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Never Better, Part Two
Estella Bolger let her mount find his way through the snowy rocks
on his own, in the late afternoon chill. A little bit further up, and they
reached the crest of the small hill. There it was. Brandy Hall, gleaming in the
frosted light of that snowy afternoon; a magnificent structure of stone and
timber and glinting glass windows, rising up and out of the hillside like the
proud prow of some great ship, come improbably to rest half-buried in the side
of Brandy Hill. Unlike anything in all of the Shire, and Estella fancied,
somehow on this cold day, that it glistened like a great impossible palace of
ice, which, in some manner that she did not currently have the leisure to
consider, it was.
She had seen Brandy Hall before, of course, but never before with the
insinuation implanted that she could possibly, on some distant day, be its
Mistress. She shook her head unconsciously, trying to bury that very unlikely
image, as her pony restlessly chafed at the unexpected halt. “I know, Windy,”
she murmured sympathetically in the ear of the dark grey pony, named for his
ability for speed, among other attributes. “The stable is not far off, and you
have been this way before, but it would never do to arrive on our own, before
the rest of the party. No need to stand out, I should think. By the look of it,
‘tis quite a crowd expected indeed, but it would not hurt to have a few others
from Budgeford Smial around us.” Without another glance, she turned back to
rejoin her brother and her parents.
“Well, my dear, I still really don’t quite know why we have to appear at this
grand occasion,” Odo Bolger was mildly grumbling to his wife as she joined them.
He flicked a dollop of snow, that had tumbled from a tall pine as their ponies
ambled under it, off his wool hat with a unconscious brush of his hand. “I mean,
I know that Meriadoc Brandybuck is a chum of Fredegar’s, along with that Baggins
chap, bless if I can remember his name, but I’m not at all sure why we all must
be making our way through this muck just for his birthday. Surely the lads can
take care of matters without all this fuss. Hand out a few gifts, toast the
occasion with a few bottles of Brandy Hall’s finest, and the whole affair is
taken care of. No need for the rest of us to be involved, really.”
“You forget, dearest,” Rosamunda Bolger responded with an indulgent smile, her
pony plodding along side of his, “that dear Merry’s mother is Esmeralda Took.
You certainly can’t imagine that she would let this milestone go without the
greatest of fuss. Not to mention, I told you about Stella… Oh, but here she is.
Tell us, dear heart, does it look like an awful crowd?”
“An absolute horde,” her daughter pronounced with relish. “A couple of carriages
have apparently just arrived, with some rather fine ponies,” she added
parenthetically toward her father, “and there are hobbits everywhere, and I
can’t believe there are actually going to be bedrooms for us all.”
“Tut, the entire East Farthing could put up at Brandy Hall, should Mistress
Brandybuck ever choose to have them on,” Fatty murmured placidly, riding up at
that moment to join the three of them. As the most frequent visitor out of the
Bolger contingent, they did not dispute his knowledge. Odo did turn back to
Estella though, on the one point that had actually captured his attention.
“Some fine ponies, eh?” he prompted her, rather enthusiastically. “They wouldn’t
be those rather tall dark chestnut ones, now, would they?” Estella grinned and
gave him a wink and a nod.
“The Took dashers!” Odo answered her grin and sat up a little straighter in his
saddle in his excitement. “Paladin has brought them after all! Well, my dear,
this shouldn’t be all as bad as it appears,” he chuckled as his wife gave the
two of them a long-suffering look, though unable to entirely hide her pleasure
at their exhilaration.
“Freddy, my dear, I certainly hope that you will protect me from having to rely
upon Esme Brandybuck for company,” she sighed in apparent resignation, turning
to her son. “Apparently the rest of the Bolgers will be spending our visit in
the stables whenever possible.”
“Actually, that does strike me as a rather sound strategy, but do not fear,
mother of mine,” Fatty responded gallantly. “I will face even the trial of
ladies’ tea at your side if it will give you comfort.” A sound kiss on the cheek
rewarded him for his loyalty, and the four Bolgers took a collective deep breath
and rode down the rocky hill to Brandy Hall.
&&&&&
The road through Buckland had become more familiar to Sam than he would have
liked. He had traveled it on foot, in every season, and by carriage more than
once. And nothing good had ever come of it, in his private opinion. Yet, he
could not bring himself to begrudge Frodo’s infrequent contact with his family,
and he was secretly thankful that Frodo had steadfastly refused to appear here
without him. After all these years, he knew Frodo’s heart, and knew that Frodo’s
love for him had never been a source of guilt or shame for Frodo. There were so
many differences that could have come between them, differences of class, of
age, of what was expected of a gentlehobbit and what was not. But none of those
had ever mattered, not for one moment, not from the day they had both become
sure of each other’s dreams and wishes. So Sam took a deep breath, and prepared
himself to put up with anything he needed to, and prepared himself as well to
shelter Frodo from whatever hurt and slight he could, and fervently wished, with
all his heart, that they would be on the way back to Bag End, to their home and
sanctuary, as soon as ever could be.
The Hobbiton pony was climbing the last hill, and Brandy Hall would soon be
coming into view, as Sam gave the reins a sudden tug, halting the carriage and
stealing a quick glance at Frodo, sitting silently next to him. Frodo’s gaze was
straight ahead, but faraway as well, and Sam could almost see him withdraw into
himself. He suddenly thought of a hedgehog, drawing into a tight ball with
bristles forward as its only defense, and gave Frodo’s hand, resting tightly on
the seat between them, a sympathetic pat. “Tis harder when they’d be family,
ain’t it, me dear,” he murmured suddenly, and Frodo turned to him with a
distinctly stormy expression.
