February and March brought a flurry of activity to Buckland. Pippin and Diamond were gone away for a visit with the North-Tooks in Long Cleeve, and would not return until May. Merry was quite busy with his work, and when the business of Buckland did not occupy him, his writing on herblore did. Estella busied herself with desperate attempts to improve her skills as an artist so she could provide the illustrations Merry desired. Fatty and Opal's April wedding was quickly approaching, and Estella was glad for her brother.

Yes, the beginnings of spring made them busy. So busy, in fact, that Estella had missed the earliest signs. It wasn't until she poured herself her morning coffee one day, taking in a deep breath of the smell she had come to love, that she knew. Instead of washing over her with a sense of familiarity and comfort, the scent twisted her stomach, nearly making her gag.

As she ran outside for fresh air, looking over the view from the top of Buck Hill, the realization flooded her, and she did not know what to feel. Hope, at first, then terror was what came to mind.

I cannot lose another one, she thought. I do not want to plant another tree. I do not want to be Esme.

She said nothing of it to Merry. She was too nervous, too afraid about what it would mean to tell him. To tell him would make it real to her, and she was not sure she wanted it to be real. She hid her queasiness and masked her exhaustion. She kept her mind busy with work on her drawings and did her best not to let worry eat away at her.

But as the days and weeks passed, her discomfort only grew, until one day the smell of chicken roasting over the fire did not merely make her feel sick, but actually become sick. Though she wiped tears from her face as she cleaned the chamber pot, she couldn't help but feel an ever-growing sense of hope. This had not happened before. She had not been ill like this.

It was becoming harder to hide. Merry suspected she was certain. At the very least he had noticed she had put off coffee in favor of tea once again and had asked her about it. She made some flippant excuse about coffee being a better drink for cooler months, which she knew was utterly absurd, but if Merry thought so he did not let on.

On the first of April, Estella made up her mind to tell him. She had been standing before a long mirror in their room, a hand placed firmly over her stomach after she had let out the waistband of her skirt only a little. There was no bump yet, no roundness that she had so envied when Diamond had been carrying little Faramir, but there was a firmness now, and Estella thought it would not be long before Merry worked it out on his own. Sickness and fatigue she could hide, but he knew her body well, and this was not a change he would overlook.

When Merry returned to their smial that night, she barely let him close the door before sharing the news. "You're going to be a father," she whispered, smiling wide.

His face at first masked what Estella suspected was a great deal of worry. She understood. She had felt it too. "You're sure?" he asked.

Estella nodded, placing a hand protectively over her belly. "I am. It's different this time, Merry. I'm… the last two times I did not feel much different, other than tired. I've felt so sick. I've been trying to hide it, but almost everything makes my stomach turn. This one will be alright, I think."

"And are you happy, Estella?"

She nodded, opening her arms to welcome him into an embrace. "I am! I am happy. And frightened. But I am happy. Are you?"

"Frightened and happy," he agreed. "But how? I thought you were keeping track?"

Estella laughed a little as he took her hands. "I did too! I suppose we were careless, or I wrote things down wrong, or-"

"Or perhaps," Merry interrupted, leading her towards the door. "This one was meant to be, no matter what precautions we took. Now, what do you think about having Mrs. Boffin cook for us tonight? Or if you'd prefer to just have seed cakes, we will make a feast of that."

"Seed cakes for supper it is," Estella said.

They debated when to tell Esme but were spared making the decision themselves when Esme revealed she already knew while she joined them for supper one evening.

"Alright, my dear," she said to Estella, eyes glinting mischievously. "I'm sure you wanted to tell me on your own time, but I simply must know when the little one is due!"

Estella looked to Merry with narrowed eyes, but he shook his head to show her it was not he who had shared the news. "Who told you?"

"I'm afraid I have to tell you that nearly all the help have been made aware already thanks to Mrs. Boffin."

"But we didn't tell her!" cried Estella, setting down her fork and knife in exasperation.

