MERRY’S DECISION (I & II)

PROLOGUE: This is a story I wrote close to a year ago (in two parts) and posted it on fanfiction.net (Merry‘s Big Decision). There was not too much tweaking involved in the transition to SOA, so most of the story is still intact. After a year of writing and settling into ‘my’ characters, I did re-write one or two paragraphs to better convey the character’s emotions. Plus I heavily decreased the language; however, the few that remain are merely a tool to push the emotions up to another level.

Some may not like my Saradoc, but if you like Grey Wonderer’s storyline (The Road Less Traveled), then you shouldn’t mind this one as the characterizations are only in reverse. Initially, I was only venting, but then decided my twist on things would be my little ‘thumbprint’, if you will. The descriptions of ‘my’ characters below do not apply only to this story.

My characterization of Pippin is that he’s very sweet and very intelligent--I believe he had to be more the latter in order to be included in a circle of friends much older than he was. His quick wit and humor grew by leaps and bounds by the time he was eight--as you will see, and that can easily get a child into mischief and trouble! Pippin loves attention and embellishes his stories whenever he has a captive audience.

Merry is a very cheery, loveable and social hobbit. He’s not big on attention, but loves parties and being with his friends. He loves, and is extremely close to his young cousin, who in turn adores Merry. Pippin and Merry are more than cousins (as Pearl Took has written--great story!) and are as close as any two ‘brothers’ could be. As Merry is sixteen and Pippin eight, I wrote this story with the beginnings of ‘best friendship’ in this story. Merry loves his uncle Paladin, and over the years became a part of the Took household in Whitwell. I won’t say any more as it will then give away the story.

Paladin Took is quite the congenial hobbit. His heart belongs to his family and the Shire. He is a simple farmer, but never intellectually. Children--especially his own--are a delight to him. He took his nephew, Merry, into his heart and home through visits when he learned of his troubles at home. Without realizing it, Merry took root in his heart--never to completely let go. Paladin may complain about it, but, for lack of a more Shire-like phrase, he gets a kick out of it when Pippin, Merry, and even his youngest daughter (to some degree) band together for an afternoon of fun...better known as mischief.

Frodo doesn't have a huge part in the story, but as I don't write his character often enough, I hope I portray him well enough for his 'fans'.

Rated PG for a bit of language and other angsty things...I hope you enjoy the story.

MERRY’S DECISION

Disclaimer: The hobbits, nor the story surrounding my wild imagination belong to me; they belong to and are attributed to JRR Tolkien.

 Chapter One

“Thank you, Dahlia.” Merry smiled at the matronly woman who assisted his Aunt Eglantine with the household chores and general ‘keeping in order’ of the children--Took or Brandybuck. She placed his breakfast plate in front of him and returned his smile. She was a tough old bird, as Merry would refer to her at times, but with a heart of gold all the same.

“Ye’re not at Brandy Hall, Master Merry,” she said.

The expression on his face must have alerted her to his mood, yet he spoke of it to no one. He felt miserable and depressed...but he knew Pippin would soon cure those feelings. Yes, he would forget Brandy Hall and put it behind him...for a while. He watched Dahlia wipe her hands on her apron and then turn back to her preparations for baking bread.

Merry relished his visits to Whitwell; he sometimes felt that this was his real home and his real family, and then for the rest of the year he went away to live with a group of hobbits at Brandy Hall. But for his sweet mother, his own home was merely shelter to keep out of the rain.

He sat at the table eating second breakfast and waiting for his cousin Pippin to join him. He and Pippin were to take one of the pigs to the butcher today for Paladin, and then meet him in the fields to help out with the beginnings of harvest. The task seemed easy enough for Merry.

Suddenly, Pippin ran into the kitchen and skidded to a stop at the table. “Good morning, Pip!” Merry greeted his young cousin, wondering why he was in such a hurry. Pippin didn’t even bother to sit. He gulped down his mug of milk Dahlia set out for him, grabbed a small loaf of bread, two apples and ran out of the door. He paused only long enough to tell Merry as he ran, “Meet you at the pen!” He called over his shoulder, and then he was off.

Merry didn’t have long to wonder why Pippin was in such haste. He heard commotion and yelling coming from the back of the smial. It was drawing closer to the kitchen until he saw Pimpernel emerge from the hallway crying and screaming at an absent Pippin. “Come back here, you brat!! Come back here and let me flay you for supper tonight!!”

Merry was shocked at Pim’s temper. He’d never seen her so worked up before. Then as he drained his mug of milk he saw it, and snorted a laugh. Pim looked straight at him and quelled any notion to laugh--out loud. Pim sported a new moustache painted under her nose; painted on with one of her own cosmetics, of course, but it was there for the whole world to see. Oh, Pippin, you are going to get it when you get home!, Merry thought as he wiped his mouth. Dahlia hurried over to Pim to help her wash off the paint. He felt his eyes tearing up from holding in his laughter. “I...I need to fetch the pig...for the musta--I, mean, market!” His tried so hard not to laugh. Dahlia and Pim glared at him. He couldn’t hold it in anymore. He tripped over his chair trying to make it to the door without getting whacked on the head with a towel, running out holding his sides as he laughed.

Merry ran in the direction of the back pasture. He spotted Pippin sitting and eating his fill of the bread and washing it down with handfuls of water from a nearby rain barrel. He ran towards his cousin. When he stopped, he knelt over with hands on his knees out of breath, “What are you trying to do, Pip? Get yourself killed at the hands of your sisters?”

“You should’ve seen what she did to me yesterday before you arrived,” said Pippin with his mouth full of bread. He swallowed before continuing, “Everyone thought it was so funny for her to put ribbons in my hair while I slept!”

“Did your father find out?” Surely Paladin would’ve stopped the madness right then.

“Of course not,” answered Pippin. “I wouldn’t hear the end of it if I told papa!” Pippin sneered for better effect, “Pippin’s a little baby--he runs to his papa every time. I can handle my sisters!”

Merry shook his head at his irrepressible cousin, “Your sisters are all older and bigger than you, Pip, and liable to get the better end.”

“Not anymore,” he replied, biting into one of his breakfast apples.

“What are you talking about?” Merry asked as they started walking back in the direction of the pigpen. He knew his young cousin had a secret plan up his sleeve. For an eight-year-old, Pippin didn’t let anything slip past him, and because of this, Merry thought they made a great team.

“I’m fighting fire with fire,” Pippin announced. “For every trick they think they win over me, I will be waiting with a trick of my own! Yesterday’s ribbons declared war!” Pippin thrust a fist in the air for emphasis.

Merry laughed at Pippin’s declaration, “Just be careful the fire doesn’t end up on the seat of your trousers as usual!”

Chapter Two

Pippin and Merry took the chosen pig and walked it to market at Whitwell a couple miles away. There they found the butcher and then took the road back towards Paladin’s fields. As the two cousins walked the three miles towards the fields, they stopped at the half-way point for a rest.

“Let’s go more into the trees, Pip,” suggested Merry. Pippin noticed a gleam in his cousin’s eye; he smiled and followed him.

As they became more concealed among the trees, Merry looked about to make sure no one else was around and surreptitiously took out of his vest pocket...a pipe!

Pippin gasped, “Where’d you get that?”

Merry held it aloft so Pippin could see it better, “My father gave it to me.”

“Your father wouldn’t give you a pipe! He doesn’t let you smoke yet!”

“Shhh!” Merry cautioned his cousin, “He doesn’t know he gave it to me, yet!” Then he added in a lower, sarcastic tone, “He doesn’t let me do a lot of things, but that doesn’t stop me. Now be quiet or you’ll give us away.”

Pippin sat next to Merry on an old log and watched him stuff the pipe bowl with some leaf he had stored in a pouch. He watched intently as Merry put the pipe between his teeth and struck a flint to light it. Pippin sat in awe of how Merry expertly puffed out huge plumes of smoke from the pipe. “You can smoke,” exclaimed Pippin. “Let me try!”

Merry laughed, “Not on your short little life!” They both suddenly froze as they heard a twig snap close behind them. They turned around in unison.

Merry let out a huge sigh of relief, “Frodo! You nearly made me jump out of my skin!”

Frodo laughed at the thought. “I was with cousin Reginard at the Market and saw you two there and wanted to speak with you, Merry. So I followed you back to here.” He looked sidelong at Merry, “So, what are you two vagrants up to?” Then Frodo saw the smoking pipe in Merry‘s hand and chuckled, “No good, as I see it!”

Pippin observed the exchange and knew this hobbit to be friend and cousin of Merry’s, though he’d never been formally introduced to him before. Pippin thought he looked a little older than Merry, but didn’t seem old enough to be of age yet. Merry apparently got out of Brandy Hall more than he let on!

Merry noticed his younger cousin’s curiosity. “Pip, this is another cousin of mine; Frodo Baggins is his name. He used to live at Brandy Hall--but he was fortunate in that he was able to escape!” Merry half-jested on the last part as he exhaled a trail of smoke.

“Hullo,” Frodo nodded to Pippin, who returned the nod. “Actually, I’m your cousin as well, and I’ve met you before, though you were but a babe at the time.”

Pippin knew the name, though not to much the face. He nodded again, thought for a second, and said, “Yes...you’re my second cousin once removed on my father’s side and your mother’s.” He then cocked an eye, “You’re the cousin having a Birthday party the day after tomorrow, are you not?”

Frodo took Merry’s pipe and inhaled the pipe smoke with the same expertise Merry did. Frodo looked amazed at Merry, “How did he know? I haven’t sent out invitations yet!”

