9. Threats And Promises

    The cold February wind had almost kept Merry home that week, but the long month of snow and ice that had crashed upon the Shire directly after the Yule celebrations had already seemed to last years.  The interruption of his weekly visits to Budgeford was as necessary as it was painful, and he had looked forward to calmer weather like a drowning man to the shore.  The bustle and noise of Brandy Hall was comforting though, and the long hours of storytelling and song had their own familiar power to distract and entertain.  The nights, however, were long and close for him while the snow made it impossible for him to spend his nights in the privacy and peace of Crickhollow.  Three weeks into being snowed in at the Hall, after the old tales and stories had run thin, some of the tweenagers, likely prompted by his father, had started to clamor for an account of his year abroad.   

   Though he and Pippin had gladly told the many tales they had heard from their companions on the quest, the true tale of their journey had been too dark and private to tell in those first months, and now he was loath to remind his people that there had been so great an evil in the wider world, though it had touched them but a little.  Badgered, wheedled and pursued by a dozen young cousins, however, he found himself slowly speaking of his companions and the lighter moments of their long trek across Middle Earth.  The weeks spent in Rivendell and Lothlorien, as well as the celebrations in Minas Tirith at the end of the war had easily filled the first ten nights of telling, as the ever-inquisitive youths had found a dozen questions for every person, place and thing he had described.  He had neatly skirted the very purpose of the quest and its darker dangers, though he felt the keen eyes of several of the older hobbits in the Hall upon him and he knew he could not fool his parents, or the trusted few that had been witness to his restless nights.  There had been several mornings when he had woken in the last hour before dawn to find a watcher dozing by his bed.  He had feigned sleep until they left and dared not ask what they had heard or guessed of the terrors that still visited in dreams, for he would then have to answer their questions as well.  Some things were best left buried where they could not taint the hearts and minds of those he loved.

   Merry urged his pony faster into the wind, relishing the feel of cold air and the sight  of open sky above him.  He fingered the satiny length of ribbon in his pocket as he turned up the lane towards Budgeford, and he could not keep the smile from his face.  For two months now he had carried it, coiled inside its velvet pouch, since he had seen it among a trader’s wares.  A deep shade of red a hint darker than rubies, it hung heavy and straight with the liquid shimmer of fine wine and the thought of plaiting it through Estella’s dark curls quickened his heart and breath.  More than a declaration that she, and her family, had accepted his suit, the love knot would seal a world of promises they had already made to each other, in words and actions, over the last few months.

   ‘Today is the day,’ Merry thought to himself, face flushed with more than winter’s chill.  He turned off the lane and into the hedged courtyard and grinned.  ‘Today.’

***   ***   ***

    Teatime at the Bolger home had always been something of an affair, involving far more than a simple tea and biscuit course, but now every Friday the parlor and kitchen were turned upside down and inside out, and the master of the house retreated to his study directly after lunch to wait out the whirlwind of activity that ensued.  While Estella’s father harbored doubts on the advantages of a match with Brandy Hall’s sole heir, her mother had none and was set to nudge their families into closer association.  That the match would make her only daughter happy was all she had needed to seal the bargain in her own mind.  She had been certain, even those many years ago, that young Merry Brandybuck would likely ask for Estella’s hand before long, and was secretly glad that the lass had waited for his return.  Rosamunda had not married for love and was determined to see her daughter wed as her heart should choose, regardless of the consequences.

   The skies had cleared and the road emerged from the snow and ice, and it was reasonably certain they could finally expect company for afternoon tea.  The house fairly hummed with anticipation, and Odovacar Bolger found himself growing increasingly annoyed by the giggling in the kitchens, the whispers in the halls and his wife’s anxious fluttering in every corner of the house.  All in all, it left him ill disposed towards the source of the disturbance in his once tranquil home, and Merry’s appearance at his door, color high in his cheeks and warmly cloaked in the rich green of Rohan, finished to sour his mood for the day.

