The Trouble With Love: Observations and Musings by Pervinca Took

“You must know your enemy if you are to conquer them.” ~ Pervinca Took
  

Lesson 1: Know Your Opponent

Pippin is a horrible pupil. Case in point: Da’s just finished telling him for the fifth time what the three most important parts of being Thain are, and what is Pippin’s response when Da asks him to repeat it? “First breakfast, luncheon and dinner?”

No, Pip, that’s quite incorrect. I can nearly see Da knuckling his temples for his headache, and his sigh of frustration is audible even through the closed study door that I have my ear pressed up against. I am not allowed to join the sessions myself but I find them fascinating, and honestly, someone needs to learn this information and it isn’t going to be Pippin.

“No, Pippin, that is quite incorrect,” Da says now. I stifle my snicker so as not to be heard eavesdropping and mouth along with Da as he instructs Pippin again. “The first most important thing is to be fair: listen to all sides of a conflict without bias and determine the best course of action that will benefit the most and hurt the least. The second most important is to be firm: once you’ve made your decision, there is no changing it, so you must make your choice with wisdom. The third most important is honor: you give it to those under your care and they will give it back; you cannot get what you do not give.”

I hear papers shuffling now and know the lesson is coming to an end. There’s a dull thwack – a book closing? – then Da says, “I want you to write an essay on each of these three things. All essays are to be at least a page long, and do not attempt to write big and cover the page that way. If you do, you shall have to redo them and I will set a word count.”

“But Da,” Pippin starts to complain. He absolutely abhors writing assignments.

“No Peregrin, that is your assignment. You must learn this, as you are going to Thain one day,” Da says with finality, and for once Pippin keeps his mouth shut about not wanting to be Thain.

With no impending argument to look forward to, I stand up and brush off my skirts. I will have to be elsewhere when this door opens or I’ll get assignments from Da next, and not nearly as pleasant as Pippin’s. Besides, Estella should be back soon from her shopping with her mother, and I want to invite her to sit with us at dinner. She’ll accept of course, and I will refrain from mentioning that Merry Brandybuck arrives today and will also be dining with us.  

Dinner goes about as good as I expect, which is to say, not very well. I do manage to sit Estella and Merry next to each other, but they avoid each other the whole time, acting as though they are eating on opposite ends of the dining hall. It is frustrating to no end.

Ever since that day by the river nearly eight years ago, Merry has been avoiding Estella like the plague. I try to tell Ella that this is a good thing, that it means nothing. One thing you have to remember when dealing with lads like Merry is that whatever they say and do, they really mean the opposite. Therefore, if he is avoiding her, it’s only because he wants to lavish attention on her but doesn’t know how. That’s another thing you have to understand about lads: with them, it’s everything or nothing. If they can’t do something exactly as they want to, then they don’t do it at all.

I’ve seen Merry perk his ears up enough times over the years whenever I just happen to mention Estella in his presence to know that he has an interest in her, but I can’t blame the lass for getting tired of waiting. She’ll be of age this year and she has her future to think about after all, though we both had assumed after their kiss that future would be with Merry, but Merry continued to ignore her.

I must say Merry has lost my respect for him by being such a boob all these years, but he is still a hundred times better than Gordibrand Burrows. He’s more mature for starters, though you would have to catch him without Pippin around to figure that out. He’s also better looking, though his nose does rather bother me and the cleft in his chin doesn’t do much to balance that out. Plus, Estella actually likes him, unlike Gordi whom she only tolerates for her parents’ sake.

I can’t help but feel sorry for her. She’s sitting right next to the lad who will make her happiest, yet if her and Gordi’s parents have their way and if Merry doesn’t speak up soon, she’ll be wedded to Gordi by the end of the year. I heard it from Rosamunda directly that Gordi is to arrive by the end of this week while Estella is here and ask her to be promised. Why he will be doing such a thing here I cannot begin to fathom, but one thing is certain: unless I act quickly, there will be no reason for Ella to deny him.

So, where did it all go wrong in the first place? Hindsight truly does make us wiser, as Mum is always saying, and after many countless hours reflecting on the past eight years, I believe I’ve figured it out.