“Sisters,” Merry offered. “Older sisters!”

“Ah...that’s right--Pearl, Pimpernel, and Pervinca,” said Frodo. “News travels fast in the Shire with the lasses, eh?”

Pippin snickered, “Faster than one of old Gandalf’s rockets!”

“How do you know of Gandalf?” Frodo asked.

Pippin shrugged, “Who doesn’t?”

Frodo laughed, and then asked Merry, “How old did you say he was?” Merry smiled at his little cousin’s quick wit.

For his part, Pippin was now growing quite annoyed that everyone was enjoying a smoke of the pipe except him. “Frodo, may I try? I believe I can do just as well!”

Frodo looked at Merry. Merry looked back and just shrugged. Frodo grinned, then offered the pipe to the youngster, “Are you sure you can handle it, laddie?”

Laddie indeed! Pippin walked over to Frodo with his indignant eyes locked on his and nearly snatched the pipe out of Frodo’s hand. Pippin sat back down at his spot on the tree log--trying to act like his father. He cupped his hands around the bowl and drew in a long wisp of smoke.

Frodo muttered to Merry, “Is he always like this?” He wanted to laugh but knew it would infuriate the boy.

“‘Oh, yes! He is a handful at times,” answered Merry, “but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Pippin didn’t hear the last part Merry said. As soon as he inhaled the large amount of smoke, his lungs immediately went into coughing spasms and he swallowed most of the smoke. He thought for sure he would choke and suffocate right there in the woods! He dropped the pipe and bowled over coughing until he thought he had no air left in his lungs. Then he rested with his back against the log gasping for air. Fresh air never smelt so good!

Merry got up, picked up the pipe and handed it to Frodo. He then helped his younger cousin to his feet and onto the log. “I tried to tell you, but as usual, you’re as stubborn as a mule!”

Green with nausea, Pippin crawled on all fours to a nearby tree trunk a few yards away and heaved up everything in his stomach. When he was finished, he crawled back and leaned up against a broken tree stump. He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and watched all the trees moving in the breeze. He closed his eyes.

“Looks like you’ll have to wait a bit before the two of you can head out again,” said Frodo to Merry, looking at Pippin. “For a bright chap, that wasn’t the cleverest thing to do.”

Pippin was angry that he had humiliated himself. “You don’t know anything about anything!” Though his speech was muttered, it was loud enough for Frodo to hear.

“You hear that, Merry?” Frodo chuckled, “I don’t know anything about anything!”

Chapter Three

After a while, the two older hobbits’ conversation moved to more serious subjects. Pippin lay quietly against the tree with his eyes closed, even while he started to feel better. If they knew he was listening they would stop talking, considering him too young to understand such things.

“So, Mer, visiting your Uncle Paladin again, eh?”

Merry sighed, blowing smoke rings, “Yes I am.”

“What about your father? Does he know you’re gone this time?”

“I think so...” Merry passed the pipe back over to Frodo.

Frodo held it and looked at it for a moment before he went on. “Merry...you know you’re always welcome at Bag End. Just make sure you’re father knows next time.” Frodo spoke with a sad grin, and then puffed on the pipe.

Pippin was learning a lot, here! Merry went to Bag End and never told his father?! He ran away from home! The realization hit Pippin in the stomach like a rock. He’d learned of Merry’s estrangement with his father last summer, but never in his wildest dreams did he think Merry would go to such lengths as to run away from home.

Then Pippin heard the voices grow more quiet.

“I saw her, Frodo.” It was Merry’s voice. “The day after you and I last spoke, I saw her at the Hobbiton Market.” Merry looked at his older cousin and smiled.

“Did she say anything?”

“She said hullo,” Merry quipped. They both snickered, then Merry added, “and then she asked me if I was going to your birthday party!”

“No! She asked you?”

“Yes!”

“Well of all the luck, Merry! What did you say?”

“I told her I’d think about it.”

“Meriadoc Brandybuck! If you told her anything other than 'yes' I’ll rap you over the head myself,” laughed Frodo. “I envy you, Merry. No lass has ever asked me to a party--not even my own!” They both laughed at the notion.

Pippin’s ears remained fixated on their conversation...Merry was sweet on a hobbit lass!

Merry became flushed and smiled.

Frodo prodded his cousin, “Come, Merry--what else?”

“We, um....no. I'd better not say.” He threw a look in Pippin’s direction.

Frodo gazed over to Pippin, “Looks like he’s asleep.”

“Don’t believe everything you see with Pippin!” Merry got up and gave Pippin a nudge with his foot.

Pippin didn’t move. Next, Merry got down on his knees and started to tickle Pippin. Almost instantly the boy began wriggling, “Stop!” Pippin was laughing uncontrollably, “Stop! That wasn’t fair!”

“Neither is eavesdropping,” said Frodo

“I wasn’t eavesdropping,” argued Pippin. “You both spoke so loud even the Barrow Wights beyond the Old Forest could hear you.”

Frodo shook his head. Pippin was like...a troublesome little brother--which he never had. At least not since Merry when he lived at Brandy Hall. He now understood what Merry saw in befriending this little cousin of theirs. Never before had he met a young hobbit with so much spunk, and this lad was sharp-witted, too. Frodo didn’t let on, but he was beginning to like Pippin.

Chapter Four

Merry dozed upon one end of the old log while Frodo napped on the other. Even Pippin was breathing softly as he lay slumped against the tree trunk he claimed earlier. Thin tendrils of smoke floated up into the sky as Merry puffed away in heedless thought. Then Merry realized the sun was well past its apex. “Pippin!” He bolted up, “We were supposed to have met Uncle Paladin in the fields by now!”

Pippin jumped to his feet. They both reeked with smoke and as Pippin stood up, he felt the queasiness come back. Merry took the pipe from Frodo and tapped it on the log to empty the contents. “Sorry, Frodo.” And then ran like the wind.

“Well, don’t let me stop the two of you.” Frodo shouted as he waved them off, “It was good to see you again, Merry! And nice to meet you, too, Pippin--again!”

Both he and Pippin were running at full speed as he saw the fields in the distance. They should have arrived hours ago. Merry’s only task was to take the pig to town, and then meet uncle Paladin here--only a few miles away. He knew he was in trouble.

They flew past the wooded gate and raced to the wagon that held the empty baskets. Each boy grabbed one and headed for the furthest corner of the field so as not to be noticed. Little did they know, Paladin saw everything from his wagon platform.

Merry plopped himself down on the ground, sweating and out of breath for a while. Pippin wasn’t too far away, also winded, knelt down and began picking tomatoes off the vines. Merry looked at Pippin, and Pippin looked back at him. Hopefully, Paladin didn’t see them run in...late--very late. The two boys worked quickly and quietly. Usually they laughed and sang silly childish songs while harvesting. Others could easily guess that they were trying to hide.

The two cousins worked the rest of the afternoon on until one of the field hands called for a water rest. Merry and Pippin stayed put and sat down in front of a thick row of tomato vines. All the better to stay out of Paladin’s view.

“Do you think we’re in trouble?” Pippin asked, peering over the tops of the vines.

“Of course not! Your backside ought to know that better than anyone.”

Pippin couldn’t argue that reasoning; he knew how unruly he could be for his father. Silence.

“What were you going to tell Frodo?” Ventured Pippin.

Merry wiped sweat from his forehead, “What?”

“What were you going to tell Frodo,” Pippin repeated.

Merry was making great effort to avoid the issue. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t be coy, Merry. What were you going to tell Frodo that suddenly you can’t say to me?”

The water bearer came into their clearing holding a large bowl of water. They each took a drink and sat back down.

“Well?” Pippin wasn‘t going to be thwarted.

“It’s private, Pippin,” Merry retorted, “and if you remember, it wasn’t for your ears anyway.”

“We’ve never kept secrets before--why now?”

“Because it’s none of your business!” Merry was beginning to get annoyed.

Neither spoke for a moment. Pippin’s curiosity was restless in his mind. He finally asked, “Did you kiss her?” He smirked, trying to push the right lever.

Merry snapped, “Since you must simply know all my business--yes, I kissed her! There! Are you happy?”

Pippin gasped, “You really kissed her?”

Someone called from a distance that the water rest was over.

Merry ignored Pippin and got up to get his basket.

“Wait! What was it like--and who’s her?”

“Never you mind,” Merry barked his reply.

Pippin now felt guilty over badgering his cousin, “I’m sorry, Merry.”

“You should have thought about that before!” Merry was very angry. Inwardly he did want to talk about it, but wasn’t sure to whom. Pippin was too young to understand and his own father had never been interested in him, let alone a talk about lasses--and the former is what enraged Merry the most. For years his father’s cold heart played on his mind. Frodo had Bilbo, and Pippin had Paladin, but whom did he have? Who would he be able to talk to when he was older and his feelings went beyond a simple kiss? The anger built up in Merry until he exploded and took it out on the nearest person...Pippin. He stopped picking tomatoes and addressed his cousin who was in the next path picking tomatoes of his own.

“Did it matter, Pippin?” Merry began ranting, “I mean, now that you know--did it really matter?” Pippin stopped and looked at his older cousin. “What was it worth it to you? I’m not a little boy anymore, Pip! There are certain things that I don’t wish to tell you--is that so bad?!” Merry picked up his basket, still livid. “Is our friendship based upon what you know of me?”

