Merry assumed a casual air as he walked, having seen Estella sitting on the notorious Kissing Bench outside the pub. She was alone there, which was interesting. He doubted she was waiting for someone to join her, as she had a book in her hands that was drawn quite close to her face.

Her eyes darted up above her pages and made contact with Merry's, but she gave him no more attention than that.

Merry had found his thoughts drawn to Estella often of late. He'd not shared this with anyone. Pippin would have laughed. Sam would have merely raised his eyebrows in surprise. Fatty would have… well. Best not think on how Fatty would react. His parents would have likely suggested he chase the affections of another lass. After all, he was the future Master of Buckland. He needed a wife suited to be its Mistress. A girl from a wealthier family would be their choice, he was sure.

But, the little sister of his old friend was no longer so little, and in his time spent with Fatty lately, Merry had noticed he also had a fondness for Estella.

The Occupation had changed her, left her quite different than the girl who constantly followed in her big brother's shadow, always ready to prove herself with a snark or bossy demand. She was less rude now, slower to anger than she had been before. She was more empathetic, and friendlier than she used to be. She still did not fear to speak her mind. She was honest, sometimes brutally so. But she could be gentle too. He had seen it towards Fatty, and even her mother, who could be an absolute shrew.

"Hello, Estella, and what are you doing this fine day? Bit early for someone to be on the Kissing Bench, don't you think? It's still full light!" he teased, coming to stand in front of her.

She looked up from her book. "I'm only waiting for my brother. And reading. Alone, as you can see."

"Don't let me interrupt," he said, but he sat down on the bench beside her.

She glanced at him sideways. "What are you doing?"

"Sitting beside you."

"Move," she commanded.

Merry's eyebrows raised a bit. "No need to be so rude."

Estella glared at him over the top of her book but did not put it down, or even lower it to talk to him. "Merry, this is the Kissing Bench. The one where drunk couples will sit until they are jeered at by passersby or until their chaperone comes along. I haven't any desire to be seen here sitting with anyone, least of all you."

Merry shrugged, not at all put off by this. "Well, we're not drunk, and we're not a couple. So, it doesn't matter much. Besides, we're not kissing. At least not right now."

"And we never will be," she quickly muttered. "I would never kiss you, much less here." This was said much clearer.

"'Never' is a strong word, don't you think?" He asked. She did not reply. He chose not to say anything more but watched her out of the corner of his eye, the way her slender fingers spread across the cover of the book, holding it just so, hazel eyes darting across the page with interest. "What are you reading?" He wondered, after several minutes.

Estella sighed, annoyed that he had interrupted her, once again. "A tale of murder and intrigue," she told him. "It's terribly exciting!"

"Doesn't sound like something a lass like you would normally read," he remarked.

"Who are you to tell me what I would normally read? You don't know me well enough to guess."

He held up his hands in surrender. "Sorry! You're quite right."

This pleased Estella and she turned a page of her book triumphantly.

"Perhaps if you'd let me get to know you as more than Fatty's little tag-along sister, I'd be able to make fewer offensive remarks on your choice of literature." He'd moved closer to her without being aware of it.

Sliding herself further down the bench away from him, the openness in Estella's eyes vanished. "You don't want to know me better." Her tone was not one of hurt or disappointment, she said this as if it were simply an indisputable fact of life.

What could he say? If he told her in this moment he felt affection for her that he suspected would grow if it were allowed, she would not believe him. "Suppose that I did," he found himself saying. "We're friends, after all." It was better than a million other things he could have said, but the edge of suspicion in her eyes remained.

"Friends don't sit on the Kissing Bench together. Even early in the day. I'm fully aware of the trouble you get young girls into, and I would like to stay away from that. I don't need my reputation soiled. I've few enough prospects as it is." If her raising her book higher to block his face from her view was any indication, Estella was quite finished with the conversation.

Merry could not blame her for her concerns. Upon their return and the Battle of Bywater, he, Pippin, Sam, and Frodo, had all been elevated to nothing less than heroes. This had attracted attention from many eligible lasses throughout the whole of the Shire. Frodo had been too broken and too often ill to consider marriage. Sam's affections had been tightly held by Rose, of course. Rose was many things, but she was not patient (at least in this) and she did not share, so Sam was spoken for almost immediately upon their return.

Pippin and Merry however, had enjoyed these attentions, although Pippin for a considerably shorter amount of time. Merry though, had taken advantage of them. Dances with the most beautiful and most eligible lasses, courtships and walks through gardens, and placing a girl upon his lap while sipping on a mug of ale had all been quite common for him.

Sliding himself further down the bench once more, he closed the distance between them. "What if I told you I would like to be more than friends," he admitted.

Once again, Estella backed away from him. "If you're only looking to toy with me, please go find someone else. You surely won't have trouble with that. Meriadoc Brandybuck, Esquire of Rohan could have his pick of any eligible lady in the Four Farthings."

He placed his arm along the back of the bench. Estella stiffened and turned to face him. She was out of room to scoot further away from him now.

Merry looked at her and smiled. "I'm sincere," he told her.

There was a tiny spark of vulnerability in Estella just then. Merry felt it, could see it, wished she'd let him see it more often. He drew closer to her still, closer, nearer. The freckles splattered across her face were clearer now, the curve of her lips close to his own. Was she moving towards him too? Should he even be…?

Before his thoughts could continue, he felt small hands press hard into his chest, shoving him away with more force than he would have expected.

"Get away!" exclaimed Estella. Picking up her abandoned book, she swiftly walked away from him towards the door of the pub.

"That was rude, Meriadoc Brandybuck!" She shouted. He watched her go and smiled in spite of himself before continuing on his way.