Merrill doesn't believe in shoes (little_elf_lost) wrote in valarlogs, @ 2012-09-19 21:44:00 |
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Entry tags: | !complete, frodo baggins, merrill |
Who: Frodo and Merrill
What: Frodo attempts to propose again, but Merrill gets sick
When: Wednesday evening
Where: A very fancy restaurant
Status: Complete!
Rating: PG
So his plans to propose on the beach had not gone off as planned, in the sense that they had not gone off at all. No more than a few words into his prepared speech, when they were interrupted by a wounded animal. Frodo loved Merrill for her large heart, but he felt he had never disliked dogs more than at that moment.
Now, he was going the more traditional route, and had taken Merrill to a rather exclusive restaurant in Beverly Hills. There was little chance they would be interrupted by a dog there. He wasn't trying to show off--he never was--but it was a special place. Expensive. Private tables. Very romantic.
Merrill's sundress was a bit more informal than the dress of other patrons at the restaurant, but between her hair and her ears, she set a striking enough figure. Besides, once they were seated, the table was rather secluded and candlelit. The only person she cared about impressing was Frodo, and she was certain she managed that.
She probably felt more under-dressed that she actually was. Frodo certainly could not have pictured any other way, in that moment; he ordered his finicky brain to stamp her image in his mind: the way she looked the night I proposed to her.
His plan was more simple this time. The ring had not been baked into a pastry, nor would there be any strolling musicians. It would be quiet and intimate, and in their booth they would have plenty of privacy to kiss afterward.
"This is really nice," she told him, rubbing her fingers lightly along his knuckles as they held hands over the table. She had not paid nearly enough attention to the menu.
Frodo lifted her hand to kiss it, and cuddled a little closer to her in their booth. It was quite cozy. In his other hand, he held the menu--Hobbit!--and his eyes glided across the page. However, he was looking for something on the lighter side. He didn't want anything weighing him down.
Merrill couldn't help but smile; she'd probably been smiling the whole night! She leaned close, plucking playfully at his collar. "You look very handsome," she told him. There was a new lilt to her voice. Her accent was changing, some strange hybrid between Russian and Welch.
"What looks good?" Merrill asked. She didn't normally ask Frodo to order for her, but she wasn't craving anything in particular. She had a bit of a nervous stomach tonight, actually, though she wasn't quite sure why. Maybe being in such a fancy place. She was sure she would be fine once their food arrived.
Frodo hummed thoughtfully at the menu as his cheeks warmed from her compliment. He still had moments where he could not quite believe that such a sweet, adorable, and lovely woman found his old bones attractive. Sometimes he teased himself, saying that he better get Merrill down the aisle before she realized what a silly mistake she was making. He kissed her temple.
There was a salad with pears and prosciutto that looked very good to start with, and a fish entree seemed like the light dinner he was looking for. Oh, but there was also rabbit on the menu, and the woodsy hobbit he was did like rabbit quite a bit. He pointed a few things out to Merrill for her approval.
Merrill let her chin rest on Frodo's shoulder, peeking at his menu and nuzzling his neck. "The salad sounds good," she said. She wasn't sure about the entree yet. She kissed Frodo's cheek lightly. "Pick something for me," she requested as the waiter approached.
Clearly, she was not any more hungry than he. Frodo ordered the salad and settled on a half of a roast chicken entree for them to split. He also asked for a glass of wine, for himself. He was more nervous this time around, for some reason.
The skin down the side of his neck turned to gooseflesh. With the menu and waiter gone, Frodo took the opportunity to kiss Merrill like she deserved to be kissed on the day of a proposal. His hands went into her hair and finished at the points of her ears.
Merrill passed on the wine tonight. She didn't think it would be a good idea to drink on an already queasy stomach. She ordered a glass of lemonade, instead.
Merrill made a surprised little happy sound when Frodo kissed her more deeply than she'd been expecting in public. But then, it was a fairly private table, and the waiter wouldn't be back for a little while. She kissed him back, wrapping her arms around Frodo's shoulders and shivering when he got to her ears.
Honestly, when she quivered like that, all Frodo wanted to do was press her down into the cushion and make love to her. There was no denying it. And no denying the fact that Merrill being the first--and the only--woman he was ever with, it felt like sex was something the two of them had discovered, something no one else in the world knew about. (It didn't matter that there had been a few others for her before him. It was exactly how he felt about it.)
"You look so beautiful tonight," he said.
After that kiss, Merrill would have a difficult time arguing with that course of action. Her ears had only gotten more sensitive since they’d taken on more elfin qualities. She smiled, looking over at him with bright eyes. “Maybe we should’ve stayed in,” she teased, leaning in and kissing him again.
“Well, we certainly won’t be staying out too long,” Frodo replied. He sighed. His large brown eyes narrowed the slightest bit. “...Is your accent changing now, like you ears did?”
Merrill’s cheeks were a little flushed after the kisses, and the hints for later tonight. She tilted her head a little at his question. “What? Is it?” She hadn’t thought much about it. “Maybe it is.” She hadn’t been to see her parents in a few weeks. They would probably notice her accent changing..
“We should do dinner with my family sometime,” Merrill said.
“I think it is,” said Frodo. “I thought you were just imitating me, but I think it’s changing.” He marveled the universe and how strange things could be. “I like it, though. It’s rather cute.”
As for meeting her family, at first Frodo brightened at the idea. And then, on second thought, he blanched. Meeting Merrill’s parents was a potentially awkward situation. They were probably around the same age as he, possibly younger. How much did they know about him, he wondered. But there really was no way around it... Still, he gulped. “Yes, I would like to meet your family. You have met Merry, and that is about it on my side. It is a shame you never got to meet my uncle. He would have loved you.”