***   ***   ***

   “With all due respect, sir, I did not come to purchase your daughter with wealth or position, or to win her like some prize by deed or word.  I came to ask your blessing on the decision she and I have made to join our lives.  I fervently hope you value her happiness more than her worth as a token in some tawdry business venture.  Good day,” Merry finished coldly and, nodding politely to Estella and her mother, he rose from the table and left without another word.  The slam of the front door punctuated the sudden silence in the small parlor.  Estella, eyes flashing with embarrassed fury, stalked out the door after him.

   Her father sat back down at the small table and let out a long breath.  He looked up to find his wife shaking her head, hands on hips, and he waved her off wearily.

   “Aye, I know…  I may have been mistaken on the lad’s account after all.” 

   “Your words were ill chosen in any case.  You’ve managed to hurt your daughter’s feelings as well as offend the next Master of Buckland,” she said angrily. “And to what purpose?  To please a higher bidder for her hand?” 

   “I am concerned for her future!  They don’t call his father ‘Scattergold’ for nothing, you know.  Young Meriadoc will be lucky to inherit Brandy Hall itself by the end.” 

   “Putting up orphans and rebuilding farms speaks well of the Brandybucks.  At least they take care of their own,” she said, clearly implying that some had done far less, and he knew who stood chief in her dislike in that regard. 

   “I know, I know….  I must think,” he replied and walked slowly to his study.

   He stepped to the window in time to watch his daughter’s suitor ride away, the pony’s hooves loud on the frozen road.  The young hobbit turned back an instant, hand raised in farewell, and disappeared past the hill.  Estella stood by the gate, a dark red love knot plaited in her long brown hair.  His daughter had effectively wrested the decision from his hands, and it was now his lot to accept or disavow the results.

***   ***   ***

   Over the next week, Odovacar Bolger visited with several of his friends and associates, hobbits he knew to be both honest and canny, whose judgment had proved sound in the past.  While he had attended many social functions at Brandy Hall, he had had little business to conduct there directly.  What he heard on young Meriadoc’s account was encouraging.  Despite the loss of half the orchards and fields in Buckland to the ruffians’ depredations, the harvest had been plentiful and well handled.  The Master’s son had returned to the tasks that had been his before his departure, apportioning the fruit and grain to storage, kitchens and stills.  The Brandybucks looked to turn a nice profit by spring, though the new spirits would take a year or more to mature. 

   As he chewed thoughtfully on his last teacake, wrestling with an invitation that needed to serve as both blessing and apology, the loud pounding of a walking stick heavily wielded sounded at the door.  Before he could even rise from his overstuffed chair, the study door blew open to admit an angry and disheveled hobbit.  Tengo Goodbody strode aggressively up to the desk and leaned into his face. 

    “I just know you’ve a good explanation for the rumors I’ve been hearing, Master Bolger!” he growled.  Though nearly thirty years his junior, he was a keen merchant and had greatly advanced his family’s fortunes, even through the Troubles.  He was also one of the most forward in pressing his suit for Estella’s hand. 

   “Master Goodbody!” the older hobbit answered, sinking further into his chair. “What can I do for you today?” His mind raced to find a diplomatic escape from some ambiguous verbal agreements that had been made over the last two years.

    “You know very well why I’ve come.  They say your daughter has made a match, but I don’t seem to recall plaiting that love knot in her hair.  How do you suppose that happened?” he demanded angrily.

     “Estella has made her choice, my friend.  I’m sorry you find it ill…” he started with a shrug.

    “Don’t ‘friend’ me, Odovacar Bolger!  I did a lot to keep your family whole and safe last year, in spite of your son’s blunders, and I’ve asked for little in return.  Break the engagement!”

     “It is not mine to break.”

    “It seemed to be yours to promise, so you can find a way to break it as well.  Who heads this household?  The scullery maid?” he said with a sneer.

   “You misunderstood me gravely if you thought I’d wed my daughter against her heart, Tengo.  Now come,” he said, a hearty dose of false sympathy in his voice.  “Let us drink together and speak of other things.”

   Tengo slapped aside his outstretched hand and reached across the desk, face dark with anger.  “We’ve nothing else to speak of.  I will have what is mine, one way or another!” he snarled, shoving him back into his chair.  He stormed from the room, and the front door slammed behind him hard enough to jostle several paintings from the adjoining wall.