"Mrs. Boffin has four children of her own, Estella. I think she would know better than most what it means when a lass who prefers cooking for herself comes to the kitchen requesting only seed cake for supper." Esme resumed her meal with a knowing look and Estella let out a sigh, but she was smiling.

"Well, yes, we are expecting. November, I think."

"And how are you feeling?"

"Awful!" Estella exclaimed truthfully. "I can barely stomach anything but bread, especially before luncheon. But I did not feel this way before, so it makes me hopeful."

Esme's eyes were full of understanding and love. "Yes, my dear. You should be. We all should be. Here's to the newest Brandybuck!" Esme raised her glass, and Merry and Estella followed suit.

Late in April, she whispered the news in Fatty's ear as he danced with her at his wedding feast. He grinned and whispered back his own secret and Estella drew back shocked and slapped his chest. "Fredegar Bolger, you absolute cad!"

"Hush," he laughed. "No one knows except for us, and now you. And I'm sure the first thing you'll do is run off and tell Merry. But do keep it secret as you can."

"When?" she wondered, not able to keep the smile from her face.

Fatty shrugged and looked back at his blushing bride. "I haven't a good idea other than 'several month's time.' I'd guess not till after yours."

Estella could not help but laugh as Fatty twirled her across the floor. She pulled him towards his new bride after another moment of laughter and hugged Opal close, giving her a wink and saying, "Hopefully there will soon be a mess of little Bolgers and Brandybucks visiting Mam."

Opal gasped softly as Fatty's arm came around her waist. "Freddy, did you-?"

Fatty nodded in reply and Estella just smiled brightly, kissing Opal on the cheek. "Your news is safe with me if mine is safe with you," she whispered, eyes twinkling when Opal showed her understanding. Quiet congratulations were exchanged before Merry swept her away for another dance.

That night, they lay together in their bed, Merry's hand on the small beginnings of a bump under her nightdress. He had made a habit of talking to the baby, and while Estella had found it odd at first, she had quickly come to enjoy and relish the now nightly ritual.

This night he talked to their child of Fatty, and all he had done to ensure that he and his companions made it out of the Shire safely.

"Your poor Uncle Fatty!" Merry exclaimed, fingers lightly tracing the barely-there indication of life growing within. "He thought the worst he'd have to deal with was a Sackville-Baggins! And that's a beast of its own sort, but those nasty Black Riders were far worse." Estella listened and ran a hand through his hair as he continued. In March, when she had watched him endure nightmares and illness that Pippin said he suffered every year, she had heard in more detail about those riders than even Fatty had been able to share. She had not liked one bit of it. Thinking of Merry and Fatty facing such wicked creatures sent shivers down her spine.

"You won't talk to him that way once he's born."

"Hm?"

"That's too much for a child. I don't want you to frighten him."

"Oh, yes, of course, Stella. But right now, she can't understand. Probably can't even hear me."

With a sigh, she relented. "Very well, continue."

And he did so, telling the babe all about Uncle Fatty and his rebellion and how brave he was. Then his talk turned to Estella herself, and she shifted uncomfortably hearing him speak about her as if she were just as brave, just as heroic as her brother, as her husband, as Sam and Pippin. She certainly did not want this story told, not when the child was young, at any rate. But for now, when Merry was right, that there was no understanding and likely not even any way for the words to be heard, she would not protest.

His talk went on well into the night. Stories of kings in golden halls that she'd never heard in such detail, tales of the ranger who became a healer and a King, the White Lady who slayed the Witch King of Angmar whom Merry so loved and admired, who the babe would be named for if it were a maidchild. When the candles had burned out and still his story went on, Estella felt that now familiar rise of emotion in her chest. But it was stronger now, deeper, truer somehow. It felt as though it would overwhelm her entire being and drown her. It would suffocate her if she let it, but she did not think it would be so bad to allow such a thing.

She continued to listen, the feelings only growing as Merry talked of elves, dwarves, Dark Lords in faraway towers, and mountains that spit fire. She knew now that he was talking to her, not the baby, opening up to her in a way he never had before.