Merrill giggled. “I’m not imitating you,” she said, smiling. “I guess it is! I sound more Dalish,” she said with a sing-song voice.
Merrill nodded. “I would’ve loved to meet him,” she said, wistful. She squeezed his hand lightly. “My sister won’t be back until Christmas, but maybe I can get my brother to bring his wife.” He seemed worried, which was silly. “I’m sure everyone will love you.”
The wine arrived at that point. He took a sip. “You think they will be fine with the... age gap between us?”
Merrill shrugged. “I think so. My father is twenty years older than my mother.” Her mother was younger than Merrill when they got married, but she couldn’t imagine them getting too upset. “Pete might snicker, but just ignore him.”
He smiled, a little relieved, at least. “As long as they give me a chance to prove I’m worthy of you.” Frodo flicked a strand of hair behind her ear. His other hand slipped into his pocket. He fingered the ring. Merrill’s ring.
“They will, I’m sure!” She leaned in and kissed him lightly. “How could they not love you?” She couldn’t imagine it going poorly. “Oh, my ears!” she said when he brushed them. “They haven’t seen them yet.” This would be an interesting gathering, to say the least.
“The ears... the accent... the middle-aged boyfriend...” Frodo swirled the wine in his glass. “What other surprises could we have in store for them?”
Merrill giggled. “Maybe one of us needs to run away and join the circus.” It was probably a good thing her parents liked surprises. She’d mentioned Frodo to them before, so that wouldn’t be too bad. As for the accent.. Well, as long as she didn’t forget how to speak Russian, she didn’t think her father would be too worried.
“Right, I could... do that thing where they walk around on the flaming hoops.” Frodo laughed.
It was then that their salad arrived. Frodo was right to think that they would be better off splitting their meal. It was a large salad. And he was too nervous to eat very much.
Merrill took her fork and picked at the salad, eating a bit. It’s not that she wasn’t hungry; she’d been starving earlier! Maybe she was coming down with something. “You know,” she said, after swallowing a bite of salad. “When I was a little girl, I used to want to be a trapeze artist. Flipping through the air, reaching out for my handsome partner to catch me.”
“I wanted to be an Imagineer,” he replied. “And maybe also Superman.” He shook his head at himself. Those had been the dreams of a little boy. Although sometimes he wondered if there was another career still awaiting him. Something with art, perhaps.
Merrill giggled. “Well, you could pull off the spit curl,” she said, pulling one of Frodo’s curls down over his forehead like the Man of Steel.
“Hmm, are there any circus acts that revolve around feats of eating enormous quantities?” he mused aloud, present salad aside.
“Probably,” Merrill commented. “State fairs usually have eating contests. Have you been to one of those?” The salad was good, and Merrill was probably sneaking more than her fair share of pears.
“I’ve seen them,” he said, “But I have never taken part.” He let her steal all the pears. His free hand was still fingering the ring his his pocket. There was a part of him that wanted to ask her as quickly as possible, so that he could say it was done, and then his stomach would stop doing somersaults.
The waiter brought their main entree then. Merrill could smell it as he brought it in, and her stomach turned. She looked queasy, covering her nose and mouth. The smell was overwhelming.
Frodo thanked the waiter, but his attention was immediately elsewhere. His hand came out of his pocket and both hands landed gently on her shoulders. “Are you alright?”
Merrill shook her head. “I’m..” She closed her eyes, hoping that would help somehow. “I just don’t feel well.” Her face was flushed, and she felt a little warm.
It seemed to have come on so suddenly that it made Frodo feel nervous just as abruptly. After the scare she had given him with the mirror, every little twinge seemed to excite his nerves. He pushed Merrill’s water glass closer to the edge. “Here, drink something.”
Merrill took the glass, sipping some water. The sharp cold was helpful. “Just the smell. I guess I’m not in the mood for chicken.” She picked up her napkin, pressing it to her lips. “Sorry,” she said.
“No, no...” Frodo soothed. He pushed the plate away, much in the same manner he had pushed the glass, only in the opposite direction. “Do you want something else, or...?” His voice trailed away. He was prepared to call the waiter back over and ask for their food to be wrapped up.
Merrill shook her head, eyes closed. She couldn’t imagine eating anything right now, and the mention made her stomach roll again. The salad was fighting to come back up.
Frodo shook his head. “Don’t worry about anything,” he said. He signaled for the waiter and quickly explained the situation. The chicken was taken away to be wrapped--most likely as a midnight snack for himself. He also handed the man his credit card so that they could pay and be on their way as quickly as possible.
Once the food was gone, Merrill felt a bit better. She was still a little weak, and leaned against Frodo’s shoulder, breathing through her mouth. She would feel better in the fresh air, she thought.
One thing about surviving an anxiety condition was that it made one able to act quite calmly when others were concerned. He had behaved the same way with the mirror.
The food, card, and bill returned. Frodo signed. In the short interim, he had also text messaged his chauffeur. “Do you think you can walk out of here?” he asked her.
Merrill nodded. “I think so.” She took another sip of her water first. She did get a little dizzy when she stood, but she had her handsome partner to catch her.
Frodo brushed a hand across her stomach. “Tummy trouble? Can’t blame Disney this time. Let’s get you outside.”
Merrill nodded, following him outside. “I’ve just been feeling a little off,” she said. The cool air helped, some. “I’m sure I’ll feel better once we’re home.” She hated to ruin the nice evening he had planned.
Frodo sighed at that point. He could not really help it. “It’s okay. Don’t worry about any of it. A quiet evening at home might be just what the doctor ordered. Let’s just rest.” But the ring in his pocket cut into his thigh as she bumped against him.