A/N: Hehe, I lied, it's not the dance... yet. Bear with me, it's coming in no
time at all! In the meantime, please enjoy this bothersome little plot
bunny... ;-)
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"You know," Merry said, peering over his mug of tea at Fredegar Bolger, "I don't think your sister is all too fond of me." Fatty snorted.
Merry's heart soared...
"That is the understatement of this age, Master Meriadoc!" Fatty said, reaching for his own mug.
...and plummeted.
So it was true, then. Estella genuinely disliked him. It wasn't some girlish game to mask her affections as he had thought, and in retrospect, had hoped.
Fatty and Merry were sitting in the Bolger's parlor, idly sipping tea and chatting as Estella and Peony Underhill (who was being escorted to the party by Fredegar) were dressing. It had hardly been a quarter hour, and the lads decided it would be at least an hour more before they emerged. It was comfortable, though, sitting and chatting with one's best friend over tea, the possibilities of the pending night limitless. Merry was excited; he had been to parties before, of course, but never one quite this formal, and never one where an escort was required. He blushed inwardly as he thought of Estella's coldness the week before.
Am I really that awful? He asked himself. He didn't ponder long, however, because his thoughts were interrupted by decidedly feminine laughter coming from down the hallway. Merry, looking at Fatty, saw his face visibly blanch. He himself was nervous, admittedly. More than nervous. Terrified. He was escorted Estella to a dance. For a moment more he was lost in those words... Escorting Estella to a dance. Being with her all evening... dancing with her...He shook himself back to reality as Peony's unmistakable voice called from the doorway.
"Freddy! Merry! Are you in here?" she peeked her head around the corner just in time to see a very befuddled Fredegar jump up suddenly to greet her, spilling his tea all over his best trousers in the process. Between the burning liquid running down his semi-exposed calves and onto his large, hairy feet, the shock of seeing Peony so suddenly and so glamorous, and general shock at himself for his clumsiness, he was rendered speechless.
Peony, being her jovial, easy-going self, laughed. Freddy, cheeks burning and not knowing what else to do, laughed along with her. Merry couldn't resist a chuckle himself- what a pair these two would make!
"Now," Peony said, "If you two are done spoiling your suits and are ready to behold a vision..." Merry swallowed nervously. "Go sit down, for Valinor's sake!" She laughed again, and exited, presumably to get Estella. Merry did so promptly, but Fatty stood gaping a moment at the now-empty doorway, then risked a glance at his pants and winced. Sighing, he sat next to Merry.
Estella examined herself critically in the mirror. She never was one for frippery, but some feminine reserve buried deep under her façade rejoiced at her reflection. Her brown curls had been brushed and rubbed with sweet lavender oil until they shone, then pulled into a loose bun at the nape of her neck, all bound together with a dark green ribbon. The muslin had been trimmed and altered, pinned, tucked, primped, sewn, and shaped (with much help from Peony) into a rather- nay, extremely- becoming dress. The bodice of green cotton made a pleasing contrast, and even Estella was impressed. Her face was scrubbed clean, the hair on her feet neatly brushed, a choker of shining white stones around her neck- "pearls", Peony had called them, though Estella could see no resemblance to Peregrin's elder sister- she had even donned smooth white gloves, a gift from her mother.
Peony bustled in the door, looking quite the show-stopper. Her dress was of deep green, speckled with tiny white-and-pink daisies and offset by the creamy tan on the piping and bodice . Her hair, which caused so much speculation round her hometown, was loose down her back. It was dark, woody, red-brown, a color rarely seen adorning the heads of Hobbits. Not only that, it was straight as sticks and refused to hold curl, unlike the irrepressible ringlets most of her kin couldn't seem to be rid of. She looked more Elf than Hobbit; naturally she was always the belle of the ball, and Estella was especially honored to be considered her friend.
Peony's face was flushed with excitement. "Well?" she asked Estella, eagerly shifting her weight from foot to foot and grinning with excitement. "are you ready to show them?" It was obvious she could hardly contain her glee, but Estella was reluctant to show her newly girlish self to her brother and- worse yet- Merry. She half-heartedly adjusted a curl atop her head, tugged at her skirt, and nodded.
"Wonderful!" Peony cried, grabbing her hand and half-dragging her out of her room. Estella was glad she had such a firm grip; otherwise Estella might have marched back to her room and pulled of her finery straight away. Yet Peony took no notice of her reluctance and managed to fit in a steady stream of babble between Estella's bedroom and the door of the parlor.
