Disclaimer:  These wonderful, dear hobbits don’t belong to me; they are the brainchild of Professor Tolkien. I merely borrow them in my addiction to write about hobbits.

Summary: Pippin (Just turned seven) and Merry (still fourteen) take a business trip with Paladin to Michel Delving. Merry takes a hit on the noggin and has a surreal experience all his own!

FROM RICHES TO RAGS

Chapter One - Goodbyes

Eglantine walked out towards the barn where her husband was packing hampers full of food she’d packed for their trip. She clutched at the cloak she wore in her haste to weather the early morning spring chill that swept through the yard. “Paladin!”

Paladin rested the hamper on the floor of the cart he was loading, “What is it?”

Eglantine waited until she was closer to him before continuing. “She’s awake,” she said, “and she’s in tears.”

Paladin answered, “I checked on her this morning and she was still asleep.”

“Well she’s awake now, and she’s not a happy little lass,” Eglantine replied.

He sighed. “Tell the lads to wait in the kitchen; I don’t want them getting sick as well.”

Paladin sat on his youngest daughter’s bed with his hand on her forehead. Pervinca lay there pale and very warm. “Sweet Pea, you still have a fever; you cannot come with us.”

“But it’s only a little one, Papa.” She pleaded. “I promise to wear my winter coat and my cloak--and I’ll even wear my hat!”

Paladin shook his head sadly, “I’m sorry, love, you’re sick, and if you go about in the cool weather all day, however bundled up you are, you will only get worse.” He watched as tears sprang from her eyes, then gently wiped one away with his finger. “That would make me even more unhappy than I already am,” he said sadly. Paladin really did want his young daughter to come along; she rarely got to go on trips such as this one, and today they were headed for Michel Delving, the Shire’s chief township, and it was a terrible disappointment for him. “I promise we will bring you back a nice gift.”

Pervinca sniffed, “But it won’t be the same as being there.” She tugged and fidgeted with the handkerchief in her hands.

“I still have one more trip to make next week to Longbottom in the South Farthing. You may come along at that time, if you’re hale.” He kissed her rosy cheeks, “I must go now, Sweet Pea. I have customers with whom I have appointments today.”

Pervinca was old enough to know that their livelihood was somewhat dependent on these meetings her father set up, though not solely. Most, if not all, were already long-time friends and relatives of her father. He met with them every year during the growing season to agree upon prices and bartering of the crops that they would receive. Michel Delving had plenty of agriculture, however due to the number of hobbits that dwelled there, more simply had to be brought in.

“I know, Papa,” she answered, then forced a weak smile. As wretched as she felt about not going, she certainly didn’t want to burden her father during the whole trip with her unhappiness. “If you please, I would like a new slingshot, if you can find one.”

Paladin wasn’t sure if he heard his daughter correctly. “A new....slingshot? Since when does a little lass play with slingshots?”

“I haven’t yet...well, not much anyway. Merry lets me use his, but I’d like one of my own.” Then she beckoned for her father to lean in, and whispered, “and I want it to be a new one so that Pippin will be jealous.”

Children!, said Paladin laughed inwardly. He grinned, “Very well, then--a new slingshot it is! Now I want you to get your rest.” He tucked the blankets around her and then kissed her head. “Go to sleep.”

Paladin was now in haste; he was almost a half-hour behind schedule. Merry and Pippin were waiting for him in the kitchen just as he’d asked. “Lads, get your coats and cloaks on.” He grabbed his son’s coat from off the peg and assisted him with putting it on and fastening all the buttons. Merry put his own coat on and then handed Pippin’s cloak over to his uncle. “Merry, I want you to take Pippin and go out to the trap and wait for me there. I shall only be a moment.” He watched as Merry took his younger cousin by the hand and led him outside into the waxing dawn.

Eglantine wrapped her arms about her husband's waist and drew him close, “Hurry back.”

“I never dawdle when my heart is here in Whitwell.” He looked at her and smiled, then tenderly kissed her. Many heartbeats passed before he finally let go and sighed ever so slightly, “I’ll see you on Hensday.” Then as his wife helped him to put on his cloak, Paladin said, “Addie said he will look in on you and the lasses tonight on his way back to the Smials.”

“You worry too much, Paladin. We’ll be fine!” She gave him another peck on the lips.

Paladin gazed into her hazel eyes, “But all the same, it would make me feel better knowing he did this--please?”

“All right,” Eglantine relented, “if it will make you sleep easier.” She waved him off toward the door.

“Goodbye, love,” he called over his shoulder, then grabbed a small, brimmed black hat from the pegs before shutting the door behind him.

“But I don’t like wearing hats, Papa!” Pippin whined as his father tried to tie the strings under the seven-year-old's chin.

“Hold still, Pippin.” Paladin re-gathered the strings for yet another attempt.

“That isn’t true,” Merry piped in. “You wear hats all the time.”

Young Pippin gave his cousin a stern, sidelong look, “I don’t like this one!”

“I like it!” Merry replied with a mischievous grin, “It makes you look like a darling little laddie.”

“It makes me look like my sister!” Pippin reached out to swat his cousin, but Merry jumped out of the way.

“Quit fussing!” Paladin reprimanded his son. “Both of you!” He was becoming anxious about how he was going to make up the time on the road. Finally getting the brief moment in time that Pippin held still, Paladin quickly tied the strings and then lifted the small lad into the cart. “This is the same hat that your mother purchased just last autumn for the Harvest Fair. You had no qualms about wearing it then.”

“I was a little lad then and didn’t know any better,” answered Pippin.

Merry lifted himself up into the cart and then laid blankets across his and Pippin’s lap while his uncle walked round to the other side of the trap. He said to Pippin, “It’s too bad Pervinca got sick. We should bring her back a small trinket.”

“Yes,” agreed Pippin, “I shall buy her a new Shooter.”

“Pervinca doesn’t play with marbles, you goose egg!”

“Well, that’s too bad,” said Pippin with an impish grin. “I suppose when she decides she doesn't like it, she’ll give it to me for her birthday.”

Merry shook his head, “My birthday is far sooner than Pervinca’s--perhaps you’ll get a new Shooter from me.”

“No, I was hoping to get some new marbles from you,” answered Pippin, “I need about three of them.”

“Did you lose them in a game?”

“No, I just lost them, is all.  Probably somewhere under my bed.” Then he laughed, “I lost my marbles, Merry!”

Chapter Two - The Long Ride

By nine o’clock, the sun had fully risen and warmed up the Shire enough to where all the travellers had shucked the blanket from their legs and their coats, shoving them underneath the seat. Pippin, still wearing his cloak--by order of his father, took in a deep breath as the cool wind brushed passed his cheeks. He sat between his father and cousin, listening as Merry received instructions on how to drive a team of ponies. After some lengthy discussion, Pippin watched his father hand over the reins to Merry.

“Careful now, son,” cautioned Paladin. “Don’t pull too hard.”

Merry smiled; he loved that endearment his uncle would use. He laughed, “I’m driving, Pippin!”

Pippin saw all right--and was quite envious. Pippin wished that he was old enough to drive the ponies. After a couple of miles of hearing Merry’s joyous outbursts Pippin had a plan.

“Very good, Merry,” said Paladin, encouraging his nephew. “However, I think I’ll take back the reins for now; we’re coming up on a rough part of the road.”

As Merry was handing back the reins to his uncle, Pippin made a grab for them. “Haa!” Pippin slapped the reins and the ponies took off running, jolting both Merry and Paladin backward into their seats for a moment.

“Pippin!” Paladin shouted, he regained his balance then grabbed the reins out of the child’s hands bringing the ponies to a stop. “You could’ve injured yourself and Merry!” He pointed to a deep groove in the road directly in the path of the wheel on Merry’s side. “That rut certainly would’ve broken our wheel at that speed, and you’d still be tumbling down the side of that ravine wondering when you'd stop. Not only would it take me hours to find you, it should grieve me to find you with broken bones or worse.” Paladin took in a deep, calming breath. “I’m sorry you’re a little lad, but there are some things you must wait for until you are much bigger.”

Pippin sulked at his father’s scolding, “But that will never happen! I’ll always be seven and littler than everyone else,” he answered. “Even Merry’s cousin, Ilby, is bigger than I am--and he’s a whole year younger.”

Merry remembered the Yule party at Brandy Hall. The older boys were laughing about whom was the tallest, and then they drummed up a contest between the younger boys as well. “He wasn’t bigger then you, Pippin,” Merry said, “he was the same size.” He purposefully left out the fact that Ilberic wouldn’t be six until August. “Besides,” he added, “you seemed happy about turning seven last week at your birthday party.”

“That was last week, Merry. Now I want to be....ten! Yes,” he stated, “I want to be ten. Then I could do lots of things.”

“Like what?” Paladin had started the ponies back up, but at a much slower pace. Being an experienced driver, he carefully divided his attention between the rough road and his son.

Pippin answered, saying, “Things that Merry is big enough to do--like driving carts...”

Merry sat tall in his seat, and smiled. He was quite proud of his accomplishment today.

“...and work in the fields with you...”

Merry smiled wider. He was beginning to feel like the enviable older brother.

“...and smoke a pipe!”

Merry’s eyes were wide in shock. Pippin wasn’t supposed to tell anyone!

Pippin put in matter-of-factly, “Merry told me he can smoke a pipe, and I think I should like a try at it, too.”

Paladin inched forward in his seat to send his sternest look over towards his nephew, but the young teen’s eyes were conveniently occupied looking over the side down the ravine. “It will be a long time before you--or Merry--are old enough to smoke a pipe!” He felt the inside of his coat pocket, ensuring his small pouch and pipe were still there. “Tell me, Pippin lad, what else does Merry do?”

Merry winced, giving Pippin’s foot a nudge with his own.

Always willing to oblige an audience, Pippin sang like a bird, “He’s even watched the lasses swimming in the Brandywine! He says you can see through--” Pippin’s speech was cut off by a certain teen's hand over his mouth.

Merry nervously laughed it off, “I only meant that you can see forever in their eyes.”

Pippin took the hand away from his mouth, “You didn’t say ‘eyes’, Merry!”

Now it was Paladin who was shocked. “Merry...did you leave anything for me to teach my son? Or did you go on to tell him how babies are made?”

“No, papa,” Pippin said, thought this subject did pique the lad’s interest. “Merry didn’t tell me that--how is a baby made?”

Paladin froze. Merry let me walk into that one! He looked over to his nephew, who was grinning--almost laughing.

“Yes, Uncle!” Merry feigned innocence, “That is one of the many stories my own dad hasn’t told me.”

“He hasn't yet, but I have! Several times because you keep coming back with ‘what if’ questions!”

Merry couldn’t hide his amusement any longer and laughed, “That’s because it’s so much fun to watch your face turn red as a beet!”

