*GASP* I actually updated. Amazing.
I am SO sorry to everyone who's been asking for an update, but the truth is I was kidnapped and held at gunpoint by the evil Sir Real Life, and I have only just escaped. I have no intention of abandoning this story! Thank you all for your patience, and you are free to throw tomatoes at me for my tardiness. So. Without further ado, I give you...chapter ten!
::ducks flying tomatoes::
_____________________________
Merry and I both jumped to our feet as Fred stormed toward us, his eyes full of fury and betrayal.
"Fred!" I cried. "Don't - it's not - "
He gave no indication that he had heard, marching straight up to Merry and seizing a fistful of his shirt. He yanked Merry a step forward and, although Merry was a good six inches taller, managed to appear considerably more intimidating.
"I do not ever," he murmured in a dangerously silky voice, "want to see you near me or my sister again."
Alarmed by Fred's murderous expression, Merry tried to back up a pace, but my brother heaved him forward again.
"Fred - " I began.
"You stay out of this!" he snapped angrily, shooting a glare in my direction.
Merry's brow furrowed. "Now see here, Fatty - "
"Don't call me that!" Fred snarled, and gave Merry's shirt a vicious yank. Startled, Merry finally wrenched free of Fred's grasp and danced out of reach, throwing a startled, questioning glance at me; at that, Fred blew up altogether.
"Don't you look at her!" he exploded. "You have no right to - " He broke off abruptly and closed the distance between Merry and himself in a few swift strides. Looking alarmed, Merry threw an arm across his face; Fred seemed to interpret this as a move of aggression and, before I could move to stop him, sent Merry reeling backwards with a blow to his face.
I cried out in shock, but Merry had already recovered, wiping a trail of blood from his lower lip, and when Fred came at him again, he was ready. Quick as you please, Fred was sprawled among the cabbages, his nose already bleeding profusely.
I laid a calming hand on Merry's shoulder, for he was breathing hard and obviously shaken. "It's all right," I murmured, soft enough that Fred could not hear. "Go. I'll take care of it."
He nodded, almost imperceptibly, and I hurried to Fred's side; my brother glared at me but said nothing as I knelt beside him.
"Fred," I said softly, holding out a handkerchief; he snatched it away and pressed it to his nose without a word. "What was that?"
He scowled. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Merry sidling along the fence in the direction of the gate, and I hurriedly turned back to my brother.
"I do appreciate your loyalty," I whispered, and Fred's face softened slightly. Sensing that any attempt to explain would simply make the situation worse, I fell silent and took hold of his arm, pulling him upwards. "You should know better than to go after Merry like that," I chided gently as I helped him to his feet. "He's got six inches and thirty pounds on you."
Fred's face swiftly darkened again, and he shot an icy look at Merry, who took a few hurried steps backward. "Much better than your weakling brother, I suppose," he spat. "Fredegar, who can't do anything right. Fredegar, who couldn't rescue his father. Fredegar, who didn't save the world like his friends did. Fredegar, who only managed to get himself thrown in the Lockholes when he tried to do something worthwhile for once. Fredegar, who's too fat, and Fredegar, who's too thin. Fredegar, who cannot possibly compare to brave, handsome, respectable Meriadoc Brandybuck. I understand entirely, Stella. Go. Marry him. Leave your brother behind; he's not worth your time." And he turned his back on both of us.
I glanced at Merry in dismay; he looked pointedly at Fred, then back at me, and nodded slightly. I gave him a smile of gratitude, and as I approached Fred again he quietly turned to go.
"Fredegar," I began, but at that moment my brother caught sight of Merry at the gate and stiffened. "That's right," he called bitterly. "Slink away, Master Brandybuck, or you'll end up with worse than a swollen lip!"
"Fred!" I exclaimed in exasperation and dismay. He turned with an expression of fury on his face; I grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. "Stop it!"
He slapped me.
I reeled in shock and pain, and took a few stumbling steps backward. Fred's eyes were as wide as saucers. "Stella," he said, "oh, Stella, I'm sorry - "
"No," I said; Fred stopped in his tracks. "No. Enough. Stop."
My brother reached for my sleeve. "Stella..."
"Don't touch me!" I snapped, whisking my arm away and turning toward the Hall.