Pippin studied the teenage hobbit. Friendship? Did Merry consider him an actual friend? If Merry regarded him as a friend, then why was he suddenly attacking him? If I stepped on your toes then just tell me--don’t yell at me! However, if friendship was indeed the case, then Pippin stood his ground and answered, “Yes, Merry, it is!”

Merry shot a look at Pippin and crouched down to pick more tomatoes. “Why?” He demanded. “The details of my life are none of your concern!”

Pippin stooped to put the tomatoes piled in his arms into his basket, “Don’t be absurd, Merry! I’m not talking about the details. I like to know what you’re into because....” Pippin stopped, feeling his thoughts out.

“Because why?” Merry insisted, and stood up waiting for an answer, “Is my personal life the talk of Whitwell?”

Pippin stood up, growing angry himself, “You are behaving like a complete ass today, aren’t you? Do I need to tell you why?”

“Yes--and don’t call me an ass!” Merry shouted back.

“I want to know what you're doing because I care about you, Merry.” Pippin shouted back. “You’re the only cousin I care about and the only brother I will ever have--and in case you haven’t noticed my whole family cares about you!” Then he added just to make Merry’s day, “And I’ll call you an ass if I want to!”

“Well don’t!”, Merry yelled.

Pippin couldn’t believe what he just heard. “Don’t what? Don’t care about you, or don’t tell you you’re behaving like an ass?”

“Just pick up your tomatoes and keep walking,” Merry growled at his cousin, snatching his own basket from the ground and stomped off. Why was Pippin being such...a child! Here he was--a teen--having an argument with an eight-year-old, and the eight-year-old was winning.

Actually, Merry wasn’t being too unreasonable. Merry knew his uncle Paladin and aunt Eglantine loved him as if he were their own son. He had been part of their family during his visits ever since he could remember. But why was it this way? Why wouldn’t his own father love him? Young Merry was hurt and confused. He carried all these feelings bottled up ever since he was a child. His anger had been mounting for years and finally came to a head when he and Saradoc had a severe argument before he ran away to Bag End earlier in the summer. Grateful as Merry was to his uncle, he wanted his own father to love him.

Pippin took up his nearly full basket and began to march towards the wagon. He was furious with Merry. What in Middle Earth had he done or said that upset Merry so much? And why was he yelling at him? If Merry considers us friends, why is it so hard for him to open up? Pippin seethed at Merry’s hurtful words. Don’t care about him? That’s like telling a cricket to be silent. Now it was Pippin’s turn to blow up. He slammed his basket down, picked up a nice soft tomato and threw it at Merry. Right on target! “If you hate me so much, why are you here?” He shouted. Pippin thought Merry would keep walking, but instead, Merry turned around. He, too, dropped his basket and picked up a tomato of his own and hurled it at Pippin. Pippin tried to dodge the red mass, but wasn’t quick enough. He had red tomato all over his back. Pippin picked up another tomato and wound up for his delivery---

“Drop it. Now!”  Both boys froze at the voice.  It was Paladin.

Chapter Five

The two combatants stood sheepishly under the shade of an elm tree with their hands in their pockets. They were waiting for Paladin to finish giving instructions to one of the workers before he dismissed him. When he finished, he turned and walked over to the boys. For a long moment he glared at the young hobbits. “You had a simple task; bring the pig to the butcher, then come straight to the fields to work. Did you do as I asked?”

Paladin’s tone had a harsh edge to it--he’d been worrying over the boys for the past four hours. He pulled his timepiece out of his pocket and saw it was past four o’clock.

“Yes, sir,” they replied.

Knowing the boys would say just about anything to escape punishment, he asked more directly, “Did you both come straight here after the butcher?”

They eyed each other. “No, sir,” Merry replied, his eyes cast down to the ground.

“What took your attention away from the task I gave you?”

They said nothing.

Even after the heated argument, neither boy would tattle on the other. Merry thought to tell the truth: Well, Uncle Paladin, I snuck out of Brandy Hall with my father’s pipe and leaf, and your son and I decided to have a smoke before coming to work. He imagined that going over well with his uncle.

Paladin went another route, “I ask again; what have you two been up to for the past four hours?”

Again silence.

“One day, when the two of you are grown hobbits and have children of your own, you may understand what you’ve put me through this afternoon. For over four hours--four hours--I had no idea where two of my children were! Did something happen to them? Is all well at home? Were they waylaid in the road on their way here?” Paladin paced back and forth, “I don’t expect either of you to understand the torment.” He turned and walked away for a few minutes. When he returned, Pippin noted a look of anguish in his eyes.

It was rare that Paladin did this, but he took both boys behind the wagon and quietly meted out their punishment. His objective wasn’t to humiliate or mistreatment the boys, but to give them a small remembrance of the consequences of their thoughtless actions.

Neither lad felt anything physical, but it was etched on their hearts. Pippin was tearful because he now understood he’d caused unnecessary grief when he saw the anguish in his father’s eyes. Now it was compounded with the silly fight he and Merry had.

Merry’s anger and confusion surfaced again, but not over his uncle. It was over his own father. Paladin’s words kept echoing in Merry’s mind; two of my children... Merry wanted desperately to be Paladin’s son.

He tried to hold together his swirling unsolved anger, but the tears sprang up anyway. Perhaps it was just as well; Paladin would think the punishment took affect. Merry just stood there as a stone and stared straight ahead. Don’t cry!, he heard himself inwardly. He bit his lip until it nearly bled. Don’t cry!! But the weight was too much. His legs became weak and he sunk to the ground to sit. He was still trying to swallow the lump rising in his throat, when he just couldn’t control it anymore. The tears fell, barely touching his face before hitting the ground, and he couldn’t stop them.

Paladin knew his nephew almost as well as his own son. Something was wrong with Merry and it wasn’t from the retribution. It appeared to be something far deeper. Merry sat on the ground quietly sobbing. Paladin walked up to his nephew and sat down next to him. He spoke softly, “Merry, your tears are not from your punishment, are they?”

Still sobbing, Merry looked at the ground and slowly shook his head. He sniffed and tried to wipe away the tears as his sobs grew deeper; years of profound heartache rising to the surface.

Paladin had hardly to guess who was the cause of Merry’s tears. Over the course of the past several years, Paladin watched as Merry became more and more closed, bottling up his feelings. As Merry only spent a minimal amount of time out of the entire year at Whitwell, it was difficult for Paladin to get him to open up. Each time Merry arrived for a holiday, Paladin felt he spent the next week patching up emotional wounds. Just as he got his nephew to the point of talking out his feelings it was time to go home, and the cycle renewed itself with every visit. Paladin knew he had to get Merry to open up somehow. If Merry continued to bottle up his emotions and keep his anguish to himself, he’d be doomed to a life of misery.

Paladin knew of Merry running away to stay with cousins Frodo and Bilbo earlier in the summer; his sister Esmeralda wrote him about it. His blood began to boil over Saradoc. They had once been boyhood friends, but Paladin was finding it difficult to even think on those days anymore.

Merry had always been such a wonderful lad to have around during his visits. The boy was always eager to help with the chores or work out in the fields. His boyish pranks and laughter echoing throughout the smial. Only recently did Merry take to a few minor bad turns. Merry very much needed a father who had a constant eye on him, and he would fulfill that need as long as Merry would have him. Paladin took his nephew into his arms and held him until he was no longer weeping.

A little while later, Paladin remained on the ground next to Merry with his arm around him, and Merry’s face buried in his uncle’s shoulder. Merry had stopped crying....for now. Merry had been so upset that Paladin could feel his erratic breathing.

Pippin quietly sat on the other side of his father, worrying about Merry. Paladin put his other arm around Pippin and drew him close. He wanted Pippin to know he was not like Saradoc. But why? Though Paladin had guessed Pippin was going to be a bit more of a challenge to raise than he first thought, he did make sure Pippin knew he was loved. He leaned down and kissed Pippin’s curly head.

Presently, a small voice broke through the quiet, “Papa?”

“Yes Pippin?” Paladin also spoke softly.

“I love you.”

He gave Pippin a squeeze, “I love you, too.”

Chapter Six

The sun was setting as they rode up the lane to the smial. Merry and Pippin sat behind in the wagon, subdued during the whole trip home. Pippin noticed Merry stared into nothing the whole ride. He tried to talk to Merry once or twice, but he’d only shrug; even with a simple yes or no question. Maybe he’s still angry with me, Pippin thought.

Pippin hopped out of the wagon as soon as they pulled to a stop. He could hear the dishes clinking inside the kitchen, the chatter of women preparing supper. The aroma of bread baking made it’s way to Pippin’s nose; he could feel the warmth of it all spill out into the night. Then he thought about Merry. The only warmth Merry probably felt at home came from his mother, and she was only one candle in the chasm between Merry and his father.

Merry scooted out the back of the wagon. “May I please be excused from supper, Uncle?”

He spoke so softly that Paladin barely heard his nephew’s request. Merry looked like he hadn’t slept in a week. Normally, he was a typical sixteen-year-old lad, full of energy and misbehavior. This evening, though, he carried a huge weight upon his shoulders.

Paladin understood Merry wished to be alone right now, yet he did not like the idea of Merry going to bed hungry. “Shall a tray be brought to you?” He offered.

“No, thank you, sir.” Merry almost whispered. He remained where he stood waiting to be excused.

Paladin’s heart went out to the boy. “Very well, I will look in on you after supper.”

“Yes, sir.” Merry said, and walked to the back entrance. He did not want to encounter anyone else in his present state.

Paladin and Pippin carried the few tools they brought back from the fields into the barn. Neither spoke until they were walking towards the kitchen door.