It was a long ride to Michel Delving; there were plenty of songs, and the conversations were long, short, and sometimes silence even settled between the threesome. As the large town loomed in the distance, they stopped on the side of the road for lunch. All three were sprawled out upon the blankets, taking their ease before enclosing themselves in the hustle and bustle of the “city” life.

At length, Paladin decided a bit of exercise would be good after sitting cramped in the little cart all day. The three stood in a circle tossing one of Paladin’s apples; he offered it to the winner of the game. If one person dropped it, then they were eliminated and the game would continue between the last two. So far, all three had kept a keen eye on catching the apple. At each toss from Merry, Pippin found himself reaching out more and more for the apple, and after a few of these he felt himself tiring. He figured Merry was over-tossing on purpose. That was all right, he had yet another scheme up his sleeve. When Merry tossed it this time, Pippin nearly missed it, but recovered quickly and had it safely in his hands. He barely hesitated when he broke into a run--in the opposite direction.

Paladin laughed, “Hoy, Pippin! That’s not part of the rules!” He and Merry gave chase after the little lad, but by the time they had him tackled it was too late. Pippin already had a mouthful of apple. They immediately proceeded into a tickling match, and naturally, Pippin was bombarded.

“All right, lads,” said Paladin, getting to his feet and brushing himself off, “it’s nearing time for my appointment. We have just enough time to greet my cousin, Fiodrin, and then head for Mister Thatch’s house.”

As Paladin carried Pippin on his back, he noticed Merry lingering several paces back. He stopped, “What’s the matter, Merry?”

Merry, hands in his pockets, caught up to his uncle and shrugged, “I sometimes wish...that we could do this all of the time.”

Paladin put his arm around his nephew’s shoulder and walked beside him. “Me too, son.” 

“Me too--I wish you were my big brother all of the time!” At this point in time, Pippin was on the cusp of understanding Merry's home situation.  He wanted to make his 'brother' smile.

Merry’s tweaked his young cousin's nose and replied, “I already am.”

Chapter Three - Children Everywhere

“Hello, cousin!” Fiodrin gave Paladin a fierce hug, “It’s always good to see you!” Then he saw the children. “Gracious me, they’re both getting so big!” This made Pippin smile. Fiodrin looked around, “Where’s Pervinca?”

Paladin was reminded of the absent child. “She became ill yesterday and had a fever.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” came the cordial, but sincere reply.

“Tell me, Fio,” Paladin asked, “where exactly does this Mister Thatch live?”

Fiodrin thought for a second, “Across from the barren moors on the west edge of the town. Not far from the market where he’ll be selling your crops.” He leaned close to Paladin, “I’ve only met him once, but he seems a shrewd business-hobbit to me.”

Paladin nodded. He could be shrewd himself if the moment called for it, but it was only used as a last resort. This was why he wanted Merry and Pippin, and even Pervinca to some degree at the meetings. This would be a learning experience for them; the more they saw first-hand, the more they would understand how to negotiate in business. However, Paladin had an odd feeling about this Mister Thatch.

Mr. Thatch wasn’t one of Paladin’s long-time friends. In fact, this would be the first time he’d met him at all. Apparently, Thatch was new in Michel Delving, living there for just over a year, having purchased the mill from the now deceased previous owner’s estate. Having built up a few booths at the Market, he was now looking for someone to purchase fresh produce from.

Once seeing to Paladin's first two appointments, the three hobbits did pass the Market on their way to the Thatch residence. There were three booths set up and painted with large letters saying, ‘Thatch’s Pipe-weed’, or ‘Thatch’s Mercantile’ where he sold just about everything else. The last booth, freshly painted read, ‘Thatch’s Produce’. Paladin had a good guess as to who might be providing the produce.

Merry observed one young lad behind the Mercantile booth was younger than he was. He slowed down; mesmerised by all the young children behind each booth in Thatch’s employ. They were all poorly dressed, clothes tattered and dirty. Faces in dire need of a flannel.

“Hey laddie!” Laughed one boy, about Merry’s age, “Ye look like ye need a bit of this!” He pointed to a barrel with a label that read, ‘Primo’s Brew’. A chorus of laughter came from the group of boys.

Now aware of his gawking, Merry regained his composure and sheepishly smiled, “Perhaps, but I’m already in trouble for smoking a pipe!” This garnered more laughter from the boys.

Once the well-to-do strangers walked further on, one of the older lads approached the first boy, “Why do ye waste yer breath on them, *Degger? They care nothing for us.”

True to Fiodrin’s word, Paladin, Merry, and Pippin stood on the doorstep of a huge mansion-like hobbit row-house not far from the Market place. The moors across the road seemed to beckon to the lads as they stood beside Paladin. When the door opened a young lass greeted them. “Good afternoon, sirs. May I take your cloaks?” Pippin grinned; he’d never been called ‘sir’ before.

So far, Paladin was not impressed with a fellow business-hobbit employing young children in his Market booths, nor with keeping very young lasses in the house as servants. “No, thank you, Miss...?” Paladin thought to at least put a name to the young face.

“Marla, sir,” the girl said and then curtsied.

When Paladin looked at Marla he was reminded of his youngest daughter Pervinca. Unlike the children at the Market, these children were at least washed and seemed to be well fed. I suppose it would be no good to be greeted by a scruffy and hungry child, he thought. “No, thank you, Miss Marla.” He said aloud, “We won’t be staying long.”

She curtsied again, “Yes, sir. Then the Lord Thatch invites you into the parlor for an early tea.”

Paladin and Merry exchanged looks as they followed the door maid down the hallway. Lord Thatch? They smirked when their eyes met.

“Ah! Mister Paladin Took!” Mr. Thatch rose to greet his guests. “It’s a pleasure to meet you!”

Paladin wasn’t so sure it was a pleasure for himself, but he remained amiable. “Thank you, sir. I’ve been looking forward to meeting you as well.” That remark was more closer to the truth. Paladin next introduced the two lads with him. “This is Meriadoc, my nephew, and the little one here is my son, Peregrin.”

Mr. Thatch seemed to ignore his guest; he gazed about the room as if looking for someone. “Marla, find Lillia and tell her that my guests are waiting for tea!”

“Really, Mr. Thatch, it’s not necessary,” Paladin offered.

Pippin looked up at his father; he was hoping for a few bicuits, but decided against vocalizing it. He got a distinct feeling this wasn’t the time for saying anything funny. It was just at then that the serving lass, Lilllia, came through the door carrying a tray laden with a large teapot, a carafe of milk, and a honey jar along with various kinds of bisuits, rolls, and cakes.

“It’s about time, lass!” Chided the host hobbit.

“Mr. Thatch...,” Paladin began, unsure of how he ought to brooch the subject, but brooch the subject he, indeed, would. “I couldn’t help but notice all of the young children you keep in your employment. Would they be used in selling the product I provide to you?”

Mr. Thatch smiled enthusiastically and replied, “A very observant hobbit! And I’ve already hired a few more in anticipation of opening my new booth in the Market. Have you seen it?”

“Aye,” answered Paladin. “That’s where I saw the young lads--in the Market place. Are there no grown hobbits here in Michel Delving that would suffice instead of using young children?”

Thatch wasn’t a fool--he got the hint that this farmer thought him questionable and would not be dealing with him. “Truth be told,” he said after a moment's reflection, “another local farmer has already visited me this morning, Mr. Took. Says he’s able to give me the supply I will need through to the harvest.” He looked at Paladin, “I can tell you are no simple farmer, sir--you and I are both lettered hobbits. These children I employ--they had no parents, no homes, and no means of caring for themselves.” He spoke as if trying to justify his deeds to himself.  He then looked at Merry, “Like you, young lad, they are all orphans, and I would gladly offer you work in my mill. I daresay it’s hard work, but I would pay you well.”

“Merry is not an orphan, Mr. Thatch.” Paladin quickly interjected, giving Thatch a stern look. “both of his parents are very much alive.”

Thatch gave the other business-hobbit a puzzled expression. “Why else then would you keep a child other than your own?”

Paladin turned to the children sitting beside him on the parlour couch.  He handed Merry two silver pennies, telling him, “Take Pippin and wait for me outside.”

Initially Merry was confused at his uncle’s intent, but then saw the look his uncle gave him, “Yes, sir.” He saw there was a storm brewing behind those green Tookish eyes. Merry took his little cousin by the hand, making his way toward the door and outside into the bright sunshine.

* A/N: Yes, this is the same Degger who makes an appearance in an earlier fic, titled, Irrepressible Pippin

Chapter Four - Dangers Unaware

From the Mercantile booth, a small teen watched as the well-dressed boys exited the Thatch home and then ran towards the moor. “Hi!  Lads!” he called to them, “Stop!”

The only reply he got was when the older lad threw a dirty rag at him. “Get back to work, Degger!” Jarmon snarled.

“Merry, look!” Pippin shouted while holding his arms out. “I’m an eagle!” Pippin began running into the open moor towards a large rock.

“This is a strange place, Pip," Merry answered with the same tone. "There’s no trees or flowers," said Merry, the muttered to himself, "very queer."  He walked cautiously behind his cousin. Merry scanned the emptiness of the moor; all he saw were bramble bushes, tall grasses and a few rocks. In the far corner, he spied a graveyard, but nothing else.

Pippin paid no heed to his cousin’s words. “Come fly with me, Merry! We’ll both be eagles.” Pippin stood on top of the large rock in the middle of the field. “Catch me, Merry!” Pippin began flapping his arms up and down as if the eagle was soaring.

Not knowing how long his uncle would be, Merry decided to humor his young cousin, at least for a while. He started to run towards the rock, but suddenly stopped when he saw a large opening in the ground. He almost didn’t stop in time. He waved his arms trying to catch his balance, though some of the dirt and pebbles at his feet fell in. The echo of the falling debris told Merry the hole was quite deep.

“Stay where you are, Pippin,” Merry yelled as soon as he righted himself. “There’s a hole in the ground!” He didn’t know if there were any more, but he and Pippin weren’t going to stay and find out. Merry would take his cousin and leave the dangerous moor, as it was now very unsafe to play here. He carefully stepped over to where Pippin stood on the great rock. As he held out his hand for Pippin to grab it, Merry felt the ground beneath his feet slip and give way. He felt himself falling into the deep, dark cavern.

Young Pippin watched in dismay as his dearest cousin disappeared into a hole in the ground right before him. “Merry!” When the gravel and dry dirt stopped falling into the darkness below he yelled again, “Merry!”

No answer.

The young child was frozen in terror. He remembered Merry saying something about holes in the ground.  It would be perilous to try and sidestep the unseen holes, however, Pippin knew he couldn’t just sit here forever.  He had to go run for help--holes or not.

“Help!” Pippin yelled as he ran out of the moor and into the road, running fullspeed toward the market booths full of working children. “Help!”

It was the small teen, Degger, who first heard Pippin’s cries. A shiver ran down his spine.  Degger stopped cleaning as he made his way to the front of the Mercantile booth. He saw the same well-to-do little lad who had passed by earlier in the day---alone. The skin prickled on his arm.

