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Never Better, Part Four
Conversations about the table as guests came and went for second
breakfast, the next morning at Brandy Hall, had the somnolent and slightly
muffled tone that was not unusual for a large group of gentlehobbits who had
dined perhaps a little too well the previous night, and from which not much was
expected until later that evening. But below the mundane surface, there were the
slightest of indications that this was not an ordinary morning at all, and the
rest of the day promised to be even less so.
Merry, in particular, was closed off and uncommunicative when he showed up at
last, an equally taciturn Pippin in tow. He found a seat next to Frodo, who had
claimed, along with Sam, a more secluded small table in one of the back corners
of the immense dining hall, and summarily plopped himself down without much in
the way of greetings. Reaching for a piece of buttered toast while
simultaneously pouring himself a cup of tea, he began to absentmindedly munch on
it as he moodily surveyed the room. Pippin, following his lead on the toast,
began to carefully cover his with blackberry jam in a particularly painstaking
manner, but gave the room a stealthy occasional glance as well. Frodo and Sam,
comfortably filling up the corners at this point with, respectively, some
preserved peaches and a fine strip of well-streaked bacon, exchanged quick
glances, but waited, patiently and prudently silent, for Merry to instigate the
conversation.
“Father said that he wanted to see me after breakfast, so I don’t expect I’ll be
around much this morning,” Merry finally muttered, still not glancing at any of
his breakfast companions. “You haven’t seen Estella this morning, have you? I
suppose I ought to say something to her, although I’m not entirely sure what, at
the moment. Can’t exactly go about ignoring my supposed bride-to-be, at any
rate.”
Sam and Frodo gave each other another quick look, and Frodo then spoke up.
“Fatty knows where she is, but he’s not around at the moment, I’m afraid. He
mentioned something about her being off on an errand, I believe, but he did
especially want to be sure that we were all around after luncheon.”
“Doesn’t appear as if there will be a good many alternatives,” Merry commented
gloomily, standing up and giving his last piece of toast a rather ferocious
bite. “May as well have it over with, then.”
“Happy birthday, Merry,” Frodo commented quietly, as Merry left the rest of his
toast unfinished on his plate. “And the best of the day to you.”
“I suppose that remains to be seen, now, doesn’t it?” Merry snapped, and with
nearly a glare, he left.
The rest of the meal was finished quickly, and in near silence. “Come with us,
Pippin,” Frodo invited his cousin softly, as he stood, brushing the last crumbs
from his hands onto the linen napkin.
Pippin gave him an irritated look, and turned back to face the room. “No, I
don’t believe I shall,” he retorted, sharply.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Frodo mildly answered. “Merry will be tied up a good long
time, and what are you going to do? Fatty is nowhere to be seen, Folco is quite
engaged in some sort of debate regarding the weight-bearing capabilities of the
spring-loaded hay wagon with Great-Uncle Umbert, and that leaves the company of
your sisters. Surely we can’t be that bad.”
“A bit o’fresh air outdoors would do us all some good, mayhap,” Sam suggested
diffidently, when Pippin did not respond, as he stood up as well.
“Oh, very well,” Pippin conceded, still trying his best to remain cross. “I may
as well go out with the both of you, I suppose. This place always does give me a
headache, anyhow.”
&&&&&
It was a silent trio of hobbits who found their way out of the back entrance of
Brandy Hall, through the white enshrouded kitchen garden, and on the well-trod
snow that covered the pathway back to the stables and beyond. Frodo, who still
knew every least path through this part of Buckland far better than Pippin ever
had, led the way with assurance and with one of Sam’s hands firmly laced through
his. They passed the stables, now alive with the morning feeding and brushing,
for the stable lads of Brandy Hall wished the ponies of the guests of their
Master to want for nothing during their stay, and continued up the hill that
overlooked the Brandywine River. The path was shortly lost beneath the untouched
drifts of snow, but Frodo stamped his way through them with confidence, and soon
they were heading down toward the river bank.
It had been an unusually cold winter, and even this close to spring, the water
near the banks was still frozen, with only the center of the great river yet
flowing freely. The fitful sun had been strong enough, however, to clear off and
dry a few of the flat rocks that lay at the water’s edge, and it was for them
that Frodo made his way.
“So you are still irritated with me,” Frodo spoke quietly, as he and Sam found a
seat on one large stone, and Pippin found his on another, quite pointedly
staring at the river rather than facing them.
“I shouldn’t wonder whether Sam wouldn’t have been as well, had he been there
too,” Pippin said sharply and recklessly. He gave Sam a very quick and almost
hidden glance, but Sam showed no sign of curiosity at his statement.
“Sam knows what he means to me,” Frodo replied evenly and with absolute
conviction. “He never has, and never will, have cause to doubt that.” Unseen by
Pippin, his hand closed around Sam’s a little tighter, but Sam answered back
with a quick squeeze, and a warm smile.
“Then what was that whole scene for?” Pippin burst out in frustration. “I’m sure
you’ve never kissed Merry like that before. Were you just doing it to tease him?
He has so much to worry about right now, and that didn’t help at all.”
Frodo let Pippin finish, and lapse into a sulky silence before he responded.
“Think, Pip,” he said firmly. “What if I had been Merry’s wife? Don’t you
realize that that is something you need to be able to witness, and not give in
to jealousy? As will Merry, in his time, as well?”
“You are aware that Merry can not postpone marriage that much longer,” he
continued quietly but relentlessly, as Pippin gave him a stricken look. “Surely,
you should hope that Merry would find a wife whom he can view as a friend,
someone whom he is fond of. He will always love you best, Pip, I have no doubt,
but that doesn’t mean that he must hate her in order to prove that.”