As they approached the round doorway, Estella heard voices. She realized Merry and her brother were probably laughing at her already. She shrunk back into the shadows, the polar opposite of her friend, who waltzed into the middle of the room. Peony just stood there for a moment, smiling wildly at the two expectant (and nervous) lads, then declared. "She's ready! And she looks marvelous, too!" She stood aside as if to showcase her friend, realizing a heartbeat later she wasn't there.
Estella was being dragged back to the parlor, gloomier than ever. She had been on the homestretch, just crossing the threshold of her room, ready to bolt the door behind her and not come out until next Thrimidge, when Peony had intercepted her and dragged her back.
A slightly out-of breath (yet still radiant) Peony was standing in the middle of the room again, clutching the wrist of what appeared to be a cowering shadow behind her. "Now," she said, panting slightly, "I want you to meet (huff) the new Est(puff)ella! (wheeze)" She dragged the sullen figure behind her into the light.
Standing in front of Merry was, he was sure, an angel. Perhaps a slightly mussed and more-than-slightly cranky angel, but a vision of (to him) beauty. He was wide-eyed with wonder, with Fatty giggling nervously beside him, when a sudden movement on Estella's shoulder caught his eye. His first thought was a half-formed memory of his mother telling him of Eru on one shoulder and Melkor on the other, but it was quickly here and gone again like smoke in the wind.
Then he noticed the thing had eight legs, was black, hairy, and abnormally large for an arachnid. And it was slowly creeping it's way across Estella's chest. She was still too absorbed in being sullen to notice anything amiss.
Very slowly, he stood and advanced towards the lass, her eyes growing wider at every step. Peony looked nervous and Fredegar was looking from his sister from his friend, trying to figure out what Merry was doing, and even more than that, if he should stop him.
"Merry...?" Peony said, peering anxiously at him from behind Estella's shoulder. He put up a reassuring hand to silence her. Estella's normally large eyes were abnormally widened, looking as if she were about to pass out. What was he thinking? Why did he have that look in his eye? And why, why, why did he keep coming closer?!
Before any of them (sans Merry) had really realized what was going on, Merry swiped his hand out. Estella, fearing physical contact, jumped back with a yelp, clinging to Peony's skirt. Merry caught the now-airborne spider neatly in his hand, his fingers closed over it before any of them could see it.
He turned to Fatty, winked, then faced the girls again, grinning. He opened his palm to reveal a large, hairy, many-legged something. "Spider," he said simply, tossing it into the fire.
Estella fainted.
"You know," Merry said, peering over his mug of tea at Fredegar Bolger, "I don't think your sister is all too fond of me." Fatty snorted.
Merry's heart soared...
"That is the understatement of this age, Master Meriadoc!" Fatty said, reaching for his own mug.
...and plummeted.
So it was true, then. Estella genuinely disliked him. It wasn't some girlish game to mask her affections as he had thought, and in retrospect, had hoped.
Fatty and Merry were sitting in the Bolger's parlor, idly sipping tea and chatting as Estella and Peony Underhill (who was being escorted to the party by Fredegar) were dressing. It had hardly been a quarter hour, and the lads decided it would be at least an hour more before they emerged. It was comfortable, though, sitting and chatting with one's best friend over tea, the possibilities of the pending night limitless. Merry was excited; he had been to parties before, of course, but never one quite this formal, and never one where an escort was required. He blushed inwardly as he thought of Estella's coldness the week before.
Am I really that awful? He asked himself. He didn't ponder long, however, because his thoughts were interrupted by decidedly feminine laughter coming from down the hallway. Merry, looking at Fatty, saw his face visibly blanch. He himself was nervous, admittedly. More than nervous. Terrified. He was escorted Estella to a dance. For a moment more he was lost in those words... Escorting Estella to a dance. Being with her all evening... dancing with her...He shook himself back to reality as Peony's unmistakable voice called from the doorway.
"Freddy! Merry! Are you in here?" she peeked her head around the corner just in time to see a very befuddled Fredegar jump up suddenly to greet her, spilling his tea all over his best trousers in the process. Between the burning liquid running down his semi-exposed calves and onto his large, hairy feet, the shock of seeing Peony so suddenly and so glamorous, and general shock at himself for his clumsiness, he was rendered speechless.
Peony, being her jovial, easy-going self, laughed. Freddy, cheeks burning and not knowing what else to do, laughed along with her. Merry couldn't resist a chuckle himself- what a pair these two would make!
"Now," Peony said, "If you two are done spoiling your suits and are ready to behold a vision..." Merry swallowed nervously. "Go sit down, for Valinor's sake!" She laughed again, and exited, presumably to get Estella. Merry did so promptly, but Fatty stood gaping a moment at the now-empty doorway, then risked a glance at his pants and winced. Sighing, he sat next to Merry.