“Help me, please!” Pippin shouted.  The seven-year-old was out of breath and in tears. “My cousin fell into a hole in the ground!”

Degger dropped his rag and slipped over the barrier between him and Pippin. He grabbed the lad's hand, jogging along side him, “Which hole?”

“I don’t know!” Pippin wept.  In his frantic search for assistance, Pippin became confused as which row-house his father was in. “Where does Mr. Thatch live?”

Degger stopped in his tracks. “Mr. Thatch?” The last thing Degger wanted was for his employer to see him not working...yet once again another child was in trouble.

All the local children knew to stay away from the moor because of the dangers that lurked there. A few hundred years ago, some hobbits tried to dig a holes into the ground vice into a hill and then abandoned their efforts when it proved unsuccessful. Over the span of time, the holes deteriorated, weakening at the ground-level and rendering the entire moor hazardouls for anyone to be in. Merry and Pippin, of course, were unaware of this.

Pippin explained to Degger, “That’s where my papa is--he’s inside Mr. Thatch’s house.”

“Degger!” Jarmon yelled from the booth, seeing the rag lying on the ground where Degger had been. “If ye take one more step, don’t bother comin’ back!”

“Please....Degger,” Pippin pleaded. “Merry’s like....he’s my brother.”

That was all the lad needed to hear. “Come along, then.” He took Pippin’s hand once again, running up to Thatch’s doorstep. Degger pounded furiously on the door. “Marla!” he yelled, “Marla! Open the door!”

Marla, the young door maid, opened the door then became concerned. “Degger! Get back t' work or Mr. Thatch will give ye the sack!”

“I can’t!” He replied, bringing Pippin in front of him. “This laddie's brother fell into one of the holes! We need help!”

At once, Marla opened the door.  “Come inside young sir, but you, Degger, have to stay outside.” Degger knew the chief of rules: no workers allowed inside during working hours; when work was done, they had to go round to the back. Degger stayed on the doorstep where he knew he’d be needed shortly.

“Papa!” Pippin shouted as he ran down the hallway, “Papa! Merry fell into a hole!”

Paladin was already standing, as he was taking his leave of Mr. Thatch. Paladin would not be delivering his produce to this hobbit, even if he was out-bidded earlier. There were few hobbits that he didn’t get along with, and even less that he disliked. Unfortunately, Paladin would count Mr. Thatch among the latter. The business hobbit saw the orphans as just that; a business, and in a circumstance that he could easily work out to his advantage. Paladin’s hair stood on end as he watched his son run towards him. “What are you talking about, Pippin? Where is Merry?”

“He fell into a hole, Papa!” Pippin was growing frantic again. “He fell into the ground!”

Paladin saw there was no mischief in the child's eyes. “Show me where!” He followed his young son though the front door.  Along with the mercantile lad, all three went towards the moor.

“Wait,” Degger yelled as they approached the edge. “Have a care! There are plenty o’ holes hidden here in this lot!” He kept a wary eye out in front of Pippin as the child led them to the hole Merry fell into.

“There!” Pippin pointed to the rock he stood upon not long ago.

Paladin carefully crawled up to the opening, “Merry?” No reply. “Merry!” he shouted again. Paladin turned to Degger, “I’m going to need help, lad. Can you stay here while I fetch it?” The lad nodded; after all, hadn’t he just been sacked?

Note: Merry’s ‘surreal’ experience begins in this chapter. I tried to keep dream from reality separated by asterisks ******, however, I’m not perfect. Pay close attention to the details.

Chapter Five - Only in Dreams

“Pippin?” Merry opened his eyes to utter darkness, except for the bit of daylight coming through the hole in the ground above him.

“Merry!” Pippin yelled down from a blue backdrop of the Overheavens. “I thought you were hurt bad!”

Merry noticed the boy’s face was covered with soot. “No,” He answered, getting up on his feet. “I’m....fine, I think.” Merry felt the lump on the back of his head. “What time is it?”

“Look at the time-piece in your pocket! It’s probably half-past four,” Pippin shouted in reply. “Better get out of there, Merry--Mr. Thatch is on his way to the mill, and I’ve got one more chimney to clean before dark. I’ll get the rope.” Pippin’s head disappeared for a moment.

“Chimney to clean? Since when do you clean chimneys?” Merry reached into his breeches pocket and found the small trinket. It was wrought of finely crafted silver; the cover was missing and the chain was long gone, but Merry...knew it belonged to his father and now to him. His father? He rubbed the sore spot on his head in confusion.

Pippin’s reappeared in the opening and said sadly, “Oh, you’ve hit your head harder than I thought.” He threw down a length of rope that had seen better days, “Hurry up! I tied it to a bush nearby.”

Having used the rope to climb out of the hole, Merry rested upon the tall grasses. What in the world had transpired in the last few minutes so that his cousin was covered head to toe in black soot? “Pippin, how did your face get so filthy?”

Pippin acted as if his feelings were hurt. “I’m sorry, Merry,” he said, “I can’t be as clean as you! It’s not like working at the spotless Mill--the chimneys have a way of leaving a bit of dirt on my face--as I clean them!” He added the last part sarcastically.

Merry looked again at his young cousin. Instead of the dark breeches and waistcoat--and the darling hat he so hated, Pippin wore torn and filthy clothes that closely resembled rags. Most likely due to the rough treatment inside the chimneys he cleaned. Then Merry looked at himself, he was wearing pretty much the same as Pippin before his fall, but now he wore a plain white shirt, with plenty of patches and stitching that showed it’s wear and tear. It was almost too large for him...as also his brown threadbare breeches. They, too, had patches sewn all over.

“Come on, Merry!” Pippin grabbed at Merry’s arm, “Don’t get caught here in the fields! Mr. Thatch will surely fire you!”

“Where’s Uncle Paladin?”

“You’re really starting to frighten me, Merry!” Pippin was getting annoyed. “He died during the winter--remember? We were there at the burial just over there.” He pointed towards the back of the fields they were in. Then he drew close to Merry and said, “He wasn’t our uncle! He was our father!”

Father?, Merry thought to himself. He became incredulous, “He died? How?”

Pippin only turned away and began walking towards the road. Merry grabbed one of his cousin’s arms and pulled him round, “Tell me, Pippin!”

Pippin shook off Merry’s grasp, “I’ll tell you if you stop this madness!”

“Tell me, Pippin. Please!” Merry was so confused he wanted anything to make sense, and so far nothing was making sense.

Pippin looked afar off, his eyes filling with tears. “He died of the sickness this past winter,” he began, “and our sister, Pervinca, also came down with the same fever, but we sneaked her off to the Bunce Estate back then. She’ll work for them for the rest of her life, but at least she’s got better and won’t be sleeping between the houses anymore as we have been.”

“Sleeping between the houses?” Merry looked up one of the alleyways across the road and saw crates and other children moving about inside...accompanied by large rats. He could only imagine the filth that lay about in there.

“I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.” Pippin stomped off again.

Merry pinched his own arm. No, not a dream; he felt the pain of the pinch and didn’t wake up. But all of this had to be a dream! Only yesterday he remembered having flatcakes for breakfast--made by his...who was she again?

“Pippin! Wait!” Merry caught up with his cousin, “I work at the mill, right?”

Pippin pointed at the west end of the field, “Over there, since you probably don’t remember that, either!”

“I’m sorry, Pip. I’m not myself right now.”

“That’s easy to see!” Pippin stopped and turned to face Merry, “Tell me, Mer...do you remember that we’re brothers?”

Merry was astonished. “We’re...?”

Now Pippin was genuinely hurt. “You mean...you don’t remember?”

Merry knelt down and took the boy into his arms, “No, but I’m so glad that we are!” He hugged and kissed the boy until he could hear the music of his laughter.

“All right,” Pippin smiled, “Now you’re acting silly!” He laughed as Merry gave him another hug, “You’re forgiven this time! But don’t let it happen again!”

“Never, little brother!” Merry smiled back, “Never.”

*******

“Hurry!” Paladin guided the other hobbits, including his own cousin, Fiodrin, towards the large rock, now resting in the twilight. “The sun is disappearing fast!”

A crew of about twenty hobbits from the area converged near the hole the young Brandybuck fell into. They seemed to have a routine to all of it; ropes, and a litter made of sturdy material were among the tools they’d brought for the rescue.

Fiodrin tied a rope to a lantern and lowered it into the hole, lighting up the entire cavern. Merry lay flat on his back as if merely asleep. “Merry!” Paladin shouted once more. Merry never once stirred.

“Please, Paladin,” said Fiodrin, “as you can see, we’ve done this before.”

“But I just can’t sit by and watch, Fio.”

“I promise you, cousin,” Fiodrin replied, “we’ll have him up and out of there in less than a half-hour.”

Paladin sat down next to Degger, feeling rather miserable. He looked over to the lad and saw that his eyes were glistening with tears. This touched Paladin, but he said nothing. Pippin came and sat on the ground next to his father.

“Is he dead?” Pippin asked.

Paladin’s heart dropped to his toes, “We hope not, Pippin.”

Pippin wiped his nose with his sleeve, “We’re brothers, you know.”

“What are you talking about, son? Merry’s your cousin.”

“No we’re not--we’re brothers.”

Paladin decided to not argue the point--why would he? Oftentimes he saw the young teen as one of his own children. He merely pulled his son closer to him.

“My brother fell into this very hole a couple months ago.”

He and Pippin both turned towards the voice. It was Degger. Something in the boy’s eyes made Paladin ask, “Your brother fell into this same hole?”

Degger nodded, legs drawn up to his chest, his arms wrapped about his knees. A reddish light from the lanterns reflected upon his face.

“What happened to him? Is he all right?”

He shook his head slowly, “He died.”

“Where are your parents, lad?”

Degger sighed deeply. “Our mum died years ago in a terrible accident working at the mill when I was a little boy. Our dad died this past winter of the Sickness.” Tears escaped the boy’s eyes and beamed in the light as they ran down his cheeks. “The last time I saw Taddy was when he went off to work at the mill. We was both late for work and I says to him what I always told him ‘fore he went off to work, I says, ‘watch out for the grinding wheel!’--a sort of honor to our mum, though that’s not how she died.” Degger paused for a moment, wiping his eyes, “Tad said he wasn’t gonna work for old Mister Thatch anymore and wanted to leave. I didn’t understand then, but I do now. I used to clean chimneys, and was always lookin’ up to Tad; workin’ at the mill and all. He was always clean while I was always needin’ a bath. Tad was still mournin’ over Dad, and I think he walked into the fields and forgot where he was walkin’.”

Paladin sadly watched the young lad sitting bravely next to him. “How old are you, Degger?”

“I turned thirteen last week.”

“And your brother, Tad?”

“Fourteen.” Degger wiped his eyes again, “He’d be fifteen in July.”