It pains me to admit that Estella isn’t entirely blameless in this, and if Merry didn’t act, it was for good reason. You see, she thinks Merry should have come to her immediately after the kiss and declared his feelings for her, but that was never going to happen, for several reasons.

First, the poor lad was completely taken by surprise, which doesn’t happen to him very often. This alone would have resulted in two things happening: Merry’s fragile ego being wounded and therefore needing to be mended, and Merry having to view Estella in a manner of which he had never considered before.

Prior to that day by the river, Estella had been the tom-lad friend and later the annoying lass tag-along. Suddenly, she was neither and was instead a blossoming young lass, ready and willing to declare herself to the lad of her choice. It only makes sense that Merry would have needed time to adjust to this idea. The problem is that he took too long, which leads us to the second complication.

Estella became paranoid. She isn’t the kind of lass that usually makes the first move. She’s as prim and proper as any lass is supposed be – though largely due to her mother’s influence rather than to her own personal inclinations – and she would have happily waited until Merry made the first move no matter how long that took. Merry however, being completely clueless about all things related to love, never showed any inclination to do any such thing. So I suggested that she kiss him. She went along with the ploy, but afterward, when things still didn’t look any better, she became absolutely appalled at her “forward” behavior – she even once proclaimed her mother right about such “coquettes” who push themselves on lads! – and began to believe that Merry must be appalled as well.

Her solution: she started avoiding him. This undoubtedly confused Merry even more, as he wouldn’t be certain if Estella had only been playing him for a fool or if she truly did have feelings for him. So, naturally, he started avoiding her even more than he was already doing, which of course caused Estella to fret more and, well, it got quite out of hand to say the least.

From there, it only got worse. There is a third complication now and that would be Gordi. Three years had passed since their kiss, and Estella became so discouraged of ever gaining Merry’s affection that she allowed her parents to talk her into courting Gordi. That quite naturally put a bramble into any possibility of Merry ever declaring himself, and so he ignored her all the more, even going so far as to court the Hobbiton healer for a time. Unfortunately, this only solidified Estella in the belief that Merry preferred proper lasses, for who is more proper than a healer? Never mind that the healer is now married to someone else.

So now here we are, eight years later and a week from Gordi’s proposal and time is coming short.

Dinner ends and I convince Ella to return to the apartment with me to stay the night. I know that Merry will do the same, staying with Pippin even though Merry came of age nearly three years ago and really is too old for such things. I can’t complain however. I need to get the two of them together, and I need to get Ella talking about Gordi’s intentions so I can gauge Merry’s reaction. If all goes as planned, I will know by the end of the night how Merry truly feels.  

I am forever telling Estella how incorrigible my brother is and how he and Merry make a perfect match. “Joined at the hips.” “Peas in a pod.” Like anyone needs to be told this. One look at them and it’s obvious how much they adore each other. After all, each of them is absolutely in love with himself and with the two of them being so similar, that adoration is bound to rub off on the other.

Oh, sure, they’ve had their fights and thrown their share of punches as lads will do at times, but at the end of the day, they can always be found snuggled close together in front of the hearth fire, talking in that strange way of theirs that requires looks and gestures more than actual words. I’ve seen it time and again and have become quite adept at translating their babble, though neither of them know it.

This is why I convince Estella to come sit with me in the parlor so I can braid her hair in the firelight. She’s hesitant at first, but she can never resist for long the temptation to look at Merry, so she agrees in the end and follows me into the parlor. The lads are right where I knew they would be and they’re in the midst of one of their unintelligible conversations.

Now you would think coming of age would prevent Merry from being so easily influenced by Pippin’s still far-too-childish ways. I’ve seen Merry when the imp isn’t around and I know he has more sense than this, to be sprawled out on the floor and speaking so that no one (well, almost no one) can understand him. But there’s something about Pippin that makes Merry forget himself sometimes, and he has forgotten himself tonight, so much so that he doesn’t even at least sit up like a respectable lad when Ella and I enter the room.