Pippin continued to stare stonily at him, unspeaking, but Frodo continued,
giving his cousin a slight but understanding smile. “You know that I love Sam
more than I can ever explain, Pip. And you know that Merry loves you in the same
way. Trust in your heart, Pip, and trust in Merry’s. Never doubt your love, and
it will remain strong. And if you have that, you can see anything through.”
Pippin gulped, and ducked his head down with a stifled sob, but Frodo reached an
arm out to him. Pippin found, as he stumbled over to the both of them, that
there was just enough room on the stone for him to fit between Frodo and Sam,
and he fell into their embrace, letting the tears wash away his anxious fears of
what was to come. Frodo was quite right, of course, he thought dimly, with no
surprise at all. The rest would fall into place somehow. Merry’s love was his,
and not much else really mattered, compared to that.
&&&&&
Pearl held the cards in her hand a trifle awkwardly, and gave them an
experimental shuffle, as Delphinium Brandybuck looked on with remarkable
forbearance. “Not too bad, my dear,” she pronounced, with a tolerant smile.
“Best to let me do that when the time comes, though, I should think.”
“Oh, but of course,” Pearl hastily agreed, gathering up the few errant cards
that had escaped to the sides. “Except, you know,” she suddenly looked up at the
elder gentlehobbit, “unless a certain show of inexperience might prove to our
advantage.”
“Excellent,” purred Delphinium at that suggestion, flashing a brief vulpine
smile that would have severely startled her more customary companions. “I do
admire the way you think, my dear. But, of course,” she added, giving the room
and its contents a searching glance, “our fun will be quite spoiled if that
remarkable young Bolger lad does not do his part. And that would entirely put me
out, I assure you, for this afternoon promises to be most amusing. Oh, to be
sure, my dear, it is entirely for the best of causes as well,” she hastily
added, as Pearl gave her a rather stern glance. “Still, you must indulge me, for
this sort of excitement is making me feel positively giddy. Brandy Hall, if
truth must be told, can be frightfully dull at times.”
“Now look sharp, lass,” she squared her shoulders, draped in a shawl of the most
fervent pink against the draughts that managed to get through the multi-paned
windows, and was suddenly all business again. “You may have to play several
hands with me, and you must be able to hold your own if needs be. Let us review
the closing tricks once more, and mind how you hold your cards, my dear. There
is no surer sign of an amateur, and although the suggestion of inexperience
might indeed prove to our advantage, actual inexperience would not.”
Daisy, who had been quietly watching to the side, suddenly found herself
besieged by the newly arrived younger Took daughters, stunned at this unusual
sight. Confident that Daisy could explain this mystery, since they had taken to
considering her an auxiliary elder sister, they drew her aside for a
consultation, and soon were heard to be stifling squeaks of merriment. There was
no question but that they planned on being immovable residents of the great hall
that afternoon, and Pervinca’s customary book lay on a far table, completely
forgotten.
&&&&&
Bracegirdle stifled a yawn as he stood with a group of older gentlehobbits in
the stable, while they admired the ponies that the Bolger fellow had brought
along. The Thain seemed particularly taken with them, so he thought it best to
show a certain amount of enthusiasm, but what they all found so interesting
about those stolid smelly beasts was more than he cared to understand. Well,
there should be luncheon, soon enough, and then if he could manage to ferret out
that infernal boy of his, there might be some private pleasure to be had before
he had to suffer the company of this lot again. He sensed that neither Took nor
either one of the Bolgers present seemed to be giving him his full due as one of
the more wealthy and influential gentlehobbit of these parts, and as a matter of
fact, he had caught out of the corner of his eye that ungainly Bolger lad giving
him some deucedly odd looks.
At last the interminable discussion appeared to be well and truly finished, and
the party made their way back through the drifts, along the sanded path, to
Brandy Hall again. He certainly hoped that they had all done their duty as far
as any outdoors matters went, and might now settle by the fireside, in the
Brandybucks’ spacious great hall, and possibly play a hand or two of cards after
the meal. He knew he could count on Esme Brandybuck to be his partner, as usual,
and mildly wondered whether the Thain or Odo Bolger might possibly have it in
either of them to provide a bit of a challenge. Most likely not; he had found
that interest in the more mundanely practical affairs of the gentry usually
precluded an interest in cards. There was always the elderly Brandybuck creature
who was usually to be found here, if needs be. She wasn’t half bad, he had to
grudgingly concede to himself, but she never seemed to have a suitable partner.
But all thoughts of cards left his head once they reached the entrance of the
Hall, for the aroma of luncheon being prepared, which came wafting over the
kitchen garden’s wall, drove all other thoughts from his head for the moment. He
happened to catch the gaze of the young Bolger lad, and for one brief moment,
their thoughts were as one. Brandy Hall’s Cook was an absolute nonpareil, there
could be no doubt on that score. But their mute accord lasted only a second
before there was a naked flash of anger and resolve from the younger hobbit’s
eyes. Bracegirdle was momentarily startled, but the look was gone as soon as it
came, and he wasn’t entirely sure whether he had seen it at all, since Bolger’s
face now showed nothing but its normal half-lidded expression of ennui. Odd,
indeed, since he hardly knew the lad to speak of. Sometimes, there was no
accounting for these striplings.
&&&&&
Frodo allowed himself to walk ahead of the other two as they returned to the
Hall, since the morning chill was proving to be sufficient inducement to return
to a warm room with a blazing fire. Pippin did appear to be mollified, but just
in case there were still a few ruffled feathers, Sam was just the hobbit to
unruffled them, he thought sagely. It was quite nearly impossible to ever stay
angry with the irresistible force of sunny good nature that was Sam, and indeed,
he could not think of a single instance in which he had ever tried to do so.