Paying no heed, he continued on, his hand still resting on Frodo’s. “Like when
my brothers came down for my coming of age,” he continued softly, watching Frodo
with a small smile. “They said all manner of things to the gaffer about me, I
never told you. An’ not that I usually ever gave them a thought from day to day,
as I was that young when they left, but still, it stuck in me throat, somehow,
an’ I couldn’t just let it go. They’d be family, after all, and it’s that hard
t’let that go by, them treatin‘ me like a silly young fool w‘naught but my own
pleasure t‘be thinkin‘ of.”
“You never told me that, Sam,” Frodo murmured quietly, his hand reaching up and
tightening over Sam’s. “What did your father have to say?”
“Well, now, he set his foot right down and said he’d hear naught of it,” Sam
smiled back at him with a hint of pride. “Said as it was my business and yours,
and what they’d be thinkin’ didn’t really account for much, noways. He was a bit
sharp on the matter, truth t’tell, and they left early the next morn. But
still,” he added, his smile fading, “I’d not be denyin’ but it hurt a bit, them
thinkin’ badly of us.”
“You’re right, Sam,” Frodo’s arm was suddenly around his shoulders, and his
voice was slightly husky. “We shouldn’t care at all, for they’ve nothing to do
with us and our life. So I’ll try to keep my temper, my dear, and we’ll try to
avoid Aunt Esme and her friends as much as possible. We’ll let Merry know how
happy we are for him, but if I do end up saying something unforgivable, or you
too, for that matter, for I’ve not forgotten you standing up to her that time in
the kitchen, my dear, we’ll leave before we’re invited to, and Merry will have
to celebrate all future birthdays at Bag End, if he wishes our company.”
Sam gave the only possible response to this pledge, which was to throw his arms
around Frodo and hungrily find his mouth, but the pony had had enough of
conversation. He had been this way before as well, and knew there was a warm
stable and hay, and perhaps an apple, just ahead. Paying no mind to his
passengers, he pricked his ears up in the chill wind, gave a pronounced snort of
decision, and started down the hill on his own, just as afternoon began to fade.
&&&&&
Pansy and Iris Burrows left their room, dressed in their finest frocks and their
hands clasped tightly together in their nervousness. They had been told the
directions to the Great Hall, where dinner was to be held, but it seemed
impossibly far away. “Where is your Folco?” Pansy asked a trifle sharply, trying
her best to keep the squeak out of her voice. “Shouldn’t he be taking us on in?”
“He said he’d find us there,” Iris’s voice was none too steady for that matter,
and she shrank closer to her older sister. “He did have to pay his respects to
Master Meriadoc, after all. He’ll find us, Pansy, you know we can count on him.”
“I certainly hope so,” Pansy muttered, somewhat darkly, and set her shoulders.
“Naught like this in Hobbiton, is there, my dear? Well, let’s just see what this
Great Hall is all about, shall we?”
They made their way from the somewhat narrow tunnel onto which their room faced,
to the larger oak-paneled hall that led to the public rooms. Already there were
quite a few other hobbits, mostly of obvious wealth and high station, ahead of
them with apparently the same objective in mind. They were laughing and gaily
chatting, and paying no heed to the two young lasses in their midst. Iris was
just beginning to feel the prick of regret that she had ever thought this to be
a good idea, when she suddenly spotted a face she knew, and never would have
dreamed of seeing in this setting.
“Daisy Gamgee!” she gasped out with surprise, and at least three portly, elderly
hobbits turned about to give her a quizzical look. She paid no attention to
them, not even the one whose face suddenly grew cold, giving both her and her
addressee a malevolent assessment of a look.
Daisy, though, had whirled about, also obviously surprised, and burst into a
wide grin when she recognized the two visitors from Hobbiton. “My sister May’s
friends, and mine likewise,” she murmured quickly to the elegantly clad
gentlehobbit walking beside her, and with a fleeting touch to her companion’s
silver-garbed arm, turned and made her way back through the crowd to the
Burrows’sisters. “Glory and trumpets!” she exclaimed in delight. “Whatever are
the pair of you doin’ here?”
“I could ask you, likewise,” Pansy laughed, drawing her arm through Daisy’s.
“But ‘tis good indeed to see a friendly face in this great place.”
“The Burrows’ sisters, Pansy and Iris,” Daisy gave a quick introduction, as
Pearl caught up with them as well. “All the way from Hobbiton, they are. But
wait now, didn’t you tell me as your intended was from these parts?” she flashed
Iris a sudden look of comprehension. “Folco, that’d be the name, ain’t it?”
“Oh, not ever Folco Boffin?” Pearl exclaimed with a merry peal of laughter. “Oh,
my dear, you must be quite the lass indeed, if you have managed to tempt Folco
Boffin away from his contrivances and contraptions! But many congratulations,
for he is a kindly and loyal friend, and would make the most perfect husband
that I could ever imagine. Come, my dears, we must find our places in the Hall
before all the best of seats are taken. We don’t want to end up in the corner
with all the elderly aunts, after all, and have to behave ourselves. Great-Aunt
Delphinium can be a perfect dragon, you know, and I would give a great deal not
to have to spend an evening making polite conversation with her!”