Oh, but he does look at her, a quick and fleeting glance that I only catch because I am watching him like a hawk. Estella misses it of course and sits on the footstool as I take position behind her and slowly run the comb through her thick, unruly trusses. I must always take my time with her hair, which is nearly as incorrigible as Merry himself, and this suits me just fine. This is after all a delicate situation and is not to be rushed.

I pretend to concentrate on my braiding, a task I could easily do in my sleep, and secretly watch my brother and cousin as they reminiscence in what I like to call “The Secret Language of Scamps.”

“Remember that time when we,” Pippin says and starts laughing so hard he can barely breathe. He lifts his hand in the air like he’s grabbing something and mimics holding something down that is trying to get away.

Now Merry starts laughing uncontrollably and nodding enthusiastically. He needs no more than that to know exactly what Pippin is talking about. “Yes! Frodo nearly passed out!”

Ah, so they’re talking about Pippin’s birthday a few years back, when he had gifted Frodo with a pet bullfinch. Frodo had naturally assumed the bird was tame, rather than captured just that morning, and when he went to open the cage and feed the poor thing, he had been attacked and nearly pecked to death by the angry little bird.

“And then he got that” – another hand gesture – “and he” – more laughter. Now they are both clutching their sides and gasping for breath, tears standing in their tightly shut eyes.

Yes, I remember now. Frodo had grabbed what he thought was a blanket in an attempt to catch the bird inside it and take the thing outside to release it. What he had actually grabbed was our mother’s dressing robe as she came rushing into the parlor to find out what the commotion was. He had yanked the robe straight off her and she had gone spinning into the settee. She still had her nightgown on, thank the stars, but Frodo’s look of horror and my mother’s look of scandal are still clearly etched into all of our minds.

I do my best not to laugh and make it seem as though I am smiling at their silliness rather than their story.

I catch Estella peeking at them, and I know she must be wondering what they are going on about, possibly even feeling a bit left out. I cluck my tongue softly at her and she drops her gaze back to the needlepoint she has brought with her. If Merry sees her watching him, this won’t work. He’s almost as sharp as I am and he’ll know right off what Estella’s watching him will mean, for all that he lacks the courage to do anything about it. No, he mustn’t catch her pining for him tonight.

“What about when Everard and Ferdi and Fatty…” Pippin snorts now.

“By the pond?” Merry asks through his snickers, for a moment uncertain.

“In the barn,” Pippin corrects and pantomimes something crashing and then shattering into several pieces.

They double over with laughter again and for the next several minutes, the only words they utter are “Yes! Yes!” “Then he-” “Up in the-” “With the, what was it?” “Yes, that!” Their hands wave about, saying what their incessant laughter won’t allow them to.

Hm, they must be speaking of the time the older lads of the Smials took it upon themselves to milk the cows, though they hadn’t the slightest clue how to go about it. That would have been Fatty’s idea no doubt. Estella’s brother was simply unable to wait for the farmers to arrive and see to the cows so he could have a glass of fresh milk. All five lads had wound up with hoof prints on their backsides for that one, though they conveniently forget that part whenever they retell the tale.

Everard actually could have stopped that one from what I was able to gather at the time, but he naturally went along, being as fond of mischief and idiocy as the rest of them, for all that he was the oldest. I suppose some lads are just incapable of growing up.

I finish brushing out Ella’s hair and start to braid it, taking great care to ensure that every single strand lays just so before reaching for the brush and combing her hair again. On the stool, Estella sighs into her needlework as Merry and Pippin explode into laughter again. She squints at her work in the dim light, but I know it is so she won’t give in to the temptation to pout with frustration.

I know she can’t help but feel bitter. Back when she and Merry were still friends, they used to have a language of their own. Nothing as extensive as what Merry and Pippin have now, but they could still look at each other and know who would keep watch, or who would climb the tree or dive into the river.

Now she feels that their language is stilted, as good as dead. At best, she feels as though Merry ignores her out of spite, for being so forward with him. At worst, she thinks he’s managed to convince himself that she no longer exists. On the few occasions when they do have to interact, they speak over each other out of nervousness and never meet each other’s gaze, and then they are running away in opposite directions as quickly as their legs will carry them. Without a doubt, losing his friendship has been hardest for her.

