The title for this story came during a conversation with my sister. We were talking about how all the hobbits lasses in the Shire are either named after flowers or gems. Then I, or she, remembered, “Hey! Estella doesn’t fit that mold!” So we thought, “All the lasses are named after flowers, gems or Estella.” And thus this story was born. Thanks to all who reviewed the story Even Without Apples. I’m very glad you liked it, and I hope to do more cute little vignettes like that.

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Flowers, Gems And Estella – Chapter I

The young lass peered down through the green foliage of the tree she was currently occupying – no sign could be seen of her pursuers, so she breathed a sigh of relief, content that she had found a good enough hiding place. She was breathless from running, and tried to keep her panting inaudible. She couldn’t bear to think what might happen to her if she were heard.

Far off to the left, she heard the rustling of leaves, and shrank back into the safety of the shadows cast by the birch tree’s branches. She feared who would come rushing through those leaves – ‘not him,’ she thought, ‘anyone but him.’

She was in luck, though. It was only the large figure of her brother, Fredegar Bolger, aptly nicknamed Fatty, that came rushing through, none too gracefully.

“Estella? You there?” he called, as if she would answer, which she had no intention of doing. She knew what he and his friends were up to. They were always picking on her, pulling her hair, chasing her up trees, pushing her in the river. He and his group of hobbit lads – every one older than her, no justice at all – didn’t seemed to have anything better to do than to torment her.

Fredegar soon left, off to look for her in some other direction, and she was left to contemplate how she was going to get home without them seeing her. She was small, smaller than any of them, and quick, and she was very good at being quiet. And luckily she had on a green dress today, which, combined with her brown hair, might work well to hide her from their watchful eyes.

‘If only Frodo were here – he would put a stop to this.’ But the one called Frodo Baggins never associated with the likes of her brother that much – he kept to himself mostly, never bothered anyone, hardly ever spoke a word. But, she considered, any hobbit would act that way if they lost their parents at such a young age as he did.

Now she heard someone else coming towards her tree, evident by the rustling leaves directly behind her. This wasn’t the thrashing that usually accompanied her brother’s presence. It was more – calm, calculated. Almost like...

“Estella!” she heard his voice shout. She almost fell out of the tree in fear – not fear from knowing that someone was near, but fear from knowing who that someone was. ‘Not him! Oh, he’s always knows that best way to scare me!’ She gripped the branches tightly, so as to stop from falling out. She stayed in the tree, but she must have made a noise, for she heard him come closer to her hiding place.

“Oh, hello, Estella. What are you doing up in a tree?” he called up. She said nothing, staying still and hoped perhaps he realized that maybe she wasn’t in the tree.

“If you’re thinking I can’t see you, then you’re wrong,” he said next, “You know, you always pick the easiest places to hide. I never have trouble finding you.”

“It’s not that my places are easy to find, Meriadoc Brandybuck!” she yelled down, “It’s that you’re so darned clever you always find them!”

“You flatter me, Estella. You really think I’m that smart?” he grinned, “Now why don’t you come down quietly, and I’ll see to it that we don’t torment you too harshly!”

“Over my dead body!”

“Shall I just come up there?”

“You’ll do no such thing! I’ll kick you in the face if you even try!”

“Well then, would you just like me to tell the others that you’re here? I’m sure they could come up with a plan of action that you’d agree on, since you don’t seem to like any of my ideas.”

“Fine. If I come down, will you not do anything terrible to me, and just let me get home in peace? My mother has been expecting me for some time.”

“Well, if your mother wants you home, how can I refuse her that? I promise that if you come down willingly, I will do nothing that may cause you harm or embarrassment.”

She should have known better than to trust one of Merry’s promises, which he never kept – but she agreed to it, and inched her way down the tree.

“So, I can go home now?” she asked once she down on the ground.

“Sure – but first I want to give you something,” he said, with a grin from ear to ear.

“What?” she asked.