Pippin looked up at his father, “That’s my--and Merry’s birthday!”

“It’s only a coincidence, Pippin,” Paladin replied.

As they spoke, Fiodrin and the others had lowered one hobbit and the litter into the hole, lifted Merry out and then guided the litter onto the ground. Then they lowered the rope again for the rescuer to be pulled out.

“Merry!” Paladin’s attention was once again on his nephew. He bent over the teen to listen for breathing, or even a heartbeat. He looked up at Fiodrin, worry etched in his face, “I can’t hear anything.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s not there. Come along, cousin.” Fiodrin gently pulled up on his cousin’s arm, “We’re taking him to my house, and I’ve already sent for the healer.”

Chapter Six - Grinding the Grist

Merry started walking up the road towards the Mill. He turned when he heard a shout from behind him. It was Pippin waving to him, “Watch out for the grinding wheel!” Merry waved back at him and turned back around, heading up the road towards an enormous building with a turning wheel in the back.

Merry didn’t know why, but he had a sense of foreboding as he drew near to the large Millhouse. All at once, memories flooded his thoughts, but...were they his own? Just a hundred feet away he could hear the loud creaking of the grinding stones turning against one another. For reasons unknown, Merry knew the door to be in the back, right next to the area where the stacks and piles of grain were kept. There were some grown hobbits wandering about, but mostly and again he saw others boys and girls his own age--sometimes younger.

One of the grown hobbits approached Merry, shouting at him, “You’re late! You’ll be quartered!”

Merry rolled up his sleeves and went to work hauling the grains into the mill. Stack after stack, pile after pile, Merry dragged in the heavy stacks until the sweat burned into his eyes. He pulled out the timepiece he kept in his pocket. Seven o’clock.

“You there!” The grown hobbit was yelling at him again from his station above the grinding floor. Merry was growing accustomed to the constant shouting from this hobbit. “Give me that!” The hobbit came over and swiped the piece out of Merry’s hand.

“Give that back! It belongs to my father!” Merry grabbed for his timepiece but was shoved to the ground by the Overlooker.

“You don’t have a father!” He sneered, “He’s dead, if I recall rightly. I’ll tell ye when it’s time to stop workin’! Now get back to work!”

Merry slowly got to his feet. His back ached and his heart was breaking. He missed his father in a horrible way, and he wasn’t even allowed to mourn him. Every day, morning until dusk, all Merry knew was this back breaking, never-ending work. The only thing his father left him--the timepiece--that, too, was now taken away. Merry made up his mind right then that he was not going to work for Mr. Thatch anymore. His only obstacle was convincing Pippin to go along with his plan. He had seen first hand that it was better to be a servant in the house of an estate than to be a slave working for Mr. Thatch in the Mill.

Later that night after work, Merry was walking east towards town in the dark. One of the other lads walked next to him and spoke up, “Beautiful night, isn’ it?”

Merry continued to walk, his eyes cast to the ground, “I suppose.”

“Just look at all the stars!” The lad looked up into the sky and laughed. “Look! Even the Night Warrior is out!”

Merry finally looked up. “That’s nice,” he answered without any thought.

“Why are ye so dour?”

“What is there to be happy about working in there?” Merry turned and indicated with a nod towards the mill.

“Nothing, really.” The young lad walked self-assured, as if the miserable side of life couldn’t hurt him. “I’m not going back.”

Merry stopped walking, “You’re jesting.”

The lad shook his head, “Nope. Though I’ve got to get my younger brother to agree to it.”

“I’ve been thinking the same thing, too!” Merry’s spirits were picking up. So it wasn’t just him! That old mill was the bane of more lads than just himself. “My brother, Pippin, thinks working at the mill is as easy as making a cake. All he sees is three pennies a day!”

The other lad laughed, “Unless you’ve been quartered as much as I have!” He shrugged his shoulders, “It seems I talk too much.”

The boys approached the empty fields where Merry had fallen into one of the deep holes earlier. “This is where I turn off from the road,” said the lad.

“Wait--what is your name, please?”

It appeared to Merry that his friend looked towards the alleyways. A hint of a smile played on his lips. He answered, “Tad--though my brother has called me Taddy since he was old enough to talk.”

Merry smiled and shook his hand, “Well, good luck, Tad.”

“You, too, Merry.”

Merry paused. How did he know my name? He turned to ask Tad, but his new friend had already disappeared into the darkness. “Be cautious, Tad!” Merry yelled after him, “There are deep holes in there!”

*******

“He’s alive.” The healer pulled the covers back over Merry’s chest, though the young teen was still unconscious.

“Is that all?” Paladin was anxious over his nephew, “Is there no medicine--no elixir that I should give him when he wakes up? Or will he wake up?”

The healer replied as he got up to leave, “Yes, yes, my dear hobbit! He should awaken at some point, but I have no idea when.” Then he called to Fiodin, “Do you have any ice, Fio?”

“I keep it in the cellar,” he answered.

“Well, fetch a bit of it and put it in some water, keeping a cool cloth under the boy’s head where the lump is.” He spoke the last part to Paladin.

“That’s it?” Paladin asked again.

“That’s it.” The healer packed up his little bag and was walking towards the door trailed by Paladin. The healer continued, “That’s all anyone can do for him--when he wakes up, is when he wakes up.”

Paladin pressed, “Nothing else, then?”

The healer paused, wanting to offer some comfort that would quiet this frantic parent. “When he wakes up, he will most likely feel sick; keep a pail nearby.” He then reached into his bag and handed a small, corked vial to Paladin. “And put a little of that in his broth to help ease it.”

“Thank you, sir.” Now relieve that he could ease the boy into the waking world, Paladin finally stopped badgering the healer. He walked back into the guestroom Fiodrin had provided for Merry, and sat down next to the bed. He leaned over and kissed his nephew on the forehead, “Please wake up, Merry.”

Chapter Seven - Flight of the Eagle

Merry walked up the alleyway where he and his brother Pippin had been living inside a makeshift shelter. It was made with parts of wooden crates and anything else that would offer some protection against the rain and other elements of inclement weather. As he approached he saw that Pippin was already lying down inside it. Unless it was a hard day of work for the boy, Pippin would usually be waiting up for him, wanting to just talk for a while; reaffirming the deep ties of brotherly companionship. This night, as Merry drew close and sat down on the floorboard of their crate, he saw that though Pippin seemed asleep, he was not.

“Hullo, Merry.”

“Hullo, Pip.” Merry noticed Pippin was holding a bundle next to him. “What’s that?”

“Nothing. Just a scratch.”

Merry let out a sigh; he knew better. “Let me see.” He pulled away the cloth his brother was holding, and lifted his arm in a way so the street lanterns would reflect light upon it. It was much more than a ‘scratch’. It was a long, deep gash running the length of Pippin’s forearm. He replaced the rags when blood began oozing from the wound, “Did you go to the healer’s house?”

“It costs pennies that we don’t have to see the healer, Merry.”

“For a simple bandage? Pippin, one silver penny ought to buy a whole bundle of clean bandages!” He looked at Pippin, “How did this happen?”

“I slipped down the Hornblower’s chimney and landed on top of my tools that fell with me. It’s a good thing I was already near the bottom.” Then Pippin made a face and confessed, “I didn’t see the healer because I was quartered four times this week.”

“Four times--Pippin!” Merry bit back the build up of anger. Not at Pippin, but at life’s circumstances; he and Pippin being alone against the hard, cold world. No money, and no longer having a father or mother who would love and care for them. “You probably won’t receive any wages this week.”

“I’m sorry, Merry.” Pippin’s eyes welled with tears. “Sometimes it’s so hard to wake up in the morning.”

Merry brought the boy next to him and gently hugged him just as their father would do mere months ago. “I’m not much better, Pip. My Overlooker took papa’s timepiece from me, and now I don’t know how we’re going to be able to keep time at all. Now we both will be late and quartered as often as they are wont to do.” Merry figured this was as good a time as any to present his idea to his younger brother. “Pip, we have to do something.”

“Like what? Your Overlooker is huge! Me and you together can’t wrestle him to the ground to get back papa’s timepiece.”

“Don’t be silly, Pippin.” Merry sat back against the side of their crate-house. “Thatch has probably got it in his own pockets by now.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying that you and I ought to think about leaving Michel Delving, Pippin. There’s a lad at the mill doing the same thing with his younger brother. You and I will head east. The countryside has plenty of hobbit-holes and houses that wealthy folk live in. We can present ourselves to the landlord and offer our services in exchange for a soft bed and a hobbit-sized breakfast.”

Pippin wasn’t so sure about all this. As cramped as city life was, this was where he grew up--and where his parents died. “Merry, how do we know these well-to-do folks will hire us on? What if they aren’t needing any more help? What do we do then?”

Merry had no answer for that. He shrugged, “Walk on to the next house, I suppose.”

Pippin looked around, ensuring no ears were close by. He whispered, “What about Pervinca?”

Merry’s heart broke even further. Pervinca was their sister who came down with the Sickness the week after their father died. But instead of allowing her to die in the open shelter of the alleyway where they were living, he and Pippin took her to the Bunce Estate, and offered her housekeeping and laundry services for a soft bed and healing medicines. Merry could readily see the Bunces had no need of additional help, but the Lady of the house took pity on their beautiful sister. She took Pervinca into her house--on the grounds that neither he, nor Pippin, were allowed to visit her for the next six months, as it would be an adjustment period for the girl. “Well...we can’t visit her, but I’m certain we could leave a letter for her. Telling her why we did what we did, and that we would return in time to visit with her.”

Pippin held his injured arm to his chest, pressing the filthy rags against the wound. “And who do you think would write the letter for us and not tattle to Thatch where we put our sister?”

“I wouldn’t worry about Thatch finding out where Pervinca is,” said Merry. “I’ve paid off dad’s debt--and I daresay Mr. Thatch would only let me pay it off by working at his mill. She’s quite safe at the Bunces.”

Pippin hated the thought of leaving the familiar landscape of Michel Delving. What few friends he had lived and worked here in the chief town of the Shire. Both of his parents were buried in the graveyard on the other side of the empty field where all the poor and destitute were buried. And now his sister was a servant to Mrs. Bunce. “Do we have to leave right now, Merry? Can’t we not wait on this decision just one day?”

This was easier than Merry had thought. “Very well,” he answered. “One day it is. Tomorrow at this time we decide to stay, or leave Michel Delving.” He laid himself down and then made enough room for Pippin and his injured arm. “And tomorrow you will see the healer for your arm. I have two pennies in my pocket, and that should be more than enough.”

“Pippin!”

“Hmm?”

“Pippin! Get up! We’re late!” Merry shook his little brother awake.

Pippin sat up with a start, “Late?” Then he remembered about the timepiece. He jumped out of the crate, nearly tripping over Merry in the process and called over his shoulder as he ran up the alley, “Watch out for the grinding wheel!”

