The Unlikely Ones
Chapter Eight: Breathe Again
a Lord of the Rings fanfiction
by Van Donovan
joy@crackerboxpalace.com

Frodo awoke to the sun streaming in through the windows and found he was alone in the big bed as he had been the morning before. This time, however, he was still undressed and he was on Estella's side of the bed. He stretched his arms out recalling the night before with a mixture of joy and sorrow. Still, this was going to become -his- side of the bed and with that thought he found he enjoyed it a lot more. After lounging about in bed a while longer he finally pulled himself together and got dressed. He had put away his things in empty drawers the night before and was becoming comfortable with the hall already. He made himself a light breakfast and after checking a few things around the living room he headed outside into the brilliant sun.
His arms weren't so sore that he didn't want to tackle the flower gardens again. He was here for a purpose and even if gardening wasn't his main intent he'd do it anyway. He loved the earth and dirt and ability to grow new things and it helped pass the time a lot while Merry was away. He retrieved his hoe from the storage shed out back, pausing to chat with the pony there for a bit. Then he set about hand turning the topsoil and squatting drop in seeds from his pocket into the holes he created. He was just planting flowers for now, but he'd get to the rest later in the season. He stopped for lunch briefly, and chatting amiably with the hobbits that passed along the road as he walked. Most were pleased to see someone weeding and cultivating the gardens of Brandyhall.
An hour after lunch the sound of light giggles made him look up from his work. Two people were coming down the road and from the looks of them they were both rather young hobbitlasses. He watched them a bit then returned to his planting as they neared to pass by. "Ho there Mr. Gardner!" one of the girls called as they stopped at the fence. Frodo looked up wondering if they knew him, for often his family had been called Gardeners for the replanting his father had done of the Shire after Sharkey's reign. He didn't recognize either of them though, and so he answered them.
"Hullo there," he said, putting his hoe against his shoulder as he walked over. They looked about his age, perhaps one slightly older.
"Are you Master Brandybuck's new gardener then?" the older one asked, her dark eyes looking him over carefully. Frodo shrugged.
"Yup. Indeed I am. Name is Frodo." He offered his hand.
The older girl shook it polite, "'Frodo'?" she questioned then shrugged as she and the other girl exchanged glances. "I'm Ebony Burrows, and this is my sister Laurel." Laurel only smiled at Frodo. "We live down the road some. Where are you from, young gardener? I don't recognize you."
Frodo rubbed the back of his neck absently. "I'm from Hobbiton, actually. Merr--, aah, that is Master Brandybuck is a friend of the family's."
"Hobbiton sure is far away to call for a gardener." Ebony said with a hint of suspicion in her voice. Frodo simply laughed.
"I come from a long line of gardeners you know," he said almost pompously as if to prove her wrong, "Meriadoc is the Master of Buckland you know, and these gardens really are in disarray. You could just hire any old chap to fix them up. He needed the best, and I am the best." Ebony regarded him with a flat gaze.
"You can't be much more than twenty, so how could a tweenager be better than a grown gardener?" She shook her head as if annoyed by Frodo's boasting.
"Well of course, but my father is the mayor in Hobbiton, so he couldn't very well come here and garden for Merry," he said with a grunt.
"Mayor?" Ebony blinked then her eyes narrowed. "Mayor Gamgee you mean? You're his son are you?"
Frodo felt his ear tips flush red at the comment. "Yeah." He felt at a loss for words and wanted the girls to just leave him alone, "Anyway I have to get back to planting, so I'll see you girls another time. Thanks for dropping by." He stepped back to see them go.
Ebony started to strut off but Laurel stood there looking at him with large brown eyes and she opened her mouth for the first time since they'd arrived. "What are you planting?"
Frodo blinked at her question and reached into his pocket to pull out a small seed. "It's a flower called elanor; one of the Elven varieties. Rather rare around these parts, but very beautiful. Yellow, shaped like a star and it thrives in winter so the cold should not hinder its growth." He gave her the small seed and a smile. "In a month or two they should be blooming."
"Laurel!" Ebony called over her shoulder and her sister looked back to her with a sort of concerned expression. Her hand tightened around the seed Frodo gave her and she looked to him.