"Stella!"
I spun to face him one last time. "I do not particularly wish to speak to you at the moment," I said coldly. "I shall discuss this later."
The last glimpse I had of Fred as I swept out of the garden was of his slumped figure as he sank to the bench in defeat.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
For a place so normally busy as Brandy Hall, the hole seemed eerily deserted. Merry had, apparently, vanished into thin air, and I dared stop none of the few hobbits in the halls to ask where he was, for they were all strangers. Tulip, too, seemed to have gone home, and I felt very much the intruder as I wandered the corridors alone, nervous and wary. At long last I caught sight of a familiar face, which should have been cause for relief - but it was Celandine. At the sight of me, she immediately turned heel and marched in the other direction, giving me an excellent view of her back. I ran after her.
"Cel! Celandine! Wait!"
She gave no indication that she had heard.
"Celandine," I repeated, drawing even with her. She shifted the empty laundry basket she held and pointedly ignored my presence. Sighing, I reached out and pulled her to face me. "Cel. I know I've been stupid, but I'm on your side."
She stared at me. "On my side?" she echoed incredulously. "On my side! And what in the Shire, may I ask, is *that* supposed to mean?"
Sensing that this topic could go nowhere, I went on hurriedly, "Oh, never mind - I mean - "
"Never mind - !"
"Celandine!" I exclaimed. She shut her mouth with an audible snap. "Listen. I fully intend to marry your cousin -" her eyes widened - "but first I need you to talk some sense into my brother. I suspect you're the only one he'll listen to at the moment."
Celandine looked as if she couldn't decide whether to gape, scold, or simply storm away. Instead, she managed to stammer, "Why - what's he done?"
I let out a long sigh. "To make a long tale brief, he's rather jealous at the moment, I think."
"Jealous?" she asked, looking confused. I fixed her with a long, deliberate stare, until suddenly her eyebrows arched upward. "Oh. Oh!"
"Yes," I agreed. " 'Oh,' indeed. Will you speak with him, then? He said he's talked to you about - about Merry, and such."
To my surprise, Celandine colored slightly. "Yes. Yes, a bit, now and again," she said hurriedly. "But I will try to speak with him. Where is he?"
"In the west vegetable patch," I answered. "Or - he was fifteen minutes ago, at any rate."
Abandoning her basket, Celandine followed me as I hurried to the small door adjoining the garden. The crumbling bench outside, however, was now empty, and there was no sign of Fred. I let out a long groan, and Celandine's shoulders slumped.
"Well," she said at last, "perhaps someone's seen where he's gone off to."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A few knocked-upon doors later, we found that someone had indeed seen my brother leave. Missus Bracegirdle across the street, in fact, had seen "young Master Fredegar" heading down the road toward the middle of town. "And if you ask me," she added shrewdly, "I should think the lad looked to be in search of an ale or two, he did."
Looking at Celandine in dismay, I broke into a trot for The Singing Lark, the nearest inn and a favorite of Fred's; Celandine was close behind. The Lark was only a half-mile away, but I wanted to find my brother as soon as possible. It was a well-known fact that Fred was not a heavy drinker - he indulged at feasts and the like, but rarely visited the inn save on special occasions. For him to deliberately seek out the company of ale was a bad sign; I thought, however, that our swift arrival would avert any disasters. At least I hoped so.
Within a few minutes, Celandine and I were standing outside of the inn. I glanced at her expectantly; she suddenly became very interested in the painted sign that hung above us, proclaiming in loud, gaudy letters, "The Singing Lark" and below that, "Finest Ale in Buckland" (which was, of course, a blatant lie, but no one seemed to mind it much). I cleared my throat.
"I should think I'm the last person he needs to see at the moment," I began hesitantly, "so I'll just slip into a corner if you like. All he needs is someone to settle him down a bit."
Celandine appeared to be having second thoughts: her brow furrowed and she looked troubled. I was about to remark on this when she abruptly nodded resolutely, threw a determined glance my way, and marched into the Lark. I slipped inside behind her, rather furtively, and quickly seated myself in a dim, inconspicuous corner of the main hall. No one appeared to notice our entrance, for the Lark, despite *not* having The Finest Ale in Buckland, was quite popular and was now filled with hobbits of all ages, their tongues loosened by ale and their cares shrouded in pipe-smoke.
