose you, of course, but his life will go on. Perhaps he doesn't realize how manipulative he is being. Perhaps he doesn't realize how much of a -" She caught herself, and seemed to think better of what she had been going to say. " - How unfair it is to treat you like this. And perhaps he really does think you'll turn your back on him. But you won't. You know that, and I know that, and deep down Fred knows it too. But right now, I believe there is a very heartbroken Brandybuck returning to Brandy Hall, and even though you don't show it, you're upset too. So. What are we going to do to fix this situation?"

I stared at Tulip.

"Hmm?" she prompted, sounding irritated.

I blinked a few times. "I - I don't know."

Tulip let out a sound of frustration that was something between a sigh and a roar. "To begin with, maybe you should decide whether Merry is important enough that you give him an ounce of respect," she suggested icily.

To my chagrin, my eyes began to blur with tears. "Don't, Tulip, please. I feel horrible enough about this mess already. I don't know how to manage this kind of thing. Garnet was right. I'll never get married; who could possibly put up with me?"

My cousin sighed and put an arm around my shoulder. "Someone who loves you. And I believe a certain young Brandybuck that we've already mentioned fits that bill fairly well."

I let out a hiccupping sob - to my profound embarrassment - and Tulip laughed. "Take a nap," she told me, standing up. "Things will look better after a rest."

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

When I awoke, the first fingers of sunlight were appearing on the horizon, turning it a delicate shade of pink. I hated pink.

"Tulip lied," I muttered to myself. "Things don't look any better. They just look..." I fumbled. "Dark. And a little pink." I let out a long sigh. I would not be able to fall back asleep, not after such a long 'nap.' Instead, in a fit of insanity, I figured that as long as I was awake, I might as well tidy up the stables.

Two hours later, I was standing in a stall, holding a filthy pitchfork in my hand and wondering what it was about the predawn hours that induced madness in normally sensible hobbits. By this time, the sun had fully risen and the house was showing evidence of stirring inhabitants; smoke rose from the kitchen chimney, and a collective screaming squawk issued from the henhouse as a tweenage cousin foolishly allowed his dog to accompany him while gathering eggs.

I tossed one last pitchforkful of what had once been my mare's dinner into the wheelbarrow and decided enough was enough. When I made my appearance in the dining hall, I was clean again and in fresh clothes, and felt much better on the whole.

At least I did until I caught sight of Fred. He caught my eye and smiled, and my stomach felt like it turned itself inside out. I remembered the previous day's happenings in a rush, and suddenly I didn't feel so much like eating breakfast. Sneaking out a side door, I thought I had managed to escape when I was accosted by, of course, Tulip.

"Good morning, Stella," she chirped. I couldn't tell if her cheeriness was genuine or not, and my answering smile was hesitant. She raised an eyebrow. "What? No, I'm not going to eat you alive. I daresay you feel a bit better now?"

I admitted that I did.

She flashed me an infuriatingly smug smile. "I always know best."

"Yes," I agreed, a wry smile crooking a corner of my mouth upward. "You do."

"I do," Tulip repeated, and laughed. "Eaten yet?"

"Yes," I lied, unwilling to return to the dining hall and face my brother. "Have you a brilliant plan, beloved cousin?"

The 'beloved cousin' tossed her head in disdain. "Of course I have. It's brilliantly brilliant. It's so brilliant that its brilliance is unrivaled in brilliance."

I blinked a few times. "Stop."

"Right," she replied, and suddenly became businesslike. "Remember the tablecloth we borrowed from Celandine? We still need to return it."

"Something tells me I'm not particularly welcome in that household right now," I pointed out.

"Yes, but he's not angry at ME," Tulip answered. "I'll take it."

"I thought the point was for me to talk to him, not you."

Tulip regarded me as if I had just announced that two and two were five. "I'll take the tablecloth in a basket, of course. And you'll be in the basket, too."

"That's your brilliant plan?" I exclaimed incredulously. "To smuggle me in with a linen basket? You're mad!"

"No, I believe the word you are looking for is 'brilliant,' " she corrected.

I cradled my head in my hands. "Tulip," I began weakly, "there is no way that will work."

"How else do you plan to get in without being torn apart by murderous Brandybucks?" she demanded crossly.

I let out a vague noise of exasperation and grabbed her sleeve. "Come on."

At that moment, Fred poked his head into the hall. "And where are you two off to?" he inquired cheerfully.

I jumped in surprise. "Ah - out," I replied hurriedly. "We're going out." I pushed Tulip toward the door.

"To Brandy Hall," she called helpfully over her shoulder. I hissed at her to be quiet, but I had time only to see Fred raise his eyebrows before Tulip and I were out on the street.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

"Now what?" Tulip asked sullenly when we stood outside the main entrance of Brandy Hall.

"Now you go inside and ask for Merry."

"What about you?"

"I lurk just outside the door."

Tulip fixed me with a dubious stare. "I fail to see how this achieves our goal."