"Thank you. I look forward to seeing the elanor-flowers," she gave him a wave and then turned to hurry down the road after her sister, her mint green dress fluttering behind her. Frodo watched the two sisters continue up the path absently for a while then resumed his planting back up on the hill.

Merry had gotten to work in the morning and spent the day finishing up all the paperwork that he hadn't completed the day before. Being the Master of Buckland sounded like an important job, but it wasn't really that grand. Hobbits were by nature pretty laid back and didn't usually cause many problems for none of them were into much mischief or trouble. It was true that Brandybucks and those with Brandybuck blood in them generally were a bit more of trouble makers but still Merry's one-month absence hadn't back logged anything too badly.
Come noon he had finished up and was surprised to run into Pippin milling around outside his office door when he had exited to go seek out food. "Hullo there Pip, nosing about again?" he asked with a chuckle.
Pippin looked flustered but quickly regained his composer, his eyebrows furrowing as he studied Merry carefully. He had been trying to muster his courage to face his best friend after the events that had happened last night. "I had just wanted to see if you wanted to go to lunch!" he announced suddenly.
Merry stared at him a full three seconds then they both burst into laughter. "Sure Pip, sounds great," and they were quickly off heading down the road together towards their favourite place to eat: The Steaming Pot. Buckland was far larger than Hobbiton and quite a deal more industrious since it was all the closer to Bree. As it was they were entering more of a shopping district that boasted inns, taverns, stores and markets. Merry and Pippin were both well known around these parts and they got their fair shares of 'hullo!' and 'good day!' as they passed by the people about.
They secured a nice table in the corner of the tavern of The Steaming Pot and therein the headmaster himself came to serve them. He was a short and portly fellow by the name of Osmal Goodbody with a bright red face and large hands. "Hullo fine gentlehobbit sirs! And what can I get you both today?" he inquired looking at the with a jolly face. Merry and Pippin both ordered food and plenty of ale and thanked Osmal as he went off to prepare their meals.
"So how are you, Pip?" Merry asked absently as he waiting for his ale to arrive.
"Been better cousin, but not bad I say," Pippin replied smoothly.
"Suppose you want to talk to me about last night then, now that Frodo-lad's out of the way, hmm?" he inquired with a twinkle in his eye.
Pippin rather glared at him then shook his head, "Am I that easy to read then?" he stated with a laugh and the two chuckled and Merry felt good about everything. An attractive waitress came with their ales and batted her lashes at both of them before leaving them. "Now why couldn't you have come home with a bit of her?" Pippin asked as he watched the curvy hobbitlass walk away.
Merry snickered and took a drink of his ale, "I didn't mean to come home with anyone, Pip," he said simply and the two looked at each other.
"I know," Pippin said testing his own ale. "It's just I'm worried about you. There's a lot more at stake than a few broken hearts." Merry looked away from Pippin but the younger of the two kept talking. "I couldn't hardly sleep last night so unnerved by your little revelation I was." He leaned back in his chair, cradling his ale. "Kept trying to find justification for what you were doing. I could tell he makes you happy. I don't pretend to understand why things bring cheer and others sorrow, but it's plain to see you're happy with him." His eyes darted as if to make sure they were not being overheard. "Still, seems that small bit of happiness isn't worth the pains it'll incur. What d'you think Sam'd say?"
"He doesn't need to know," Merry replied bluntly.
"Merry!" Pippin hissed and stiffened as Osmal brought them their meals. They nodded their thanks and looked at each other for several moments as their food steamed before them. "Sam's going to find out you know. Maybe not right away, but he'll know. Frodo-lad spending so much time in Buckland. People will talk. It's just not right."
"Pip, please I have enough problems without you telling me what I already know," Merry said with a groan as he picked up his fork and knife to cut into his meat.
"Do you really know it though, Merry? Would you really let Frodo throw away his life on you like this? You might be able to recover from such a thing. You're older now and well established, from a strong line of families. Gamgee's just came into their own. Frodo's but a boy. His life would be ruined."
"I'll keep him with me, then," Merry said hotly, straining to keep his voice soft.
"Do you really think Sam would let you?"
"Frodo is free to do as he pleases!" Merry hissed back.
