by Sally Gardens
Chapter Twenty-one: That I May See
Frodo made it to Brandy Hall in time for supper. Merry was waiting on the step of the front door, having a smoke during a respite from the rain.
Merry grinned and lofted his pipe in greeting. "Frodo!"
Instead of answering, "Hullo, Merry, it's good to be here," or such like, Frodo found himself hailing his cousin with:
"Estella loves you, you old ass."
Merry arched his eyebrows. "She told you this?"
"She didn't have to. All she had to do was mention your name and she was all lit up like Brandy Hall at Yuletide."
"Ah."
"Talk to her, Merry. Give her a chance."
"We'll see."
"Don't be an ass."
"Frodo, you know—"
"Yes, and so does she!" snapped Frodo. "She lives with it every day. Have you seen Freddy of late?"
Merry's expression grew grim.
"Right, then. He's not fooling anybody, and you're not fooling anybody, any more than I was ever fooling anybody. She's not a fool, Merry. She's quite bright—and she does care. Very much." Frodo drew a sharp breath, and sighed. "She may not ever truly understand," he quietly went on. "Nobody really can, can they? But she can listen. And she will listen. I am sure of it."
Slowly Merry nodded, looking like he was holding back tears. "We'll see," he said again. "No. Really. I will see. I'll write her a letter this very evening, and send it with tomorrow's first post."
Frodo smiled. "She'll be very pleased, I am sure."
"So will my father, if anything comes of it."
"Ah. Speaking of Uncle Saradoc, how is he? May I see him?"
"Doing fairly well today." Merry stepped inside, ushering Frodo over the threshold. "Come along, then, cousin. He shall be very glad, indeed, to see you looking so well—to see you at all, but especially looking so well; for you are looking well. Do you know that? Very well, indeed."
Frodo felt another smile warm his face. "Thank you. I am feeling very well, indeed."
Like falling asleep again, he had called it, the return to the ordinary life of the Shire; but immersed once again in the babble and bustle of Brandy Hall, Frodo felt as if he were only now beginning to awaken from an Elvish dream. For most of his life things high and rare had filled his vision, been all his yearning, and the sublime singing of the Elves had made Shire voices sound drab, indeed.
But now it seemed to Frodo that he could not get enough of the music of those ordinary voices: idle chatter, a baby's whimper, a father's soothing murmur; laughter, shouting, yawning, bickering, sighing, even singing. Not only the sublime silver of the skilled but even the voices of passable brass and plain pottery now enraptured Frodo and filled him with a sense of recovering a treasure he had once cast away without fully appreciating its worth.
By the time Frodo left Brandy Hall, Merry had written to Estella and Estella had written back, and after several more exchanges of letters Merry had set out, the day before Frodo's departure, to pay call to Estella.
"Invite me to the wedding," Frodo had said, embracing Merry.
"I shall, if it ever comes to it."
"It shall. I can see it in your eyes."
"Then I'd better draw my cap a little closer. It wouldn't do to give it away to Estella the minute I knock at the door."
"Nonsense. It would do perfectly. You've waited long enough as it is."
"So have you."
"Off with you, then."
Merry was laughing as he rode away.
Frodo was in a pensive mood as he rode back west through the Shire. It was fortunate that Sam's pony seemed to know the way, because Frodo, preoccupied as he was, scarcely served as a fit guide. When day faded into night, Frodo stopped at the nearest inn, arranged for a room, and seated himself at a table in the corner of the common room for a light dinner and a strong pint.
He was deep in his thoughts, and deep in his cups, when he heard someone settle in next to him. He glanced over, and saw that it was Pippin. They drank together in silence.
Several pints later, Pippin stirred.
"Heroes aren't what we thought they were," he murmured to the far wall.
"Hm." Frodo felt his mouth twist. "Hobbits aren't what I thought we were."
Pippin nodded, smiling faintly.
The rest of the evening passed without conversation, until, late, Pippin pushed himself up from the table. "To your health, cousin," he said, swaying and staggering out of the common room.
When Frodo went to pay the bill next morning, he found it had already been settled.