There was no disagreement to this proposal on the part of her companions, but as
they good-naturedly swept by the others in the hallway, there was one who fixed
his gaze upon Pearl Took, and gave her a judicial stare.
&&&&&
“Dilly! Look to the roast, child! You cannot be gawking after the guests at a
time like this!” Cook’s booming voice was heard over the cacophony of Brandy
Halls’ kitchen. “Keep it turning steady, or we’ll all be answering to the Missus
as to why the bottom o’it was burnt.” Her face flushed and damp, and her arms
akimbo, she surveyed her realm with a practiced eye, giving a curt nod to the
serving lasses, just beginning to exit the kitchen with the first dishes. “Go
check the tables again, Aster,” she instructed a very young and clearly unnerved
hobbit. “Just make sure that there’d be enough cutlery and plates on the tables
for all. Don’t be quivering like that, lass, they’ll never be seeing you, t’be
sure. We’re naught in the eyes of gentlefolk. Stay out of the way o’the Missus,
though, mind, for she’ll be in a right nasty mood tonight, I’ll warrant. These
crowds seem t’allus bring out the worst o’her,” she grumbled, mostly to herself,
as young Aster scurried off on her errand.
“Ah, there you’d be, Holly,” she briskly greeted the househobbit lass, waiting
patiently in the doorway. “All the fine folk sent off to their rooms, eh?”
“Well, as far as I’d be knowin’,” Holly spoke up, unperturbed by Cook’s
seemingly stormy mood, “but our Master Frodo and Samwise Gamgee are just here,
likewise, an’ they’d be on their way in.”
Cook’s face had just enough time to break into a wide grin, when the two guests
in question made their appearance at the kitchen door, opened wide to the chill
early evening due to the steam and heat of the preparations inside. “Master
Frodo!” she exclaimed with delight, making her deliberate way through the
apparently chaotic scene. “Stars above, I knew you’d not be missing Master
Meridoc’s fest.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Frodo grinned cheerfully, giving his dark curls a quick
shake before entering the kitchen and brushing off the snow that had begun to
fall once again outside. “I just thought it might be a bit easier to come
through the back entrance, and avoid all the fuss at the entryway.”
“Ah, but ‘tis good t’be seeing you,” she beamed at him, quickly intercepting one
of the serving lasses and thrusting a large platter of fragrant stuffed
mushrooms in his direction. “You timed that right nicely, or you‘d never be
getting any o‘this tonight. Go right fast, they do. And I’d not be forgetting
what a favorite of yours they’d be. And here’s your Master Samwise,” she added,
offering the platter to Sam likewise, as he followed Frodo inside, a couple of
their packs on his back and another in one hand. “We’d not be forgetting you
soon, Master Gamgee,” she added with a wink. “Did many of our hearts good, you
did, a few summers back,” she added as Sam gave her a tentative smile in return
and gratefully accepted the plump golden brown morsel.
“But the dinner’d be on right soon,” she added, with a slight sigh, “and I needs
be off. Your room in the tower is as you like it, and I‘ve had a fire going all
afternoon t‘keep the chill off.”
“How lovely! Not to worry, we’ll be back to have a bit of a chat later, Cook
dear,” Frodo reassured her with a fond pat on her shoulder, as he picked up one
of the packs Sam had brought in. “Your kitchen was always a haven for me, you
know that. But tell me, who has arrived thus far?”
“Bless you, Mr. Frodo,” Cook sighed, wiping her forehead only a trifle
dramatically. “Who hasn’t? Tooks of every description, t’be sure, every
Brandybuck as has a leg t’walk on, that Boffin lad, some lasses from Hobbiton,
I’d not be knowing their name. Oh, and your sister, Master Gamgee,” she nodded
towards Sam, who nodded his head in pleased acknowledgement. “And that nasty
piece o’work,” she added in a lowered voice, giving a quick glance about as she
did so, “as is a friend of the Missus. Bracesomething, I’d not be remembering it
proper.”
But before Frodo could react to that, a tall form materialized at his side, and
with a drawl, smoothly interposed, “And Bolgers, my good lady. Can’t be
forgetting them now, can we?”
“Fatty!” Frodo spun around in delight, giving his friend a delighted hug.
“Indeed, Bolgers are not to be forgotten on any account!”
Cook beamed at the latest arrival, who had won a firm place in her heart as
well, with his abundant praise of her skills, and demonstrable enthusiasm in
putting them to the test. “You lads be sure to stop by, now, if there’d be
anything you’d be wanting, no matter the time, but I must be shooing you out
now.” She handed the platter off to the patiently waiting lass, and decisively
waved them towards the hall entryway. “There’s a grand feast t’be putting on
tonight, and I’ll not stint on Master Merry’s fest guests. Off w’ye now.”
The trio accepted her command willingly enough, and Fatty snatched up the bag
Sam had put down previously. With a last pass at the platter before it proceeded
them down the hall, four more mushrooms vanished without any notice by the
serving lass, and Fatty nodded his head to both Sam and an amused Frodo. “Don’t
you have some quaint little perch of a room high atop all the rabble and bustle,
Frodo?” he inquired, as soon as he was able, with a last lick of his fingers.
