Content Warning: miscarriage


A constant stream of interruptions had been Merry's entire day thus far. All morning long he had been attempting to write out his plans for pony breeding next season, and it seemed that every quarter hour, someone needed his attention for something else. He'd barely been able to get anything down on paper, and his patience was wearing thin with each new request for his help or opinion.

He heard the door to his study open once again, without even a knock of warning and sighed deeply. Even seeing it was his wife who brought this interruption did not lessen his irritation.

"What, Estella?" he asked, perhaps harsher than he had meant to.

His sharp tone did not seem to bother her, for when he looked at her, there was a satisfied air, a glow, a light in her eyes that he had never seen before. She looked lovely, truthfully, but her lack of regard for his desire to actually complete some work irritated him greatly.

"I've news," she told him. "I meant to tell you tonight before we went to dinner with Esme, but I simply can't wait another minute."

Merry sighed and set aside his quill, running a hand over his face in frustration. If she had planned to wait, he did not know why she had to interrupt him now. Unless… He stood suddenly, anticipation curling within his chest. Estella laughed at him.

"Well!" she exclaimed. "If the look on your face is any indication, you've guessed it already, haven't you?"

Looking in her face again, he doubted it no longer. A light like that in her could only be there for one reason, the one thing she had longed for more than any other. He felt his heart might soar out of his chest and into the sky. This was everything she had wanted, and he had finally been able to give it to her.

He was around the desk and holding her hands in his before he was truly aware he had even moved. All intentions of writing out his plans for the next season were now forgotten, and if his suspicions were right, he was very glad indeed that she had not waited, and he was even thankful she had interrupted him.

"Is it a child?" he asked.

"A child!" was her confirmation. She pulled him into a celebratory kiss, and he felt her smile against his mouth.

"A child," he repeated. "Two babies at Crickhollow! Oh, Estella, can we stay at Crickhollow once she comes? Raise her alongside Pippin and Diamond's little one?" Estella's laugh was the sweetest he had ever heard, and he wished he could have her be that happy always. "Let's call her Éowyn!" he cried, wrapping her up in his arms and lifting her off her feet.

She smiled wide and wrapped her arms around his neck. "We don't even know if it's a girl yet, Merry!"

"Well, if it is, I want to name her Éowyn."

"It's not a very hobbit-like name, is it?"

He could tell she was not thrilled with the prospect of naming her daughter something so foreign sounding. "Neither is Estella, really," he pointed out. Most hobbit lasses were named for flowers or gems in the Shire, things that came from the earth. Estella had been named for the stars.

"I suppose that's true," she admitted. "Perhaps we could start our own family tradition by breaking with the old."

"That sounds almost Tookish," he said cheerfully. "I love you, Stella-mine." He pressed her tight to his chest and she sighed, quite content, he thought.

"I know."

For the first time since Frodo had sailed West, Merry found he was looking forward to September. In years past it had been a month full of somber remembrance and longing; a time of year difficult to endure, when summer drew to its end, but before the leaves were truly changing, when the smell of the past and the sound of the sea rang in his ears and brought back memories, both pleasant and unwanted.

But now? Now, he felt it was a month to be full of hope. Diamond and Estella were both with child! Isn't this what all of it had been for? Frodo had told him after Elanor had been born that he felt it had all been worth it, every wound, every scar, every hardship, had been worth the price so that these little hobbits had a safe and wonderful world to be born into.

Frodo had loved Elanor. Merry was sure he loved her still. And while he wished his dear cousin and friend were still living within the Shire so he could adore Pippin's baby, and his as well, he knew there would be no lack of love in the little one's life. He knew too, that any child of his would not know a time when they could not tell of Frodo Baggins, the Nine Fingered, and the heroic deeds he had done for all of Middle Earth. Yes, his children would know Frodo's story well.

Estella, for her part, had been fairly floating around Crickhollow when she was not too exhausted to do anything but lie abed. The light in her eyes delighted Merry every time he looked at her. Fatty and Rosamunda had come to visit and had been nearly as thrilled as Estella was by the news of the first grandchild to be borne. Rosamunda had practically shrieked in delight at the news, and then been horrified when Estella continually made jokes about Merry having fulfilled his marital obligations.