Estella examined herself critically in the mirror. She never was one for frippery, but some feminine reserve buried deep under her façade rejoiced at her reflection. Her brown curls had been brushed and rubbed with sweet lavender oil until they shone, then pulled into a loose bun at the nape of her neck, all bound together with a dark green ribbon. The muslin had been trimmed and altered, pinned, tucked, primped, sewn, and shaped (with much help from Peony) into a rather- nay, extremely- becoming dress. The bodice of green cotton made a pleasing contrast, and even Estella was impressed. Her face was scrubbed clean, the hair on her feet neatly brushed, a choker of shining white stones around her neck- "pearls", Peony had called them, though Estella could see no resemblance to Peregrin's elder sister- she had even donned smooth white gloves, a gift from her mother.
Peony bustled in the door, looking quite the show-stopper. Her dress was of deep green, speckled with tiny white-and-pink daisies and offset by the creamy tan on the piping and bodice . Her hair, which caused so much speculation round her hometown, was loose down her back. It was dark, woody, red-brown, a color rarely seen adorning the heads of Hobbits. Not only that, it was straight as sticks and refused to hold curl, unlike the irrepressible ringlets most of her kin couldn't seem to be rid of. She looked more Elf than Hobbit; naturally she was always the belle of the ball, and Estella was especially honored to be considered her friend.
Peony's face was flushed with excitement. "Well?" she asked Estella, eagerly shifting her weight from foot to foot and grinning with excitement. "are you ready to show them?" It was obvious she could hardly contain her glee, but Estella was reluctant to show her newly girlish self to her brother and- worse yet- Merry. She half-heartedly adjusted a curl atop her head, tugged at her skirt, and nodded.
"Wonderful!" Peony cried, grabbing her hand and half-dragging her out of her room. Estella was glad she had such a firm grip; otherwise Estella might have marched back to her room and pulled of her finery straight away. Yet Peony took no notice of her reluctance and managed to fit in a steady stream of babble between Estella's bedroom and the door of the parlor.
As they approached the round doorway, Estella heard voices. She realized Merry and her brother were probably laughing at her already. She shrunk back into the shadows, the polar opposite of her friend, who waltzed into the middle of the room. Peony just stood there for a moment, smiling wildly at the two expectant (and nervous) lads, then declared. "She's ready! And she looks marvelous, too!" She stood aside as if to showcase her friend, realizing a heartbeat later she wasn't there.
Estella was being dragged back to the parlor, gloomier than ever. She had been on the homestretch, just crossing the threshold of her room, ready to bolt the door behind her and not come out until next Thrimidge, when Peony had intercepted her and dragged her back.
A slightly out-of breath (yet still radiant) Peony was standing in the middle of the room again, clutching the wrist of what appeared to be a cowering shadow behind her. "Now," she said, panting slightly, "I want you to meet (huff) the new Est(puff)ella! (wheeze)" She dragged the sullen figure behind her into the light.
Standing in front of Merry was, he was sure, an angel. Perhaps a slightly mussed and more-than-slightly cranky angel, but a vision of (to him) beauty. He was wide-eyed with wonder, with Fatty giggling nervously beside him, when a sudden movement on Estella's shoulder caught his eye. His first thought was a half-formed memory of his mother telling him of Eru on one shoulder and Melkor on the other, but it was quickly here and gone again like smoke in the wind.
Then he noticed the thing had eight legs, was black, hairy, and abnormally large for an arachnid. And it was slowly creeping it's way across Estella's chest. She was still too absorbed in being sullen to notice anything amiss.
Very slowly, he stood and advanced towards the lass, her eyes growing wider at every step. Peony looked nervous and Fredegar was looking from his sister from his friend, trying to figure out what Merry was doing, and even more than that, if he should stop him.
"Merry...?" Peony said, peering anxiously at him from behind Estella's shoulder. He put up a reassuring hand to silence her. Estella's normally large eyes were abnormally widened, looking as if she were about to pass out. What was he thinking? Why did he have that look in his eye? And why, why, why did he keep coming closer?!
Before any of them (sans Merry) had really realized what was going on, Merry swiped his hand out. Estella, fearing physical contact, jumped back with a yelp, clinging to Peony's skirt. Merry caught the now-airborne spider neatly in his hand, his fingers closed over it before any of them could see it.
He turned to Fatty, winked, then faced the girls again, grinning. He opened his palm to reveal a large, hairy, many-legged something. "Spider," he said simply, tossing it into the fire.
Estella fainted.