“It’s there we must take ourselves, lads, as soon as we can, for we must take
counsel together, even before we dine. It is that important, my dear fellows.”
Frodo and Sam gave each other a surprised glance at Fatty’s declaration, for
that sounded indeed a matter of supreme urgency. “As you say, Fatty,” Frodo
nodded, and smoothly relieved Sam of another pack before he could protest. “Just
follow me.”
&&&&&
Delphinium Brandybuck surveyed the crowded hall with a practiced eye. It was the
older set she was observing; the younger were shallow creatures, with never much
to say, and only worth the time if there was absolutely no one else available.
She smoothed out her brocaded frock skirt with a satisfied gesture. Her
dressmaker had done a fairly decent job on it, she must admit, and the rather
bright blue was one of her better colors. It certainly did not do to go
unnoticed in a large crowd, and the heavy gold chains about her neck and massive
sapphire ring were the final festive touches. Let the young lasses have their
lighter dresses, and delicate flowers and jewels. A gentlehobbit of her stature
had a certain duty to uphold the Brandybuck honor.
That was something Esme Brandybuck was competent enough at, as well. She gave an
approving glance toward the Mistress of Brandy Hall, with a goblet of fine wine
in her hand, as she stood in the midst of a collection of wealthy and
appropriately attired guests and gaily laughed at a companion’s witty sally. Her
Took cousin, Rosamunda, standing nearby, smiled politely and took a deep sip
from her goblet at the remark. Who had she married again? It was one of those
“B” names, wasn’t it? Delphinium tried to recollect it. Boffin? Baggins? No,
there were no females left there. Bolger? Yes, that was it. Ortho, Olin,
something of the sort. But definitely Bolger. And there was Paladin Took’s wife
as well, Eglantine. Staring off out the window again. Distractable creature.
Surely there was nothing but horrid snow to be seen, and it was nearly quite
dark as well.
The hobbit who had spoken before uttered another bon mot, and Esme gave another
merry peal of laughter. Who was the fellow, anyway? Ah, she recognized him now,
from his previous visits here. Bracegirdle, his name was, a cousin of that
Lobelia who had married the Sackville-Baggins out Hobbiton way. Quite a favorite
of Esme’s, apparently, though she could never imagine why. A petty, devious
sort, in her opinion. Entirely too entranced by the power and wealth of the
Bucklands - she had seen his type before. Well, there was never any telling Esme
anything, but it was time for her to join the group and perhaps distract them
from whatever it was that the Bracegirdle was going on about. She had no doubt
but that it would be a welcome relief to most of the party, for she was not bad
at all at reading expressions.
But before she could do so, she became aware of an oddly tall and thin lass,
quite young, giving her a remarkably appraising look as she drew near. Before
she had a chance to wonder why she was not part of the group of young lasses
that were entertaining themselves before the great fireplace with gossip and
giggles, and audacious glances toward the lads, the unlikely individual boldly
approached her, and gave a perfunctory curtsy. “Good evening, Mistress,” she
greeted her in a polite manner. “I am Estella Bolger. Tell me, if you please, do
you play cards?”
&&&&&
Iris Burrows gave a silent sigh of relief as she finally spotted Folco Boffin
from across the crowded room. Leaving her sister, Pearl and Daisy to follow as
best they might, she threaded towards him through the chattering mass, and
Folco’s serious face lit up as he noticed her approach. “Merry,” he exclaimed
with a warm smile, as he turned to the quiet hobbit standing next to him,
drawing Iris quite close with an affectionate arm about her shoulders, “may I
present my intended, Iris Burrows?”
Iris gave a slight gulp as she took the hand of the future Master of Brandy Hall
in greeting. It was not as if she had never seen him before, for he had been the
guest of Frodo Baggins on numerous Summer Fests as well as other occasions, but
she had not seen him in several years. He had seemed far younger the last time
she had seen him, a tween, and although he had been pleasant enough, she had
paid him little mind, and his future position in the Shire had been a matter of
little consequence. But here he was, in his own imposing home, looking
unmistakably older, grander, and to her mind, more than a little sad. It was
that last quality, perhaps, that caused her to grasp his hand warmly, and murmur
her congratulations in a heartfelt, although shy, manner.
There was another at his side, however, and she immediately recognized him as
Merry’s cousin, Pippin Took. She knew that the young Took was as frequent a
visitor to Bag End as was Meriadoc Brandybuck, and there was something in his
face, and the way he quietly stood at Merry’s side, that suddenly made her feel
a little sympathetic to the both of them. Indeed, there was something in Pippin
Took’s expression, when he glanced at his cousin, that tugged suddenly at her
heart, and made her very glad that she and Folco had found happiness together so
easily.
But there was no time now for such thoughts, for the servants were discreetly
ringing the bells that were to summon the guests into the great dining hall, and
Merry gave a last look about, with only partially concealed disappointment
written across it. “Do you see Frodo anywhere about?” he turned to Pippin with a
frown. “I was sure he’d be here tonight.”