Fondly, he listened to the sound of Sam’s soothing voice, although the words
themselves were indistinguishable, and considered the option of he and Sam
making a quick return to their room before luncheon. Most likely insufficient
time, he conceded to himself reluctantly, since that was the sort of thing he
hated to rush through. Sam’s sentiments on the matter were the same, he well
knew. And Fatty had been oddly insistent about the both of them being in the
great room of Brandy Hall around luncheon. Then perhaps later that afternoon, he
idly mused. Everyone did seem to wander off their own way before dinner.
Settling the matter in his mind, he caught the whiff of something delicious in
the air. Brandy Hall was obviously just past the last frost-frozen hedge.
Sam, in the meantime, had been walking with Pippin, a comforting arm over the
younger hobbit’s shoulders. “Doesn’t seem fair, some times,” Pippin muttered,
with a furtive sniff. “The both of you are downright lucky, not to have to worry
about position or family.”
“Aye, no mistake,” Sam instantly agreed. Lowering his voice just a bit, with a
quick glance ahead toward Frodo’s back, he confided, “Truth to tell, after Mr.
Bilbo left, the only two of his family whose good opinion really mattered to
Frodo would be you and Merry. He would have been hurt to the quick had either of
you thought the worse of us. ‘Course,” he continued with a small smile, “Merry
did take a bit of comin’ around, but that he did, and mighty glad I was o’it.”
“And what of your family, Sam,” Pippin asked curiously, seizing the rare
opportunity to open Sam up on such a subject. “What did they think of it?”
“Ah, you’d ha’been such a young lad back then,” Sam shook his head, his
expression sobering at the remembrance, “I’d be forgetting you might not have
known. But the gaffer did not like the idea one bit, and tried to put his foot
down against it. Daisy was na much better, point o’fact. Both o’them afraid of
me gettin’ the poor end of it, more’n anything else. Mari, now she thought it
was just fine, but then she was in love herself. ‘Twas May as surprised me most
of all. That lass stood up a fine gentlehobbit, and a rich one too, for our
sake.”
Glancing up he realized they were nearly to the Hall. “But that’d all be behind
us now, and I’ve no doubt that the rest of our lives will be naught but
comfortable and peaceful. ‘Tis all I’d ever hope for, anyroad. And you and
Merry, long as you stand firm on what matters, you can fit the rest of your
lives around that likewise, if you catch my meaning.”
“Sam, you are a dear,” Pippin gave the startled Sam a quick squeeze, his face
clearing back to its normal cheerful expression. “I’m awfully glad you decided
to keep Frodo around, after all the bother he must have been.” And with a quick
laugh, he pulled Sam ahead to catch up with Frodo.
&&&&&
As was customary upon the coming of age of the heir to the Buckland estate,
Saradoc Brandybuck had spent the morning reviewing the estate’s papers and
agreements with his son. Not that he expected Merry to be taking over his
position any time soon, but it was well to be prepared. The map of Buckland had
been spread out, and Merry was surprised as to the myriad of details regarding
the various tenant farmers and subsidiary landholdings, with which he had not
been familiar. The Brandybuck lands had grown slowly and piecemeal over the
course of centuries, and it seemed as though every individual family had their
own special arrangement with the Master of Brandy Hall. And it would never do,
Saradoc warned his son, with only the slightest twinkle in his eye, to confuse
one with another. “Take Farmer Maggot,” he drew on his pipe, and then tapped the
stem lightly on the southern portion of Buckland. “A worthy farmer indeed, and
stalwart in our defense of the lands to the south. Not unknown to have all
manner of strange ruffians in those parts, on occasion. A master of his own
lands, Maggot is, and a good friend in times of trouble. The wheat he sends our
way these days is more of a token than anything else, and I’d be just as content
if he’d only send us the occasional crate of those excellent mushrooms that one
finds there.”
Seeing Merry’s expression at this assessment, he gave a short bark of a laugh.
“I see Frodo still spreads wild tales about the poor chap. You must remember,
Merry, that your cousin was a feckless scamp when he was young, even before he
lost his parents. Drogo bent my ears, as to how he had his hands full, more than
once. It can’t be wondered if Farmer Maggot occasionally had to be stern with
the lad. You know,” he added softly, giving Merry an attentive glance, “your
mother’s occasional, hmm, exasperation with Frodo is not entirely baseless. When
he first came here as a teen, he was quite troubled, and very willful. And from
the moment you could toddle, you followed him as if he were the moon and the
stars. No, indeed, she did not have an easy time with the both of you.”
“But things change,” his tone suddenly sharpened, and he turned to roll up the
vellum map, returning it to its leather sheath. “Is Estella Bolger to be your
intended, then?”
“Well, possibly, that is if she doesn’t mind,” Merry stammered, caught off guard
and jerking his head up in surprise.
“Haven’t asked her yet?” Saradoc frowned, carefully restoring the case to the
proper cubicle. “Stars above, son, the whole farthing seems to know of it. I’d
suggest that she isn’t the last to know.”
“Actually, I assume that she does,” Merry replied, still flustered, and grasping
his hands behind his back. “It’s just that she seems to have gone missing for
the moment, although Fatty appears to be confident that she’ll be back this
afternoon. I really do plan on asking her to consider it, Father,” he added
carefully, “but she isn’t of age for another couple of years. She may not want
to give it final consideration until then.”
“Ah, playing for time?” Saradoc raised an eyebrow. “Well, my son, perhaps that
is wise. After all, you hardly know each other yet. But I’d suggest that you not
give her reason to have any doubts as to the prospect you are offering her. The
little I’ve seen of her suggests that you would have difficulty on improving
your choice, and the fact that she is a Bolger speaks volumes, I need not tell
you. I still cannot believe that it was actually your mother’s suggestion. Quite
frankly, Meriadoc, you’d best not let this one escape.”
“I’ll speak with her as soon as I see her, Father,” Merry gulped. He hated
feeling as if he was being coerced into something, but it was becoming
increasingly clear that this was probably one of his better options, despite the
fact that it had originated with his mother. If only Pip could be made to see
this as well, he thought grimly, with a sudden sinking in his heart.