“Papa?” Pippin walked slowly with his hands in his pockets while dragging his feet, feeling the soft, powedery earth beneath his toes.

“Yes?” Paladin stopped walking to let Pippin catch up. He knew his young son was troubled over Merry.

Pippin stopped, and looked as if he was about to speak, but held his breath and hesitated. “I wish there was something we could do to help Merry,” he finally said.

“So do I, son.” He placed his hand on Pippin’s shoulder and guided him through to the kitchen door.

No sooner had they walk in the kitchen, Pimpernel grabbed Pippin by the arm and took him to task, exclaiming, “Look at my lip!” Pim’s upper lip was red and chafed where she had scrubbed to get the cosmetic paint off. It took all the strength Pippin had to not bowl over laughing.

“How am I supposed to attend the party when I have a red and swollen lip?” Pim was incensed.

He half-heartedly teased his sister, “What party? You haven’t even got an invitation I’ll wager.”

This only angered is sister all the more. Pim grabbed his arm and almost yanked it out, “You think you’re so smart, eh? Mother says for your punishment you can wash every dirty dish after supper tonight and first breakfast tomorrow! And I’ll make sure every dirty dish and caldron is what you get!!”

To Pim’s surprise Pippin didn’t argue back this time. He let out a sigh and said nothing further. Pim thought for sure he would whine and run to their mother or father to get out of his duties, but Pippin looked out of sorts. All battles aside, he was still her little brother. She grabbed his arm again and took him into the hallway, “Pippin, what’s the matter--are you sick?”

Pippin looked further down the hallway to the darker, unlit portion. Merry’s door was there in the darkness, which told Pippin that Merry hadn’t even bothered to light a fire for the night.

“Pippin?” Pim grew concerned.

Without looking at his sister he replied, “I’m worried about Merry.”

Pim relaxed. She thought something seriously was wrong with her brother. “He’s getting to be a big hobbit, you know, Pip. He can take care of himself.”

Pippin went into the day’s events...well, the important ones, anyway. Then Pim knelt down to look him in his eyes. “Pip, you can’t heal the world. Even father will tell you that. Merry will be alright.”, Pim forced a smile to comfort her brother. The truth was, now she was worried. Merry was like another brother to Pim, and she loved him as such. They were close in age as hobbits go, and she was naturally concerned over him.

“I’ll leave you alone this time, Peregrin Took” Pim smirked, warning with a finger, “but don’t count on it a second time!” She stood up and went back to helping prepare supper.

Chapter Seven

The morning was proving to be bright and cheery, though Pippin was in a foul mood while scrubbing the stove when Pim appeared in the hallway. “Pip! Tell me when the Post arrives--I have letters to send!” Pippin stopped scrubbing and mocked, “Yes, Thain Pimpernel.”

Pim’s head appeared round the corner with imaginary concern, “I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear what you said, would you care to repeat it, Pip?”

Pippin saw his father look up from the table, sipping his morning tea. He replied, “No, I wouldn’t.” He watched as his sister smiled in triumph.

“Pippin.” Still scrubbing the caldron, Pippin heard his father call to him and looked up. “Come and sit.”Pippin put the scrub brush down and went to sit by his father.

“Son, I know what you’re up against. I, too, had three older sisters and another younger one to deal with as I was growing up.” Paladin winked at his son. Then he was more serious, “I will advise you this: Don’t go so far in an all out war on your most faithful allies.”

Pippin was surprised at his father’s ‘hint‘. How did he know about his little declaration of war on his sister?

“No matter how relentlessly they tease you, Pippin,” Paladin continued, “don’t retaliate so as to divide yourself from those who love you most.”

“Even when they deserve it? Papa, they’ve done rotten things to me!”

Paladin drew Pippin to his side, “They are your sisters. When you are grown and your mamma and I are no longer around, they will be. They will be here for you, Pip. Will your teasing go so far as to make them not want to be your sister? Think about that.” Paladin sipped the last of his tea, got up to leave for the fields. His only instruction to Pippin was to stay near Merry.

Pippin was left to deal with his feelings of vengeance. He dwelt on his father’s words as he finished rinsing the dishes in the tub. His innermost thoughts were broken by the sound of jingling bridle. Pippin peered through the kitchen window. Perhaps there should be a truce of some sort. He shouted, “Pim! The Post is here!”

Soon Pim dashed into the kitchen with her envelopes. “Pip! Hurry! Run these out to the Post!”

Pippin saw she had dried egg white all over her face and started to laugh.

Pim shook the envelopes in his face, “Pippin! Take these out to the Post!”

“Take them yourself,” he said still laughing. Then again, the truce could wait until after the Post left.

“Peregrin! Take these out to the post this instant!” Then she begged, “Please!”

That was the word Pippin wanted to hear. The truce was back on. He took the envelopes from his sister and ran out to the Post. He handed them over to the deliverer and received a bundle of envelopes in return. On his way back down the lane he wondered what in the Shire got his sister all tied up in a knot. He stole a peek at the envelopes he just received. Most were either for his father or mother, but there were five envelopes of the same script from the same sender: Mister Frodo Baggins, Bag End, Hobbiton. Then there was one that was addressed to: Master Peregrin Took, Whitwell, Tuckborough. He laughed to himself to see such a formal title attached to his name. Pippin rarely received letters and was curious to see what was inside. He started to open it then decided not to. He was going to wait and see what the other special envelopes contained first; there was one addressed to each tweenager, teenager, and child: Pearl, Pimpernel, Pervinca, Meriadoc Brandybuck, and Peregrin Took. Then he remembered Merry again. He thought to take Merry’s envelope himself. Hopefully Merry was receiving visitors, or better yet, receiving him.

Chapter Eight

Merry was still in his nightshirt when he heard a rap on his door. He didn’t answer it, hoping whoever it was would eventually leave. Then he heard it again. This time he thought to send the intruder on his or her way, but in case it was his auntie or uncle, he didn’t want to be rude towards them... he sighed, “Who is it?”

“Pip.” Pippin used the nickname Merry gave him, hoping this would soften any blow Merry might send his way.

“Go away, please.”

“I’ve got an envelope for you.”

“Go away, please.” Growing slightly annoyed that Pippin wasn’t heeding his request.

“It’s from Frodo Baggins.”

“Go aw-- Oh, it’s no use!” Merry got up and opened the door. There stood a little hobbit with hand stretched out holding an envelope. Merry snatched it from Pippin and opened the door wider, “You’re hopeless.”

Pippin took the hint and stepped inside. Merry’s room was dark. It was lit only by the sunlight that seeped through the cracks of the drapes, and one candle that sat on the mantle. Pippin noticed it was a bit stuffy inside, too. Merry apparently hadn’t opened any windows all day. Pippin watched Merry toss the envelope on the night table and crawl back inside the warm bed and under the covers.

Pippin settled himself in a chair and looked around the room, “Aren’t you going to open it?”

“I know what it is.”

“What is it, then?”

Merry sighed heavily, “It’s an invitation.”

Pippin waited for Merry to elaborate. “Are you going to open it?”

Silence.

“Merry?”

“What!” Merry was getting agitated at Pippin again.

“Are you going to open it?”

“No!”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to! Is this an inquisition?” Pippin was turning the right keys again.

Normally, Pippin would have had fun in aggravating his dear cousin, but Merry was in such a state right now that Pippin felt he needed to draw his cousin out of his dark closet.

There was an uneasy silence. Pippin asked, “Have you made up your mind if you’re going to stay with us or Frodo?” He had ‘overheard’ his parents talking in the study the evening before.

This was the actual purpose of Merry’s ‘visit‘. Esmeralda had sent Merry to stay with her brother Paladin until she could make peace between Saradoc and Merry--which could take a lot longer than the usual stay of a fortnight. Merry was undecided if he wanted to burden his uncle with his problems.

Pippin’s question hit Merry like a dagger. “I don’t know, Pippin--leave me alone!”

“But, I...”

“Please leave!” Merry got out of bed and hauled Pippin out of the room by his arm, shoved him out into the dark hallway and slammed the door behind him. Merry leaned against it, slipping to the floor. He began to weep all over again. After a few minutes he heard Pippin’s footsteps walk away. This whole dilemma had turned him into a monster. He hated Brandy Hall, he hated his father, and now he was becoming a monster to the people he loved the most. He decided at that moment he would never go back to Brandy Hall to live. He had no clear idea as to where he would be living two weeks or even a month from now, but it would not be Brandy Hall.

Then he saw a little dark shape on the floor next to the chair Pippin had been sitting in. Pippin must have dropped it--as I was shoving him out of the room. Merry sniffed and got up to fetch the little object. He picked it up and held it before him. It was difficult to see the color in the darkness. It was silky to his touch and he felt the broken stitches on one side of it--where at one time existed an embroidered smiling face. The memory of the object made Merry cry all over again. It was Pippin’s little blue pillow. Perhaps Pippin brought it here on purpose. He meant to give it to me but I shoved him out--what a brilliant cousin you are, Merry! Merry himself had given the pillow to Pippin when he was an infant. He had seen it briefly at times over the years, and even now Pippin would never admit that he still took it to bed with him.

The little pillow was so dear to Pippin because it was Merry who gave it to him, and stitched together by his sweet aunt. It was Pippin’s way of giving comfort to Merry when he didn’t quite know how to give it himself.

Merry crawled onto his bed and hugged the little pillow until he was out of tears and fast asleep.

Chapter Nine

"Why must I go, Momma?” Pippin whined, sitting in the steaming bathtub.
This time he was definitely trying to get out of doing something. “I won’t know anyone there!”

