“There comes a point when you need to stop planning and simply act. If you can do this correctly and catch your opponent off their guard, that’s even better.” ~ Pervinca Took
 
 

Lesson 3: A Surprise Attack is the Best Defense

“This is a delicate situation,” I say in a hushed whisper.

Estella and I are back in my room, lying atop my bed with no intentions of turning in for the night. A solitary candle is burning low and I have our shawls tucked up beneath the door so no light will spill out into the hall. Merry and Pippin will be returning eventually, and we don’t need them to know that we are still awake. Pippin likely thinks he gave us the slip; if he sees we’re still awake, he’ll grow suspicious.

“Why is it delicate?” Estella asks, her voice equally hushed. She twirls her hair dreamily and looks at me happily, a smile still teasing at the corners of her mouth.

“You stopped listening as soon as he said he loves you, didn’t you,” I say with a smile. Estella only grins in response. “Merry said he wouldn’t be making any decisions regarding you until he sees Frodo. I don’t know what Frodo has to do with any of this, but this does mean we might have to wait until they return for Pip’s party before you approach Merry.”

Ella frowns now. She doesn’t like this plan. She opens her mouth to protest, but I hold up a hand and beg her to have patience.

“There’s something else he said,” I continue. “After all that prattle about Frodo and Yule, he said, ‘We’re still agreed.’ What could that have meant?”

Ella shrugs. “Those two always have some sort of scheme up their sleeves. Perhaps they’re going to prank Frodo for missing Yule.”

“Maybe,” I say hesitantly, unable to shake the feeling that there is something more behind Merry’s words than simple jest. Still, it is unlikely I will be able to get that information from either him or Pippin anytime soon. I’ll just have to proceed without knowing the full story and hope for the best. “Would there be any way at all to delay Gordi’s proposal until after Pippin’s party?”

Estella thinks on this for a moment and finally shakes her head regrettably. “I don’t see how. That’s the main reason he’s coming.”

“Perhaps you could tell him that you need time to think about it,” I suggest. “It will only be three days more.”

Ella doesn’t like this plan either. “I can’t ask him to wait just so I can speak with Merry. That would be giving him hope and that would be cruel. It will be unkind enough to tell him that it’s over.”

I nod. “Then you’ll have to approach Merry before he leaves. Hopefully, since you’re decided on it that will decide him as well, though I don’t see how he could possibly resist you.”

We start to giggle at this, but I stop myself before it can get out of control. Going soft in the head now will not get things resolved. Ella settles down soon after, and we fall into silence as we contemplate the best way to approach Merry.

Soon, we are putting the plan together. We map out the core dialogue, then go back to work out the tangles. Then we go back again and come up with various possible responses to anything Merry might say to try to deter Estella from her purpose. I pull out several sheets of parchment and write everything down so Estella can go over them and memorize them.

We’re so absorbed in our planning that we almost miss when they return. We hush ourselves and listen, in case they are saying anything else worth knowing, but all we hear is the shuffling of their feet as they make their way blindly down the hall to Pip’s room. I wonder why there would not be any lights to guide their way and glance up at the clock as Pip’s door opens and closes: it’s eleven.

I insist that we go to sleep then also. It will do us no good if we sleep in and miss Merry when he leaves to dispatch his letter. Of course, Estella's so excited, it takes her nearly an hour to drift off, still humming softly to herself.  

We are awake early the following morning, despite the late hour we had kept the night before. I stick my head out the door for a brief moment, long enough to discern that both Merry and Pippin are still here. Then we freshen up and return to our work while simultaneously listening for any hint that Pippin and Merry are up and about. We do not have to wait long.

Pippin’s door opens at five after seven. There is some soft whispering between Merry and Pippin, and even with my ear pressed up against my door, the only things I can make out are “hurry up” and “wait here.” Then Pippin’s door closes and soft footfalls set off down the hall.

I wait a few moments to open my door a crack and just manage to glimpse Merry making his way through the parlor, alone. Perfect. I wait another minute, then nod to Estella. We follow after him at a good distance, waiting until we come to a place where Estella can approach him without anyone overhearing. This doesn’t happen until after Merry reaches the post messenger’s quarters and hands over his letter.