&&&&&
Luncheon had been served and consumed with delight, having been considered by
one and all as a triumphant opening salvo to the spectacular event that would be
the birthday dinner later that evening, when Delphinium Brandybuck rose to her
feet, a glass of sweet wine held tightly in one gnarled hand, and caught Fatty
Bolger’s eye. Turning to make her regal way in the direction of the central
fireplace, she glanced back over her shoulder and imperially requested his
assistance in moving a large table over to that position as well as a sturdy
chair or two. “I find that these afternoons tend to drag a bit after such a
hearty meal, do they not, my dear lad? I’ve always been of the opinion that a
good game of cards can stir the blood as well as any walk, but it is not always
easy to find an opponent of the same mind. Esme,” she called out, raising her
voice slightly, “you are always good for a game, my dear, are you not? And where
is that fellow you generally play with? I thought I saw him at the table.”
Esme rose from where she had been chatting in a desultorily manner with
Rosamunda Bolger and Lana Took. She was never adverse to a game with her
husband’s aunt, since the elderly hobbit was just expert enough to prove to be
entertaining, and not quite enough to be a reliable winner. Glancing to the side
of the room, where the gentlehobbit to whom reference had been made was starting
to nod slightly over the post-meal brandy, she graciously summoned him, and
accepted on behalf of the both of them. “But we cannot play doubles, my dear
Auntie, unless you have a partner as well,” she pointed out, with only the
barest hint of condescendence.
“Good heavens, child, I know that,” Delphinium gave a sharp sniff. “Actually, I
do have a partner, but she doesn’t happen to be here at the moment. Perhaps
there is a kind soul who might stand in for her for the time being.” Apparently
casting her eye about the room appraisingly, she offered that position to Fatty
first.
“My dearest lady,” he bowed graciously, “I am afraid I must decline, being quite
without the barest of skills in this venue, a bumbler and an incompetent, as it
were. Perhaps one of the fair maidens approaching us might be persuaded to join
you,” he added, as the Took sisters, not to mention Daisy, could suddenly be
found gliding in their direction.
“Oooh, Aunt Delphinium, isn’t that the game you just taught me?” exclaimed Pearl
Took with the least touch of girlish glee in her voice, a fact that caused her
sisters to immediately struggle to choke back incredulous snickers. “I’d love to
try it, if you’ve no one else for the moment.”
“Very well, my dear,” her aunt replied serenely, but with alacrity, giving no
other bystander a chance to volunteer. Bracegirdle immediately perked up at this
unexpected addition to their party. The Took daughter was as of yet unmarried,
he had perceptively noticed, and the kindest of eyes could not help but admit
that she was no longer a tween. Her parents must be getting rather desperate,
although he did privately have to admit they concealed their disappointment on
that score remarkably well. Her personage held no charm for him, he had to
acknowledge, being rather on the tall and rangy side, and most distracting of
all, female, but her family’s position and wealth held enormous attraction for
him. He had considered the matter quite unthinkable, really, but he could have
sworn that she had cast a demure wink his way as she took her seat. Perhaps not
so unthinkable, after all.
The game began, with a flurry from Pearl as she inexpertly tried to arrange the
cards in her hand, and dropped one or two in the process. As the participants
settled into the steady rhythm of murmuring for another card and laying out
their tricks, a few more curious onlookers began to gather at a discreet
distance. Fatty had returned, but this time accompanied by Merry and Pippin, all
three pulling up chairs and settling down to watch the play. Esme darted a
suspicious glance toward her son, since card play had never interested him in
the slightest, but he blandly smiled back at her, and she was forced to return
her attention to a particularly dramatic foray by her partner, who was not at
all his normal conservative self this afternoon. Frodo and Sam had settled in to
a nearby nook, at the side of the fire, and were ostensibly engaged in
conversation with Folco Boffin as well as his intended, Iris Burrows, and her
sister Pansy, but very few words were actually being exchanged, and they also
appeared to find the play riveting.
The first couple of hands proved that the teams were fairly evenly matched,
surprisingly so for Delphinium Brandybuck and her apprentice partner. But as the
third hand was dealt, Pearl Took was doing her best to stifle her yawns. “I’m
afraid that you aren’t finding this the most stimulating of pastimes, Pearl,”
Esme observed a touch sharply, as she swept her hand up, and gave it a cool
glance.
“Oh, forgive me, Aunt Esme, it must be the warm air, and the wonderful luncheon.
Although I must confess that I would perhaps enjoy it a bit more if there were,
oh, I don’t know, something at stake to the whole thing,” she replied
ingenuously, using her cards as a fan for a quick moment.
Esme was on the point of making a slightly unsympathetic rejoinder when her
partner unexpectedly chimed in. “An interesting point indeed, Miss Took. Was
there anything in particular that you had in mind?”
“La, not for myself,” Pearl replied lightly, beaming a smile upon Bracegirdle.
“Aunt Delphinium, could you possibly think of anything that we might propose as
a stake?”
“Well, there just might be something I could propose, if the gentlehobbit would
care to raise the stakes just a trifle,” Delphinium studied her cards coolly,
and never glanced at the party so addressed. “I’ve always had a foolish private
dream of retiring to a bit of land of my own, a small plot on which to have a
cozy smial dug, not that you haven’t been the model of hospitality, my dear,”
she hastily added, giving Esme a gracious nod. “But there is the dearest little
farm, out East Farthing way. I do believe you are familiar with it, Bracegirdle,
since your young valet, or so I’ve heard, is from those parts. A nice bit of
farm, and one which should provide a useful bit of income in my dotage. I’m
afraid I’ve quite set my heart upon it,” she stated flatly, raising her head and
giving Bracegirdle a challenging stare.