"Perhaps when he is of age, Merry, which isn't for another eleven years!"
They both stared at each other but neither one spoke. Merry glared around the room for anyone who might have started looking at them during their momentary bout of shouting, but no one seemed to care. "I know your words are wise, Pippin," Merry finally said, staring at his plate, "but I will not heed them."
Pippin slumped a little and shook his head. When he spoke, his voice was soft, "You love him that much already then?" Merry closed his eyes and nodded. "You never were one to do something halfway, Meriadoc," Pippin said with a shake of his head, "it was always above and beyond what was needed." He sighed, realizing Merry wasn't going to heed any of the advice he had carefully prepared the night before, for he already knew it. "You are indeed the foolish one, my friend. Frodo-lad is lucky to have you, so long as your story is kept secret."
Merry looked up at Pippin and nodded. "I am lucky to have him as well. I should never have guessed it would turn out this way. I suppose thats the way it is with these things though, wouldn't you say, Pip? Did you ever thing all this would come of going to Bree with Frodo that night so long ago?"
"No," Pippin agreed with a nod of his head, finally taking notice of his food and starting to eat, "and it turned out rather well in the end, didn't it?"
"Indeed it did," Merry answered. The two ate in silence for some time after that, both with their own thoughts filtering in their minds.

Merry left work two hours after lunch as he usually did, but before he could get back to Brandyhall he was confronted by a group of gentlehobbits in fancy dress. The head of the group was Peteshaw Hornblower, who had once been considered one of the wealthiest gentlehobbits in all of Buckland. He wore an expression of utmost delight at seeing Merry, although Merry did not return the gaze. Peteshaw was a polite as you like but he had ideas that didn't suit Merry's fancy much and more often than not meetings with him left a foul aftertaste in Merry's mouth.
"Hullo there Master Brandybuck," Peteshaw called, his voice booming so that anyone passing by could easily hear him.
"Hullo Mr. Hornblower," Merry answered respectfully, his eyes looking from the hobbit before him to the others that flanked Peteshaw. "What can I do for you this find afternoon?" He inquired, having learned some diplomatic skills over the years.
Peteshaw stroked his enormous belly fondly as he studied Merry, "We heard you had returned from your stay up in Hobbiton. The boys and I thought we should drop in and see how you were doing. Terribly sorry to hear about Estella."
Merry locked his jaw and forced a smile. The 'boys' of course was the posse that followed Mr. Money-Bags-Hornblower around hoping for a few dropped coins. "Well that was very nice of you thank you." Merry replied with an inclination of his head, as if to dismiss Hornblower, although he knew that Peteshaw would not come out all this way just to welcome him home. He had something up his sleeves and Merry knew he wouldn't be off the hook until Peteshaw told him what it was, so he stood his ground.
"We thought we should have a little get together to welcome you home, you know something like a celebration," Peteshaw said, his bulbous face breaking into a toothy smile. Merry's eyes narrowed briefly. A celebration? For what? Estella's death?
"That's very . . . thoughtful of you," Merry replied cautiously. A celebration meant money and money wasn't in abundance so did that mean Peteshaw was funding it himself? "It has been awhile since we had a party hereabouts," he added warily.
"Aye indeed it has my good friend!" Peteshaw said as he clamped a strong hand on Merry's shoulder. It almost knocked him to the ground. "In a weeks time we shall have a grand party, I think an exclusive gala would be just right." Merry nodded weakly, knowing Peteshaw had this all planned anyway. "Something classy, adults only or invitation exclusive, you know?" He looked at Merry and Merry felt himself felling rather ill. Invitation only meant all of Peteshaw’s rich friends that were just like him would be there and no one Merry wanted to be with. He closed his eyes and shook his head.
"It sounds lovely Mr. Hornblower, a week from now you say then," he asked with another forced smile. "I will see to it that my calendar is cleared for the event then. Please submit a list of guests you'll be inviting for my approval tomorrow, won't you?" He was the Master of Buckland after all, and that gave him some power. Besides, if it was to be a party in his honour he could at least have some say in who was invited.
"Well, of course Meriadoc I wouldn't think of doing it otherwise!" Hornblower said with a jovial laugh. Merry nodded to him again and began to walk off.
