"Can I... stay here for a few hours? I just do not feel well..."
It was all the invitation that Maribelle Proudfoot needed to pull her youngest son into the house by the hand, motioning for him to watch his head. "I swear you grew taller since last time," she said as she led him into the kitchen, where only one of her thirteen other children was at the moment. "Mayple, find something for your brother to eat--"
"Mumma, I am not hungry--"
"--because all of this adventuring is making him thin--"
"--I just want to sleep--"
"--and I am going to fetch your father from the post."
Once Mrs. Proudfoot was scurrying down the lane, Bainith looked to his sister pleadingly. "Please do not make me eat anything. I just threw up thrice in the Delving Fields."
Mayple patted Bainith's hand with concern, then began a kettle with tea and took a pan from the cupboard. She waited for it to warm, then dropped a small dollop of butter on it and let it sizzle. If it smelled like she had cooked something, she knew her little brother would play along. "What happened, Bayleaf?"
"Oh, Yucca." He was sitting awkwardly at the table, his head bowed not only to protect it from the baskets of onions and potatoes hanging from the ceiling, but also because of the throbbing headache. "She went with Bandoras on her honeymoon."
Mayple winked at him. "Oh. Is that all?"
"They went to Moria."
Mayple nearly dropped the teakettle. "Oh? Oh, no! Not Moria!"
"Moria? Did I hear Moria?" Conner Proudfoot still had his mail sack over his shoulder, and Maribelle, standing beside him, looked aghast. "You are not going to Moria, m'boy."
"Not me, Pappa," protested Bainith. He bit his lip and furrowed his brow. "Bandoras Brandybuck and Yucca Brace--- Yucca Brandybuck. They went to Moria on their honeymoon. I received letters from them, but I am worried sick!"
"Oh, dear! Oh, goodness gracious me!" Maribelle completely forgot to ask why Mayple was heating butter with nothing out on the counter to cook, but she fell down into the first chair she could find and began to fan herself with her hand. "Oh me, oh my!"
Conner gave a hard look at his two youngest children and made a dismissive motion towards a narrow hallway. "Go to your rooms while your mother and I discuss this."
"Pappa," protesting Mayple, "Baynor does not have a--"
"He can sit in your room or use the bed in the guest room," decided their father, and he made a shooing motion again. "You are not being punished, but I need to have a discussion with your mother."
Glad to be out of the room with smells of food that were nauseating him, Bainith followed his sister through the house, past a sewing room, a library, and two pantries, all of which had once been bedrooms where their siblings once lived when they were still at home. There was a room at the far end that had become Conner's 'mail checking study', once Bainith's room, and across from it, the room that Mayple used to share with Posy. Posy had married four years ago and moved to Staddle as a Rumble, and now Mayple had the room to herself. "Do you want to sit with me in here?" she asked as she pushed back the curtain at the doorway. "Or, do you want to use the guest room?"
"Guest room. I think I could use a nap." Bainith allowed his sister to fuss over him as he worriedly listened to his parents discuss the situation. Despite their whispers, he could always hear their conversation.
"These are nice clothes, Bayleaf. Did you buy them in some Elfy town?" asked Maple as she folded the cloak and shirt.
"No, I made them," he said, crawling under the blankets. He had to pull his knees up to keep his legs from hanging off the end of the bed. "I am learning to be a tailor."
"That is amazing!" Mayple smiled and examined one of the shoes. "Maybe you could make a dress for me sometime."
"If I get good enough to, I will," promised Bainith.
Mayple pulled a stool up to the side of the bed and considered shutting the door so that they would not be heard, but it seemed their parents were in a deep discussion. "Bayleaf?" she said, happily using the name she and her siblings did when talking to him. Baynor was also the name of their great-grandfather, and it always seemed too 'old' of a name for the tall, pointy-eared little brother of theirs.
"Yes, Mayple?"
"Do you still love Yucca?"
Bainith rolled over onto his side so that he could face the wall. Memories of what had happened five years earlier when he approached Mr. Bracegirdle flooded back. Certain that he would never find a suitable mate for himself in the Shire, and worried about the fate of his best friend, he began a light and carefree courtship with Yucca. Even now, he was fairly certain she had been unaware of the intentions of it all, happily receiving and eating the pies he brought; clapping when he would recite bits of poetry to her; giggling when he brought bunches of flowers bigger than she was.