“Take this to Frodo Baggins of the Hill in Hobbiton,” Merry advises the messenger. “Wait there for a response; I want the reply by this evening. Here’s a brassy for your troubles.”

“Thank you, Mr. Merry,” the post messenger replies, every bit as surprised as Ella and I are.

A brass-piece for delivering a message to Hobbiton, when the standard rate is three farthings?* And of course, Frodo will pay the lad again once he arrives at Hobbiton. Merry and Pippin must be desperate indeed to visit Frodo to cough up so much coin.

We wait until Merry is coming back around the corner, then I duck into a supply closet to hide and listen. A few moments later, I hear the sound of Merry’s “ooph” and Estella’s meek “sorry.” They have bumped into each other.

“Excuse me, Estella,” Merry says politely, probably trying to get around her.

“Merry, how lovely to see you,” Estella says, sounding more anxious than she should.

There’s a bit of a pause, then Merry replies, “You’re up early.” His voice is uncertain and guarded. I can almost see the wheels turning in that head of his, trying to determine what is about to happen and failing miserably.

“I need to be getting back to my room before Mother awakens,” Ella says. “I really wasn’t supposed to have stayed the night with Vinca.”

“Aren’t your guest rooms on the other side of the Smials?”

“Yes, but… uh, I must not have been paying attention. Clearly.” A nervous giggle follows this statement.

“I see.”

I shift my position in the closet to keep a broom from poking me in the back and miss a bit of the conversation.

“-up early as well,” Estella is saying. “I hope you are well. You’ve seemed a bit down of late.”

Another pause, this one longer than the first. Merry doesn’t know what to make of this. This is the longest conversation he and Estella have had in years and it’s throwing him off. Finally he says, “Ella, look, I really should be getting back before Pip starts missing me.” There’s a scuffling sound; Merry must be trying to get around Estella again.

“Merry,” Estella says, her voice shaking slightly. I close my eyes and try to give her encouragement and support through the door. If she will just keep calm, she’ll be fine. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Yes?” Merry replies, sounding cautious. Far too cautious. Estella will have to step lightly.

“Well,” Estella begins, then continues all in a rush, “as you know, Gordibrand Burrows will be here in a few days and he’ll be asking me a question, and I’m supposed to say yes, but I don’t want to.”

“This sounds like something you should be speaking to Gordibrand about,” Merry says.

“But it’s you I need speak with,” Estella insists. There’s another pause and I know Ella is attempting to gather her wits about her and remember what she is supposed to say. Unfortunately, Merry beats her to it.

“Look, Ella, whatever you’re about to say, I beg you not to. It will only lead to hurt, one way or another,” he says sternly but not unkindly. “Now if you’ll excuse me…”

There’s some more shuffling, and another pause, too long for comfort. Don’t let him go!

Thankfully, Estella pulls herself together. “I don’t excuse you,” she says, and she blessedly sounds ready for an argument. “I’ve been ignored by you long enough Meriadoc, and I’ve something to say to you. I’ll follow you all the way back to Pippin’s room to say it if I have to, and not care if half the Smials hears me in the process.”

Yes! That was perfectly said. I can almost see Merry’s paused step and slow turn around. “Ella,” he starts, dread in his voice.

“No. You listen,” Ella asserts. She pauses, and when she speaks again, she is once more soft-spoken and tender. “Gordi is going to ask me to wed him, and I don’t want to say yes, not to him. But, if another lad were to ask… If you were to ask, I’d say yes in a heartbeat.”

“Estella,” Merry mutters, his voice strained.

There’s another pause – oh, if only I could see what is happening! – but if Ella is doing this as we had practiced, then she is stepping closer to Merry, within arm’s reach.

“I love you, Merry.” There’s a soft thump against the closet door. “It’s always been you.”

This pause is longer than any other and I can’t begin to guess what is occurring on the other side of this dratted door. I cannot even hear anything anymore; all has gone perfectly silent. Then at long last comes Merry’s voice and there’s a pain there I have never heard before. “Oh, Estella, I can’t.”

“What?”

“I cannot ask you. I cannot make you that offer.”

“Because of Gordi? I don’t love him and I will tell him so when he arrives,” Estella says, her confidence holding. “You will not be to blame, if that is what you’re worried about. I’ll make it clear this is my decision alone.”