Celandine quickly spotted Fred, who was sitting alone at one end of a long table with a mug cradled in his hands and an assortment of various other drinking vessels arranged on the table before him.
"Oh, no," I breathed from my discreet corner. "How much could he have had in half an hour?"
I watched anxiously as Celandine sat down next to him; he looked up, startled, and said something to her. Though I could not hear their conversation, I could see well enough, and it soon became clear that Fred had consumed far more ale than he was used to. Celandine was obviously trying to make the best of a poor situation, but she was finding it difficult to converse with a drunken hobbit who was not in the mood to cooperate. Fred, for his part, was busy gesturing haphazardly, scattering empty mugs every which way, and even the clamor of the room could not drown out his voice entirely. I could not make out his words, but I could see Celandine's brows drawing closer and closer together.
I was about to give up and wade in to drag Celandine away, and was indeed inching my way toward the table where she and Fred sat, when she suddenly screwed up her face in a look of unexpected resolve. As Fred concentrated on tracing the outline of the table's wood grain, peering owlishly at it from several inches away, Celandine took hold of him by the shoulders and turned him to face her.
I could hear him hiccup in surprise from my new seat, three tables away. From there, I could pick up their conversation with only a little difficulty, and was able to hear Celandine as she spoke.
"Fred," she was saving earnestly, "why are you doing this to yourself?"
He gave her a sullen look. "Dono why you should care."
And then Celandine reached out and gently cupped his cheek in her hand. "Of course I care," she said, so quietly that I had to strain to hear her. "What do you take me for?"
My brother blinked at her several times before pulling away roughly. "What d'you mean?"
Celandine shook her head in exasperation. "Honestly," she sighed, but her tone was gentle. "You just won't listen, will you? Come on, you've had enough." She pulled at his arm as if to stand up.
Fred let out a surprisingly harsh bark of laughter. Grabbing hold of Celandine's sleeve, he leaned in close - I edged forward to hear - and said clearly, without a trace of a slur, "No, thank you. I'm quite happy where I am."
"No, you're not," Celandine returned, a curious catch in her throat. "No, you're not."
This seemed to be the final straw; I was startled to see Fred's eyes glisten wetly for an instant, and then he had slumped over the table, his head in his arms. I jumped to my feet and had cut the difference between us in half before I even realized what I was doing and sat down again - this time at the closest table, facing his and Celandine's backs. I perched nervously on the bench, hoping fervently that Celandine would be able to calm him and get him out of the Lark as soon as possible.
If Celandine was aware that I was sitting directly behind her, barely four feet away, she gave no indication of it. Instead, she put a comforting arm around Fred's shoulders and, bending down, whispered something in his ear. He slowly lifted his head, his face flushed with ale and emotion, and stared blearily at Celandine for a long moment.
"Silly lad," said Celandine softly, but there was no mockery in her voice.
Then Fred spoke, so quietly I was barely able to understand him. "Why won't you simply leave me alone?"
Celandine silenced him with a finger to his lips, and then suddenly leaned forward to follow it with a gentle kiss.
I was shocked by this unexpected turn of events. I was even more shocked when Fred wrapped his arms around Celandine and kissed her right back. For a few stunned seconds I could only stare, mute and unmoving; those few seconds were all it took for the nearest cluster of hobbits to notice the two and erupt into appreciative cheers. At the sound, Fred drew back hurriedly, coughed, and muttered something to Celandine that was lost in the din; both were blushing furiously and looked distinctly shaken. The cheering, however, continued - several hobbits even clapped Fred on the back in a congratulatory manner and complimented him on his taste. This did nothing to ease my brother's embarrassment, needless to say, and I finally decided to take pity on the two of them.
Ignoring the renewed laughter as I drew near ("Ah, here's a jealous one!" "Wonder if we'll 'ave a fight?"), I laid a hand on the shoulder of each and bent down to whisper, "I think we've had enough entertainment, don't you?"
Fred stared up at me in abject terror, apparently under the impression that I was still angry. Celandine, who seemed to have forgotten my presence until that moment, flushed crimson again and hurriedly jumped to her feet, nearly overturning the table as she did so.
