I've FINALLY updated! It's been a while since I've had the internet, and I'm glad to have it back again! Thanks to Lady of Ithilien for the ages of Merry and Estella… I appreciate it!

Chapter Four

Infirmity

Estella plunged her hands miserably into the soapy water, fingers seeking out a dirty dish from beneath the murky surface. She sighed as she extracted one, and began to rub it furiously. She was engaged in possibly one of her least favorite chores, dishwashing.

It was late morning, and the sun was just reaching her highest position in the sky. The warm rays tenderly stroked the land and flooded through open doors and windows. Laughter floated in with the rays, sorely tempting Estella. It wasn't long ago that Lily had strolled past, inviting Estella to come on a walk with her. Glumly, Estella had been forced to decline. She had a long day of chores ahead of her. No, not just a long day -- a long week.

Estella placed the now-clean dish aside, grumbling beneath her breath as she peered through the kitchen only window, mind only half on her work. Fatty had just trotted past without a care in the world; his chores were finished already. This didn't surprise Estella at all. Fatty hadn't been punished as harshly, which Estella found extremely unfair. Her mother had justified that it was almost expected of hobbit lads, sneaking about and causing mischief, but was not (she had greatly emphasized the 'not' part) acceptable for lasses.

"It's not fair," Estella informed a curious bird which stared intently at her from its perch on a tree branch out the window. The sound of her voice startled the bird into flight, and Estella paused to watch it grow smaller and smaller in the sky.

"No, it's not," a voice agreed behind her, and then paused. "Wait just a second, what are we talking about?"

Estella turned, the cup she clutched in her hands dripped sloppily to the floor. In the doorframe to the kitchen stood none other than Merry, a cocky grin etched upon his face.

"Hullo Merry. Don't you knock anymore?" Estella asked halfheartedly as she turned back to the sink.

"What's not fair?" Merry repeated, coming up behind her and surveying her work through curious eyes. "And for the record, I did knock. No one answered."

"Fatty's outside," Estella said dejectedly, ignoring his last statement. "I suspect you'll be wanting to spend the day with him. He is the one, after all, who's allowed to set foot from the house."

Merry frowned. "You got caught," he stated, before grinning slightly. "I should have liked to have seen your mother's reaction!" he said brightly then.

"I would have gladly have had it been you that had seen it, and not me," was Estella's response.

"Here, I'll help you," Merry offered, drawing parallel to the counter. He eyed the water skeptically, as if he had no clue what to do. Honestly, if was as if he had never washed a dish before. Estella sighed, envy flowing deeply through her.

"No," she said. "Mother won't like that. You go on and see Fatty."

Merry cocked a brow at her. "It's almost as if you don't want me around to help," he said teasingly.

"Of course not," Estella agreed without a bit of hesitance. "You'll just mess things up."

"Perhaps," he agreed, and with another grin, left quickly before Estella could change her mind. A moment later, she heard the mixed voices of Fatty and Merry talking loudly, before they faded away down the road. She scowled at the water beneath her, longing to rid herself of the tedious chore.

The rest of the day dragged by, and Estella found herself occupied with one thing after another. She grew weary quickly, and as evening eventually drew 'round and Fatty strolled through the front door, she found herself weak with relief. When the last of the sun's rays crept from the Shire for the night and Estella had washed the last supper dish, she was excused for an hour to herself before bed. Thus she found herself seated upon her bed, a candle lit, the flickering light dancing across the open book draped across her lap.

She didn't know how to read, yet enjoyed studying the elaborate illustrations on each page. Fingering a detailed drawing of a flowering tree, she drew a short breath. Perhaps one day she would be an artist, she thought longingly. Then she could make lines upon paper that formed one layer on top the other, twisting and shaping into the most intricate designs ever made…

She pulled the drawing closer to her face, eyes drinking in every turn the lines made, tracing them over and over as if to memorize how to compose it. Her eyes ached from her long day and the lack of light, but she ordered them to stay open. This was the only time she would have to herself for quite a while, or so it seemed to her anyway, and she was not about to waste it sleeping.

Her door swung open slowly, and although Estella was fully aware of this, she didn't raise her gaze. Even without looking, she recognized the fact that it was Fatty.

"Stella?" he asked softly.

"Hmm?" she mumbled. She had not quite gotten over her anger at him, even though he apologized profusely when they had first awoken. "I had to tell," he had protested, when Estella had angrily inquired of him why he had ratted her out. "I would have been in more trouble if I didn't!" Estella had hardly bought this, but had let it go for the time being.

"I wanted to talk to you," Fatty said, slipping inside and shutting the door behind him. "Before bed, that is."

Estella sighed and lowered the book at last, shutting it and setting it aside. A thought arose in her mind. Had he come to apologize again? Well, she certainly hoped so. He wasn't the one that had to spend the next week under their mother's thumb, after all.

"What about?" Estella asked, curious now, as Fatty sat tentatively on the edge of her bed.

"Mother," Fatty said shortly.

"Oh," Estella said. He hadn't come to apologize again after all. She reached for her book.

"Did she seem ill to you this morning?" Fatty asked quickly, eyes following her hand. Estella's hand froze mid-reach, and she regarded Fatty inquisitively. She fought the urge to roll her eyes at his sudden concern, as Fatty looked truly worried.

"Uh…" she said unintelligibly, and thought back. Come to think of it, their mother had seemed strangely queasy, refusing to eat their first meal, although she had recovered soon enough to order Estella about relentlessly. "I suppose," she said at last. "But she got over it."

"Yes," Fatty said. "I just wanted to… you know… see if you noticed anything."

Estella shrugged. "Not really. It was probably just a passing stomachache. I get them now and then."

"It wasn't just this morning, though. It's been quite a few days since I noticed it," Fatty said persistently, and Estella sighed.

"It's nothing," she said, not appearing worried. She hadn't noticed it.

"I would have said something earlier, but I thought it to be silly. Until now, that is," Fatty paused, looking unsure. "Estella, do you remember when Rose was first pregnant last year?"

"Yes," Estella mumbled impatiently.

"Well, she was ill in the mornings for quite some time…" Fatty trailed off, looking at Estella expectantly. Something suddenly dawned in Estella.

"Oh!" she said, then smiled. "I see what you're getting at." She shook her head. "Mother is not pregnant, Fatty," she said. "Don't you think she'd tell us?"

"Maybe not," he said. "At least, not at first."

"She just has a cold," Estella said, doubtfully now. Fatty watched her carefully as he repeated his last words yet again.

"Maybe not."

"You don't think…"

"Yes," Fatty said. "Like I said, I've noticed it for a while, and it's the same as with Rose last year…"

Estella and Fatty stared at each other for a few moments. "Fredegar, Estella, time for bed!" Mrs. Bolger called in their silence, and they both jumped at her voice. Fatty rose to leave without a word, letting his thoughts sink into Estella.

"Should we… say something?" Estella asked as he opened the door. Fatty shrugged, then shook his head.

"No… she'll tell us eventually. If it's true. It's better to wait and see. You could be right, maybe it is just a cold or something of the like." He shrugged again. "I just thought I'd mention it."

"Right," Estella agreed uncertainly as Fatty exited her room. Without a sound, she blew out the candle and sunk between her blankets. She would lay awake in bed for quite a while that night, all sorts of thoughts and mixed emotions jumbled in her mind.