"Well if that's all then I'll be on your way. I really do thank you for coming all this way just to welcome me back to Buckland," he said and nodded to the group of other hobbits with Hornblower.
"Not at all dear Meriadoc! It were my pleasure!" Hornblower called, and waved his hand to Merry as he stalked off.
Merry was no fool and he knew the thoughts behind Hornblower's antics. He thought he should be the Master of Buckland although he had less Brandybuck blood in him than the average hobbit in Buckland. Hornblower probably would not have done the paperwork or negotiated as well as Merry but that wasn't what he was after, and Merry knew it. The Master of Buckland got to live in Brandyhall and it was well known that Brandyhall was the largest smial in all of Buckland and probably in all the Shire. In times past it was a needed thing for the Master of Buckland usually had a wife and quite a brood of children, often to the point where the children had children and a veritable nation lived under the hill.
Merry, however had been born into the line of the Masters of Buckland and had been born an only child, which was rather rare amoung hobbits. During his fathers reign as the Master of Buckland Brandyhall had been considered empty. Assorted cousins and aunts and uncles had come and gone during his childhood but on the whole it had just been Merry and his parents. When his parents had died and the title of the Master of Buckland fell to him after the War of the Ring people rejoiced because it meant at last Brandyhall would be filled with children. Merry had not been interested in marriage though and put it off for sometime.
When he had finally married Estella he knew neither of them were interested in children. The people had been outraged that there had been no children after five years but neither Merry nor Estella had let it bother them. Then, ten years come and gone Estella was dead and Merry was now the widowed, heirless Master of Buckland. That meant he would have to name an heir when he died or retired and Merry knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Peteshaw was trying to weasel his way into the running.
Merry snorted as he trekked up the path that led to Brandyhall. Even if he were to die tomorrow he would see to it that the Hornblowers didn't worm their way into Brandyhall. There were plenty of Brandybucks related to him he would rather name as heirs and if anyone not of his bloodline should have Brandyhall he would name Frodo Gamgee or at least Sam as his heir. Of course, Sam couldn't accept it: he was Frodo Baggin's heir and Mayor of Hobbiton.
"Ho there Frodo!" Merry called as he strode towards his home and spied Frodo in the front gardens on his knees in the dirt. Frodo looked up and smiled brightly.
"Merry!" He got to his feet and ran towards the gate, opening it as Merry came forth. They embraced briefly before Merry pulled back and looked him over.
"My Frodo but do you smell," he said and his nose wrinkled a little. Frodo was covered in soil and grime and had a glistening sheen of sweat on his brow.
Frodo blushed under the dirt and pulled back. "Aah, right. Been laying down the fertilizer just now," he looked Merry over sheepishly. The older hobbit was wiping at his fancy vest with distain. "Sorry 'bout that. Your nose gets used to it after awhile."
"Yes, well," he laughed then and shook his head, "my but you are a lad. Come along are you finished yet?" he asked as he walked up the path to the large yellow door that was the entrance to Brandyhall. Frodo followed him, letting the gate close behind him.
"No sir, I haven't hardly but begun. Spent most of the morning planting the elanor. Find if you put the fertilizer on top the seeds they grow better, least ways in planting elanor it works that way." He wiped his hands on his breeches and glanced to the sky as if to judge the time. "I'll be done in an hour or two. You go on in."
Merry stood by the door to his hole looking at Frodo absently. It felt a little more than awkward to have him working out in the yard as his gardener. He supposed it would be only right to pay Frodo for his duties but it made him feel guilty somehow. He'd rather the boy just toyed with the plants as he pleased and didn't act like a servant to him. Still, Frodo was a Gamgee and took after Sam more than any of the other Gamgee children did and that meant Frodo loved the gardens and couldn't let such an expanse of potential plants go to waste. So Merry sighed and nodded. "All right then, Frodo. I'll bring you some lemonade in a little bit," he said and then turned to go in and thought of something else, "but before you finish make sure you wash up, won't you? I get quite enough of," he waved his hand at the wheel-barrow of fertilizer on the garden path, "well -that- with the pony stalls."
Frodo looked at him a few seconds and then burst into laughter. "Of course Merry."