“Fatty, too,” Pippin observed quietly. “But look, there’s his sister, and his
mother is over by yours. Perhaps they’ve only just gotten here. He’ll find us
out, if he is here, and Sam and Frodo too, I’m quite sure.” He began to open his
mouth, as if to say more, but then apparently thought the best of it, and
stopped, giving Merry’s shoulder a quick squeeze instead. The bells tinkled once
again, and with a great rustle and rumble, the crowd moved toward Brandy Hall’s
magnificent dining hall. Odo Bolger, who had been part of an animated crowd
about Saradoc Brandybuck, found his wife, drawing his arm through hers, and
Palatine Took found his. The drawing room was soon deserted save for the
household help, who quickly picked up the abandoned goblets and plates, and
almost instantly set the room to rights. In no time at all, it was as if no one
had occupied the room for days. It was only after the first course was being
served, and the great doors were being closed, that the last three latecomers
scurried in, nearly unnoticed, into the dining hall. Merry’s countenance
immediately cleared, though, and Pippin, at the other end of the massive wooden
table with the rest of his family, beamed happily.
&&&&&
Fatty, upon following the other two into the room, had nearly immediately headed
toward the round window, and stared out of it curiously. “I do believe there is
a bird actually flying below us, my dear fellows,” he observed, turning again to
the other two with a raised eyebrow. “How the both of you actually sleep so high
off the ground, I’ll never know; you may as well be on the roof. As Merry tells
me you have been, in point of fact.”
Frodo laughed at Fatty‘s expression of wry bewilderment, and Sam chuckled as
well, as he neatly stacked the packs in the corner, and picking up the poker,
gave the smoldering fire a couple of good jabs. “There had to be some way to
escape that scamp, when he was younger, and it was the only place he couldn’t
manage to follow me. At least, until those long legs he now has suddenly
appeared. But I know you haven’t accompanied us up to my roost to discuss my
childhood haunts. At least not before dinner.”
“Indeed,” Fatty murmured, nonchalantly seating himself on the only chair in the
room, and drawing it close to the re-kindled fire. Sam and Frodo gave each other
a quick glance, and a small mutual shrug, and seated themselves together at the
edge of the narrow bed as they prepared themselves to hear Fatty’s revelations.
“As we are insufferably all too aware, Merry is on the verge of coming of age,”
Fatty examined his nails carefully, and ignored Frodo’s raised eyebrow. “Thus
perhaps you can also surmise what his mother’s overweening obsession has been as
of late.”
“Don’t tell me she’s planning to marry him off this very night,” Frodo gave a
disgusted huff of annoyance. “What, is she scheming to auctioning him off like a
prize bull?”
“I would suspect that your proposed plan has not gone unconsidered,” Fatty
replied mildly, “but she has hit upon a slightly more decorous approach. She
has, as a matter of record, chosen the other party to be involved, a fact of
which Merry is currently altogether unaware.”
“How very good of her,” Frodo shook his head in disbelief. “That certainly saves
some time, now, doesn’t it? But who is this unfortunate party, and how do you
know of these plans? I would hardly have taken you for Aunt Esme’s confidante.”
“True, I do not have her utmost confidence, oddly enough. However, since the
lass in question is the fair flower of the Bolger household, I have a definite
in there.”
“Your sister, Estella?” Frodo retorted, now thoroughly mystified. “Why on earth
her? And what does she think of this scheme?”
“Well, the latter question is the more easily answered,” Fatty gave them an
amused grin, as he looked up from his previous examination of his nails. “She
thinks it’s a pile of rubbish, and is vastly amused by it all. She is, quite
possible, even more set against the thought of getting married than is Merry, if
that can be imagined. And as for the why? Only Esme Brandybuck can truly say,
although I suspect she felt that she was running out of options, especially with
the Took sisters unmistakably out of the running. I certainly did my best to
cast the shadow of dissolute behavior over the house of Bolger, but apparently
it was an insufficient effort.”
“And you say that Merry knows nothing of this?” Frodo asked after a moment’s
silence, as he tried to make sense of this information.
“Not likely,” Fatty shook his head. “She was corresponding with my mother in the
very strictest of confidence, and wishes to speak to my parents again, while
they are here, first. You know how very necessary it is for her to have
everything in order prior to setting the pawns in motion, one might say.
Needless to say, the family Bolger is less than enchanted by this whole
proposal, or at least the way she is going about it. Funny thing, you know, I
could see those two actually hitting it off rather nicely, one of these days,
but not if they are shoved at each other, so to speak.”
“Possibly you have something in that,” Frodo mused as he considered what, if
anything, he knew regarding Fatty’s sister. She did seem an intelligent lass,
one who was not easily led, and who kept her own counsel. That was promising, in
as far as it went. But Fatty was quite right, no good of it would come about if
Esme, with her usual obstinate imperiousness, tried to force the issue. Trying
to make some sense of the whole affair, he fell back, as usual, on Sam’s quiet
good hobbit sense. “What do you make of this, Sam?”
“I wouldn’t think there’d be much point in us tryin’ to make a case to Mistress
Esme,” Sam replied matter-of-factly, “as she takes no stock in us, no ways. But
mayhap, somebody ought to be tellin’ Merry about her plans. Foretold is
forewarned, I’d say.”
“True enough,” Frodo sighed, “but that’s just holding the match to the powder,
so to speak. If there’s any chance of us helping Merry to come up with some sort
of rational solution to all this, we are going to have to pry him, and Pippin
too, without a doubt, from all this commotion down below, and lay out the facts,
as we know them. But since he is, willingly or no, the center of attention, that
might be somewhat tricky to manage.”