“What a very interesting fancy,” Bracegirdle immediately returned her gaze,
coldly narrowing his eyes, but Pearl’s slightly stifled kittenish sigh at this
point regained his interest nearly instantaneously. A slow trace of a smile then
began to creep across his face, “Certainly I’d not miss that rather scrubby
piece of land. I wouldn’t mind in the least putting up my share of the ownership
of it.”
“This is certainly a new whim,” Esme slapped the cards shut in her hand and gave
her husband’s aunt a suspicious glare. “I would never have conceived of the
notion that you thought of yourself as a landlady, Aunt Delphinium.”
“I should imagine not,” Delphinium replied nonchalantly, rearranging her hand in
a suddenly business-like manner and only the slightest of satisfied smirks. “But
then you are so involved with the affairs of this great estate that keeping
track of my latest whim would be completely impossible, my dear,” she continued
brightly, give her hand a last satisfied riff. “Enough of this idle chatter
however, we shall bore the gentlehobbit entirely,” she gave her adversaries a
suddenly vivid smile. “Shall we, then?”
Card play resumed then in earnest, and it might have been noted that Pearl no
longer dropped her cards, and there was no doubt but that Bracegirdle was not
going to catch another glimpse of them. The lead of the Bracegirdle-Brandybuck
partnership was narrowing, but still held against the Took-Brandybuck duo, as
another pair of observers entered the room. Daisy immediately rose, from where
she had been closely caught up in the action, and greeted them each with a warm
hug, drawing them off a little to the side of the room, speaking softly to them.
It was Bramble and Rufus Grubb who had entered, both of whom had taken to Daisy
Gamgee as to the daughter they had never had. She had spent many hours, when not
at Pearl’s side, listening in a bemused sort of way to Bramble’s chatter, and
that kindness had proven fortuitous indeed. For all her rustic manners, the good
mistress Grubb had a keen eye for character, and a prodigious memory, and her
knowledge of family affairs, regarding both gentlefolk and the more humble,
could not be rivaled. She and her husband had spent a good deal of their lives
being carelessly disregarded by their more illustrious relatives, and the time
had come when some of that contingent were to discover that an uncouth manner
might well hide an astute sense of justice, as well as the means to carry it
out. So they settled in at Daisy’s side, Bramble watching both the proceedings
and the protagonists with especially sharp eyes and a look of grim satisfaction
on her round motherly face.
&&&&&
The game had been going on for very nearly an hour, with the advantage
fluctuating sufficiently to retain the interest of all onlookers, when the tide
began to turn inexorably toward the more experienced Brandybuck-Bracegirdle
team. Although the elder Brandybuck steadily held her own, the inexperience of
her Took partner was beginning to tell. A certain restlessness had begun to
spread among the onlookers, and an odd predilection toward glancing repeatedly
at the heavy wooden door that acted as entrance to the room had begun to
manifest itself. Indeed, the last hand had brought Delphinium and Pearl quite to
the edge of defeat when the door was suddenly flung open.
Through the doors strode, with wildly tossed locks and a snow-encrusted cloak,
Estella Bolger, dark circles under her eyes and cheeks reddened and chapped, but
a grim look of satisfaction upon her face. One of the housemaids, Aster,
scurried into the room behind her with an excited expression on her face and a
murmured “An’ if it please, m’am, your cloak…”
“Ah, thank you, how very thoughtful of you,” Estella gave the young lass, only a
few years younger than herself, a quick grin and unfastened and handed her the
dripping article. “A cup of tea, as hot as you can possibly make it, would be
divine, if you wouldn’t mind.” Aster snatched up the cloak, so as not to leave
puddles in the Mistress’s best drawing room and, with a cheerful bob, ducked out
of the room immediately.
Estella gave her hands a rapid rub, blowing on them slightly, and announced to
the assembled hobbits staring at her, some more stupefied than others, “More
than a trifle brisk out there, today. I do believe there’s more snow on its way
in. Positively frightful.”
Her brother rose at her announcement, and gave her a questioning look. “But
worth the bother, I should hope?” he asked, slightly guarded.
“Oh, indeed,” she replied, giving him a sudden sunny smile. “Absolutely worth a
bit of a chill.”
Fatty beamed at her reply for just an instant before promptly draped himself on
the armchair with his customary mask of mild boredom. “Not that there‘s much
happening about here other than this astonishingly exhilarating game of cards.”
“Oh,” exclaimed Pearl, rising as if on cue. “I’m such an amateur, my dear Aunt
Delphinium, that I’m afraid I’ve developed a stiffness in my wrist, no doubt
from holding my cards too tightly. How very awkward of me. And we were so near
the conclusion, were we not, Aunt Esme? Possibly Estella might be induced to
take my place?”
Esme gave her a stern look, and was beginning to retort, “Well if you aren’t
feeling up to it, the proper thing to do would be to…” but Bracegirdle had
already interceded.
Standing up and giving the eldest Took daughter a gallant bow, he exclaimed, “I,
for one, have no difficulty at all with such a request. Miss Pearl may name
anyone she wishes to take her place, and I am truly sorry that we have, however
inadvertently, caused her any pain. Miss Estella is more than welcome to play
with us, if Miss Brandybuck is willing to take her on as a partner, don’t you
agree, Mistress Brandybuck?”
There was not much Esme could say to that, but Delphinium gave Bracegirdle a
flat look, and imperiously stated, “The stakes remain the same, do they not?”
Bracegirdle narrowed his eyes, seating himself again. With a tight, secret
smile, he answered her, “Indeed they do, my dear lady. I would not think of it
otherwise.”
Estella had watched the proceedings attentively and without a word. Her
participation being confirmed, however, she sat down in the seat Pearl had just
vacated. With a quick swig of the tea that had just been placed at her elbow,
and the immediate disappearance of a scone from the plate that had been placed
there as well, the kitchen staff having a full awareness of the personal
necessities of the Bolger offspring, she gave her partner a cheerful grin.