"Come on, Fred," I prodded. "Let's go. I'm not upset with you."
The three of us somehow managed to escape the smoky cacophony, though not without a few parting comments and more than one final "Hurrah for comely lasses!" thrown at us before we reached the door. Once in the street, however, the drop in noise was striking, and only added to the awkwardness of the silence that stretched out between the three of us.
At last I turned to Celandine, and immediately all of us began to talk at once.
"What was - "
"Stella, I - "
"Don't think - "
As inevitably happens in such situations, we then all fell silent again, eyeing each other warily and daring someone to speak. I looked from Celandine to Fred and back again.
"Well," I said finally. "All I can say is: I am so very glad you two have kept me up to date on everything."
A swift glance passed between the two, and from their faces I instantly realized the full extent of the situation. "Oh," I said suddenly. "Oh." Celandine and Fred remained mute, with rather glassy stares and stricken expressions; I took a hesitant step to the side. "I think - I think I'll just leave you two alone, then..."
Celandine nodded vaguely. Fred frowned and looked as if he were about to say something, but I went on hurriedly, "So - good day to you both, I suppose," and fled back inside the Lark before either Celandine or my brother had time to react.
I knew they would not follow me. Not after what had just happened. Avoiding the Lark's smoky depths, I instead crept to one of the grimy windows and peered out, but was dismayed to find that the glass was so crusted with filth that I could just barely make out the two figures standing outside. Grimacing, I pulled a corner of my sleeve over the heel of my hand and gingerly rubbed at the windowpane until I could see out clearly; neither Celandine nor my brother appeared to have moved.
As I watched, however, Celandine said something; I could not hear, but I could see her mouth move. Fred nodded vaguely, and then Celandine seemed to be edging away. And then, abruptly, she turned and leaned in to give him a quick kiss on the cheek before whirling around and disappearing down the road.
Fred stood, still motionless, where she had left him. Even from my post on the other side of a dusty inn window, I could see the grin that slowly spread across his face; and, watching him, I could not help but smile as well. Celandine had done, somehow, what I could not: she'd made him happy. And I was glad for him.
Things were finally beginning to go Fred's way.
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I am SO sorry to everyone who's been asking for an update, but the truth is I was kidnapped and held at gunpoint by the evil Sir Real Life, and I have only just escaped. I have no intention of abandoning this story! Thank you all for your patience, and you are free to throw tomatoes at me for my tardiness. So. Without further ado, I give you...chapter ten!
::ducks flying tomatoes::
_____________________________
Merry and I both jumped to our feet as Fred stormed toward us, his eyes full of fury and betrayal.
"Fred!" I cried. "Don't - it's not - "
He gave no indication that he had heard, marching straight up to Merry and seizing a fistful of his shirt. He yanked Merry a step forward and, although Merry was a good six inches taller, managed to appear considerably more intimidating.
"I do not ever," he murmured in a dangerously silky voice, "want to see you near me or my sister again."
Alarmed by Fred's murderous expression, Merry tried to back up a pace, but my brother heaved him forward again.
"Fred - " I began.
"You stay out of this!" he snapped angrily, shooting a glare in my direction.
Merry's brow furrowed. "Now see here, Fatty - "
"Don't call me that!" Fred snarled, and gave Merry's shirt a vicious yank. Startled, Merry finally wrenched free of Fred's grasp and danced out of reach, throwing a startled, questioning glance at me; at that, Fred blew up altogether.
"Don't you look at her!" he exploded. "You have no right to - " He broke off abruptly and closed the distance between Merry and himself in a few swift strides. Looking alarmed, Merry threw an arm across his face; Fred seemed to interpret this as a move of aggression and, before I could move to stop him, sent Merry reeling backwards with a blow to his face.
I cried out in shock, but Merry had already recovered, wiping a trail of blood from his lower lip, and when Fred came at him again, he was ready. Quick as you please, Fred was sprawled among the cabbages, his nose already bleeding profusely.
I laid a calming hand on Merry's shoulder, for he was breathing hard and obviously shaken. "It's all right," I murmured, soft enough that Fred could not hear. "Go. I'll take care of it."
He nodded, almost imperceptibly, and I hurried to Fred's side; my brother glared at me but said nothing as I knelt beside him.