“Estella,” Merry starts, then has to clear his voice for the hurt in it. “Even if you did dismiss Gordi, I still would not ask you.”

What?! I gape at the door, unable to believe my ears, and I can all but feel Estella’s heart breaking. What is Merry saying?

“I do not understand,” Estella says and there is a tremble to her voice. “You wouldn’t ask? But you love me, I’m certain of it.”

“I’m sorry, lass,” Merry says softly, so softly I can hardly hear him, “but things being as they are, I am not available to you at this time, whether or no. If I were selfish, I’d ask you to wait another year or two, but that could all turn out for naught and you’d be here alone. There’s just no way of knowing.”

“I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”

“I cannot say. I don’t even know myself yet if there’s anything… But I cannot promise to marry you, not at this time.”

“I’ll wait then,” Estella offers weakly, and there are tears in her voice. “I can wait, as long as it takes. One year or two, five or ten. As long as it will mean that I will have you in the end, that’s all that matters.”

There’s another pause, during which Merry takes several deep breaths. When he speaks again, his voice is constricted but determined. “I don’t want you to wait.”

“That’s not your decision.”

“No, it’s not, but I beg you to make a different one.”

“Why?”

“Because… There are circumstances, and as much as I tell myself it will all amount to nothing in the end… I cannot shake this dread. I wish I could explain it to you so you will understand. There’s this feeling I get sometimes, of gripping cold freezing me straight through, claiming me and surrounding me, till there’s nothing left; it’s all a peril,” Merry finishes, and his voice sounds hollow and cold, like a death knell from a distant land.

“Merry?”

“No.” There’s a shuffling sound: Merry has slipped free of the door. When he speaks again, he sounds more himself, but choked and close to tears. “I will not have you wait for that. I will not have you; I don’t want you. Now please, excuse me.”

Not more than a few moments pass before the closet door is thrown open and Estella is sobbing in my arms, Merry now nowhere to be seen.

I don’t know how but I somehow manage to get us into one of the main sitting parlors a couple of tunnels away. I lock the door behind us and settle us onto a settee, patting Estella’s back and holding her tight while she sobs.

It is some time before Estella is calm enough to talk, and in that time I manage to gather up enough wrathful rage to rip Meriadoc Brandybuck to shreds should I ever see him again. If he truly loves Estella, he has a funny way of showing it. What has got into that lad’s head anyway?

Finally, Estella is able to recount what happened. I was more or less correct with my assumptions, but what she told me of that long pause after she declared her love is enough to break my heart as well.

Estella had kissed him. Not a searing and seductive kiss as their first had been, but a short and sweetly shy one; this was not a game this time around. This was true and sincere, and the kiss had reflected that with its timid intimacy. Merry had then returned the kiss, then they were in each other’s arms, simply holding each other, their foreheads touching and their hearts pounding to burst out of their chests. Estella had smiled, but Merry had not, and when he opened his eyes, they were moist with unshed tears.

“Oh, Vinca, I’m sure he wanted it just as much as I did,” Ella says to me now. “I’m certain of it. But…”

Merry had held her tight, as though he were afraid she would slip away if he did not. He had smelled the scent of her hair and skin, and sighed with content. Then, he had tipped his mouth to her ear and whispered, “I’ve dreamt of this for so long. So long.” Then he had pulled himself away and held her at a distance, and finally with great effort he let her go. “But I can’t.”

I had heard the rest. I may not have seen the tears streaming down Merry’s face or the look of dread and doom in his eyes, but I heard his words of rejection. They are enough to make me weep, if I were not so angry.  

We miss first breakfast, but neither of us are very hungry. We simply sit in the parlor, Estella with her head on my shoulder, occasionally sniffling, sometimes weeping, but the rest of the time merely feeling numb. Everything around us is surreal, like objects moving underwater, and time holds no meaning.

Finally, when Estella is clear-eyed enough to leave the parlor, I take her to her guest room and see her settled. I pour water from the ewer into the basin and wring out a cloth so I can wipe the tear tracks from her face. I then sit next to her as she lays on her bed, and I hum under my breath as I stroke her hair back from her pale face. She eventually drifts off to sleep, and after ensuring she has more water and a steady supply of handkerchiefs, I leave her.