"Well," his wife had said, teasing glint in her hazel eyes. "He's given me a child, so I suppose it's time for us to separate and for me to move back in with you and Fred, Mam!"

Rosamunda's offended look was met with only laughter. Merry had placed his arm around Estella and kissed her temple. "Not to worry, Mrs. Bolger," he assured. "I couldn't dream of letting her go now!"

They had shared the news with Esme the next time they stayed in Brandy Hall, and she had been even more pleased than Merry had expected. She had hugged Estella, kissed her face, and blinked back happy tears at the news of her grandchild.

"I do hope it's a lad so we can be through with all the talk of heirs and succession," she said. "Then I can set my heart on little lasses!"

The rest of that evening had passed with caring glances, inquiries after how Estella had been feeling, and concerned looks that Merry understood well, but did not bring to Estella's attention.

Merry thought his life could not be more complete. And then he returned to the smial one evening for supper, but there was none. Estella was not in the kitchen. It seemed as though it had not been touched. There was no evidence of even luncheon having been made. Everything was pristinely clean and in its place.

"Stella!" he called. He received no answer. "Estella, where are you?" Again, no answer, but from their bedroom, he heard a muffled cry. He opened the door and saw Estella lying on their bed, eyes red rimmed and puffy, curled in on herself. "What's happened?" he asked, dreading the answer and knowing in his heart what it was. She seemed incapable of answering him, only curling tighter around the pillow she was clinging to. She seemed to be scooting further back on the bed, away from his gaze, further into shadow, and she would not meet his eyes. "Have you," he swallowed the lump in his throat. "Have you lost the baby?"

She nodded, closing her eyes.

"Oh, Estella," he knelt by the bed and stroked her hair, his own tears brimming in his eyes.

"It started after you left," she managed. "It hurts."

"Why didn't you send for me?"

She shook her head, eyes still closed tight. "You cannot help. There is nothing to be done for it. I'm sorry, Merry, I am so sorry!"

"Oh no, love, no, do not apologize. None of this is your fault." But his assurances only made her sob harder.

As Merry thought she might, Estella asked that they keep away from Crickhollow for a while. Seeing Diamond would hurt too much while she was still reeling from her own loss. He agreed, of course, but did make short visits there himself to see Pippin, to seek his comfort and share what had happened with him. But most of his time he spent in his study, working, and reading if he had no work to do. Estella seemed to prefer being left on her own, and he only wanted to give her what she needed. She was, by now, physically recovered, as far as he could tell, but she was still melancholy and quiet. He was too, he knew. Now, not only was September a month spent remembering and missing Frodo, but mourning the babe he would never see, never hold, never name.

The week before September 22, Merry told her quietly one evening, "Pippin, Diamond, and I are going to Bag End to celebrate Frodo and Bilbo's birthday with Sam and Rose. Fatty will be there as well. I would like very much for you to come."

"I don't very much want to come." She did not turn to look at him and did not make any effort to justify why she did not want to go.

He had left it at that, not wanting to argue and not wanting to push her if she did not feel ready. Still, when he set out on his own, he felt her absence keenly, and was more somber than he meant to be during his stay with Sam and Rose.

"How is Stella doing?" Fatty asked him quietly after supper.

He shook his head. "I don't know. She's quiet and withdrawn, hardly speaks to me at all, if I'm honest. I wish I knew what to do for her, but when I ask, she says there is nothing, and I think she is right. I know she's heartbroken, and that is all I know."

"I'll come see her. I wish she would have come with you. It would have done her good."

Merry could only sigh in agreement.

As the evening wore on, first the Gamgee children, then Diamond, then Rose went on to bed. Fatty stayed with the lads long after dark but knew the three companions needed time to reflect on their own, so he too eventually bid them goodnight. Pippin, Merry, and Sam remained around the fire in quiet companionship, the scent of pipe weed surrounding them as they smoked and stared into the dying embers.

Sam broke the long silence at last, glancing at Merry. "You know, Rose and I are certain Mr. Frodo knows when each of our little ones is born. I'm sure he knows you have been married. And perhaps he even knows about this. He'd know much better what to say than I do, I'm sure of that. But I think he knows."