“Wait! Pippin!” Merry ran after him and handed him two coins, “You watch out for the chimney drop!” Then they both sprinted off in opposite directions.

Merry winced as he picked up another bundle of grain to be ground. His legs had red welts and stung. He watched as his Overlooker observed his work from above; smirking as he repeatedly smacked one had with the long flat stick he carried in the other. For his tardiness Merry received a punishment and was quartered twice.

It was another long, arduous day full of grueling labor. Merry’s back ached and he longed to get back...home--if you want to call it that. He and Pippin had a decision to make, and he was in hopes that it was an easy one for his brother. If not, somehow Merry would convince him--older brothers had a flair for such things. Either way, Merry would not return to work at the mill tomorrow.

On his way home, Merry wondered where his new friend was. Perhaps Tad and his brother had already left. Then Merry decided he wanted one last time to visit his parents alone. He and Pippin would visit them before leaving of course, but Merry wanted this time to himself. He often would take the short cut from the mill to the empty field to the graveyard on the far side to talk to his father. Merry felt a pressing need to speak to him on the matter of leaving Michel Delving. Of course, it was a one-way conversation, but Merry didn’t care. He was just as close to his father now as he was when he was alive.

He followed the well-worn path he often took through the field, being extra careful in the dark as there were still a few holes left over from hobbit-hole delving hundreds of years ago. He stopped as the graveyard drew near. He scanned the grave markers until he spotted the markers of his parents, laid next to one another. Merry walked over and sat down next to his mother’s grave, pulling up a few unsightly weeds as he spoke. His father’s grave was still freshly dug earth and had no weeds yet.

“Hullo, mum...dad.” He flung the weeds off to the side. “I’ve come to tell you my plan for me and Pip.” He sighed. “You already know where Pervinca is hid because I told you when we did it. I wasn’t going to have her be a slave to that madman they call Thatch--no telling what terrible things he does behind those doors of his. I’ve paid off your debt just last week, and well...Pip and I are going to decide tonight about leaving Michel Delving.” He pause, as if waiting for some sort of answer. “Pippin thinks he’s old enough to work at the mill, but I won’t have him working there, either. I hate it there, dad. I’d rather starve out on the green grasses of the countryside rather than starve there in the alley along with Pippin, living in a dirty crate and tightening our belts every morning.” His finger traced the etched letters upon his father’s marker. “Anyway, I was hoping you’d understand. We’ll be back someday--we must because Pervinca will be working for the Bunces. We can’t leave her here forever without visiting her.” He sat silently in the peaceful graveyard, taking one last look at his parent’s grave. Finally he spoke softly, “Goodbye.”

Merry got up and ran to the edge of the burial place where he stood just before he came in and stopped, and then carefully stepped back into the path he’d treaded upon earlier. He saw a large rock in the distance and cautiously made his way in that direction. He climbed up from behind it and stood upon it. Northward, from west to east he let his eyes rove from one end of Michel Delving down the main road to the farthest end, as if saying farewell to his childhood home. He closed his eyes and slowly lifted his arms out. He imagined himself a great lord of eagles, soaring high above the rocky mountains in the distance--above the hardships and poverty that he and Pippin would face in life down here on Middle Earth. He smiled, feeling the wind rushing against his cheeks and lifting him higher towards the canopy of clouds. Merry allowed himself a few moments of this dream, then arms still gliding outward and eyes still closed, he stepped off the rock to land on solid ground. But his feet didn't meet solid earth--right away. He never saw the hole. No one heard the small cry that escaped his lips.

Chapter Eight - Awakenings

Pippin napped quietly while nestled in the arms of his father. Paladin himself was beginning to nod off, as he had spent the entire night awake at his nephew’s bedside. The longer Merry was unconscious, the more Paladin worried. He let out a deep breath; why wouldn’t he wake up?

Just as his eyes rolled shut for the millionth time, he heard a faint sound...from Merry. Very distant it sounded, but yes--it was Merry. Paladin knew the sound of Merry’s voice as if he were his own child. He scooted to the edge of this chair, trying to see if the lad’s eyes had opened. He lifted Pippin and laid him in the chair and then sat on the bed. “Merry?”

*******

Merry knew he’d made a grave mistake when the ground never came. He opened his eyes and instantly knew he’d fallen in yet another hole. Then he felt himself land hard on the ground; the air rushed out of his lungs, giving a small cry. His last thought was for Pippin. If anyone was out there, if anyone was watching over little hobbits....please...watch over my little brother. Then he knew no more.

As a dark veil enclosed around him, Merry felt himself being borne up. He felt as if he were under water and was floating up towards the surface of the Brandywine river. As he rose higher he saw a bright light on the other side of his eyelids. Just as he broke the surface, Merry took in air into his lungs as if he’d been under water for too long. He opened his eyes.

*******

“Merry,” Paladin tried to soothe the boy as he woke up coughing and sputtering. “Merry, it’s all right. You’re awake now!” He saw Merry shield his eyes with his hands and then got up to quickly close the drapes. At once he was back on the bed as Merry then tried to sit up. Paladin gently held Merry back onto his pillow, “No, son, you must lie back down and rest.”

Merry uncovered his eyes and squinted as the light stabbed his eyes. They were red and glassy in his bewilderment, “Dad?”

That struck Paladin as a bit odd, but it was more important to ease Merry back into the living...so to speak.

Merry began to weep, “Am I dead? I must be dead because you’re dead.”

“I’m not dead, Merry! I’m sitting here talking with you in Cousin Fiodrin’s house.”

“No...” Merry cried, clutching at Paladin’s sleeve, “You died of the Sickness this past winter...and Pippin and I hid Pervinca with the Bunces when she fell sick. I paid your debt and the Overlooker took your timepiece from me...he laughed at me and said I had no father--that you were dead! Pippin and I were going to leave Michel Delving tonight....and then I visited you and Mum at your graves, and I didn’t see the hole...and...and...” Merry stopped his ranting when he saw the puzzled look on his...father’s?...uncle’s?...face. He put his hand to his head, “My head hurts.”

“Papa? Is Merry better?” Pippin had woke up as Merry carried on about his dream.

Paladin reached over to the night table and gave the bowl of water to Pippin, “Here, son, fetch more water and more ice, please.” Then saw the small vial sitting on the stand, “and tell Fio to make some broth, too.”

“Yes, papa.” Pippin left the bedroom to find Fiodrin.

Merry looked pleadingly at Paladin, “Tell me--where am I? Are you my dad, or are you my uncle?”

Paladin brushed a few errant curls away from Merry’s forehead. “You had a horrible fall in an old hole in the fields across from Mr. Thatch’s house.”

Merry grew anxious at the mention of that name. “Oh, Mr. Thatch is not a nice hobbit, dad!”

Paladin softly chuckled, “He’s not, eh?” Then whispered, “I sort of figured that out at our meeting.” He continued, “You’ve been unconscious since late yesterday afternoon. Seems you’ve had quite a dream.”

“But dad--it wasn’t a dream! It was real; I even pinched myself and I never once woke up....‘til now.” Merry took in a deep breath, “I feel strange.”

“Are you feeling ill?” Paladin was reaching for the little pail next to the bed.

“No...Well, yes, but...oh, I feel as if I went somewhere and lived there for a long while. It was me, and then it wasn’t me. I’m not making any sense, am I dad?”

Well, for one, you keep calling me ‘dad', thought Paladin, but correcting the lad was still low on the ladder rungs. He thought that perhaps talking about his dream would bring Merry further into the present. “Tell me about your dream, son.”

Just as Merry began, Pippin returned with a fresh bowl of ice water and clean rags tucked under his arm. “Cousin Millie is making broth for Merry, and I hope she makes a lot because it smelled good.”

Paladin smiled at his son’s bottomless stomach and took the bowl. “Thank you, Pippin.” He dipped the cloths into the bowl and wrung out two of them. One he folded and placed underneath Merry’s head, and the other on top. He put on his best parental smile, “Better?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Pippin sat down in the chair and listened as his cousin began again to tell of his dream. Merry told from the exact beginning of when he woke up in the hole and saw Pippin looking down from the opening, about working at the mill, Pippin cleaning chimneys, right down to his very last plea in the second hole. Pippin liked the parts where he spoke about them being brothers. He interrupted Merry’s story, “See, papa? I said we were brothers, and we are!”

Paladin said nothing, though he and Pippin exchanged glances when Merry told about ‘Tad’. “Merry...how did you meet this Tad...or Taddy? Do you know him from Brandy Hall, or even Buckland?”

Merry looked at his uncle, “No...I only met him yesterday...I think it was yesterday, at any rate. How do you know him? I only met him once, myself.”

“I don’t know him, Merry, though someone else may.” And that’s all Paladin would say on the matter. Merry’s story couldn’t.... Though he believed in providence, Paladin didn’t know what to make of his nephew’s dream. Was it indeed providence...or was it mere coincidence?

Chapter Nine - The Greenhills

Later, in the afternoon, Merry was feeling better and actually ate a few morsels of bread and butter. Pippin kept him company most of the day and stayed close by in case his ‘brother’ needed anything.

For his part, Merry had a hard time forgetting the dream, and it weighed heavily upon his mind. When he couldn’t stand one more minute in the bed, Merry spoke up, “Pippin, lets go for a walk.”

“Papa said you have to stay in bed today.”

“Pippin, I can’t. I must see something for myself.”

“What is it do you have to see?”

“I don’t know quite yet,” he answered, “I just want to go outside and look around....but I don’t want to go alone. Understand?” Pippin nodded. Merry slipped out of bed and got dressed while Pippin snuck out to the foyer to get their cloaks, as the afternoon had cooled down some.

Pippin returned with their cloaks in hand and snickered, “That was easier than I thought!”

“Going somewhere, lads?” An elder hobbit leaned in on the doorway. Pippin was tongue-tied. Paladin entered into the bedroom. “Pippin,” he said, “when I see you carrying a bundle of cloaks down the hallway, don’t you think I’d be just a smidgen curious?”

“But I looked and saw you were sleeping on the sofa.”

Paladin sat down in the beside chair he’d occupied earlier in the day. “I was only dozing. You have to creep up to investigate the sleeper without making a sound--that’s how real burglars do it.” Paladin was a bit of a mischief-maker as a child himself, and was passing down his words of wisdom to his son, expert to beginner.

Merry sat down on the bed quite disappointed. “But I really need to take a walk outside.” Merry had since got his bearings back, remembering Paladin was his uncle...not his dad. “Please, Uncle.”

Paladin studied the face of the lad. He didn’t seem out of sorts or ill. “How’s your head?”

“Much better after the nap I took. That’s funny,” said Merry, “I’ve never felt that sleepy after sipping broth before.”

That pleased Paladin. “Very well. You may take your walk, but I will go with you.”

