Chapter 12: No More Running

She rides with grace, with ease, the flowing of her curls.

Merry blinked at the sentence his quill had produced. He wasn't much for
writing poetry. Actually, he didn't really have a poetic bone in his
body. He was straightforward, writing facts not poetry. Yet, she had
inspired him that morning.

He and Estella had been riding beside the Brandywine. Pippin was off at
Brandy Hall to visit his father, who was there on business. Riding
together was a pleasure for Merry. He could stare at Estella without her
knowing. It felt childish, but nowadays, he lived for those moments.

Merry watched, enthralled by the way her light brown curls bounced
against her back as she galloped ahead. He wished at that moment he could
pull her in front of him on his pony, wrap his arms around her waist, and
just feel her warmed against him.

Merry shook himself out of his reverie. He'd held her before, and she had
held him. He knew he loved her, but what he wanted to do to Estella that
morning made him blush at the tips of his ears. Merry gritted his teeth
and clenched his fingers tightly around the quill. The conversation he'd
with Frodo a week ago echoed in his mind. He wanted to move, but he hadn't.

"Tea time!" he heard and turned to see Estella pushing the door open
with her back - a tray in her hands. She set it down on the small table by the
armchair in the corner. Merry turned back to the half-used page of his
book, closing it so she couldn't see what he had written.

Merry glanced out of the corner of his eye. "You need not bring me a tray."

Estella looked down, cheeks flushing at his stern tone. "But I always
bring you trays when you're in your study, silly hobbit."

"You need not to."

Estella moved to his side, a teacup and saucer in her hand, "I like to,
Merry."

"Really," his voice became desperate, "Stella, you don't need to."

"But, Merry-" Estella said, carefully.

"You're not my WIFE!"

Stunned silence. Estella stood frozen, her face contorted as if she had
been slapped. The cup and saucer in her hand hit the desk, clattering
loudly and splashing hot tea onto the parchments beside it.

Merry bit his tongue. He hadn't said what he said out of anger towards
her. Hurting Estella was the last thing he desired. He said what he said
out of anger towards himself for not telling her straightway how he truly felt.

"Estella, wait!" he called after her as she ran out the study. By the
time he was up and out of the room, she had disappeared from the cottage.
He knew her too well, and found her in the first place he thought to look
- the bench against the vine-covered lattice in the garden. Estella was
on the bench, knees pulled close to her chest with her arms around them.

"Stella?"

"Please leave me alone, Merry."

"I won't."

Estella raised her head, revealing delicate tears on her cheeks. She was
crying, and Merry could have slapped himself with a whip for making her
cry. "It seems you don't want me around."

"That's not true!" Merry knelt in front of Estella, grabbing her
arms. "When you're not around, I miss you. I'm sorry I said what I did to you, Stella."

"Are you sorry you said it or sorry for what you said?"

"Why?" Merry said, confused.

Estella swallowed hard, eyes darting to the ground. She steeled herself
for whatever came next. "I wish I were your wife."

Merry sat back on his bottom, stunned at what he just heard. How long had
he wanted to hear those words? He finally looked at Estella. "I wish with
all my being that you were my wife. I wish I could hold you and kiss you
and show how much I love you. I don't ever want you to go away. I could
not bear being without you, Estella."

Estella chanced a look at Merry. He caught her eye, giving her the
courage to ask, "Do you mean that?"

Merry grasped her chin so she could not look away. "I want you and only
you as my wife, Stella. Will you accept my hand?"

She could not believe this was so easy. Like out of a dream, he had more
than willingly asked her to be his wife. Estella blinked. An odd wave of
sorrow and delight rushed through her. She wanted this from Merry, but…

When her mother died when she was a tweenager, being married one day and
starting a new family barely crossed her mind. When she became dedicated
to something, she gave her whole self to it. The thought of her father
and the fact that she walked away so suddenly lingered in her mind like a
grave outside her bedroom window. As much as she had tried, she hadn't
closed that part of her life.

Estella smiled a small smile. "I accept your hand." Merry's face
unfroze into a broad smile. "But," His face slowly fell as she went on,
"you'll have to wait."

"What do you mean?"

Estella focused on his eyes, trying her hardest not to break down. "I
came here to run away, and found much more than just a sanctuary. Being
here has been a bandage for my wound. I need to heal."

"But, there will still be a scar," Merry stumbled out, "You never are completely healed."

"A scar is better than an bandaged wound."

"What are you saying, Stella?"

"I need to go back to Budgeford. I haven't been there since I walked out
the night my father died. I need to go back and face it before we move
forward. I know you must understand."

He didn't want to, but he had to let her go. Just as he had went through
the terrors of what happened on the quest, he had found a way to heal,
even if it did leave a scar. "Do what you must, but come back soon."

"I will." She took Merry's face in her hands, and leaned in close.
"Don't fret. I am yours. I always will be. I love you, Merry"

He tangled a hand in her curls. "I love you, Stella." Merry wrapped
his arms around Estella's waist, resting his head on her lap. She held him
close to her, not wanting to let go.

"Must you leave?"

Estella smiled warmly at Pippin. He had become like a little brother to
her, just as he was with Merry. A very tall and hungry little brother who
would miss her cooking more than her. Estella didn't mind. With Fatty
Bolger as an older brother, she was use to her cooking being missed more
than her. "I'll try not to be gone too long."

Pippin sighed in playful relief. "I am thankful to hear that. I cannot
last too long without your hot cakes." He squeezed her with a hug before
she moved to say goodbye to Merry.

"Are you sure you do not wish me to come?"

Estella bit her bottom lip, taking his hands in hers. "I need to do this
alone. I'll be all right, Merry."

"I cannot ride with you there?"

"If you do, I wouldn't be able to leave you. I need to say goodbye now.
I'll be safe on the road. I know Doderic or Merimas will escort me to Budgeford."

Merry lowered his head, nodding. He did not wish to release her hands.
They weren't as soft as down as some lass' were, but they were Estella's
hands and they fit right in his. He leaned close as if to kiss her, but
instead whispered in her ear, "Come back to me soon."

Estella nodded, her curls brushing his cheek. "I will." With that,
she placed a kiss under his eye.

A slight grin appeared on Merry's face. "You missed."

"No, I didn't."

He helped her on her pony, and with one last goodbye, she was gone.
Merry's face fell dismally. Pippin slung an arm around his cousin's
shoulders, pulling him towards the cottage.

"So, Merry, what is this buisness about her 'missing'?"

As she rounded the curve of the path heading to Brandy Hall, Estella
slowed her pony to a trot. She sucked in, hastily wiping away the tears
streaking down her cheeks. Her heart burned wanting desperately to make a
turnabout and rush back into Merry's embrace. She knew she couldn't. If
she were to ever move on without the past haunting her, it had to be now.