“That wasn’t me!” Merry exclaims now. “That was-” And he indicates someone’s height and girth, his curly hair and the way he walks.

Pippin sputters and nods. “That’s right! That’s right!”

Well, I know they’re talking about Doderic Brandybuck, but I lost track as to why.

Ella sighs again and this draws Merry’s gaze to her. Ah, there it is! He’s watching her intently, though he continues to nod along with Pippin. He’s taking his fill of her while she isn’t looking, unable to look away himself.

It’s unfortunate that Estella can never catch him at this, but he is too quick and is always looking the other way and acting perfectly natural by the time she looks up. She has convinced herself that she has lost him, that she had moved too quickly and been too bold. While I admit that, in retrospect, our little ploy might not have been the best way to go about getting these two together, it did leave Merry Brandybuck hopelessly besotted with Estella. The initial problem, I believe, is that he had somehow come to the idea that he is not strong enough for her, which of course is ridiculous. Besides, if Merry isn’t worthy of her, then Gordi certainly isn’t.

But one fact remains evident for everyone to see: Merry hates Gordibrand Burrows. Well, maybe ‘hate’ is too strong a word, but he certainly doesn’t like the lad and has held nothing but the coldest regard for him since he and Estella first started courting. He even went so far once to yank the poor lad's breeches down his ankles at another of Pippin’s birthday parties. Gordi had been quite upset naturally, but he had failed to take any retaliation.

I wonder if Merry’s heard about the purpose of Gordi’s pending visit or that he’s even coming at all. Their parents are keeping it all very hush-hush until it’s official, until Estella gives her consent, so I’m betting on Merry not knowing, unless he heard it from Fatty. Whether he has or not will not matter for what I am about to do, for while Merry may be a rather forward-looking lad, he still has a tendency to overlook the more obvious implications of things.

I wait until Merry peels his eyes off of Ella before I speak, loud enough to carry over Pippin’s excited chatter.

“Gordi will be here next Sterday then?” I ask Estella as I braid her hair, effectively keeping her from looking back at me. She has no choice but to discipline her features and act natural.

“He is,” she replies. “He should be here by elevenses with his parents.”

Now Merry isn’t even pretending to listen to Pippin anymore. He watches Estella from the corner of his eye and waves his hand ever so slightly at Pip: Be quiet. Pippin drops his talk to a whisper and I can tell by the way he absently fingers the rug and stops kicking his legs in the air that he is no longer saying anything of any importance. Not that Pippin ever says anything of any importance…

“Do you really think he’s going to ask you?” I say, my voice softer now that I no longer need to shout, but loud enough still that Merry and Pippin can hear.

Ella’s silent for a moment, then says, “Ask me what?” Her shoulders are tight but she goes about her needlework, being much more convincing than the lads at acting normal.

“You know,” I say in a secretive whisper. I nudge her on the back ever so slightly with my knee and pull her hair just enough to prick at the roots. She winces a bit but shows no other signs of what I have done and this goes unnoticed by the lads completely.

“I would suppose so,” she replies now. “He’s been speaking of it often enough. Even went so far as to tell me he knows already where we’ll live.”

If you had blinked, you would have missed it. Merry blanched. I knew it wouldn’t take him long to catch on and even Pippin appears to be getting an inkling, if only from seeing how upset Merry has become.

You can always tell when Merry’s upset. He goes white in the face and his eyes squint up ever so slightly. If he’s upset enough, he’ll even clench his fists and dig his nails into the palms of his hands. Usually, he only does this after someone has been foolish enough to insult or hurt Pippin or Frodo in some way, but… ah, there it is. His fingers are curled inward. Not exactly a fist, but close enough.

“And where is the dream home?” I ask. “At Brandy Hall?”