Walking about in the bright sunshine, Paladin noticed Merry repeatedly squinting and shading his eyes--more so than usual, anyway. They were passing Thatch’s Market booths to their left when he remembered his daughter’s slingshot. “Half a minute, boys. We’re forgetting Pervinca.”

They meandered up to the Mercantile booth and inquired about the toy. “No, sir, I don’t suppose we have any.” It was the older lad who minded over the younger ones. There was another boy standing next to the first, “I’ll bet Ollie (pronounced O-lee) could make one.” The first lad gave a look to the boy, and then to Paladin. For some reason, he wasn’t too fond of this stranger. “Ollie!”

From the back of the booth, a teenage hobbit appeared. He was frightfully thin; his clothes hung upon his shoulders, and a belt around his waist revealed just how thin the boy truly was. His hair was unkempt, as were his clothes. Without another word, the older lad retreated to the back of the booth.

Paladin wasn’t so keen on the older lad, either. He seemed a little too bossy--almost a bully. “Hullo, lad. Are you Ollie?”

“Yes, sir!” The boy replied, smiling. Paladin noticed the boy’s teeth were in desperate need of cleaning. “At yer service, sir!”

“I was inquiring about a slingshot, and someone said that you could fashion one?”

“Yes, sir. I can make just ‘bout anythin’ out o’wood.” He eyed the elder hobbit, “Yer needin’ a slingshot?”

Paladin sighed uneasily, “It’s not for me, lad, it’s for my daughter.”

The boy raised his eyebrows, “For your daughter?” He decided not to ask--perhaps this was how lasses were catching lads these days.

Paladin blushed, though he acted as if he were unfazed, “What do you think would be a fair price?”

The lad shrugged. No one had ever asked him that before. “Don’t know, sir. A penny?”

“Good. I shall return in an hour and make my purchase.” Then Paladin saw the puzzled look on the boy’s face.

Merry leaned in close to his uncle and whispered, “I don’t think he’s allowed to keep a timepiece.”

Thatch, cheat. Synonymous words to Paladin. “My apologies, lad. I shall return in a little while--enough time for you to fashion the slingshot and have it ready.”

“Yes, sir.”

Paladin spotted a certain hat on the top shelf and thought it would help shield Merry’s eyes. “Oh, and by the way, I’d like to purchase that hat now, if I may.”

Ollie reached up and pulled down a brimmed hat and handed it to the stranger, receiving from him the marked price.

Merry got a terrible feeling that the hat was for him; Pippin was already wearing his hat. He half pleaded, “Not in front of the lads, Uncle--please.” Pippin held his hand over his mouth to squelch his amusement. A playful grin appeared on Paladin’s lips as he plopped the hat onto Merry’s head, but left the strings untied.

Onward the trio went, heading west up the road and soon Merry could see the millhouse. “Look!” He pointed away into the fields to their left. “It’s the graveyard. Do you see it?”

“Yes.” Paladin answered. He could see rows of markers in the hazy distance. As he gazed at them he caught sight of his nephew as he tried to make his way toward the graveyard and grabbed his arm; Merry didn’t notice that he was walking straight into the open fields again. “Merry! Keep away from the field--you almost got yourself killed yesterday!”

“But this is the same path I took yesterday coming home from the mill.”

Paladin held his nephew’s shoulders, “No, Merry--you’ve never worked at this mill.” Then he saw the desperation in the teen’s eyes, “It was only a dream--no more.” He looked towards the side of the mill. “There has to be another way. It’s too perilous to cross here.”

As they made their way toward the mill, they could hear the deafening sound of the grinding wheels. Merry couldn’t help but gaze at the open yard that he felt that he himself had worked in just the day before--though was it really a dream? It all felt so real.... Stacks and bales of grains were sitting and waiting to be hauled in by some young hobbit boy. He could hear the shouting of the Overlooker, “Get to work ye slackers! If I hear one more word, ye’ll be quartered thrice!” Merry froze in place; he knew that voice, and it made his skin crawl. The memory of his punishment was ever so clear in his mind. He looked behind at his legs, but the welts were not there.

“Come along, Merry.” Said Paladin softly. The look of sheer terror on Merry‘s face made Paladin even question the validity of the dreams--could they have been real? He put his arm around the lad and drew him further up the hill. “Are you all right, lad?” Merry nodded, though still obviously shaken.

They passed the mill and afterward came upon a narrow lane on the left that led far behind it and back towards the empty field. “This must be the way,” Paladin said, leading the boys onto the path.

“I don’t like this place, papa.” Pippin’s green eyes were wide open as he followed his father and cousin down the creepy path.

Paladin lifted the child up and carried him further toward the graveyard. “There’s nothing here that will hurt you, Pippin.”

Merry ran up to the gate and took in all the grave-markers. He proceeded to jog to the other side--where he had come in to see his parents during his dream the day before.

“Don’t go too far, Merry,” Paladin called after him. “Make sure you stay out of the field!”

Merry readily identified the well-worn path that he walked on in his dream. He stood upon the pathway and then faced inward towards the graveyard. He saw them--the very same markers that he bid farewell to. He ran up to them, immediately recognizing the etching on his father’s grave--the father in his dream. “It’s them.” He announced, as Paladin strode up with Pippin in his arms.

Paladin looked at the markers and read them aloud. The first one read,, “Gayla Greenhill, S.R. 1341 - 1391.” Then he looked at the other, “Wilby Greenhill, S.R. 1339 - 1396.” They stood gazing at the markers in silence.

Merry listened to his uncle read the names on the markers and shook his head sorrowfully, “But....yesterday I couldn’t read them, and yet I knew in my heart that it was you.”

“Thank you, Merry,” Paladin answered. “I, for one, am glad that it wasn’t.”

Paladin half turned to view other markers around and nearly dropped Pippin as his knees grew weak. One grave was so freshly dug, it looked as if it had been excavated just days ago. Upon the marker it read, “Tad Greenhill, S.R. 1382 - 1397.”

Chapter Ten - The Ties That Bind Us

Merry also saw the newly dug grave and sank to his knees. “No...,” He shook his head, “it can’t be. I just saw him yesterday, Uncle Paladin. I spoke to him--or rather he spoke to me.”

Paladin sat down on the ground alongside Merry, Pippin still clinging to his father. They all sat for a long while in silence. Paladin didn’t know what to think...or what to say. He recalled the lad who gave full account of his family’s history the day before...Degger was his name. Why would a young boy say such things? Degger and Merry had never met that he knew of, and had yet to be formally introduced to each other. Still, Paladin couldn’t get young Tad Greenhill out of his mind. He sighed deeply, lightly resting his chin on Pippin’s head as he delved into his innermost thoughts, staring at the grave marker in front of him.

He imagined a slight fourteen-year-old boy having tasks and duties thrust upon his shoulders to be mother, father, and elder brother to a younger sibling. He was responsible to raise the younger one along with being the breadwinner of the family, and all family decisions would be made by him. What was going through this child’s mind during his last days? Were the responsibilities too much for the boy and he gave up, or was it how Degger put it--he simply forgot where he was walking? It seemed a disgrace that no one mourned this boy’s passing. Paladin thought of his own young son now snuggled in his lap. Tears spilled over and ran down his cheeks.

Merry was simply puzzled as to how--and why--a boy who lay cold beneath the ground could walk and talk with him. He had never met this lad, and yet he was in his dream--after he died. Merry decided it wasn’t mere coincidence, but now what was he supposed to do? Presently, he caught the movement of his uncle wiping his eyes. His uncle was weeping. “Are you all right, Uncle Paladin?”

Puffy eyes and pink nose, Paladin replied as he rose to his feet, “We have to find Degger.”

“Who’s Degger?” Merry asked as he stood to his feet.

“He’s the lad from the mercantile who helped to rescue you yesterday.”

Paladin held onto Pippin’s hand as they made their way back down the road past the mill and then onward to the Market Place. They approached the Mercantile booth and almost instantly Ollie was at the front with a wooden object in his hands. Paladin marveled at the craftsmanship of the slingshot. It was made from one single piece of wood with a longish leather strap tied at the two ends of the fork, then filed down to a smooth surface. He held it aloft as he inspected all sides of the toy. “This certainly is a fine example of woodcarving!” He remarked.

Ollie’s face reddened a little, “I....I had a bit of help. We tried to have it done in a hour...and we thinks the hour is up.”

Paladin took out his timepiece and opened the lid. “Indeed it is!”

The second, older lad who was milling about nearby shot a look out to the other lads. Someone obviously had a timepiece of their own.

“Here Ollie,” Paladin handed the teen a few coins, “just as we agreed, and a little something else for your trouble.”

Ollie took one penny and slid the rest back towards Paladin, “Was no trouble at all, sir.”

The older lad rushed over, placed his hands atop the coins and slid them back towards Ollie, “Don’t insult the stranger!”

“But I--” Then Ollie caught the eye of his the older lad, and then replied, “Yes, sir, thank you, sir.” Paladin noticed the boy’s hand was trembling as he scooped up the coins into his palm. Paladin figured that somehow Ollie was now in trouble of sorts.

“Tell me Ollie, do you know where another boy by the name of Degger lives?”

“Yes, sir, he--” But Ollie was cut off by his work-mate.

“Sir,” The older lad addressed Paladin, “are ye buying anythin’? Because Ollie has work to do.”

Paladin kept a sharp eye on the other lad, “As a matter of fact I am.” He pulled another coin out of his money purse and held it up, placed it on the board he slid it towards Ollie. “I’m purchasing information--from Ollie.”

While his uncle was speaking to Ollie, Merry had another...feeling come over him; the hair on his head stood on end. He turned round and was staring intently into a dark alley. He tugged on Paladin’s cloak, “Uncle....” he said, eyes still fixed on something unseen, “I know where he lives.”

Paladin looked down at his nephew and saw the strange look on his face. He followed to where the boy’s gaze; a deep alleyway set between two row houses--one house belonging to Mr. Thatch. “How do you know that’s where he lives?”

“I just know.” Merry put one foot in front of the other, slowly walking towards the alley.

As they walked inside the dank alley, Paladin realized it wasn’t as dark as it first appeared from the Mercantile booth. Though the sun was sinking, it hadn’t set yet. Merry stopped beside a small lean-to that was made up of various pieces of wood and the side of an old crate. He crouched down next to it, and in a small voice uttered, “Hullo?”

Initially, Paladin thought only a pile of rags occupied the cradle of the shelter, and that Merry had led them to an empty place. Then suddenly the rags shifted and moved. “Go away--I have no money.”

“I’m not here for any money,” replied Merry. Fact was, Merry himself had no idea why he was here. He only knew he felt drawn to it.

The rags shifted again and fell aside as a small, scruffy figure appeared from underneath, “Then what do ye want?”

“I don’t know, but....” Merry stopped speaking because he simply had no explanation as to why he was here.

Amazed, Paladin found his voice, “You’re the lad, Degger.” Things were getting stranger by the minute while Merry and Degger seemed to be at the center of it. “Tell me, lad, what is your surname?”