I love him, she thought. I love every bit of who he was, all the ways he's changed, all that he will be, and everything he is right now. I love him!

And she did. Not only the side of him that was good hobbit-sense and love of hearth and home but the Knight of the Riddermark, the Traveller, the adventurer, the Master of Buckland, the planner, the friend. Her husband. The father of her child. Her friend. Her lover. She loved him, yes. She loved even the parts of his heart that she would never understand.

In that moment, Estella knew that when he asked her to accompany him to these places (for one day he would ask), where he had done great deeds and seen things beyond her wildest dreaming, that she would go. She would go gladly at his side and share in those joys with him. She knew too, that one day he would leave Buckland, leave the Shire, for good. And even though a part of her mind shouted at her that it was not at all proper, that it was the most un-hobbitlike thing he could do, she even loved him for that. She would not resent it. How could she? It was so deeply embedded in him, such a part of who he was that she could not help but love it.

"Merry?" her voice was soft, interrupting his tale of Sam restoring the shire with elven magic. He met her eyes in the dark, the moonlight coming through the window providing just enough light for her to see him. "Merry Brandybuck, I love you."

"Do you, Stella-mine?"

She nodded, one hand beginning to run through his hair as she knew he liked so well. "I do. I love you very much."

He smiled then, and Estella thought her heart might burst to see it. So knowing, so genuine, so glad he seemed, to finally hear her say what he had longed to hear for well over a year now. His hand spread and pressed more firmly onto her stomach. "Do you hear that, little Éowyn?" he said. "Your Mama loves your Dad at long last! Of course, she has for a few months now, but I think she's only just realized it this moment. And your Dad loves your Mama very, very much."

"Do you know me so well you can see my heart even before I can?"

"No," he admitted, turning her face toward him and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "Not always. But I knew you nearly said this to me months ago, and you've been showing me in every way but words since then."

"I suppose I have been, haven't I?"

"Yes." He kissed her again, not at all gently, and she readily returned it. "Tell me again," he said, drawing her near, burying his nose into her neck and breathing her in.

"I love you," she whispered, unable to keep the smile from her lips and the laughter from her voice. "I love you very much."

"And I am glad," he told her, pulling away to look at her once more, his thumb gently tracing the line of her cheek. "Éowyn deserves parents who love each other."

Estella now placed her own hand over the tiny swell of life. "It could be a boy, you know. What will we call a little lad? After you?"

Merry shook his head. "I think there would be too much confusion when getting together with the Gamgees. Far too many Merry's!"

"For your father then?" she suggested, as Merry began placing soft kisses on her forehead.

"Yes, for my father." A kiss to her cheek. "And for King Théoden." A kiss on the tip of her nose. "Theodoc for a lad, if that's alright with you." A kiss on the corner of her mouth.

"Theodoc," she tested the name on her tongue, closing her eyes and wrapping her arms around her husband. "I think it's perfect."

He kissed her lips again then, pulling her close, holding her tight, and Estella wondered if he felt everything was as right in the world as she did at that moment. Laughter spilled over from her lips and she hugged Merry's neck.

"Oh, I love you!" she cried. "I love you so much."

He returned her embrace, gladness seeming to overflow from him and onto her. "I love you too, Estella. I love you more."

"More than what?" she asked.

"More than anyone else. More than you can know. More than you love me," came his answer, eyes shining.

"And it doesn't bother you?" she questioned. "Knowing you love me more?"

"Not a bit," said Merry fondly. "I only wanted you to love me in return. I will always love you more than you love me, and I've known this from the beginning. I love you more."

That fact she could not deny, even now. "I know," she said, and he smiled before bringing her in for yet another kiss.

He was right, as was usual, Estella knew. She would never feel for him quite as deeply, quite as much as he felt for her. It did not mean the love she did feel for him was less real, less important, or less sincere than his. The words Rose had spoken to Estella on her wedding day flooded back to her mind and took hold of her heart. "Enough and more," Rose had said, and Estella thought nothing summed it up better than that. Her love for him, and his for her was enough and more for the both of them.