“Gracious me, Pippin, you’ll know your sisters.” Eglantine reached for a small pail nearby, “And Merry is going to be there, too.” She scooped some water and poured it over his head. “You said yourself that you met cousin Frodo already. What are you fearing, son?” Eglantine rubbed the bar of soap to the washcloth and handed it to Pippin.

“I’m not fearing anything,” Pippin said, taking the washcloth and began to wash.

Eglantine busied herself washing clothes in another tub not too far away. “Pippin, you say you won’t know anyone there--perhaps it’s time to be more social. Its true I’m a bit surprised cousin Frodo invited someone so young to his birthday party with a group of teens and tweens. Maybe he’ll be inviting a nice little lass to keep you company all evening.” Pippin threw his mother a look of complete panic at the though of Frodo pairing him up with...a girl! When Pippin was done washing himself Eglantine came over and sat down on a small stool to wash Pippin’s hair. “Pippin,” she laughed as she massaged the soap into his hair, “you will have nothing to worry about. Your sisters will look after you.”

There she goes on about those wretched sisters again! Pippin dipped himself into the water to rinse off and came up sputtering. He stood in the tub dripping as his mother was ready with a large towel to wrap him in. She helped him out of the tub and left him to finish drying off and get dressed.

Pippin sat miserably in a chair. He was wrapped in the large towel letting his hair drip as he became lost in his thoughts. He didn’t tell her of his and Merry’s last ‘conversation‘--and tomato battle, or how Merry pretty much threw him out of the room. Merry wouldn’t want to talk to him at the party--no one would, and his sisters would avoid him like a disease. I’m doomed, he thought as he slowly got dressed.

The sun was still high in the sky, though winding down towards the horizon. It was a long ride to Hobbiton from Whitwell. Pearl drove the cart through Tuckborough and over the northern lanes of Great Smials. When they came to a stop, Pippin jumped out the back and stretched his legs. He was dressed in his fine dark blue trousers, crisp white shirt, and dark blue waistcoat to match.

Merry slid out as well. He barely spoke the entire ride, and was in no mood to jest. He wore brown trousers and duck tailed coat, and a pale yellow shirt. The girls wore party dresses in various colors of yellow, pink, and green.

Pearl was the first to walk up to the round green door and knocked. The wait wasn’t long as Frodo himself met his guests at the door. The door opened up into a warm and well-lit hallway as he greeted his guests. “Pearl!” Frodo leaned forward and kissed her cheek, “All of you--welcome! Please come in.” The gracious host bowed to the others. “We will begin the birthday supper shortly; please feel free to walk around inside or in the garden until then.” Frodo took their cloaks and hung them on the various pegs that lined the hallway. “I’m happy all of you made it--and you too, Pippin!”

Pippin only smiled politely--as his mother instructed him. He wanted to bolt.

Frodo showed them to the parlor where all the other guests were gathered and seated. Merry already made his way over to where the other lads were socializing. Pearl, Pim, and Pervinca sat with the other girls and soon all were fussing over each other’s dresses and gossiping about the latest couples.

Pippin was observing it all with great disgust. Why couldn’t mother let me stay home? I see no one else here that is my age! He settled himself in the chair next to the bookcase and glared at all the silliness. He chewed his fingernails for entertainment.

After what seemed forever to Pippin, Frodo came into the parlor and announced supper. Immediately everyone migrated into the dining area. Platters were laden full of meats, vegetables, and various breads and cheese. Several casks of ale sat on tables as well. The entire spread appeared a feast to Pippin.

Pippin heard someone yelling, “Three cheers for Frodo and Bilbo!” The guests answered, “Hip, hip, hooray! Hip, hip, hooray! Hip, hip, hooray! Happy birthday, Frodo! Happy birthday, Bilbo!” Then the crowd cheered. Looking around the table, Pippin noticed the older hobbit sitting at the far end. He’d met Bilbo only once before and soon discovered the old hobbit was full of tales from his notorious adventure long ago. The elder hobbit caught Pippin’s eye and smiled.

Pippin sat at the board with the tweens and teens. He ate his fill and then some, for a young hobbit. Mugs of ale were being passed around the table. Pippin kept passing them down until the guest on each side of him were not waiting for another mug, but were busy conversing with other guests. With no one else to pass it to, Pippin looked around to see if anyone was waiting for a mug. All the other guests were engaged in conversations of their own. He tapped on the arm of the tween seated next to him with no result. He looked to see what his sisters might say. None of his sisters took notice of him either. No one observed the young boy holding a mug of ale. Pippin thought it a waste to let it sit, so without a second thought...bottoms up!

By the time Pippin finished eating and drinking, he began to feel that this little party wasn’t so bad after all and decided that another mug of ale might help cheer him even more.

After supper, Frodo’s guests got up and retired to the outer room again. This time, someone called for a song. Pippin watched as a teen-aged hobbit got up--it was Sam, and he recited poetry. Pippin laughed to himself, watching Sam with his hands behind his back and reciting poetry with all the earnestness in the Shire. Pippin thought his poetry was good--it made him and everyone laugh. After the recital everyone applauded his humorous rhyme. Sam blushed and sat down.

Next, a young lass by the name of Laurel Goodbody got up and sang a song that reeked of star-crossed love. Pippin gagged.

For some reason unbeknownst to Pippin, he heard someone shout his name. “Hey, Pippin! Give us a song!” Pippin knew they were only picking him because he was the youngest at the party and stuck out like a sore thumb. “Yes, Pippin! Sing for us, little laddie!”

Little Laddie! He saw Merry looking at him and he felt his sisters eyes boring into his head. It was contempt...and ale...that made Pippin get up and sing a song. He and Merry wrote the words up not too long ago. The song was about a boy who had three overbearing sisters. He decided to enjoy this, so he threw in a bit of a jig for fun and laughs.

“There once was a boy

who had three sisters

all older, and bolder

and scared off the misters.

They took him to task

all day and all night

all screaming earsplitting

and scaring with fright.

Their hair was like ox tail

their ears like a pig,

their teeth were as rabbits’,

as they jiggedy jigged!...”

As he sang, Pippin garnered all sorts of laugher. Out of the corner of his eye though, Pippin could see Merry smirking. Pippin was pleased with himself; on and on he went until he saw Pearl’s eyes. If looks were daggers! He brought the song to a quick end and sat down.

“It’s a good thing you’re a little laddie,” said one teen, “you’ve just scattered all the lasses in my direction!”

“What lasses!” Another laughed back, “We don’t see any lasses running in your direction, Freddie!”

Eventually, the laughter died down and everyone returned to talking and prattle. Pippin got up and strolled about. He filled his mug....again. There was that older fellow, Bilbo, sitting at a desk. Pippin walked over to cure more possible boredom. The older hobbit looked down at Pippin from his stool, “You’re a Took, aren’t you, lad?”

“Peregrin Took,” Pippin replied, “though most everyone just calls me Pippin.” He sipped his mug.

“Ah yes! Paladin‘s boy! How old are you now, Pippin?” It had been a few years since he last seen the boy.

Pippin looked around, “Twelve, sir.”

“You may call me Bilbo, Pippin.” Bilbo did a double-take and winked, “You don’t look a day over thirteen.”

“I’m quite short for my age.”

Bilbo laughed, “I’ll wager you are!”

Pippin smiled in spite of himself. Old Bilbo had him figured out.

“What are you writing...Bilbo?” Pippin was brought up to address his elders by a “mister” or “miss” title, but since he really liked this old hobbit, he humored him.

“It’s a book, though I haven’t quite decided on a title yet, but right now, I call it ‘There And Back Again’.”

Pippin’s curiosity piqued, “What’s it about?”

Bilbo, always ready to tell his tales, began with his 50th birthday party and his very, very bad cold...

My apologies...when I wrote this story a while back, I didn't realize just how short this chapter was....oops. You'll notice Frodo is doing some irresponsible things because he is still an irresponsible tween, having just turned thirty.

Chapter Ten

Pippin was still listening to Bilbo’s account of Mirkwood and the Elves when one of the older lads called to him from down the hallway. He looked at Bilbo.

“Go on, lad,” said Bilbo, “My tales can wait. I’m needing to wet my dry throat, anyway.”

Pippin smiled and thanked Bilbo for his tales and went after the tweenager. Pippin, still holding his mug of ale, turned up the smaller hallway that led to the back, but seemed to have lost track of his caller. Was it him, or did the hallway just sway a little bit? He caught his balance and heard a sound coming from behind the double doors. “Pssst!” He saw the doors open a crack and so went inside.

The room was foggy with candlelight, a fire in the fireplace, and smoke from five lit pipes. There were several of the older boys in the room. He recognized a few of them: Fredegar, the teen that jested earlier, and he saw Frodo, Sam, and Merry, but the other one he didn’t know. They were sitting in chairs around the hearth smoking pipes. Pippin still held his half-full mug in his hand. Fredegar came up to Pippin and looked in his mug, “What’s this?” Fredegar’s face grew amazed. “Either you’ve got some cheek, laddie, or I’m a Troll’s uncle! That’s ale in there!”

Pippin went toe-to-toe with the teen--he was beginning to hate that word--laddie. “Troll’s uncle? I should say you’re looking even more like a Troll’s backside--of course it’s ale!” This garnered a roar of laughter from the other lads.

“I’d give you a pipe to smoke, Pippin,” offered Frodo, “but the last I remember you had a few...shall we say, difficulties?” A few chuckles.