“Hullo, Delphinium,” she greeted her with marked familiarity as she rolled up
her sleeves. “Three tricks down, are we? Then we best go to work.”
And far from taking affront at her manner, Delphinium Brandybuck smiled fondly
and simply murmured, “Indeed,” and play resumed.
&&&&&
The turn of the tide was beyond anyone’s mistaking. Estella had shaken the snow
from her brown curls, along with a stray twig or two, and had immediately put
her powers of concentration to the problem at hand. Delphinium needed only the
occasional murmured word to alert her to the possibilities the other two held in
their hands, and to their great disappointment, she never fell into the traps
that they had so carefully built up for her and her partner. Either the luck of
the Bracegirdle-Brandybuck team had suddenly turned horrendously foul, or the
superior cunning and card play of the other duo was beginning to show forth. At
the end of a mere four more rounds, it was abundantly clear to all the
spectators, not to mention the players, that luck had nothing at all to do with
it.
In a scant twenty minutes, Esme Brandybuck and her partner were forced to
concede, and Delphinium Brandybuck calmly swept up the decks, giving them a
final shuffle preparatory to returning them to their case. “Now about that
little wager we had on this game,” she mentioned mildly, carefully tapping the
edges of the decks against the table top. “I certainly hope you don’t mind
having the papers drawn up before you leave this weekend. It is quite fortunate
that Saradoc has a solicitor for a cousin - oh, there he is, over by the window.
The rather portly hobbit with the dark blue jacket, watching us even now, I do
believe,” and she gave the aforementioned hobbit a friendly little wave, that
was immediately returned with great good-nature. There was no doubt that the
outcome of this most interesting contest had been to the decided liking of all
the audience members present.
“Of course, my dear Mistress Brandybuck, that would be entirely agreeable,”
Bracegirdle smoothly rose and politely inclined his head, “if the arrangement
was capable of such a convenient means of transfer. Unfortunately, it is not
quite so simple a matter.”
“Oh, indeed?” Delphinium rose as well, and crossed her arms rather emphatically
in front of her ample chest. “The property does belong to you, does it not? I
would imagine that it would be your choice as well as to how it might be
disposed of?”
“Ah, my charming lady, would that the affairs of business were so easily
consummated,” Bracegirdle gave a sly smile, and shook his head with fastidious
regret. “Indeed, the property, as you say, does belong to me, but in the
Bracegirdle family, property cannot be transferred without the consent of the
most senior member of the family and that, alas, is not I.”
“As well you knew when you entered into this wager,” Delphinium stared
deliberately at him. “That is the act of a dishonest hobbit, I would submit, and
cause for dismissal from this house.”
“And that, I believe, is up to the mistress of the house, and not to one of her
elderly relatives, I should think,” Bracegirdle replied coldly, and glanced
toward his erstwhile partner for support.
But there was none there. Her relations with her husband’s relatives had not
always been the warmest, but one thing Esme Brandybuck had no patience for was
dishonesty, and there was no denying that allowing the game and the wager to be
played under false pretenses had been exactly that.
“I think it would be best, Mr. Bracegirdle, if you ended your visit at this
time,” she stated coolly and expressionlessly. “I would be quite happy to send a
maid to assist you as you pack up. Your pony and carriage should be ready in
half an hour. I shall expect you to be ready by then as well.”
Bracegirdle’s jaw dropped for the slightest of moments, before he collected
himself together, and turned with a snarl. “Very well, I see that hospitality at
Brandy Hall has some rather sharp perimeters,” he snapped. “Nonetheless, the
price of that land is well above any trifling game of cards, and for you to
think otherwise was absolute folly.”
“The price of that land was a factor you would have done well to consider prior
to committing it, cousin Bracegirdle,” came a deep female voice suddenly from
the doorway. “I must agree, putting it forth based on the outcome of a game of
cards was indeed ridiculousness, but apparently that is just exactly what you
have done. And if so, then you must stand by that arrangement, however foolish.”
Lobelia Sackville-Baggins stood in the doorway, wearing a truly amazing
traveling suit of the deepest maroon, accented with numerous pleats and black
velvet trim, and a large, terrifyingly stylish hat perched over one temple. With
a flourish, she tugged off black leather gloves, a rarity even among hobbit
gentry and, there can be no other word for it, sashayed into the room. All eyes,
enthralled, were upon her, and several jaws dropped as well, but she gave the
assembled party only a cool smile until her eyes happened to light on Fatty
Bolger. He gave a polite bow at the acknowledgment, but not before it was
apparent to anyone nearby that a quick amused understanding had passed between
the both of them, and that her appearance here was no surprise to him.
It certainly was, however, to her cousin, who stood before her with the color
rapidly draining from his face. With a murmured pardon to Esme Brandybuck, who
was quite uncharacteristically stunned by the unexpected visitor, Lobelia
imperially tilted her head toward Bracegirdle, indicating that she wished to
speak to him a bit more privately. He moved woodenly toward her as she watched
him approach, her expression suddenly grim, and then, turning her back to him,
led him out to the hall as a master would a whipped cur.
When she whirled around in the hallway, the both of them now removed from the
sight of those in the drawing room, her dark eyes were intense with undisguised
loathing and he shrank back against the paneled wall, his hands clasped together
anxiously. “Your conduct in this matter has been despicable, cousin,” she
hissed, “and I am not referring to the card wager.”
Bracegirdle swallowed helplessly, and did not pretend that he did not know to
what she was alluding. “I really do think this is unduly harsh,” he muttered,
unable to keep the whining tone from his voice. “Others are allowed their
pleasures, why not I? Even if they are a bit, perhaps, unorthodox. No one think
twice about that Baggins chap, who takes his gardener wherever he goes, and I
doubt if he‘s much over a tween. And even…” He stopped at that point, his
courage having failed him, but Lobelia had no illusions as to what he had nearly
ventured to say.