“This!” he shouted suddenly, and pushed her towards the edge of the large hill Estella hadn’t known she was on. She screamed, and tried to stop herself – but, being unable to, she fell to her feet and rolled down the hill. The whole world turned to a blur for her, a sickening blur of green and blue the pulsated in her ears and made her head hurt. She tried for a moment to stop herself – to raise her head even to see where she was going. For a second she was able to by flinging her arms out, and caught a glimpse of the river below her, waiting to break her fall. She anticipated the splashing and the wetness, knowing it would come soon. Curse Merry for this! He always did things like this to her! Why couldn’t he leave her alone? Why couldn’t he just...

The moment before she hit the water, Estella awoke, and looked at her surroundings. They were strange and foreign to her – this was not her bedroom that she usually slept in, with her lacy quilted blanket of white covering her. Her window was circular, and she could usually see moonlight streaming through it. But wherever she was, it was complete darkness but for a dim light coming through a tiny grating – and she sensed that she was not alone.

Realization hit her at that moment, as she remembered what had happened. She was in the Lockholes, the makeshift prison in the storerooms at Michel Delving. The Shire, her Shire, was now being run by those nasty ruffians – tall, gangly men who stank of something she had never smelt before. There was always total darkness in the Shire now, not just in her small prison. And the presence next to her was that of her brother Fredegar, no longer worthy of the name Fatty.

“What in the world has happened to our Shire? Why us, what did we ever do? Why has the outside world decided to do this to us, and not to someone else more deserving?” She always pondered these questions late at night, after Fredegar had fallen asleep, when she was alone to think. To think of a way out, to think of salvation and freedom! Of a time when she was not chained up and spat on! Oh, those were the best times – why, she would have given anything to have her old Shire back – she would even be willing to put up with Merry Brandybuck and Pippin Took again, if she were to be allowed to taste one minute of sweet freedom!

Her thoughts ran once more to Merry and Pippin, who had disappeared along with Frodo Baggins and Sam Gamgee a few months prior. At first, Estella thought she might actually be free of Merry’s taunting and torment, that maybe he would go off and bother someone else for a change. But now? She had to admit she missed his presence, missed him pushing her in the river. At least it beat her current situation.

“Wherever they are now, I’m sure it’s better than here. It has to be – no place can be worse than our poor Shire right now.”

“Shut up in there!” a gnarled voice growled outside her cell. She heard the scraping of a metal dish being slid under the door – it was the time for those cruel monsters to hand out moldy bread and meat for them. “Feast on that, little rat!” he barked, and walked off.

Like an animal, she seized the plate – even if it was ill tasting, it was the only nourishment they had, and so they would have to do their best with it. “Fatty – Fatty, wake up,” she hissed, shaking her brother’s sleeping form.

He grunted as he awoke. “Hmm – it’s still dark,” he grumbled.

“It’s always dark down here – they’ve brought us some food, you want any?”

Just as she feared, he shook his head. There were often days when he ate nothing at all – and on the days he did eat, when she had forced him to eat, his stomach would often reject it.

“We have to keep our strength up – it’s almost winter, and we may need to get out of here soon,” she said.

“We’ve needed to get out of here for weeks now, and we’ve never been able to, have we?” he said almost cynically. It hurt Estella to see him like this, to see him wasted away to nothing, dismissing any hope of freedom that she spoke of.

“Don’t you believe we’ll get out of here? Don’t you think that our Shire can be saved? Have you given up so easily, Fatty?” she asked with an almost angry tone to her voice.

He laughed bitterly. “Don’t call me that anymore – I don’t live up to it. And our Shire has as much chance of being saved as Frodo does of coming back from wherever he is – most likely the grave.”

“I’m assuming you don’t think they’re alive.”

“You assume right. Why, do you?”

“Yes I do,” she said to his amazement, “I don’t why, and I can’t explain it, but I just know they’re alive. I believe it, Fatty, because I have to – because I have nothing else to believe in,” she said. Fatty dismissed her statement, and laid himself down for rest again, advising her to do the same. But she stayed awake, and spoke into the night a prayer that Frodo and his companions were alive and well, and a wish that her Shire would soon be saved.