“Point taken,” Fatty nodded his head decisively. “But you are exactly right,
Sam. For his sake, and Stella’s, too, for that matter, for I’d hate to have
Merry think she had anything to do with concocting this whole scheme, we’d
better find a way to get a private word with him. Difficult, under the
circumstances, but not, I should think, impossible.” As usual with Fatty’s more
cryptic utterances, a sly smile lit his face and, also as usual, the other two
hobbits know that he would say no more about it, at least for the time being.
However, they were running out of time to make their entrance for dinner, and
whatever the faults hospitality at Brandy Hall might occasionally have, meals
were always something that went off without a hitch. Further conversation was
therefore postponed, and the three hungry hobbits followed the tempting aromas
into the great hall, all further scheming put off for the moment.
&&&&&
Bramble and Rufus Grubb were seated at the far end of the massive table, quite
near the door from whence the serving lasses were coming and going, actually,
but they hardly noticed the bustle in their wide-eyed wonder of the scene before
them. So much food - it barely seemed credible that even such a great crowd
could manage to devour it all. Not that they were quite sure what some of it
was, but they sampled whatever dish happened to come their way, and they had not
yet found one to be deficient. Even the most lowly of foods was somehow
embellished, or laid over with an enticing sauce, and Bramble was beginning to
think that if she could just pop into the kitchen and have a word or two with
the genius behind all this culinary enchantment, that she would be able to go
home more than satisfied with this extraordinary visit. Rufus would never look
at turnips again in the same way, if she could only discover the secret of that
amazing glaze with which they had been covered, she was most sure of that.
But it was not only the dinner itself that had them enthralled. It was the
overall splendor, from the rich and luxurious appointments of the hall itself,
to the splendid clothing and jewels of the celebrants, not to mention the
opulent array of platters, and gold and silver utensils, and dark richly colored
glass goblets, in which fine wine was freely flowing. But as much as they
proudly considered themselves part of the vast family Brandybuck, this scene was
quite nearly overwhelming, and they were silently beginning to feel themselves
severely out of their element. Bramble moved a little closer to her husband, who
was sitting up rather straight, and clearly somewhat uncomfortable. Those around
them had been polite, without a doubt, but they did not have, apparently, much
in the way of common topics of conversation, and the polite chat had lagged, and
then been dropped altogether, as their neighbors turned to those nearby whom
they knew, in lieu of the slightly bucolic newcomers.
There had been an observer to this, however, and towards the end of the meal,
she politely excused herself from where she had been sitting, and moved down the
table to an empty seat next to Bramble. “Good evening,” she respectfully greeted
them, giving a slight curtsy in deference to their years, before she sat down.
“My name’d be Daisy Gamgee. Is it your first visit here? It is very nearly
mine.”
“Well, child, I must admit that’d be the case,” Bramble Grubb smiled gratefully
to her, and patted the bench beside where she sat invitingly. “Not that we
haven’t known Master Brandybuck for many a year now, for, truth to tell, Mr.
Grubb, here, would be his third cousin, on his mother’s side, you know.” The
aforementioned Mr. Grubb remained silent, his invariable custom in the company
of strangers, but tipped his head towards Daisy and grinned affably. “Oh, stars
above, I am that rattled, I don’t believe I introduced us,” she exclaimed then,
with a laugh, already more comfortable with the quiet lass than any of the other
guests to whom she had thus far spoken. “ ‘Tis Bramble and Rufus Grubb, indeed,
that we are. Gamgee, was it? I’m afraid I don’t quite recognize that name, my
dear, but then we don’t know many folk from about here. Is the rest of your
family here too, dearie?”
“No, I am from Hobbiton, and my family’d not be gentlehobbits,” Daisy responded
frankly. “But I am here with the Tooks, for I sometimes stay with them as a
healer, and my brother, Samwise is here, likewise,” she continued, and
discreetly nodded to the quiet corner where Sam sat, laughing and in an animated
conversation with Frodo and Fatty, as well as Folco, who had joined the other
three.
“Now, let me guess, my dear, it could never be the dark one, for you don’t look
like him at all,” Bramble pondered the question happily, surveying the party in
question carefully. “And the lad in that rather bright jacket is far too tall
and thin, I think. And of the other two, there is something about your face that
is much like the light-haired one, for indeed, you both have the same kindly
look.”
“Yes, that is Samwise,” Daisy admitted with a bit of amusement. “The dark-haired
gentlehobbit is his friend, Frodo Baggins, the tall one is Fat…, erm, Fredegar
Bolger,” she corrected herself just in time, “and the last is, I believe, Folco
Boffin.”
“Stars above, is that actually Fatty Bolger?” Bramble started up at that piece
of news, staring at Fatty with a great deal of curiosity. “I’ve heard so very
much about him, you know, and …” With that, her voice trailed off, and she gave
a slightly embarrassed cough. A good deal of what she had heard was not the sort
of thing one shared with such a new acquaintance, so she turned to another of
his companions. “Frodo Baggins,” she mused thoughtfully. “There used to be a
Drogo Baggins that lived hereabouts, but he and his wife went out in a boat, if
you can imagine, and the poor things met a sad end. But Father, dear,” she
nudged her husband at this point, who had been mutely but carefully following
the conversation. “Wasn’t there a fauntling?”
“Son. Frodo Baggins,” Rufus affirmed in a deep voice that sounded somewhat
unused, to Daisy’s ear.