“I assume that was to be a reference to myself and my private affairs.” Her
voice was low but absolutely frigid as she regarded him with disgust. “There
appears to be a factor in each of these cases that you have failed to notice. I
make no apologies for Baggins, but only the greatest of dolts could fail to see
that his companion is with him of his own free will. As is mine. As is not the
case with yours.”
He lowered his eyes at that last remark, and she continued to gaze at him in
cold silence for a moment more. “I believe the lady of the house has dismissed
you,” she continued at last. “You may consider that property no longer yours.
And I will not allow you to sully the name of Bracegirdle again. Either treat
your tenants with the respect that is due them, or you will no longer have them.
You may leave. The lad will stay here with his new mistress.”
Within the drawing room, there was the greatest buzz of delighted and impressed
commentary on Bracegirdle’s most singular exit. Both Estella and Fatty were
beaming, and Estella’s remarkable dash across Buckland and the rest of the East
Farthing now lay revealed to the admiration of her peers. In the confusion,
Delphinium Brandybuck discreetly joined the still obviously stunned Esme,
wrapping a comforting arm around her shoulder. “There, my dear, he was really
not the best of gentlehobbits, you know,” she murmured. “Such a scoundrel,
truly. I must say, however, I was quite impressed with Lobelia’s entrance. She
was always one for the dramatic entrance, even when we were lasses together, far
longer ago than she cares to admit. No one could have pulled it off quite as
well as she did, I think.”
“Indeed,” faltered Esme, still looking about the full room in a rather dazed
manner. ”I’m sure I have no idea where I shall put Mistress Sackville-Baggins up
for the night, though.”
Delphinium shook her head with a chuckle, and added, with a distinct twinkle in
her eye. “I suspect that arrangements have already been made for her sleeping
quarters. Bolgers, my dear, Bolgers. I don’t know what on earth possessed you to
think of them, but I am immensely glad you did. I expect they shall enliven the
staid Brandybuck lineage considerably.”
&&&&&
Sam eyed the drifting curtain of white through the stone-set window with dreamy
satisfaction. He was in his favorite position after all, cheek nestled in the
delectable hollow between Frodo’s neck and shoulder, one arm across Frodo’s
chest, and both of Frodo’s arms wrapped firmly around him. The room had been
quite chilled when they had entered, although it was still mid-afternoon, but
the combination of the fire now burning briskly in the small fireplace and, more
importantly, their enthusiastic lovemaking, had soon taken the edge off of it.
And now he lay at Frodo’s side, drowsy but not sleepy, watching the soft fall of
the snow out of doors and paying no heed to anything other than the beloved body
under his, and the soft breath that stirred the curls near his ear. The
post-luncheon incident had already begun to fade from his mind, for he had quite
lost his amazement by this point regarding the predicaments gentlehobbits seemed
to put themselves into, but he knew that Frodo had not gone to sleep as he
normally did, and that he was still mulling it all over.
So it was with no surprise on his part that he could feel, as much as hear,
Frodo give a slight sigh and murmur, “I suppose everything worked out for the
best, Sam, don’t you think?”
Sam raised his head up then, and propped himself up on one elbow. Frodo was
watching him with a mild smile, but a slightly clouded expression. “Perhaps I
shouldn’t have interfered,” he continued. “Somehow, I’ve always managed to
complicate Merry’s life, even when I don’t mean to. And now maybe either Pippin
or Esme can’t stand Estella. And maybe Estella has had enough of Brandy Hall.
And Merry will end up marrying a lass against either his will or hers, and end
up in a miserable mess.”
“That is a rare bit o’work for you to accomplish on just one visit,” Sam
remarked, the corner of his mouth quirked up in amusement. “There were quite a
good lot of folk involved in all this, seems t’me. And I’m not all that sure as
there’s aught to blame yourself on, anyroad.” With a gentle hand, he brushed
back an errant dark curl, and bent over his partner, finding his mouth and quite
successfully ceasing the conversation. And when Sam wished to put a stop to a
discussion, he was quite thorough about it. Frodo, indeed, did not resist in the
least, but returned the exchange with a satisfied groan, and a strong hand
reaching up and entwining itself in golden curls. It wasn’t until Sam’s
prolonged and comprehensive caress was completed, and the giver had raised
himself back up again with a satisfied expression, that the recipient blinked,
with a slightly dazed countenance, but determinedly returned to the prior
subject of conversation.
“But really, Sam, Merry’s mother does have a point, at times, you know.”
A sharp and rather rude noise indicated Sam’s opinion of Frodo’s comment.
“No, she does,” Frodo insisted with a frown. “I was a terrible influence on him,
when I lived here, even if it usually was unintentional. It was very fortunate
for Merry as well for myself, that Esme and Saradoc reached the end of their
patience with me, and packed me off to Bilbo’s. I never was entirely sure if he
expected them to go along with his invitation, actually.”
“I might o’been naught but a fauntling at the time, but that’d be somewhat hard
to credit,” Sam raised his eyebrow and gave Frodo a skeptical look. “Me gaffer’d
have had plenty to say, if you’d been as bad as all that, I’m thinkin’.”
“Ah, but you see, I wasn’t, not with Bilbo. He was unpredictable, you know,
especially at first, and there was always the chance that he’d take off with
dwarves again, or toss me out to live with the bears. No really, I remember
thinking there was an equal chance of either of those fates,” Frodo insisted, as
Sam chuckled at the thought. “He mellowed quite a good deal as time went by, you
see, or at least I thought he had until the day he disappeared.”
“Frodo, me dearie, you were where you were meant to be, and there’s naught more
to it than that. For how else could I have fallen in love with you, without me
seein’ you every day of me life? And for certain, how else would you ever have
noticed me at all?” Sam stated with simple conviction, his smile deepening as he
gazed tenderly at his companion.
