They've been out in the sun and the water all day and now they're resting near the shore, breathing heavily. Sammie laughs, poking Aster in the side. She laughs and pokes him back and the two descend into a tickling fit. Del simply sighs and shakes her head and thinks they're children, even as Merry-lad pushes Frodo-lad into the water. There's a tremendous surge of sound and the Mayor and the Mistress laugh as their children splash about and Elanor shakes her head and Rose-lass shrieks as Frodo-lad slings a clump of mud her way.
Frodo-lad's namesake shakes his head and laughs, too, and Del props herself up with her elbows and finds her thoughts drifting to their laughter. The Mayor's laugh is deep and rumbling and it's just as it should be, sun warmed and strong like the earth. The Mistress' has a sort of chime about it, as though the lady was daintier than she seems. And Master Frodo's is paper thin, like it could blow away on the wind, but sweet too, and Del thinks the world is better each time that it's heard.
And the children, too. Sammie's is much like his uncles but there's a sort of sunlight there and Del can't imagine anything brighter. And Aster's is sweet as a seed-cake, and just as lovely. Merry-lad and Pippin-lad's are like two halves of a whole, and they give strength to the other. Oh, and Rose-lass, high-pitched like the call of some bird, and Frodo-lad, quick and infectious. And Elanor's, and Del supposes that's what it's like to hear an Elf sing. With Hope, it's simply nice, and she likes the sound of her sister's laugh, and likes what chances there are for her and her joy. There's the little ones, too, and they're like parts of a chorus. When they rise together, it's more of a harmony than you'd think it could be, and not a discordant mingling of chortles and guffaws.
She can think of Master Merry and Master Pippin's, as well. One deep and rumbling and strong, strong like a mountain, and just as deep, the other like water and just as consuming. Then there's Mistress Diamond's, sweet as honey, and Mistress Estella's, quick as a river. Borry has a tendency to guffaw and Farry chuckles and Meli's is a bell and Molly's is like some sort of song.
And there's the others as well, but as she sits there and listens, she thinks of one she's surely missing. And at the back of her mind Del wonders what it would be like to listen to the sound of Peony laughing. And it's a small enough thought that she nearly misses it at all.
And she guesses that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't be a bad sound at all.
~