“Oh no,” Estella answers immediately. “No, neither of us would feel very comfortable there, and it wouldn’t do to live too close to my parents either. He was thinking somewhere near Stock, close to the woods but off the lane a bit. That will please Fatty at least. He won’t have to cross the Brandywine to visit us and he’ll have the perfect excuse to drop by The Golden Perch every night of the week.”

“Sounds lovely.”

“The way he tells it, it is.”

“Are you going to tell him ‘yes’ then?”

Estella doesn’t answer right away. She’s thinking of how to phrase it in front of Merry so as not to hurt his feelings too much. Merry holds his breath, waiting on her response as though his life depends on it. Finally, Estella shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s such an important decision. It’s not one to be made hastily.”

“But surely you’ll say yes?” I ask. Ella tilts her head ever so slightly, as much as she can with me still braiding and brushing her hair. She knows what I’m up to and she doesn’t approve, but now that I’ve asked the question she knows she has to answer.

“I suppose. I really have no other choice,” she says at last, and I let that last word hang in the air.

Merry looks down at the rug, gnawing over what Ella has just said. He would have caught Estella’s reluctance and lack of enthusiasm. He would have caught that this was not her ideal choice for her life, that if given another choice, a more favorable one, she would take it in a heartbeat. How now to show him that he is the other choice?

Silence reigns for several minutes. Merry has grown tired of his and Pippin’s earlier discussion and he lays now in quiet contemplation. I cannot begin to guess what is going through his head, though Pippin undoubtedly does.

I smile down at my brother, who is watching Merry intently. It will take some convincing, but I can get Pippin working with me on this. The two of us working together have always been an indomitable force and if I get him concerned enough about Merry’s well being, I can nearly guarantee his help. And if he doesn’t help willingly, there are always my powers of persuasion or, shall I say, blackmail.

I finish Estella’s braid and bend down to peck her on the cheek. “Cheer up, love,” I say. “At least you’ll have the family you always wanted, a lad and a lass. He’s a good enough kisser, you’re always saying, so having a bairn or two from him shouldn’t be too horrible.”

I don’t know whose horrified reaction is more amusing. Ella whips around on the stool, upsetting it entirely, and has to jump up to keep from falling. “Vinca!” she says, scandalized, her face blushing scarlet. “Of all the things to say!”

Behind her, Merry is positively gaping at us, at her, all remaining color now completely drained from his face. Oh, this is something he has never thought of before and now that he is thinking about it, he doesn’t like it at all. Even Pippin understands the implications behind that one, and he catches my eye. He quirks an eyebrow and gives a bemused shake of his head: What are you up to?

I smile innocently. “Look at the time,” I say. “Time for us lasses to be in bed. Good night, lads.”

I pull Estella after me to my room. Neither lad says anything as we disappear behind my door but Estella is near boiling.

“Vinca! What are you about, saying such things, in front of the lads no less!” she hisses.

“In front of Merry.”

Estella crosses her arms. I’ve crossed a line.

“I’m sorry, Ella, but you didn’t see his reaction. He’s so jealous of Gordi right now, he can hardly see straight,” I say.

“And what of it?” Estella asks. “What have your ploys and schemes ever managed to do? He doesn’t think anything of me and if he’s jealous of Gordi it’s only because he hasn’t got a lass of his own yet.”

“But don’t you see? He wants you to be his lass,” I say.

Estella shakes her head and puffs sadly. “No, he doesn’t. He never has and I’m tired, Vinca. I’m tired of waiting for something that’s never going to happen. Gordi is a good lad, and he’s kind enough, and you’re right. It wouldn’t be so horrible; it would even be nice. When he does ask, I’m going to say yes.”  

I wait until Estella is asleep before I sneak out of the room. I intend to listen at Pippin’s door to gather more information, as I’m sure the lads are still awake. I don’t get that far though. I hear a muttering coming from the parlor and tiptoe out there to find them both still sitting before the cold hearth. Pippin has his arm around Merry’s shoulders, and their heads are bent together, their foreheads touching. They are talking so softly I can barely hear their whispers, much less make out what they are saying. One thing is clear at least: Merry is troubled.

I smirk to myself and return to my room. My plan is right on schedule.
 
 
 
 

To be continued…