"I always liked to think he somehow knew when Di and I were married," Pippin said, eyes distant and unfocused. "I imagined maybe Galadriel or Gandalf had a way of seeing or knowing, and they passed the news on to him. I've always told myself I was only thinking it to make myself feel better, but perhaps there's no harm in that."

Merry kept his thoughts to himself. He wanted to believe as Pippin and Sam did, that Frodo was somehow able to be informed of the life changing events that had taken place for each of them since his departure, but he could not bring himself to do it. If there was some possible way, Merry was not sure he wanted Frodo to know about this. He did not need to know of any more grief or pain. He had seen more than enough of it in the time he had spent in Middle Earth. The whole purpose of his sailing was to heal. How would knowing this help him to do that?

"Not to pry, Sam, but have you and Rose ever…"

"We haven't, Mr. Merry."

Merry nodded. There was one other person he could go to for advice, and it was suddenly clear to him that he ought to have gone to her first.


Upon his return to Brandy Hall, that is just what he did. He sought out Esme even before greeting Estella and felt in his heart a compassion for her that he had not felt before.

"What did you do, Ma, when you lost the ones before me?"

"Before and after, Merry," she corrected. "We never stopped hoping there would be more, even after you were born. You quite renewed our hope, in fact. You were proof that it could happen. And I never wished for you to grow up an only child. That's why I was so thankful for the years Frodo lived here, when you were very small. It's why I love young Peregrin so much, despite his rash behavior the last few years." She paused, lifting a gentle hand to Merry's face before continuing. "There is never much to be done, I'm afraid. But your father and I planted a tree for each one we lost. It always brought me a sense of peace to do that. It was an acknowledgement that they existed, that my loss was real. Your father never grew as attached as I did, you see, so it felt lonely."

"Where did you plant the trees?" he wondered.

Esme rose from her desk and walked to the window, pointing down the hill to a spot Merry knew well, lined with ash trees. His eyes grew wide, and he wrapped an arm around his mother's shoulders. He had played many hours among those ash trees, ten in total, as a young child. Now he understood why his mother had been so distraught when he'd broken a large branch off of one of the younger ones when he was a teen. He couldn't believe he had never asked, never thought to wonder about the trees that he and his parents had picnicked under many a time, that he and Pippin had run amongst as children.

"How your Da and I fought to protect those trees when those awful men were tramping through the whole of the Shire! Hacking up gardens and burning the fields… But these we made sure were unharmed, as best as we could."

Merry was very glad they had been successful. "I'll see what Estella thinks."

He found her in the kitchen when he returned to their smial, honey cakes, scones, thumbprint cookies, tea cakes, and bread were all around. He couldn't help but laugh, and she gave him a small smile in return.

"Hello, Merry," she said softly.

"Hello, Estella." He sat at the table and she placed a plate of tea cakes in front of him as an apology for not going with him to Hobbiton, he knew. He accepted them gratefully. "Your brother will be here in a few days," he told her, pleased to see her smile actually reached her eyes at that news.

"I'm glad. I miss him very much."

"I know you do." He paused, taking a bite of the cake. "Stella, I met with my mother before I came back here. She told me that when she and Da lost their children, they would plant a tree. Do you think that might be helpful for you?"

"They lost a baby too?"

He nodded. "Ten, actually."

"Ten!" She was silent for a moment. "I think I would like that; a tree, I mean. Somewhere close to the smial if we can. It would be nice to have a reminder of him."

"Him?"

"It just… I just imagined us having a son. I don't want to name him, but I do like to think that it was a little lad."

"Well then, we will plant a tree."


Estella cried when they did plant it, Fatty on one side and Merry on the other. It was a silver birch sapling, planted a little way away from the trees that Esme and Saradoc had planted years ago. Merry fervently prayed that he and Estella would not have any more than the one tree to plant. He was not sure that her heart would be able to bear it. And yet it did seem to help her some to have it done. A few days later, she told him she was quite ready to go back to Crickhollow.

"Pippin is almost certainly doing most of the cooking and I'm sure he will have scorched the pans by now."

"Well, heaven forbid we let the fool of a Took scorch the pans!"

Estella laughed for the first time in many days, and Merry's heart warmed to hear it.