Degger rubbed his eyes--why were these well-to-do strangers talking with him? How did they find him? “Greenhill, sir. Why do ye ask? Am I in trouble?”

Paladin gave a smile to ease the boy, “No, Degger, you’re not in any trouble.” He felt Pippin patting him on his hip trying for his attention.

Pippin whispered, “Papa, that mean lad fired Degger yesterday when he helped me.”

“Did he now?” Paladin crouched down next to Merry to face the homeless child. He saw in the growing lantern light from the street the tear-stained and gaunt face of a very frightened boy. “When was the last time you had anything to eat, son?”

It had been a long time since anyone had been kind to him so Degger really didn’t know what to make of these strangers. What was their purpose? The one person who would know what to do....was gone. He sat as he did the night before with legs drawn up and arms wrapped about his knees. He put up a brave face, “I ate yesterday morn.”

Paladin noticed something on the lad’s arm that he didn’t see yesterday. “How did you get this?” It was a long, pinkish-red scar that went from his elbow down to his wrist.

“I fell when I was sweepin’ out a chimney.” Then he added, “My brother gave me his last two pennies to bandage it up--before he died.”

Instantly, a flood of memories rushed into Merry’s head; of Pippin lying next to him in this same crate--holding filthy rags up against his arm...of himself handing Pippin two coins to purchase bandages from the healer...of running off to work only to be late--and then punished. Then a flashing picture of himself spreading out his arms, soaring high above the town....and then the drop to his--death? The pieces of this very strange riddle were falling together and it frightened him. A distressed Merry scrambled to run out of the alley only for Paladin to grab hold of his arm, holding on to him. His heart pounded inside his chest as he tried to break free, but stopped struggling when he could no longer hold back the tears. He buried his head into his uncle’s cloak and sobbed.

“It’s all right, Merry,” Paladin said softly, holding the lad close. “I don’t understand any of this, either...but...we’re here.”

Degger watched the scene before him with a small amount of interest, but assumed the strangers would eventually turn and go their own way, never to be seen again.

After a few minutes, Paladin let Merry loose and turned once again to Degger. He looked at the lad who now had no one, and yet for some reason was the key to his nephew’s dream. Paladin was curious to see more pieces of the puzzle, and there was only one way to view it. He held out his hand, “Come with us, lad. There’s nothing more for you here.”

Degger’s eyes widened, “Leave? And go where? There’s nothin’ for me no matter where I go.” He looked off into the distance, “My brother lies yonder--I can’t leave him.”

Merry wiped his eyes and sat down next to the boy, “Degger, it’s your brother who wants you to leave. Did you two not discuss it the night before he fell into the hole?”

Degger’s face lost all color; he’d never seen this lad before yesterday, and when he did see him he was unconscious. How did this lad know about that? “Ye’re lyin’!” He yelled, “Ye were eavesdroppin’! It’s not polite to eavesdrop!”

“I wasn’t eavesdropping!” Merry retorted. “I’m only telling you what I know from my dream!”

“Degger,” Paladin interjected, “I can assure you as his uncle, that Merry has never been to Michel Delving before. He’s a Brandybuck from far away in Buckland.”

Degger calmed down some; he’d heard stories about the outlandish Bucklanders beyond in the East Farthing. They actually lived next to a forest that tried to attack them once. Perhaps this stranger-lad had enchanting abilities. All Degger knew was that he was just a simple, insignificant boy amongst these learned hobbits. Yes, Tad did want to leave Michel Delving, and they were supposed to make that decision the night he died. What if he’d made that decision the night before as Tad asked? Would Tad be alive now? Tears fell anew from his eyes in the dim light of the street lanterns, barely touching his cheeks.

At first, Paladin only figured to invite the lad to stay the night at his cousin’s house. But he knew in his heart he couldn’t allow the lad to return to this filthy alley--where his home was. Paladin repeated his offer, “Come with us, Degger. You can always come back to visit.”

Degger looked up at the grown hobbit, “But...my sister! She’s all alone serving the mistress at the Bunce manor. I can’t leave her, either.”

“Yes, you can. Your sister will do well with the Bunces; I know them, and they are a fine family--they will take good care of your sister. Would you like to see her before we leave tomorrow?”

Degger’s face brightened at the prospect of seeing his sister, but then fell again, “I--I can’t. I’m not allowed to see her yet. Not for months.”

Paladin answered, “I think I can persuade them in this circumstance.”

Degger had no words for the stranger; he was astonished, “Ye can do this?” Smiling, Paladin nodded.

Chapter Eleven - Going Home

Upon entering Fiodrin’s house, Cousin Millie handed Degger a scrub-brush, washcloth and soap, and then was promptly shown to the washtub. Later when he emerged from the wash room squeaky clean he joined the household in a simple meal. Simple to them, a feast to Degger. There was hot stew, various breads, butter, and meats. Meat! Degger hadn’t tasted meat in a very long time--far before his father fell into debt and became ill. It all tasted so good! He ate hungrily as the rest of the hobbits stared at him in silence. He blushed when he become conscious of it and swallowed the food in his mouth, “Beggin’ yer pardon; I’ve forgot’n my manners.” He paused to take a draught of milk, then wiped his mouth with his napkin. He ate the rest of his meal more slowly.

Young Pippin took his muffin and placed it next to Degger’s plate, “I was going to save it until later, but you can have it.” Then whispered, “It tastes even better with lots of butter on it!”

Millie got up and went to the oven and took out another pan of muffins warming inside. “Pippin, you’re such a sweet laddie! There are plenty more muffins, if you like.”

Pippin tried his best to hide his relief. “Yes, ma’am,” he exclaimed, as he jumped down from his chair and went to get a fresh muffin.

Paladin was also pleased with his son’s gesture, but teased him, “Oh, but Millie, you’re only just seeing his good behavior today!” He swept up the boy as he returned from getting a warm muffin and settled him onto his lap.

Pippin buttered his muffin (with lots of it!) and had finished licking the excess from his fingers, saying, “But I’m good all the time--aren’t I papa? It’s that naughty Merry--always making me to do wicked things.” He said the last part with an impish grin on his face.

Merry nearly choked on his stew, “I do not!”

“Do.”

“Not!”

“Do.”

“All right, lads, that’s enough.” Said Paladin. Perhaps they are brothers.... “When you are both through with supper I want you each to take a bath so we can make an early start tomorrow. Degger has already had his bath and may go directly to bed when--” He looked over to the lad and saw that he was sitting back in his chair with his eyes closed. Apparently the large ‘feast’ had taken it’s toll on the youngster. “I daresay he’s already there.”

Each hobbit was in his own thoughts for much of the journey returning to Whitwell. Pippin and Merry tried singing a few songs, but they soon faded out as their hearts weren’t in it. Merry had much on his young mind; the image of their departure from the Bunces filled his head. Heather was a young ten-year-old girl--about a year younger than his cousin, Pervinca was, though not as quick with a smile. She seemed a sad little girl to Merry. Her brown eyes filled with tears when she learned her only surviving brother was leaving Michel Delving, but after a bit of thought she knew it was much better for him than living and sleeping in the alley, and eventually she did smile, though melancholy it was.

Merry’s reflections constantly hovered around the three Greenhill children: Tad, Degger, and Heather, and how he and his dream fit into the scheme of things. In his dream, Merry figured he had basically lived out the last two days of Tad Greenhill in an abstract sort of way. Apparently, it was Tad’s wish that he and his brother leave Michel Delving, yet Tad was no longer alive, but...Degger was--and here the boy was riding back to Whitwell with them. In the end, it seemed Tad’s wishes were being fulfilled. If it hadn’t been for his dream, no one would’ve given young Degger a second thought. The purpose of the dream was now becoming clear to Merry.

Paladin, for his part, wondered what Eglantine would say in response to his bringing home an extra child. For over an hour he rehearsed in his head what he would say to her, and as he rounded the last bend in the north lanes of Great Smials, he reckoned his whole speech useless. His Tina would see through his scheming words--she always did. He did hope in his heart that she would sympathize with the lad’s plight, though he knew she would. His love for children was surpassed only by his wife. He grinned; he felt like a boy bringing home a stray kitten. But no, this was no stray kitten--this was definitely a child, albeit a child who had recently met up with a hard, cold world and still too young to cope with it. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder at her reaction.

For what seemed to be the one-thousandth time, Degger’s fear fluttered up inside his stomach. The meadows and hills that they rode upon were quite strange to him, and his aching heart inwardly cried out for his brother. From there, his thoughts wandered to events earlier in the morning--of their visit to the Bunces and saying goodbye to his sister flooded his thoughts. How was it that he allow himself to have gotten this far? Perhaps he made a mistake in leaving Michel Delving. He watched as the road swept away from the tail-end of the cart. He wanted to jump off and run back, but knew he’d be lost among the woods in a matter of minutes. He nervously fingered the trinket in his hands. It was Tad’s timepiece. Just before visiting his sister, Mr. Took, as Degger had begun calling him, stopped at the mill. He and the lad Merry had gone inside and after a few minutes returned with the stolen object. The timepiece was how he and Tad kept time so they wouldn’t be late for work, and it was taken from him the day before he died by his Overlooker. This little timepiece would be how he’d remember his dearest brother...and their father.

“It’s not far now,” Pippin offered to Degger. The boy looked sad and down in the mouth, but Pippin was glad to be nearing home and smiled, “My momma said she was going to make all my favorite pies today for our return. Do you like pies, Degger?”

“Pippin,” Merry reminded his young cousin, “There isn’t a pie that you don’t like.”

“Yes there is,” Pippin replied. “An empty one!” In spite of his intense thoughts Merry couldn’t help but laugh.

Degger slipped the trinket back into his pocket. He began to reply to Pippin’s question. “Last year,” he started slowly, “when we all lived in a room above the Blacksmith’s shop, my sister made an apple pie. But she burned it.” He smiled sadly, “Me an’ Taddy acted as if it was the best pie in the whole world--but it made her smile. I s’pose for that reas’n my fav’rite is apple.”

Merry could see Degger was still heavy of heart. “Don’t be afraid, Degger,” he said. Merry was beginning to honestly like Degger and wanted to lift his spirits. “You will like my auntie and cousins.”

“I’m not scared, Merry,” Degger replied. “But...so much has happen’d just since my dad died. Only months ago me, Taddy, Heather, and our dad were all livin’ in a room rented to us. It was close quarters, mind ye, but....we were happy...for the most part. Until Mr. Thatch bought the house and then told our dad he owed him lots of money. Dad got sick soon after.”

Degger looked like he was near tears--again. Merry wanted to get the boy’s mind off of what was behind, and see what lay ahead. “Do you see these hills, Degger?” He watched the lad nod. “This is Great Smials--where most of the Tooks live--and the Thain, of course, too. My uncle brings us here all the time on business, and Pippin has lots of cousins here.”