I sighed and explained, "You ask for Merry, he comes, you ask him to get Cel, he does. You go with Cel to put the tablecloth away, leaving Merry in the hall - where I find him when I step inside the door just as Celandine leaves."

"That makes no sense whatsoever." Tulip's expression was not encouraging.

"Just do it!" I ordered, and to emphasize my point, I stepped smartly up to the huge oak double doors of Brandy Hall and pushed one open. "Go ahead. I'll be right out here." And I withdrew behind the other oaken barrier, out of sight of the hallway.

Tulip rolled her eyes in defeat and disappeared inside with a swish of skirts that indicated jut how little faith she had in this entire excursion. I leaned against the door that swung shut behind her and let out a long breath, only to jerk to attention when Tulip's voice drifted through the wood.

"Why yes, Master Merry, I am well, thank you," she was saying. "And how very fortuitous to find you immediately, in the hall!" (I winced at this. Tulip, I thought desperately, please, PLEASE don't make this seem more contrived than it already does!) "I was wondering, however, if you might tell your cousin Celandine I'm here to return her tablecloth?"

I strained to hear the reply, but Merry spoke in a low voice and I could only catch a few words. The best I could make out was something along the lines of, "Thank mumble mumble not necessary mumble you mumble mumble come mumble me mumble."

The fact that I was not fluent in Mumblese was an obstacle as far as understanding this went, but Tulip's response made it clear that Merry was not conforming to my expected plan of events. "Oh, no, Merry, you needn't trouble yourself, if you'd just get Celandine I'd be indebted to you." A pause. "No, no, then I'll go myself. No, I'll find my way, you needn't show me. Just - just stay right here. In the hallway. I'll - I'll just go find Celandine then, shall I?"

I groaned inwardly. Tulip had no subtlety. Merry was doubtless suspicious already, so I'd better confront him sooner rather than later. Taking a deep breath, I slowly entered the oaken doorway and came face to face with Merry.

He started in surprise and backed up a few steps, shock evident in his expression. "Miss Bolger," he said stiffly. "How do you do."

"Merry," I began, stepping toward him with my hands outstretched in supplication.

He quickly backed away again - he was nearly in the sitting room by now - with his jaw set and his eyes unreadable. "Miss Bolger," he repeated, "you have a history of taking my words and actions the wrong way. The only way to avoid that seems to be to avoid YOU altogether."

"Merry," I pleaded. My voice dropped to a whisper. "At least hear me out. Can we talk outside?"

"And have you accuse me of drawing you away to attack you? I think not."

"Merry," I said for the third time. "I - I'm so sorry. Nothing has come out the way I've wanted it to." My hands and eyes implored him to understand. "I made a very, very bad decision yesterday, but I want to correct it. Will you let me explain?"

His face remained stern, but his frame seemed to relax slightly. He sighed. "Ten minutes."

I clasped my hands together in gratitude. "Thank you," I said quietly. "But - may we talk outside?"

Merry rolled his eyes, but it seemed more in exasperation than true irritation. He led the way outside to a small garden plot, separate from the main vegetable patch. Under a stately beech at its perimeter sat a crude, rickety bench, upon which Merry settled himself and regarded me impassively.

I took a deep breath. "Merry," I started.

"Yes," he responded dryly, "I am fully aware of my name. Thank you for reminding me fifteen times."

I wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry. I did neither; instead, I barreled on. "Be quiet. I'm trying to tell you something and if I don't get it out now, I never will, but it will eat me alive." I stared at my fingers, interlaced in my lap, as I went on. "Yesterday - I was scared yesterday. I'm not exactly the lass every lad chases after. And you - you're the next Master of Buckland. You're a war hero. You're brave, you're famous and rich..." I faltered. "You're also handsome, and you're charming, and it seemed like it couldn't be real..."

I trailed off, still studying my fingers intently, afraid to look up and see Merry's reaction. To my surprise, he reached out and raised my chin so that I was forced to dart glances sideways to avoid making direct eye contact.

"Estella," he said, gently but firmly. "Look at me. I want you to look me in the eye as I say this." I hesitantly brought my gaze back to his unreadable pools of deep brown. Only then did he go on. "I haven't exactly handled this perfectly either. But I want you to know this now. Whatever I've done to confuse you or give you the wrong impression was not my intention. And it's past. Now, I want to be sure you know that I would never lie to you. Ever."

He must have seen the doubt in my own eyes.

"Stella," he whispered. "I love you." And with that, he leaned in and kissed me; this time, I didn't shove him away.

And then the shout broke the silence.

"STELLA!"

I nearly fell off the bench in shock and mortification. But when I snapped my head around to see who had so rudely intruded, I realized with a sinking feeling that the situation had grown still more complicated. Gone was the warmth and contentment of the previous moment, replaced by horror and a sense of impending doom. For the figure that stood at the garden's gate, his clenched fists shaking with rage and passion, was my brother.