“Why that must be him!” Bramble exclaimed happily, turning back to stare at the
hobbit in question with frank interest. And for the rest of the meal, Daisy
helped them try to place the rest of the guests, using the quick introductions
Pearl had given her as they entered, and wracking her head together with the
Grubbs on some of the others. She found it far more entertaining than sitting
quietly in the vicinity of the Tooks, as she had on the previous occasions here,
since Esme seemed to feel strongly about separating close family members and
more illustrious guests, from those who were more in the periphery. She caught a
quick glance from Pearl from time to time, and gave her a merry smile. When they
were finally together later this night, she knew Pearl would be pleased, for
there was nothing the eldest Took enjoyed more than a good gossip, and the
Grubbs were proving to have quite a store of unexpected revelations that they
were more than happy to share.
&&&&&
Delphinium Brandybuck settled a bit more comfortably in her favorite chair, in a
secluded nook by the back fire, in Brandy Hall’s drawing room. Saradoc had
broken out the better vintage this night, in honor of the company, and she had
had perhaps a glass more than she generally did. As a matter of fact, there was
another next to her, on a small table along with a discreet plate with an
assortment of cheese, on which to nibble should the mood strike, and she was
feeling most decidedly affable. So when the odd child (unmistakably a Bolger,
what was the name again?) approached her once again, she was in the mood to
indulge her in her whim. “Sit, lass,” she greeted her with a tolerant smile.
“Pull that table up. I believe there is generally a deck of cards in the
canister on the back chest, against the wall, if you’d care to have a look. So.
Cards, is it? What an odd request, to be sure. What is it you younger ones play
anyway? Go Seek? Odd Maid Out?”
But Estella, having found the deck and fetched the table, seated herself
confidently opposite the elderly gentlehobbit and shuffled the cards quite
suddenly, with an expert riff. “All Fours. Diamonds trump,” she gave Delphinium
a wicked gleam of a smile, as she expertly dealt out the first hand.
Delphinium immediately sat up a little straighter, her benevolent muzziness
suddenly vanished. Child she might be, but the astute Brandybuck instantly
recognized the signs of a worthy adversary. “Five rounds, winner take all,” she
snapped, commandingly, snatching up her hand.
“Double points on the last,” Estella’s eye took on a hungry gleam and her smile
widened.
And in no more than a matter of minutes, Delphinium was staring, with a bit of
shock, at a pile of cards on Estella’s side of the table and a complete dearth
of the same on hers. But she rallied quickly, and with a quick sip of her wine,
swept the deck into her practiced grasp and expertly shuffled with a resounding
riff of her own. “A good start, my dear, quite promising. It would seem you have
a certain amount of skill. What did you say your name was again?” But before
Estella could manage to reply, Delphinium had dealt out two hands and slapped
the deck back down. “Hearts trump. Four of a kind trick, and five a straight.”
She gave the young lass a positively fiendish grin. This was promising to be
quite an enjoyable evening, after all.
&&&&&
“Bollocks. The fire must have died completely in here,” Frodo sighed, opening
the door to their room ahead of Sam. “It always was positively frosty in here of
a winter, much colder than the rooms under the hi… Oh!”
He barely had time to utter that monosyllable as he was suddenly pinned against
the wall. Sam had dexterously closed the door with a swiftly aimed kick of his
foot, and at the very same time managed to gather his arms quite full of Frodo
and plant his mouth hungrily on the base of Frodo’s neck, right at the spot
where, at some point during the evening, the top button had become undone quite
without its owner having taken notice. Apparently, however, Sam had.
“Ah!” Frodo sighed happily, varying the monosyllable as he melted into Sam’s
embrace, his fingers finding Sam’s curls irresistible. He was just beginning to
discover that his legs were in the process of going boneless, but that didn’t
seem to be an issue due to the way Sam had him quite tightly held. “That was
rather good wine, wasn’t it, my dear?” he added, with a noticeable giggle.
“Waren’t the wine,” Sam managed to mutter, and then returned to his
preoccupation with that enticing indentation that had tormented him so all
evening. And while one hand still kept the both of them upright, with the kindly
assistance of the wall, the other had begun to travel downward, and soon
disappeared under Frodo’s garments.
“Oh!” Frodo reverted once again to monosyllables, and both his eyes and smile
widened with delight. “Bed,” he gasped, for although his legs were weakening,
other parts were most definitely not.
Sam had no issue with that, so in a moment, Frodo found himself on a cold bed,
with just enough presence of mind to reach out and whisk away the top coverlet
before he landed, with Sam immediately over him. The chilly room was rapidly
fading from the front of his mind, and indeed, his brain was getting decidedly
muzzy as he thrust a knee up next to Sam just as Sam, mouth by now firmly on
his, and his tongue performing wonderfully clever feats - however did Sam think
these things up? - began to tug at his unfastened breeches. Well, this was good,
very good indeed, and he arched his head back and thrust his hips up, and never
noticed that Sam’s exploring hand had momentarily left where it was so
wonderfully placed, and was now, inexplicably enough, in his pocket.
“Butter, Frodo! Where is it?” there came a sudden hiss in his ear, as Sam broke
his mouth away and ceased that wildly satisfying movement on top of him. Frodo
froze as well, his brows suddenly contracting in dismay, and his brain returning
to more mundane matters with a thud.