Pippin sat in the empty chair next to Sam. “Sam, would you mind if I borrowed your pipe?”

Sam looked to Frodo. “Are you up to it, lad?” Frodo asked.

Pippin looked Frodo square in the eye and said, “Hand me your pipe, Sam!”

Sam blew a few puffs, and then handed his pipe to him. All eyes were on Pippin. He took the pipe and settled back into the huge chair. Pippin gave them all a glance before putting the pipe in his mouth and inhaled a long breath. He didn’t even think about it. He exhaled and out came the smoke in a long trailing wisp. Silence. Merry’s jaw dropped. Pippin held his up his mug and took a draught, saying, “Cheers.”

Chapter Eleven

Pippin decided that he would do more listening than babbling this evening. No good to chatter on like a hobbit-child when in the company of grown hobbits--or nearly grown hobbits. The teen Pippin didn’t recognize came up to him and introduced himself as Folco Boffin. “Welcome,” he said and shook Pippin’s hand.

“Gather round, everyone,” called Frodo. “It’s time for presents! I decided to give special gifts to my dearest friends.”

Folco and Fredegar opened their gifts. Each received one of Frodo’s most cherished books. Sam opened his gift next’ the gardener received a pair of fine leather gloves. Frodo explained they were to be used when handling rough plants, such as roses. Sam went red in the face.

To Pippin’s utter surprise, Frodo handed him a gift. Pippin opened the wrapping to find none other than...his very own pipe! It was a bit smaller than his father’s pipe, hand carved from dark walnut wood and was polished to a sleek, smooth surface. His delightful smile gave away is heart. Pippin looked up at Frodo, trying to contain his excitement, saying with all sincerity, “Thank you, Frodo.” Frodo smiled in satisfaction.

Last, but not least, was Merry. Frodo moved over to where Merry sat, pulled a chair up to him and took his cousin’s hands in his own. He said, “I have no material gift to offer because the gift I impart to you is shelter in this humble dwelling. Far away from heavy burdens...and the storms of life. You are most welcome here, Merry, for as long as you wish.”

Merry seemed genuinely stunned. He stammered, “T-t-to stay, you mean?” Frodo nodded. Merry just stared at his cousin, then finally spoke, “I don’t know what to say.”

Frodo laughed, “’Thank you’ will suffice--and to say that you will at least consider moving to Bag End.”

Now Pippin was stunned. He thought for sure Merry would choose to live at Whitwell. While everyone was standing round patting Merry on the back and congratulating him on his wonderful gift, Pippin slipped out of the room.

When would Merry leave? In the middle of the night? Didn’t Merry feel welcome at Whitwell? Would Merry even think to say goodbye to him? Why doesn’t Merry want to live with us--or me? Is he still angry with me? All these thoughts raced through Pippin’s mind as he made his way towards the door, and on his way out....he filled his mug...again.

Just as Pippin opened the door to walk out into the crisp night air, he heard a familiar voice. “Pippin!” It was his sister Pervinca. Pippin rolled his eyes with the anticipation of Pervinca getting on his last nerve.

“Where do you think you’re going,” she asked as she attempted to stand between Pippin and the outdoors.

“Outside,” he growled in response, shoving past his sister, “now out of my way!”

Pervinca was shocked at her brother’s behavior, “I’m telling Papa about you.”

“I’m so scared!” Pippin shouted over his shoulder as he walked into the darkness.

Chapter Twelve

Pippin sat in the large tree on the hill. It was a tad treacherous getting up. He slipped a couple times on the wet bark, but was able to climb, albeit carefully, up into the heights of the tree. Here he was content...for now. He sipped from his mug and fingered his new pipe. So smooth it was. He wished he had some leaf to go into it, but realized the night rain would have sputtered out any flame. The raindrops soaked his good clothes and ran down his face from his wet hair. He shivered as he remembered his cloak still hanging on the peg inside Bag End.

He was pondering Merry’s notion to leave without so much as a goodbye, when he heard the door squeak open and then close shut. It was Merry. Pippin sat quietly where he was, observing the teen from his perch high above.

The rain smelled good and fresh to Merry. Rain always seemed to clean the air. He walked up the lane beside the garden and stopped in front of the tree where Pippin was sitting. Merry gazed into the garden; it looked very beautiful to him and noticed it was well tended by the Gaffer and Sam. Not a rose out of place, and the bluebells together with the marigolds completed the splendor. He wondered if bluebells had to make such difficult decisions as he did tonight? He laughed to himself at his own nonsense. He put his hands in his pockets to ward off the damp cold, but his clothes were getting wet through his cloak. After that, nothing would keep out the chill. The silence was comforting.

What do I do?, Merry thought as he considered Frodo’s offer. Move into Bag End? His choices were either to remain at Whitwell, or move here. He would not go back home to Buckland, that much he knew. But where to from here? Deep in his heart he knew the answer.

Pippin watched Merry from his branch. What was Merry doing out here? Was Merry following him? Why was he pacing up and down the lane? Surely he had “decisions” to make, as he remembered his father’s words, and it was obvious to Pippin what Merry’s decision would be Bag End.

Pippin was feeling quite relaxed by now, in fact, he was starting to feel a bit dizzy. He fingered his pipe again. He wasn’t angry with Frodo. Pippin was glad someone had offered shelter to his dear cousin. He knew Merry would not go back to Buckland but why would he not stay with his family? Even for a little while longer? Was it so bad being a Took? Merry indeed had Took blood in him! Pippin searched his heart to find the ‘why’ he was aching an answer to. A chill came over Pippin and he sneezed.

Merry was deep in thought. He stared out into the darkness of the fields of Hobbiton, and found no easy answers. He heard a noise. He thought it sounded like...a sneeze? He turned to each side and peered into the darkness to find no one. He was certain he heard something; perhaps it was his own imagination. Wait....he turned around and looked up into the tree. His eyes spotted the source.

“Pippin! What are you doing up there?”

Pippin thought if he didn’t answer him, Merry would go away.

“Pippin! Come down from there.”

“No--leave me alone!”

Puzzled, Merry ventured again, “Pippin! What’s going on--what’s the matter?”

As if he didn’t know! Pippin yelled down, “You! You’re the matter, that’s what!”

Merry answered, “What are you talking about?”

“Do you think I’m stupid? I was there when Frodo gave you your gift--don’t you remember? I was there! He gave you a piece of Bag End--which probably wasn’t even his to give, and you! You ate it all up!” By now, the ale was talking in full force for Pippin. “And what are you thinking about now I might ask? How fast you can pack your bags and leave without so much as a goodbye? Won’t you even think about how much we will miss you? I won’t ever see you again! You’re all I--”, and Pippin stopped himself there. He told himself no tears, but here they were.

This won’t do, thought Pippin, and he started to climb down. Between the rain, and his inebriated state, Pippin slipped but caught himself on a lower branch...dropping his mug. It was empty anyway.

This frightened Merry. What was wrong with his cousin? He seemed fine not too long ago in Bilbo’s Study. Pippin looked like he was having difficulties climbing down from the branches. He rushed to help Pippin the rest of the way down. “Wait! Hold up, Pippin!” Merry hurtled over the low hedge that lined the lane, and raced up the hill to the tree.

Pippin caught his feet on the branch below, and decided to jump the rest of the way. And as he dropped, he realized his judgment was terribly wrong.

Merry shouted, “Pippin!! NO!”

But it was too late. Pippin sailed past several huge branches before he hit something....

Merry felt the jolt upon his head and tumbled down the other side of the hill, with Pippin tumbling alongside him. The backside of The Hill was not as well tended as the front side. Brambles and thorns tore at their flesh, scratching up their skin to the point of drawing blood. Merry felt his head hit something hard several times while tumbling on they went.

When Pippin jumped from the tree, he felt he landed on something but didn’t realize right away that it was Merry‘s head. He did know that it wasn’t the ground. Then when he realized he was still falling, he shot out his left arm to catch himself on the ground and immediately felt a sharp pain shoot up his arm as he tried to shield his second landing. He let out a muffled cry. Head over heels he went until he came to a stop by a huge rock. He hit it with such force that it knocked the wind out of him.

After a few minutes, they heard voices. “Who’s down there?” Pippin found he couldn’t answer. He couldn’t find his breath.

Merry got up on his hands and knees, dazed himself. “Hullo, up there,” but his voice was too small to carry up the hill. Merry heard the buzz of a hundred people in his ears.

Merry’s whole body throbbed. He let himself settle onto the wet, muddy ground. He was too numb and weak to crawl back up the hill. Merry called out his cousin’s name, half not expecting an answer. Pippin fell from a great height, and he guessed him to be in bad shape. Merry felt around in the darkness to find Pippin. His hands felt a trembling body. He moved slowly towards the shivering mass until he hovered over the body and felt the warmth--or lack thereof-of Pippin. How long was his cousin in that tree? Pippin was completely soaked through to the skin. He lay himself next to his young cousin with Pippin’s back to his chest. Merry enveloped his cousin and wrapped his cloak about them both, until darkness stole his mind away.

Chapter Thirteen

Some time later, Pippin sat wrapped in a blanket sipping hot tea, but he was still shivering. His own clothes were torn and ruined and he now wore one of Frodo’s old shirt and trousers. His feet felt like ice on a cold winter’s morn While is arm began to throb. His eyelids were heavy from a sleepless night...and a little too much ale. A hot bath was being prepared for him in the wash room.