Then I go to hunt down Merry, my blood boiling with rage. I’m so furious I can hardly see straight and am only vaguely aware of servants and relatives alike jumping out of my way as I go barreling through the tunnels.

I have several different scenarios planned out on what I will do to the boor when next I see him. Some scenarios involve me wielding a rather hefty umbrella. Others entail me only backing him into a corner and giving him a rather large piece of my mind, but these ones are not nearly as satisfying. All of them end with him begging for mercy and of course receiving none, for he doesn’t deserve it. What he does deserve I have not the words for, but by my word, I’ll give him exactly what he has coming.

Unfortunately, I do not find him. After searching the tunnels through and storming through the apartments and the hills around the Smials, I finally spy Fatty and get him talking. It seems Merry and Pippin disappeared soon after first breakfast. Merry was going to take Pippin somewhere quiet so he could complete his essays, and Merry was rather feeling the need to get out of doors himself. “He didn’t look very well at all,” Fatty states, to which I snort with disgust.

I continue my search for my cravenly cousin, even going back out to the barn, and still I do not find him. Finally, I slow myself down and think on this rationally. I may not know where he is now, but I do know where he’ll be later. He has got to come back to retrieve Frodo’s response to his letter. I will merely wait for him there.

With this plan in my mind, I leave the Smials behind completely, walking until they are no longer glimpsed behind me. I need to get some fresh air and clear my mind, and try to figure out just where exactly this had all gone wrong.

Of course, no plan is foolproof, and when you’re dealing with Merry and Pippin it is only wise to expect a certain degree of sabotage. What happened this morning however went completely beyond anything I would have anticipated. Merry did not simply sabotage us; he obliterated us completely. I need to take time to regroup and determine my next course of action and this time, I will show no mercy.

I wander about the hills aimlessly, so deeply engrossed in mapping out my tactics that I spare nary a thought to anything else around me. And this is how I get trapped by Everard Took.

Ev has been Merry and Pippin’s friend for as long as I can remember, and a pest and a pain besides for even longer. He’s our third cousin on our father’s side, being a great-great grandchild to the Old Took, same as us. He has his moments of civility but overall, coming of age has done little to stifle his rambunctious inclinations. I’d rather pretend he didn’t exist, but of course, he would never let things be that simple for me, and he proves it now by calling out to me as I walk past him and his friends as they are lounging about under a tree, doing absolutely nothing productive whatsoever.

“Hallo, Per. Have you seen Merry?” Ev asks me. “He was supposed to come bird-calling with us but he never turned up.”

“I have not,” I reply curtly and attempt to continue past. The last thing I want to do right now is talk about Merry. I have far too much on my mind to be distracted by this lot and getting into a conversation with Everard Took is guaranteed to lead to distraction.

“You haven’t seen him?” Ev says, a tease in his voice. “Well, that’s a lie.”

I stop and turn back to him, my hackles raised and arms crossed. “Actually, I have seen him,” I say. “Several times, as a matter fact, far too many to count and certainly more than I would like. But I have not seen him of late, if that is what you mean.”

Ev smiles in that annoying lopsided way of his. He’s so smug and sure of himself, it’s enough to drive you mad whenever you are unfortunate enough to be in his presence. “Oh, but you’re still lying. You have seen him recently.”

“I have not.”

He turns to the other lads and starts talking to them as though I am not there. “You see, lads, the way to tell that she’s lying is that her lips purse up, just so, and she taps her foot, just once.”

“You think you know everything,” I say in disgust, clutching tightly onto my arms to prevent myself from reaching out and strangling him. He’s not the one I want to be strangling, and while he will do in a pinch, I’d rather save my energy for the real culprit.

“Oh, but I do know everything,” Everard counters.

“Then you must surely know how much of an annoying, childish braggart you’re being right about now,” I say and his friends laugh.

“Well, I know that you’re not leaving, so I can’t be that annoying,” he replies, smooth as ever, that little smile still plastered on his face.

“I am far too kind for my own good, but I will soon remedy that,” I say tersely and start to leave again.

“You shouldn’t be pushing things with Merry, you know,” Ev says now, stopping me once again. He loves to do this, to let me get so far and then say something that will inevitably bring me back.

“And what things would those be?” I ask.

