Chapter 32. Black Sheep Shorn

When the merrymakers returned from the Green Dragon, Frodo had a minor crisis to deal with.

Mrs Cotton met him with a grim face. ‘She’s your cousin, Mr Frodo, and with her parents away, it’s up to you to deal with her, her brother being so ill and all...’

Frodo wondered what in the world Estella had done now. He didn’t have to wait long to find out. He knocked at the door of the room the Cottons had given her upon her arrival, and at the defiant “Enter!” he opened the door cautiously, wary of thrown objects. No war engines launched their shot however, and he entered the room, stopping short in surprise.

’Estella, what have you done to yourself?’ he asked in astonishment. ‘You look like a sheep that’s been shorn.’

’I cut my hair,’ she sniffed as a tear spilled over and ran down her cheek. ‘Freddy said—he said—and he didn’t know me,’ she sobbed, ‘and it was because my hair was growing out and I looked as he remembered me, and so I cut it off, and so... so there!’

’You look positively...’ Frodo searched for a word, but ended up spilling the truth. ‘...awful.’

’I know,’ Estella said with another sniff. ‘The worst part is, I’m afraid to go and see Freddy. What if he still doesn’t know me after I’ve gone and done this?’

Some instinct prompted Frodo to hold out his arms, and Estella crossed the room to him, snuggling against him and weeping the tears she had not let fall before. He folded his arms around her and held her while she cried, and when she finished he fished a snowy handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at her face. She took it from him to finish the job.

’Better?’ Frodo asked. Estella nodded. ‘Shall we go and see Freddy?’ Estella shook her head. ‘Come now, midge; I think at the very least he will laugh.’

’Do you think so?’ she whispered, torn between hope and fear. ‘O Fro, do you really think so?’

’We have to find out,’ Frodo said. He put a hand to his head. ‘Do you think my hair looks satisfactory?’ She snorted and gave him a push, and he laughed. ‘Come along, midge. Why, Freddy’s not been pestered all day, you know.’

She let him lead her to Freddy’s room. He peeked in to see Rose sitting by the bed, knitting. ‘Hullo!’ Frodo said. ‘Is anyone in?’

Freddy looked up from his contemplation of Rose’s work. ‘Hullo Frodo, did you have a pint for me?’

Frodo slapped a hand to his forehead in apparent consternation. ‘I forgot!’ he said. ‘Now I will have to go back and do it over again to get it right!’

’Ah,’ Freddy said. ‘Practice makes perfect.’ He looked past Frodo. ‘What’re you doing hovering back there, Babe? Do you have some mischief or other planned?’

Estella stepped into the room, her expression brightening. ‘Of course, you old Gaffer,’ she said haughtily. ‘When have I not had mischief planned?’

Rose looked from Estella to Freddy with a thoughtful expression. ‘I’ll just go tell Mum to brew a pot of tea,’ she said, putting her knitting away and slipping from the room. Frodo had the feeling that Mrs Cotton would be set straight, and very soon.

***

Later that evening after Estella had badgered Freddy into eating every scrap of his supper and asking for more in the bargain, Farmer Cotton came into the bedroom. ‘Thought I’d sit and smoke in here, if you don’t mind,’ he said. ‘I brought an extra pipe, just in case, Mr Freddy...’

’Very thoughtful of you,’ Freddy said. ‘As a matter of fact, a pipe would be a fine ending to that meal.’

Farmer Cotton nodded, filled one of the pipes, got it going well, and passed it to Freddy. He soon had his own pipe going and sat down to a companionable smoke.

’I’m off to bed,’ Estella announced, getting up and picking up the tray. ‘And you ought to sleep soon yourself, Gaffer,’ she said.

’Don’t you worry your little head about me, Babe,’ Freddy said placidly. ‘Why, I might drop off before the pipe is smoked.’

’You’d do better to finish the pipe first,’ Farmer Cotton said. ‘It’s some pipeweed we hid in the barn, that didn’t get gathered, and it would be a terrible waste to fall asleep and spill your pipe on the bed only half-done.’

’Not to mention what it would do to the bedcovers,’ Estella said righteously.