After the others came up with Merry they took him into his own room prepared by Frodo and laid him on the bed. They took off his wet clothes and replaced them with a dry nightshirt. Frodo and Sam checked his arms and legs for broken bones but found none.

“Look Frodo,” Sam pointed at a bleeding gash above Merry’s right ear. “I see it, Sam. It looks quite bad. Please run and get your mother.” Though she did not bear the official title of healer, Bell Gamgee had ministered herbs and healings on many occasions to Bilbo and Frodo--earning her the unofficial title at Bag End.

A short while later she appeared in Merry’s doorway and hesitated. “May I come in, master Frodo?”

Frodo looked up, “Yes, please! Thank you for coming!” By this time Bilbo was awake and in his night-coat surveying the injured boys. All he could do was shake his head.

Bell went straight to Merry’s side and examined the gash in his head. A look of concern creased her brow, and then she bit her bottom lip in thought. She looked up at Bilbo and Frodo, “You’d best fetch his mum and dad.”

They exchanged looks of horror. Frodo asked, “He will be all right, won't he?”

“It looks as if he‘ll be all right, Mister Frodo, and truth be told, I haven’t seen too much of this type of hurt. But I do know him bein’ a teen and all--his mum and dad should know about him.”

“You’re right,” said Bilbo. Immediately, Fredegar and another lad were dispatched to Whitwell and Buckland, respectively. The second lad would arrive at Brandy Hall just after sunrise if he made haste. In the meantime, Bell would sit at Merry’s side and keep vigil.

Frodo stepped out into the hallway to catch his breath and think about all that had happened in the span of a few short hours. He was tired and leaned against the wall, letting out a huge sigh. This was his thirtieth birthday; it was supposed to be a celebration, not an occasion for grief.

“What kind of host are you?”

Frodo startled at the voice interrupting his thoughts. He turned his head towards it--it belonged to Pearl Took. He never felt so foolish. Goodness, he thought, Here it begins.

“I said--what kind of host are you--allowing a small boy to drink his fill of ale?” As Pearl moved to the side, Frodo could see behind her. Pippin was now heaving into a small pail.

Will this nightmare end?, thought Frodo. Not only did Pippin fall out of the tree and break his wrist, now he sits heaving up his last meal into a pail because the wretched host forgot his duties to his young guest. And yet another of his closest friends lies abed nearby with a gash in his head. The look of inconsolable worry was etched in Frodo’s face.

Pearl took a deep breath and calmed down and decided not to provoke her cousin further. She leaned against the wall next to Frodo and quietly spoke, “I know it was an accident, Frodo--though a stupid one.” Pearl made no apologies when it came to her one and only brother. “I get so tied up in knots when I see him so miserable.”

Frodo returned her gaze and said, “I am truly sorry, Pearl. I feel like such a fool; I should have been more responsible.”

Pearl could see Frodo looked very troubled, “I feel that way, too, cousin. I’m just as much to blame. I wasn’t watching him, either.”

Chapter Fourteen

Bell stepped out of the hallway and into the kitchen, walking towards Pippin. “There you be, little one. Your sister tells me you’ve a hurt wrist, eh?”

Pippin having finished heaving looked up at the healer. She seemed to be a nice lady to Pippin until she mentioned his wrist. Somehow he got the feeling she wanted to do something with it. As he cradled it, he took it into safekeeping under his blanket.

“Can I have a look?”

“No. It hurts.”

“But that's why I want to see it. I want to see if I can make it not hurt.”

Pippin eyed her warily, “How can you make it stop hurting?”

“Wait--Pippin!” Frodo stepped out of the hallway and went up to Pippin. He knelt down to look Pippin at eye level. “Pip, mistress Bell wants to look at your wrist. Your wrist will need to be set.”

Pippin crinckled his brow, “Set? Like how?”

“She will have to...to hold your wrist...and twist the bones into place in order for it to mend properly.” Frodo watched Pippin’s face to make sure he understood what he said.

Pippin’s eyes got wide and he was getting scared. It apparently hurt enough for Frodo to tell him about it, and it didn’t seem like he was going to have any say in the matter anyway. He held his arm closer. “No! ”

Frodo tried to convince his young cousin, “Pippin, if your wrist isn’t set it won’t heal properly; in fact, it may never heal. It will look like this for the rest of your days.”

Pippin was visibly upset and shaken now, “I don’t care! No one is going to touch my arm!”

Frodo looked Pippin straight in the eyes, “Pippin, I swear I won’t lie to you. Your arm must be set, and when it is set....it will hurt. But I will be here with you throughout the whole ordeal.” Frodo let his last words take effect, “I will be here with you; I will not leave you.” I will be a better host this time, Frodo thought to himself.

“And I will be here with you as well,” Pearl answered.

Pippin’s face held the look of one going to his death. He took his arm out from under the blanket, looking at the swollen arm and blue wrist that he tried to imagine hale and whole again. He swallowed his fear. “All right.”

Frodo then nodded over to Bell, who sat down in a stool next to the boy. Pippin held out his arm, but then felt someone lift him up out of his seat. It was Frodo; he lifted Pippin onto his lap and held him tight around the waist. Already Pippin was regretting his agreement.

Bell took Pippin’s arm and lightly slid her hand over his wrist and arm to feel the right angle. She did this over and over. This isn’t so bad, Pippin thought. Bell nodded to Pippin, “Are ye ready?”

To anyone passing by outside Bag End they could clearly hear the blood-curdling scream of a child in pain. Pippin screamed again and struggled to break free, but the two older tweens held him fast. Bell took his wrist so she could splint and wrap it in a clean bandage, but Pippin thought she was trying to set it once more, and screamed again.

“She’s done, Pippin--she’s done!” Frodo said to Pippin, but that didn’t console him. He sat on Frodo’s lap and cried. Frodo held him close and rocked him for sometime before Pippin began to settle down. “Hold onto your arm, Pip” Frodo said. As he was still holding him, Frodo got up and took Pippin into the next room with the hot bath waiting for him. On his way, Frodo mouthed some words to Pearl. Closing the door, Frodo unwrapped Pippin’s blanket and then stepped himself into the tub, clothes and all, and sat down with Pippin still clinging to him; careful about Pip’s newly set wrist the entire time. Pippin was still sniffling but was calming down a little more. Frodo began to sweat from the hot water, and wiped his brow, but he knew the heat felt good to Pippin. He heard a soft knock on the door and it came open a bit. Pearl peeped in, and when she saw both of them in the tub she started to close the door again, but Frodo called out to her, “Pearl--wait!” He tried not to shouted too loud for Pippin’s sake.

Pearl hesitated, and saw Frodo was fully clothed. “Are you mad? You’re going to get yourself sick as well!”

“I’ll be fine, Pearl,“Frodo assured her. “Do you have it?”

Pearl nodded and held forth a bottle of wine and a glass. “You know I would never agree to this otherwise, don’t you? He’s already had his fill of ale yesterday at your party. At the rate he’s going, he’ll be a drunkard by the time he turns nine!” Her heart went out to her baby brother--well, she still saw him as such, anyhow.

With a practiced hand, Frodo cradled Pippin while opening the bottle and pouring wine into a glass as if for pleasure. “Pippin,“ he said, “let’s have a toast!”

Pippin only sniffled in reply.

“Pippin...do you want to taste Bilbo’s favorite wine?”

“No.”

“Pip, this will take some of the pain away.”

Pippin sat up, wiped his eyes, and looked at the glass Frodo held.

“Just taste it, all right? It’s very good!”

Pippin sipped a little bit and then lay his head back on Frodo’s chest. Pearl knew then that her young brother would live through this nightmare.

Chapter Fifteen

Frodo sat on the chair next to Merry’s bed where Bell had been earlier. Merry hadn’t even stirred. After setting Pippin’s wrist, Bell tidied up Merry’s gash with a few stitches and a bandage wrapped around his head. Merry didn’t wake up or flinch the whole time.

Frodo looked at the clock on the wall. It was half-past three in the morning. “Pippin’s doing better now, Merry,” he spoke. “You ought to see him. He’s sleeping in the other room,” Frodo said. “I had to feed him a bottle of wine to kill the pain. He did very well.” Frodo sadly smiled. “I was quite proud of him, you know.” Frodo looked for a sign that Merry could hear him. Nothing.

Frodo went on, “I didn’t know you were in such a fix about where to live.” Frodo drew closer to Merry, as though the words were for Merry alone. “It was a gift, Merry. Take it and spend it as you wish. I only wish for you to be happy again.”

Still nothing.

Frodo hoped no one would think he was going crazy; it felt good to talk to Merry, even though he knew Merry couldn’t hear him at the moment. “We sent for your parents, you know. I hated to worry them, but, Merry...,” Frodo begged, “please wake up.” Frodo’s worry was increasing, and his eyes filled with tears.

Frodo sat wearily in his thoughts. Some of them going back to when he lived at Brandy Hall. Merry must have been...perhaps, seven or eight years old. Most of the other boys would exclude Merry from their games and tease him about his father being a recluse. Frodo smiled at one thought of Merry getting into a scrap with his older cousin, Berilac. When Frodo separated the two, Berilac had run off crying. Frodo could never understand why Saradoc had Merry punished and not Berilac. When Bilbo’s offer to live at Bag End came to Frodo, he was only too eager to leave Brandy Hall. He and Saradoc had plenty of disagreements over Merry.

A quiet moment went by then Frodo heard something; a deep breath and a sigh. He wiped his tired eyes and looked at Merry. Merry eyes were still closed. Then Frodo saw Merry swallow.

“Merry?”