"Fred," I said softly, holding out a handkerchief; he snatched it away and pressed it to his nose without a word. "What was that?"
He scowled. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Merry sidling along the fence in the direction of the gate, and I hurriedly turned back to my brother.
"I do appreciate your loyalty," I whispered, and Fred's face softened slightly. Sensing that any attempt to explain would simply make the situation worse, I fell silent and took hold of his arm, pulling him upwards. "You should know better than to go after Merry like that," I chided gently as I helped him to his feet. "He's got six inches and thirty pounds on you."
Fred's face swiftly darkened again, and he shot an icy look at Merry, who took a few hurried steps backward. "Much better than your weakling brother, I suppose," he spat. "Fredegar, who can't do anything right. Fredegar, who couldn't rescue his father. Fredegar, who didn't save the world like his friends did. Fredegar, who only managed to get himself thrown in the Lockholes when he tried to do something worthwhile for once. Fredegar, who's too fat, and Fredegar, who's too thin. Fredegar, who cannot possibly compare to brave, handsome, respectable Meriadoc Brandybuck. I understand entirely, Stella. Go. Marry him. Leave your brother behind; he's not worth your time." And he turned his back on both of us.
I glanced at Merry in dismay; he looked pointedly at Fred, then back at me, and nodded slightly. I gave him a smile of gratitude, and as I approached Fred again he quietly turned to go.
"Fredegar," I began, but at that moment my brother caught sight of Merry at the gate and stiffened. "That's right," he called bitterly. "Slink away, Master Brandybuck, or you'll end up with worse than a swollen lip!"
"Fred!" I exclaimed in exasperation and dismay. He turned with an expression of fury on his face; I grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. "Stop it!"
He slapped me.
I reeled in shock and pain, and took a few stumbling steps backward. Fred's eyes were as wide as saucers. "Stella," he said, "oh, Stella, I'm sorry - "
"No," I said; Fred stopped in his tracks. "No. Enough. Stop."
My brother reached for my sleeve. "Stella..."
"Don't touch me!" I snapped, whisking my arm away and turning toward the Hall.
"Stella!"
I spun to face him one last time. "I do not particularly wish to speak to you at the moment," I said coldly. "I shall discuss this later."
The last glimpse I had of Fred as I swept out of the garden was of his slumped figure as he sank to the bench in defeat.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
For a place so normally busy as Brandy Hall, the hole seemed eerily deserted. Merry had, apparently, vanished into thin air, and I dared stop none of the few hobbits in the halls to ask where he was, for they were all strangers. Tulip, too, seemed to have gone home, and I felt very much the intruder as I wandered the corridors alone, nervous and wary. At long last I caught sight of a familiar face, which should have been cause for relief - but it was Celandine. At the sight of me, she immediately turned heel and marched in the other direction, giving me an excellent view of her back. I ran after her.
"Cel! Celandine! Wait!"
She gave no indication that she had heard.
"Celandine," I repeated, drawing even with her. She shifted the empty laundry basket she held and pointedly ignored my presence. Sighing, I reached out and pulled her to face me. "Cel. I know I've been stupid, but I'm on your side."
She stared at me. "On my side?" she echoed incredulously. "On my side! And what in the Shire, may I ask, is *that* supposed to mean?"
Sensing that this topic could go nowhere, I went on hurriedly, "Oh, never mind - I mean - "
"Never mind - !"
"Celandine!" I exclaimed. She shut her mouth with an audible snap. "Listen. I fully intend to marry your cousin -" her eyes widened - "but first I need you to talk some sense into my brother. I suspect you're the only one he'll listen to at the moment."
Celandine looked as if she couldn't decide whether to gape, scold, or simply storm away. Instead, she managed to stammer, "Why - what's he done?"
I let out a long sigh. "To make a long tale brief, he's rather jealous at the moment, I think."
"Jealous?" she asked, looking confused. I fixed her with a long, deliberate stare, until suddenly her eyebrows arched upward. "Oh. Oh!"
"Yes," I agreed. " 'Oh,' indeed. Will you speak with him, then? He said he's talked to you about - about Merry, and such."
To my surprise, Celandine colored slightly. "Yes. Yes, a bit, now and again," she said hurriedly. "But I will try to speak with him. Where is he?"