He had unexpectedly begun to think that perhaps that had been the right decision after all. In Bainith's mind, Yucca was much too innocent for many of the expectations of marriage. In his mind, he was certain he was not interested in such things as they related to someone of the opposite sex. He expected that their bedroom life would have consisted very much of building tents indoors out of the bedsheets and sharing little secrets. In fact, when he had planned it all out in his mind, the bedroom needed to have two separate beds -- a cozy little one for Yucca, and a long skinny one for him.
All of these fantasy dreams were smashed the day he approached Mr. Bracegirdle. Quite appropriately, he acquired a ring with money he made on his own, and kept it hidden away until such time that he had funds enough for half of a modest wedding and to make a large payment on a small hole of their own. With no expectation of children, they could manage in a two or three room home.
The plan seemed absolutely flawless in his head, but when he asked permission from Yucca's father, it was evident that he was the only person who thought so. "Baynor-lad," began Mr. Bracegirdle after he allowed Bainith all the time needed to make a full explanation, "you are going to thank me for this someday. The answer, son, is no."
Bainith had not even awaited an explanation. He had muttered a brief, "Thank you for your time," and wandered away like a dumbfounded fool. When he sneaked back home, it was Mayple who caught him trying to tiptoe through the hallway, and it was to Mayple that the whole story was related, in short, stilted sentences, punctuated by sniffles and tears. To this day, he had yet to speak to Mr. Bracegirdle again, or even make eye contact, and if Yucca had ever been told, she did a fine job of hiding it. What he had realized that day is that some part of him did love Yucca, and if he was not destined to be her husband, he was going to make damn sure whomever it was did nothing to hurt her.
"There are many kinds of love," he mumbled as he continued to stare at the wall.
"Oh, Bayleaf." Mayple threw her arms around him, or as much of him as she could. "I just know you will find someone to make you happy some day."
Bainith reached a hand over and patted her shoulder. "I have, actually, but I still worry about Yucca."
"Oh, you have? Oh that is wonderful! Have you told--"
"Shhh..." Bainith rolled over again, nearly knocking Mayple onto the floor. "Sorry," he apologized as she plopped down on the stool again. "I do not want to tell Mumma and Pappa. Not yet."
"Is she a pretty elf-lady? I just knew you would find another elf -- does she have pretty golden hair like you do? I wish I had golden hair like yours," said Mayple, and it was not the first time she had said such a thing.
"Mayple, hush," warned Bainith. "She is not an elf-lady. She is not a she," he added quietly, his cheeks coloring slightly. "I will not speak his name now, for I fear someone trimming the hedges outside."
Mayple gave a little gasp, her eyes wide. "I saw you with someone at the wedding," she squeaked, flailing a little. "He tried to get you to dance, but I know how embarrassed you are about that, and I almost told him to shoo away. I was wondering why he would dance with you and not with an elf-lady. There were a lot of elf-ladies there."
"Yes, that was him," confirmed Bainith.
"He is actually very pretty. Almost as pretty as an elf-lady."
Bainith smiled. "I know."
"And you love him?" she prompted with a grin.
"Yes, very much," declared Bainith. "But you must not tell anyone."
"Do we get to have secrets now like you and Yucca did?" Mayple winked at him.
"Sure," he said, drawing the pillow down a little more. "It has to stay a secret, though."
Mayple reached up and tucked the covers around Bainith. "You know, everyone around the Shire talks about how great Bandoras is. He can fight orcs and dragons and stuff. I am sure he is not going to let anything happen to Yucca."
Bainith nodded, still unable to get the knot out of his stomach.
"Do you want me to make you some sleeping tea?" offered Mayple. "It will probably make you feel better, but it will definitely help you sleep."
Another nod, though Bainith managed to fall asleep before she returned, hoping that she was right about the adventure Bandoras had taken Yucca on, thoughts of a very pretty elf he hoped to see soon helping him drift into reverie.
-end-