“Oh, you’re right, Sam, of course you always are, my dearest. Here I am,
fretting about what cannot be helped, at least by me. Merry’ll have to make his
way in this world himself, but he has Pippin at his side, and quite possibly a
future that will turn out to be far better than he might have thought. Perhaps I
should be worrying about myself, instead, and how I’m going to keep pace with a
sturdy young lad like yourself,” his grin broadened as there was a certain
indication pressing against his side that Sam was no longer inclined to rest.
“And about time you’d be noticin’ that,” Sam gave a mock growl, and bent
suddenly over Frodo’s exposed chest.
Frodo gave a sharp gasp that was very nearly a yowl at this unanticipated move,
and then laughed in delight. “Oh, Sam, you do need to give me some warning when
you do that!”
“Don’t see as why,” muttered Sam, continuing to push the blanket back with one
hand and trail his kisses down the skin thus exposed.
“Because, oh, because,” stammered out Frodo, one hand gripping the side of the
bed and the other finding Sam’s curls again, “because this isn’t helping you
now, is it?”
“Oh, you’d be surprised,” Sam murmured with a quick grin, before returning his
full attention to Frodo, who had rediscovered his stamina remarkably quickly at
Sam’s skillful advances. One thing he had learned, over their many years
together, was to never interrupt Sam when he was determined, and let him do as
he will. That forbearance always led to the most delectable of conclusions, and
in no time, he felt himself swept away in a state of utmost bliss, once again.
There were not more than a few moments, after that, of distinctly labored
breathing on the part of Frodo, and patient anticipation by Sam. That patience
turned out to be rewarded, as it always was, when Frodo turned to him and rolled
him over, pinning him underneath. “Oh, Sam, I love you so,” he breathed,
catching his mouth with his own in a fervent kiss. His hands were then on Sam,
his body was heavy on his, and Sam sighed in sheer happiness. This was his love,
and he would never have need of another. With the greatest grateful elation, he
let his body respond to Frodo’s inducements, and his heart sang with joy. He was
loved and even though they were far from Bag End, he was home in Frodo’s adoring
embrace.
&&&&&
Down the hall, two head lifted and froze for just a moment. “Definitely Frodo,”
Merry pronounced the verdict with decision. “It’s that little cry at the end,
you know.”
Pippin nodded in agreement. “Besides, Sam isn’t much for making noise outside of
home, I’ve noticed. Much too polite a guest. But I remember hearing him, at Bag
End…”
“Enough!” laughed Merry, pinning a giggling and very compliant Pippin below him
again. “We’ll embarrass them later. But for now, I haven’t given quite all my
birthday presents to you yet.”
&&&&&
The small band was playing something mildly melancholy, as they generally did
when they were half a score pints into the set. But their audience was paying
them no heed, since the dancers had dwindled down to a determined few, and the
rest of the guests were to be found in small clusters all about the great hall,
either humming dreamily to themselves, or ignoring the entertainment altogether
in favor of animated conversation and another glass of wine. But things had been
much livelier earlier that evening, when the more seasoned couples present had
taken to the dancing with an uncommon vigor.
Perhaps it was the unexpected defeat of one of her customary allies, not to
mention her reassessment of his character, but Esme Brandybuck had lost the will
to control this evening, and had, perhaps, gained something in return. For it
had been noticed that she and Saradoc had found themselves in the thick of the
dancing, and had even partaken of the slower numbers, definitely a rarity for
the Brandybuck couple. Not that Paladin and Eglantine Took were sitting any of
the numbers out, to be sure, and needless to mention, Odo and Rosamunda Bolger
were quite obviously delighted with the entire entertainment and stepped through
every quadrille and line with the greatest good nature. The younger set had not
been forgotten, indeed, and Estella and Merry had led several dances, as well as
conducting a quick private conversation that seemed to end to both parties’
mutual satisfaction. Frodo, Sam, and Pippin gallantly spread themselves amongst
the lasses present (even if, in the case of Pippin and Sam, that occasionally
meant dancing with one’s sister), Folco having been conceded to Iris Burrows.
But there was no doubt at all that the honor of the most striking couple, and
possibly the best dancers present as well, belonged to Fatty Bolger and Lobelia
Sackville-Baggins. They led the slower dances with an untouchable stately pride,
and lit into the fast paced ones with a talented verve and a matching wicked
gleam in their eyes. However, after only half a dozen dances or so they quite
vanished, not to be seen for the rest of the evening. An onlooker might have
noticed, though, that Lobelia stopped for a quick word with Delphinium
Brandybuck on her way out, a discussion that was remarkable for a surprising
amount of very nearly girlish glee on the part of both parties, and she departed
with arrangements made to meet again on the morrow.
But as the evening drew to a close, Merry sat on one of the more comfortable
settles in a corner with his arm wrapped quite firmly around Pippin’s shoulders
as the younger hobbit snuggled happily, although sleepily, at his side. He
looked about the great hall with a certain amount of bemusement. There were some
more unusual couples among those who still glided about to the haunting lilt of
the fiddle. Folco Boffin and Iris Burrows were still quite fastened together, as
was only proper for a betrothed couple, but his parents were, most amazingly, in
the same state. Esme’s head rested on her husband’s shoulder and her eyes were
closed, as Saradoc had a firm arm around her and a faraway smile on his face.
And somewhat to Merry’s surprise, but most definitely to his satisfaction, Frodo
and Sam were now dancing together as well, over to the side of the room, to be
sure, but close in each others’ arms and no pretense to be otherwise.
“Well, Merry,” murmured Pippin drowsily, stifling a small yawn. “How do you
feel, now that you’re all grown up?”
Merry smiled tenderly at him, and bent over, lightly kissing him playfully on
the nose. “Never felt better, dearest. Never better.”
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