"In the west vegetable patch," I answered. "Or - he was fifteen minutes ago, at any rate."
Abandoning her basket, Celandine followed me as I hurried to the small door adjoining the garden. The crumbling bench outside, however, was now empty, and there was no sign of Fred. I let out a long groan, and Celandine's shoulders slumped.
"Well," she said at last, "perhaps someone's seen where he's gone off to."
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
A few knocked-upon doors later, we found that someone had indeed seen my brother leave. Missus Bracegirdle across the street, in fact, had seen "young Master Fredegar" heading down the road toward the middle of town. "And if you ask me," she added shrewdly, "I should think the lad looked to be in search of an ale or two, he did."
Looking at Celandine in dismay, I broke into a trot for The Singing Lark, the nearest inn and a favorite of Fred's; Celandine was close behind. The Lark was only a half-mile away, but I wanted to find my brother as soon as possible. It was a well-known fact that Fred was not a heavy drinker - he indulged at feasts and the like, but rarely visited the inn save on special occasions. For him to deliberately seek out the company of ale was a bad sign; I thought, however, that our swift arrival would avert any disasters. At least I hoped so.
Within a few minutes, Celandine and I were standing outside of the inn. I glanced at her expectantly; she suddenly became very interested in the painted sign that hung above us, proclaiming in loud, gaudy letters, "The Singing Lark" and below that, "Finest Ale in Buckland" (which was, of course, a blatant lie, but no one seemed to mind it much). I cleared my throat.
"I should think I'm the last person he needs to see at the moment," I began hesitantly, "so I'll just slip into a corner if you like. All he needs is someone to settle him down a bit."
Celandine appeared to be having second thoughts: her brow furrowed and she looked troubled. I was about to remark on this when she abruptly nodded resolutely, threw a determined glance my way, and marched into the Lark. I slipped inside behind her, rather furtively, and quickly seated myself in a dim, inconspicuous corner of the main hall. No one appeared to notice our entrance, for the Lark, despite *not* having The Finest Ale in Buckland, was quite popular and was now filled with hobbits of all ages, their tongues loosened by ale and their cares shrouded in pipe-smoke.
Celandine quickly spotted Fred, who was sitting alone at one end of a long table with a mug cradled in his hands and an assortment of various other drinking vessels arranged on the table before him.
"Oh, no," I breathed from my discreet corner. "How much could he have had in half an hour?"
I watched anxiously as Celandine sat down next to him; he looked up, startled, and said something to her. Though I could not hear their conversation, I could see well enough, and it soon became clear that Fred had consumed far more ale than he was used to. Celandine was obviously trying to make the best of a poor situation, but she was finding it difficult to converse with a drunken hobbit who was not in the mood to cooperate. Fred, for his part, was busy gesturing haphazardly, scattering empty mugs every which way, and even the clamor of the room could not drown out his voice entirely. I could not make out his words, but I could see Celandine's brows drawing closer and closer together.
I was about to give up and wade in to drag Celandine away, and was indeed inching my way toward the table where she and Fred sat, when she suddenly screwed up her face in a look of unexpected resolve. As Fred concentrated on tracing the outline of the table's wood grain, peering owlishly at it from several inches away, Celandine took hold of him by the shoulders and turned him to face her.
I could hear him hiccup in surprise from my new seat, three tables away. From there, I could pick up their conversation with only a little difficulty, and was able to hear Celandine as she spoke.
"Fred," she was saving earnestly, "why are you doing this to yourself?"
He gave her a sullen look. "Dono why you should care."
And then Celandine reached out and gently cupped his cheek in her hand. "Of course I care," she said, so quietly that I had to strain to hear her. "What do you take me for?"
My brother blinked at her several times before pulling away roughly. "What d'you mean?"
Celandine shook her head in exasperation. "Honestly," she sighed, but her tone was gentle. "You just won't listen, will you? Come on, you've had enough." She pulled at his arm as if to stand up.
Fred let out a surprisingly harsh bark of laughter. Grabbing hold of Celandine's sleeve, he leaned in close - I edged forward to hear - and said clearly, without a trace of a slur, "No, thank you. I'm quite happy where I am."