Paladin laughed, “Pippin has cousins in nearly every town of the Shire!” He could hear snips of conversation going on in the back of the cart and guessed what his nephew was trying to do. Then as he himself was musing on the Smials, a fantastic idea sprung into his head.

Chapter Twelve - Final Adjustments

“Papa?”

Paladin’s consciousness slowly surfaced to daylight. He’d heard a child’s voice call out to him.

“Papa!” This time Pervinca began nudging her father, “Wake up!”

“Wha...?” He lay comfortably upon his stomach with his face turned into the pillow.

“It’s time to milk the cows, papa. May I go out and watch?” The girl leaned in closer to her father’s face to watch his eyelids open, unsure if he was waking up or not.

Paladin had a feeling she was very near. He tried to hide his grin as he snapped open his eyelids and gave a bit of a roar, laughing as the girl jumped back in fright. “What are you doing out of your bed, lass?” The fog was lifting from away from his head.

“I haven’t been sick for two days, papa,” she said, sitting back atop the covers, her hand over her thumping heart. “Pippin, Merry, and Degger are all going out to the barn to milk the cows and I want to sit and watch.”

Paladin knew it was more like she wanted to see if there would be another catastrophe like yesterday morning. “Then why are you holding your slingshot?”

“I was only holding it, is all.”

“Yes, I’m certain of that,” he countered cynically. He breathed in deeply, smelling bacon and bread wafting in from kitchen. “Very well, but you must leave your slingshot in your room, and you mustn’t play on the hay rope, nor jump up and down and tire yourself.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?”

He smirked, “Sit and watch!” He imagined he had his youngest two children figured out--both had the makings of little terrors, and he was thankful only one was male. He shuddered to think what it would be like to have two little Pippins to raise--three if you count Merry, but Paladin wouldn’t have it any other way. Then he remembered his own father’s words...something about a parent’s revenge. He came out of his musings and smiled at his youngest daughter, “You must leave now, Sweat pea; I need to get up and get dressed.”

After his Pervinca left the room, Paladin drew aside his covers and padded over to the bureau. He looked at his reflection in the glass. What have I done to that lad?, he thought to himself. He cupped his hands, dipping them into the cool water and rinsed his face. Yesterday morning it took Merry almost a half hour to get Degger inside the barn. Apparently the lad had never seen a cow up close--nor pigs, or chickens.

He finished washing up and got dressed for the day. Out in the kitchen Pearl laid a large platters of eggs, bacon, and bread on the table, but curiously, a huge platter of flat-cakes stayed on the counter-board. “Why aren’t you setting out the flat-cakes?”

“Because they’re not fit to eat,” Pearl answered. “I’m making more.”

“How are your flat-cakes unfit to eat, Pearl? Your flat-cakes have always been delicious.” Pearl handed her father a piece of an unfit flat-cake. After just one chew Paladin knew exactly what was unfit about them; they were salty. He quickly washed it down with Pippin’s milk (his tea was still too hot!), making a face at the awful taste.

Pearl elaborated on the cakes, “I sent Degger to the larder to fetch me the sugar, and well...you can taste what he came away with.”

“I’m sorry, Pearl,” he said, though his taste-buds were still recovering from the shock of salt. “You knew he couldn’t read, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but I didn’t think there was any harm in sending him for sugar.”

“But if he doesn’t know his letters, Pearl, that means he doesn’t understand the difference between the ‘sugar’ and ‘salt’ labels.” He wiped the milk from his mouth. “I would refrain from sending the lad on any further errands that require reading for a while.”

Just then, Eglantine came through the kitchen door in a huff, followed by Pervinca. “Paladin, that lad is up in the rafters and we can’t talk him down!”

Another disaster! Paladin cringed and put his hands to his eyes, “What happened this time?”

Eglantine hung up her cloak on one of the pegs, “He got too close to the barn cat and it jumped all over him, scratching the boy up, I daresay.” She poured herself a cup of tea and sat down next to her husband. “I knew from the start, Paladin, this lad wasn’t made to live on a farm, and yet he tries so hard.”

Paladin figured the boy to be miserable and he felt responsible. “I’ll go and get him.”

“Degger!” Paladin was in the barn calling up towards the bales of hay. “Come out, son.” No answer. He caught sight of a small shadow away up between two stacks. He climbed up until he was level with the boy. “Degger, breakfast is waiting,” he said.

“Where’s that horrid beast that attacked me?” Degger sat trembling between the bales.

“It wasn’t a beast,” Paladin answered, then added, “well--not in the most practical sense anyway.” He looked about the barn, not seeing the animal. “It was a cat, and she’s not in the barn right now--you’ve scared her away.” He tried to laugh off the boy’s fright, “Come on.” He held out his hand to the lad. “I promise I won’t let her hurt you, but you must come down and eat breakfast.” The boy hesitated, but after several deep breaths, he took Paladin’s hand.

Once Degger was on firm ground, he ventured a question, “Why do you keep such wild animals?”

“Every animal on a farm has a purpose,” Paladin answered. He led Degger back towards the smial. “We raise cows, pigs, and chickens so that we can eat.”

“As long as they stay in the barn and away from me, I s’pose I can live here.”

“I’d like for you to give it a try, if you can.”

Later that same day.....

“Uncle Paladin!” Merry found Paladin repairing the wooden slats of the fence in the back pasture. “Degger’s hiding again, but at least he’s hiding in his room this time.” He stopped and watched his uncle pound in the last nail. “He saw Pim and I preparing a chicken for supper and got sick behind the barn and then ran into the smial. I tried talking to him but he won’t come out.”

“Degger?” Paladin knocked and then opened the door ajar only to see Degger curled up upon his bed. Going in with him was his wife, Eglantine; she, too, was concerned over the lad.

“I want t’go home,” the boy sniffed. “I can’t live here. I tried, but I can’t.”

Paladin sat miserably in a chair and rested his head in his hands. He didn’t know what to say, and yet he wouldn’t dare entertain the idea of taking Degger back to Michel Delving. No; not after all the portents Merry experienced and also witnessing how cruelly treated the children were at the hands of Mr. Thatch. Young Ollie at the Mercantile booth was still clear in his mind as was the grave of a fourteen year old Tad Greenhill--Degger’s own brother.

It was Eglantine who spoke, “Not everyone is suited for farming, Degger, and it’s all right that it’s not for you, either. That’s why we have clothiers, tanners, carpenters and the like. If everyone was a farmer, then who would make the cloth that I sew my son’s breeches with?” She leaned in conspiratorially, “I can tell you, lad, the talent of handling a loom lies with others--not me!” Then she added, “And who would build the table that we eat upon?”

Paladin listened as his beloved soothed the fears of his self-appointed charge. The idea that he had in the cart on their return trip from Michel Delving came back into his thoughts. “Tina, may I discuss something with you--alone?”

Paladin trailed Eglantine into their bedroom and quietly shut the door. “Tina, I think Degger’s having a bit of a problem adjusting to life on a farm.” He saw her raise her eyebrows in response. “All right--he’s having a large problem adjusting.” He sat down on the edge of the bed. “I was only trying to...I don’t know. I just couldn’t leave him there in that filthy alley. You should’ve seen it; rats and filth everywhere.”

“I don’t doubt you, dear, but did you give it a thought as to how a child raised in a large town would deal with life here?” She sat down next to him, “He misses his home.”

“What home did he have? Living under the eaves of a crate and going for days without a morsel! What kind of life is that for a child?”

“I wasn’t there, Paladin, but I can see that he doesn’t seem to have a life here either,” she replied. “Gracious me, the lad is afraid of the cows and chickens!”

The two were silent for several minutes. Finally Paladin spoke, “I’ve an idea to take him to Great Smials--at least we can keep an eye on him there and he will be treated well. No sleeping alongside with rats, and not taking a bath for weeks. Tooks won’t mistreat him, either.”

“Have you talked about this to him? He’d be a servant, you know.”

“No, not yet,” he said. “He may be frightened of the barn animals, but he’s no stranger to hard work. He used to sweep chimneys before he outgrew them and began working for Thatch--and we all know that Thatch is a ruthless hobbit.” Paladin put his arm around his wife, “I wanted to hear what you had to say on the matter of taking him to the Smials.”

Eglantine hesitated, “I...don’t see anything wrong with it, but I think we ought to ask him. I know of a family in Waymeet that takes in orphaned children. Do you think he’d like it there? Perhaps we should give Degger the choice.”

Paladin smiled, “Agreed--if you are certain this family is willing to take on another child.”

“Why don’t you talk to Cousin Lalia and Ferumbras tomorrow,” offered Eglantine, “and I will find a courier in Tuckborough who will ride to Waymeet and back. Then tomorrow night we shall speak to him, and let him choose, if he wishes. But I do know he’s not happy here with the animals.”

Paladin thought about the young teen in the guest room, “He has taken to the boys, though hasn’t he? Just like a brother to them he is.”

Now Eglantine laughed, “Or...like yet another son, Paladin?” She shook her head, “No, love, lasses rule the roost here!”

Paladin smiled, “Thank you.”

Eglantine was surprised, “For what?”

“For putting up with me bringing home stray children.”

She drew him close and said, “I wouldn’t have you any other way.” Then she kissed him.

EPILOGUE:

As is seen in Irrepressible Pippin, Degger chose to work at Great Smials. Why? Most likely so he could work for a decent wage and save up his pennies in order to visit his sister in Michel Delving--even though Paladin was more than willing to take him whenever he himself visited the town. Degger did much better adjusting at the Smials--he shared his quarters with one other lad, and was taught his letters. It was important and even required for the servants to know how to read in order to properly serve.

Whenever Paladin and the boys visited the Smials, they always sought out Degger to talk and jest with him. When Pippin was somewhat older and the family moved to Great Smials, Degger had a hand in helping Pippin adjust to mansion life--he was made a personal family servant, and was treated extremely well.

I smell another plot coming....

A/N: I guess in order to have an epilogue, one must first have a prologue...so now I have an epilogue 2...at least that's how I think it works...?

PLEASE READ

I don’t know how to say this, but as I was doing a bit of research for this story, I stumbled upon a website that has touched my heart forever. It was there that I read first-hand stories from men and women/boys and girls who actually worked in 18th century factories--the ones who endured hardships and physical abuses in pursuit of a penny. When Paladin was sitting before Tad’s grave and weeping for him, that was actually me, weeping for them--mourning for children that lived long ago, and no one acknowledging them.

I won’t go into the grisly details, but to be quartered meant that a quarter of their hourly wage was deducted from their pay if they were late, or if they were caught talking to the other children. Overlookers were the immediate supervisors of the workers, and meted out harsh punishments for such behavior as well. Watches and time-pieces were forbidden for obvious reasons.

If anything comes out of this story, I hope that these children (fictitious, though they may be, but based on real-life experiences) touched your heart as they have mine. :