’Such a touching concern for the bedcovers, Babe,’ Freddy said. ‘How many sheets have you cut up?’

’That was when I was little,’ Estella said with dignity, ‘and folk didn’t have the sense to keep the scissors out of a small child’s reach!’

’Ah, so that’s how it was,’ Freddy said. ‘Well then, Babe, good night. Mistress Cotton needn’t worry about her sheets this night it seems. The good Farmer will catch my pipe ere it falls, should I drop off, and you’ve left off cutting up good bedclothes, although you’ve turned to other interests, I’d warrant.’ It was the closest he’d come to mentioning her hair, but there was a thoughtful look in his eye, and perhaps... a touch of gratitude?

’Perhaps,’ Estella said grandly, with her nose in the air. ‘I shall see you at breakfast, brother, and I hope your ancient and creaking bones rest comfortably.’ She marched from the room.

Frodo caught her in the kitchen. ‘It went exactly as I thought it would,’ he said, taking the tray from her and carrying it over to the washstand. ‘Come here, midge.’ He put the plate, cup and silver into the wash water, picked up a scrubber and began to wash each article, nodded to Estella to take up a cloth and dry what he dipped into the rinse water and handed to her. It was the first time she’d dried dishes since leaving Twig behind, and it gave her a pleasant, useful feeling.

When they were finished Frodo said, ‘Come, sit with me for a moment.’ There was a cosied teapot and two mugs on the kitchen table, and they sat down opposite each other. The rest of the family and guests were already preparing for bed, for common hobbits do not as a rule stay up past supper the way the great families do, except for a special occasion such as a birthday or wedding.

Frodo poured out tea and let Estella fix her own cup to her liking, not commenting when she added several spoonfuls of sweetening to her cup. ‘You did exactly the right thing today,’ he said firmly.

Estella’s hand rose halfway to her head and then she snatched it down and put it flat on the table. ‘What do you mean?’ she asked.

’Cutting your hair was just the right thing for Freddy,’ Frodo said. He put a hand on hers and said, ‘This will not be easy to tell you, but I think you ought to know. I think you are old enough, and strong enough, and Freddy needs you if he is to survive this.’

 ‘Survive!’ she gasped. Frodo waited for her to calm herself, and calm herself she did, showing some of the iron will that had made her mother despair in Estella's earlier years, but would stand her in good stead now and in future. ‘Very well,’ she said resolutely. ‘Tell away.’

Frodo recounted the conversation in the quiet corner at the Green Dragon, watching her face intently all the while. She swallowed hard and her fingers tightened on her mug until the knuckles turned white, but she showed no sign of queasiness or fainting, and Frodo nodded to himself. He’d been right in his estimation of this young cousin of his.

’So the wizard poisoned his mind with thoughts of family and home,’ Estella said slowly when he’d finished. She shivered but her eyes were hard and cold.

’Yes,’ Frodo said quietly. ‘Your parents confounded the wizard’s plot by the fact that they were wearing the old cast-off clothes of the gardener and his wife, not richly dressed as Freddy remembered them, and you...’

’And I didn’t look like the little sister he remembered,’ Estella said. ‘It is a mercy, I suppose, that in the wizard’s dreams I looked like Estella of Budge Hall and not Twig.’

’Yes,’ Frodo said seriously. ‘It is a mercy indeed. We’d have to send you away otherwise, and I do not know if he would ever be strong enough to see you again.’

’Ever!’ Estella gasped.

Frodo shook his head. ‘I do not know if he will ever recover from this spell that has been laid upon him by Saruman’s Voice,’ he said. ‘I mean to send a message to Gandalf, to ask his advice, but I do not know how long it will take to reach him, for I am not even sure where he is at present.’

’Freddy will be well again,’ Estella said, grim determination in her voice. ‘He will!’

’He may never be able to go home again,’ Frodo warned.

’Don’t say that!’ Estella snapped. ‘We are going to fight this! No dead wizard is going to ruin my brother’s life!’

Frodo had no doubt that if it was anywhere in Estella’s power to save Fredegar, he’d be saved. If...