"No, you're not," Celandine returned, a curious catch in her throat. "No, you're not."
This seemed to be the final straw; I was startled to see Fred's eyes glisten wetly for an instant, and then he had slumped over the table, his head in his arms. I jumped to my feet and had cut the difference between us in half before I even realized what I was doing and sat down again - this time at the closest table, facing his and Celandine's backs. I perched nervously on the bench, hoping fervently that Celandine would be able to calm him and get him out of the Lark as soon as possible.
If Celandine was aware that I was sitting directly behind her, barely four feet away, she gave no indication of it. Instead, she put a comforting arm around Fred's shoulders and, bending down, whispered something in his ear. He slowly lifted his head, his face flushed with ale and emotion, and stared blearily at Celandine for a long moment.
"Silly lad," said Celandine softly, but there was no mockery in her voice.
Then Fred spoke, so quietly I was barely able to understand him. "Why won't you simply leave me alone?"
Celandine silenced him with a finger to his lips, and then suddenly leaned forward to follow it with a gentle kiss.
I was shocked by this unexpected turn of events. I was even more shocked when Fred wrapped his arms around Celandine and kissed her right back. For a few stunned seconds I could only stare, mute and unmoving; those few seconds were all it took for the nearest cluster of hobbits to notice the two and erupt into appreciative cheers. At the sound, Fred drew back hurriedly, coughed, and muttered something to Celandine that was lost in the din; both were blushing furiously and looked distinctly shaken. The cheering, however, continued - several hobbits even clapped Fred on the back in a congratulatory manner and complimented him on his taste. This did nothing to ease my brother's embarrassment, needless to say, and I finally decided to take pity on the two of them.
Ignoring the renewed laughter as I drew near ("Ah, here's a jealous one!" "Wonder if we'll 'ave a fight?"), I laid a hand on the shoulder of each and bent down to whisper, "I think we've had enough entertainment, don't you?"
Fred stared up at me in abject terror, apparently under the impression that I was still angry. Celandine, who seemed to have forgotten my presence until that moment, flushed crimson again and hurriedly jumped to her feet, nearly overturning the table as she did so.
"Come on, Fred," I prodded. "Let's go. I'm not upset with you."
The three of us somehow managed to escape the smoky cacophony, though not without a few parting comments and more than one final "Hurrah for comely lasses!" thrown at us before we reached the door. Once in the street, however, the drop in noise was striking, and only added to the awkwardness of the silence that stretched out between the three of us.
At last I turned to Celandine, and immediately all of us began to talk at once.
"What was - "
"Stella, I - "
"Don't think - "
As inevitably happens in such situations, we then all fell silent again, eyeing each other warily and daring someone to speak. I looked from Celandine to Fred and back again.
"Well," I said finally. "All I can say is: I am so very glad you two have kept me up to date on everything."
A swift glance passed between the two, and from their faces I instantly realized the full extent of the situation. "Oh," I said suddenly. "Oh." Celandine and Fred remained mute, with rather glassy stares and stricken expressions; I took a hesitant step to the side. "I think - I think I'll just leave you two alone, then..."
Celandine nodded vaguely. Fred frowned and looked as if he were about to say something, but I went on hurriedly, "So - good day to you both, I suppose," and fled back inside the Lark before either Celandine or my brother had time to react.
I knew they would not follow me. Not after what had just happened. Avoiding the Lark's smoky depths, I instead crept to one of the grimy windows and peered out, but was dismayed to find that the glass was so crusted with filth that I could just barely make out the two figures standing outside. Grimacing, I pulled a corner of my sleeve over the heel of my hand and gingerly rubbed at the windowpane until I could see out clearly; neither Celandine nor my brother appeared to have moved.
As I watched, however, Celandine said something; I could not hear, but I could see her mouth move. Fred nodded vaguely, and then Celandine seemed to be edging away. And then, abruptly, she turned and leaned in to give him a quick kiss on the cheek before whirling around and disappearing down the road.
Fred stood, still motionless, where she had left him. Even from my post on the other side of a dusty inn window, I could see the grin that slowly spread across his face; and, watching him, I could not help but smile as well. Celandine had done, somehow, what I could not: she'd made him happy. And I was glad for him.
Things were finally beginning to go Fred's way.
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