“I never got it,” he exclaimed in disappointment, his breath still a little
harsh and his fingers frozen, once again, in Sam‘s curls. “Aunt Esme was
watching me like a hawk in a chicken coop all evening, just to make sure I
stayed away from Merry. But I thought I saw you by the butter dish.”
“Nay,” Sam replied in dismay. “I thought I saw you reach for it, an’ I’d not
want to be takin’ more.”
“Well, I did try, but then Bracegirdle started to… Oh, blast, Sam, it doesn’t
really matter why, but we don’t have it.”
Both silently and gloomily pursued the thought of what might have been, for a
moment, still fixed in place. But the wine, in the end, was too potent for that
state of affairs to last, and Frodo was in far too good a mood. Leaning up just
slightly, he playfully nipped the end of Sam’s delectable nose. “I promise you I
will make off with a whole crock of it tomorrow,” he whispered enticingly, as
Sam’s loving smile began to creep across his face again. “Right from under
Cook’s nose. I always was rather good at that. And I shall positively slather
every inch of you with it, or myself, if that’s what you prefer,” he added, with
a sly arch of a brow, and an alluring wriggle beneath Sam.
“Do I have the word of a Baggins on that?” Sam murmured, his hand beginning to
creep back to where it had been previously so well-employed. “I would hate t’be
disappointed twice, indeed I would.”
“Oh, I plan on not disappointing you at all,” Frodo purred, slyly starting to
move under Sam in a rhythmic manner that had never failed him yet, and slipping
a hand down to the fastening of Sam‘s garments.
“Ah, you never do, dearie,” Sam closed his eyes, and began to join Frodo in the
rhythm with a sigh, and a small shift in position that caused Frodo to give a
hum of delight. And that was good once again, indeed, wonderfully good, and he
could possibly manage to do this all night except that he knew that he couldn’t
last very much longer, when a most disturbing fact began to tug most insistently
at his otherwise preoccupied brain.
Somehow, he had managed to become pinned against the wall at the edge of the
bed, with Sam covering him quite thoroughly, and that was certainly fine,
because Sam could lay atop him anytime he pleased, especially if he continued to
rock just, oh, there. But the bed appeared to be giving way under him. And
rather hazily, he realized that the bed was inching away from the wall bit by
bit, and that he was gradually sinking between the side of the bed and the wall,
and that if he didn’t stop for a moment, and squirm over to the side just a
trifle, that he would most likely be hitting the floor rather abruptly. But,
bother. That would mean interrupting Sam, and he really couldn’t see doing that,
not just yet, not when Sam was doing such an excellent job of sending quivers up
and down every limb he possessed, and oh, sweet Lady. It wouldn’t be that much
longer anyway, for he had quite given up on the lasting all night thing, as he
shut his eyes tightly and met every move of Sam’s with an eager fervent one of
his own.
And now there was nothing for it, for each move that he and Sam made together
was shoving the bed further away from the wall, and he further down in the
process, yet he could no more stop what he was doing than he could give up
breathing, or making that odd moan that he vaguely heard himself making, and he
found himself melting into liquid ecstasy with a muted yowl, and hitting the
stone floor with a hearty whump very nearly simultaneously.
There was a moment’s silence, or at least close to silence save for the sound of
ragged breathing, and then he heard Sam, quite close to his ear, mutter
apologetically, between gulps of air, “Mayhap I should be a mite more careful
w’the furniture. You all right, Frodo-love?”
“Absolutely lovely, Sam dear,” Frodo murmured, quite sincerely, and found
himself blinking sleepily. “You just keep lying there, love, and I’ll just be
closing my eyes for a bit. Oh, no,” he added drowsily, tightening his hold
around Sam. “Don’t you even think of getting up.”
Sam chuckled fondly then, and carefully extracted himself from Frodo’s embrace,
despite Frodo’s groggy protests. “Here, me darling, you won’t be thinkin’ that,
come the middle of the night. Now, dearie, just you pick yourself up a bit, aye,
there we are, and I’ll get you into bed proper. And let me lean against the
wall, this time, me dear, I’ll not be slipping down the crack as fast as you,
I’ll warrant.”
So before long, the fire, or what was left of it, was banked for the night, all
unnecessary garments were shed and neatly laid over the chair, the bed was now
shoved back firmly in place with the additional help of the chest to stabilize
it and Sam, his back prudently against the wall, was tucked securely into his
customary spot in Frodo’s embrace. Sleep found both of them nearly instantly.
&&&&&
“What in the name of all that’s good are they doing down there, moving
furniture?” Pippin poked his head from out from under the rough blanket and
peered into the dark with a bewildered expression, as if there were anything to
see. The noises coming from down the hall were quite difficult to ignore, and
that loud thump that had set things off had made both of them jump.
“We can get a full accounting in the morning, except, they’re not to know we‘re
here,” muttered Merry, with considerably less curiosity than Pippin, and
considerably more frustration. “Really, Pip, it’s their business, now, isn’t it?
Frankly, they can rearrange the room anytime they wish. And as to our business…”
He heard a light laugh from Pippin as a reply, and his response, as he dove
under the covers again, was apology enough. Merry sighed gratefully, and flung
his head back, instantly forgetting about anything else but his inexhaustible
craving for the touch of the one he loved beyond all else.
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