“Things with Estella, of course,” he answers. He must have heard something from Fatty about what had happened this morning, but since Fatty didn’t know all the details, then neither will Ev. He proves this be continuing, “He has his reasons for keeping quiet, you know.”

“Yes, I do. He’s a coward,” I say, bristling as I think of poor Estella, who is likely sobbing into her pillow at this very moment. I really should be getting back to her.

“A coward? That’s rather harsh. Do you have any idea how hard it is to approach a lass that you favor?”

“I suppose you’re going to tell me you’re an expert on the matter, seeing as you have no lass of your own,” I say, riled up more than I should be, but unable to help myself after all that has happened. I need someone to argue with and Ev is the best for taking my frustrations out on, as he’s too dense to notice when he’s being scolded. “Then that would make you a coward as well. Honestly, what is so hard about approaching a lass and telling her of your intentions? You lads make everything so difficult.”

“You lasses are the ones that make it so difficult,” Ev counters. “You’re not easy to please you know, and you always want the proposition done in a specific way that we lads have no hope of knowing, and then you get mad at us for doing it wrong. I’m sure you have your ideal fantasy of your suitor coming up to you and making his intentions known.”

“I don’t actually. I have no interest in such things.”

“See what I meant about the foot tap,” he turns to his friends, and they nod.

“If you must know,” I say, “my lad will come to me as I’m sitting under a tree reading a good book, and he will have red and white roses in his hand, and he will give them to me and ask for my favor.” I narrow my eyes at him. “And I will say no, that I do not need any such thing from any lad and am perfectly happy on my own. I will then proceed to hit him over the head with my book, which shall be quite thick for extra heft, and throw the roses right back at him, hopefully scratching him with the thorns in the process for good measure.”

“Ah. I see then.”

“If that is all,” I say and start to walk away again. Just as can be expected, he calls out to me again.

“And for your information, I do have a lass.”

I turn back around and stare at him with unmasked doubt, momentarily forgetting my ire at this astonishing news. “You do?” I ask dubiously. The thought of Everard Took paying court to a lass is nearly unimaginable and more than a bit funny. Or, it would be funny if I were in a better mood.

“Yes, I do. She’s quite lovely really, when you can get her to stop being such a shrew, which isn’t very often I must admit. Many would question my choice in setting my sights on her, but they don’t know what I know,” Ev says.

“And what might that be?” I ask.

“That arguing with her is the fun part,” Ev answers, “and on that rare occasion when I do break past her wiles, she’s really a very sweet lass, who’s just a little bit afraid of letting anyone get too close.”

I shake my head at him, not believing him for a second. “Really? And who is the unlucky lass?”

“Oh, you know her already,” he says evasively.

“So then who is she?” I repeat, greatly interested to hear whatever name he will pull out of the blue.

“You should be able to figure that out, seeing as you already know her, and know everything else besides,” Ev says, that smile creeping onto his face again. He’s laughing ever so slightly now.

“Now you’re the one who’s lying. I’ve never seen you speak with any lass,” I say.

“Yes you have, on many occasions. In fact, I spoke with her for quite a while just today and you were there the whole time. I must say, she quite enjoyed herself, for all that she acted like she didn’t,” Ev says.

“I’m sure she did,” I say to humor him. “You likely put her right to sleep with your babble.”

“Am I really that boring?”

“Yes, you are.”

“Then why are you still here?” he asks, no longer attempting to hide the fact that he’s laughing at me, and his friends start snickering with him.

They’re laughing at me! Right in front of me! How dare they! I clench my fists to my sides and openly scowl at them all. “You are insufferable and you will pay for this humiliation, Everard Took.”

“Is that a promise?” he laughs, a wicked little glint in his eyes.

“I loathe you,” I say and walk away.

Just as I’m about out of earshot, he speaks again. “I love you, too.” His friends break down into hysterics, clutching their sides and slapping their knees.

“You are a thorn in my side,” I call over my shoulder but do not stop. If I turn back around one more time, I will not be responsible for what happens to him.

Oh! He is beyond insufferable! He’s absolutely intolerable! Whoever this poor lass is – and I highly doubt there is a lass – she must be desperate for suitors to put up with someone like him.
 
 
 

To be continued…
 
 

* - In my universe, 1 brass-piece = 3 coppers or 12 farthings. Merry is thus paying the post-messenger four times the standard rate.