Merry’s eyes fluttered and they opened.

Frodo was beside himself. He ran out into the hallway and yelled to all who could hear, “He’s awake! Merry’s awake!” Frodo ran back inside the room to make sure Merry didn’t close his eyes again--at least just yet.

They all crowded around Merry’s bed: Bilbo, Pearl, Pim, Pervinca, Folco, Bell and Frodo. Merry never realized that so many people actually cared for him. Then again, he wasn’t at Brandy Hall...as Dahlia put it a couple days ago.

Pimpernel bent over and kissed his brow, “Welcome back, Merry.” He could get used to this!

“Merry, it’s so good to see you awake.” Each one said in turn. After several minutes, his friends all left the room so he could rest. It was only Frodo and Pearl left in the room.

“Where’s Pippin?” Merry tried to sit up, but his head swam.

“No, Merry, you must lie there still as a stone,” Frodo cautioned Merry. “Pippin is resting quietly on my bed in the next room.” Frodo went into full account with Merry about Pippin‘s wrist.

“Oh, no. It’s all my fault,” Merry moaned, holding his hurting head.

“How can you say that?” Frodo was surprised Merry would say such nonsense.

Merry sat back on his pillow. His head hurt too much to talk, but he told Frodo of all that happened from his and Pippin’s argument in the fields up to the night before.

“Hmm...that explains a lot, Merry, but it’s not your fault,” said Frodo, trying to soothe his cousin. “He actually accused you of trying to leave without saying goodbye to him?” Merry nodded. Frodo shook his head in puzzlement. Then he laughed, “Dear Merry, it seems to me you have a serious case of attachment!” Merry was silent. Frodo asked, “He follows you around incessantly, does he not?” Merry barely nodded his head. Pearl smiled; she knew how her little brother could be. “I had this problem once,” Frodo said, then continued, “I used to have this little cousin who followed me around everywhere I went. Do you remember him?” Frodo grinned--he was speaking of Merry.

Now Merry grinned back, “Was I that bad?”

“Of course not, Merry, but, does Pippin have many friends at Whitwell, or even in Tuckborough?”

Merry thought for a moment, and shook his head, then immediately cringed and put a hand to his head when his movement made his head throb even more. He never thought of that before, though. He and Pippin had been extremely close since Pippin was able to walk and talk, and over the years as he visited Whitwell, they became inseparable. Pippin had truly become the brother he'd always wanted....and now what was he to do? If Pippin still considered him a friend--especially after how he treated him the night he threw him out of his room, then he felt it was his duty to talk to him. Merry was still undecided, but perhaps talking his other problem over with Pippin may help, too.

“I feel horrible for not seeing this sooner,” he said to Frodo and Pearl, “but what do you think I should do?”

Pearl said, “In the matter of where you live, Merry, that has to be your own decision, but I think if you do talk to Pippin, he will come to reason. He loves you Merry, and has always wanted the best for you. You have to remember--he wasn’t quite himself last evening.”

Frodo added, “For all his inquisitiveness and quick wit, this is all probably a bit confusing to him.”

Merry pulled his blankets up closer. “To him?...this is all baffling to me!”

Chapter Sixteen

Frodo awoke to bright sunshine and birds chirping in the autumn breeze. He’d left the window open a bit while he slept, so he felt the chilly morning breeze touch his face as he arose.

Once Merry had fallen back to sleep, exhaustion soon overtook Frodo. He retired to his own room, changed into his nightshirt and went to bed. Now that he was awake, he groaned and turned over. He felt as if he hadn‘t slept a wink. It must be past second breakfast and onto elevenses by now, he thought. He could smell food cooking. Frodo sat up and rubbed his tired eyes. It seemed like a dream far away, but no, he knew better. Merry lay in the next room with and injured head and Pippin lay in another room nursing a headache from too much wine and ale. He wondered if Saradoc or Paladin had made it in yet. He did not relish Paladin confronting him; Pippin was his youngest child and only son, and there recently had been talk of Paladin inheriting the title of Thain. Merry was Saradoc’s only son as well, but he and Merry had had differences since...well, since Merry could walk and talk. If Frodo remembered his cousin at all, he reckoned Saradoc probably wouldn’t even come.

He laid aside the quilt and got up. Padding towards the wash basin, he washed his hands and weary face. As he dried his face with the towel he heard voices in the hallway. One he recognized--it was Bilbo. His hair stood on end when he recognized the other. He grabbed his toothbrush and began brushing his teeth. There was a heated discussion going on, and it seemed to grow hotter. He spat out the swill and quietly tip toed to the door. He opened it only enough to peer with one eye.

“I am taking my son home now, and if you try to stop me I will have the Shirrifs here faster than you can imagine!”

“I don’t recommend it, Saradoc,” Bilbo answered. “I highly recommend you let the boy lie here until he is well enough to travel.”

“He will receive the best of care at Brandy Hall. Give me my son!” Without meaning to, the door creaked open far more than Frodo wished.

“Frodo, lad,” Bilbo sounded relieved to see the tween up and about. “Come on out and welcome our guest.”

Frodo was still in his nightshirt but came out into the hallway to greet the visitor. “Hullo, sir,“ Frodo held out his hand, “It‘s nice--”

“Never mind the courtesies, lad, I know who you are. I want to see my son!”

“Frodo,” Bilbo offered, taking the large walking stick out of the other hobbit’s grip, “why don’t you escort Saradoc to Merry?”

Frodo’s feet felt like lead with every step he took. Without the walking stick it Saradoc was leaning heavily on Frodo‘s arm. “A recent spill,” Saradoc explained, and that was all he said on the matter.

After Frodo helped Saradoc settle into a chair in Merry’s room, he spotted Paladin through the window riding up on a pony. Gracious me!, Frodo thought, will I survive this day? Frodo excused himself from Saradoc and went out to meet Paladin.

Paladin knocked on the door, and then as all relatives do, he opened the door and walked in. Frodo met him--still in his nightshirt.

Paladin looked at the sight before him and said, “Lad, I don’t know what sort of hours you keep here, but I’m looking for my son, Pippin.” Then he saw Pearl in there in the kitchen preparing elevenses. “Pearl,” he called, “what is going on?”

Pearl took her father aside for a cup of tea and bread, and told him the whole story; from the arrival down to Merry‘s awakening during the night.

Paladin shook his head at all the nonsense. “Honestly, Pearl, what in the Shire goes through my son’s head? Drinking ale? Climbing a tree? I know he can be a handful, but how difficult is it to keep an eye on an eight-year-old boy?” Paladin sat in the chair frustrated. “Where was Bilbo when all of this was going on?” Paladin had a huge puzzle to solve, and to bring it all into perspective, he needed to talk to his son. “Where is he?”

“Bilbo?”, asked Frodo.

“No, Frodo, I first want to see my son, Pippin,” said Paladin. Then added, “But yes, after that, I would like a word with cousin Bilbo.”

Inwardly, Frodo rolled his eyes; this was only going to get better!

Chapter Seventeen

“Merry, pack up your things now. You will accompany me back to Brandy Hall.”

Merry was shocked when he awoke and saw his father sitting in the chair. Bilbo stood next to Saradoc. Why was Dad here? Was Mum sick? Merry woke up feeling very ill and having a tremendous headache. He closed his eyes to let the room stop spinning.

“At once, Merry,” said his father. “I don’t have all day.”

“Saradoc! The boy is sick and injured,” Bilbo was stunned at Saradoc. “Can you not see that?”

“He looks fine to me, Bilbo,” he replied.

Just the sound of his father’s voice nauseated and angered Merry. He decided that he would tell his father what he had come to terms with. He laid aside his blankets and slowly stood up. His head felt like a twenty-pound weight. He swayed a little, and even gripped his night table as he rose to his feet, but never once reached out to his father--he was past that.

“Merry, you must lie down,” Bilbo ran to Merry’s side.

Merry lost all color in his face as he stood up, “I am not coming with you now--or ever,” Merry said to his father. He felt a huge knot tighten in his stomach. “Too long have I been without a father who cares for or even loves me.” Merry gripped the night table tighter. “Too long have I been a bastard child in my own home--if you want to call it that! Why was I even born? I would surely like to know the answer to that question!” Merry’s eyes filled with tears, but he wasn’t going to let Saradoc have the satisfaction of seeing them.

Saradoc stared at Merry in disbelief. Until now, Saradoc was talented at hiding behind the doors of his study, both fearing--and wanting--the contact and the touch of his own son. Presently, Merry’s cutting words penetrated the great wall surrounding his heart. Saradoc spoke, but out of his own reflections, “What have I done to you?”

“Nothing!” Merry’s voice trembling, “That’s the problem; you’ve never once touched me! Never held me, never kissed me, never patted my head.” Merry felt what little strength he had was draining fast. “Anytime you were at home, you really weren’t there--you were always locked away in your study. I’ve never felt like I meant anything to you.” A tear escaped. Then he added softly, “You didn’t want me then, and I don’t want you now.”

Merry was now holding onto the bed table with both hands, quivering. “What a laughable lot we are,” he said. His strength all spent now. He tried to set himself back onto the bed but missed and fell to the floor.

Bilbo, even though he was getting up in years, stooped down to help Merry into bed.

“Stand aside.” Saradoc walked up to Merry, lifted him up and laid him in his bed. Merry was too exhausted from his injuries and tears to care. Saradoc covered brought the covers over his son and sat down on the edge of the bed. He leaned on his walking stick while in thought, then finally spoke, “Merry,” he started, “...It’s been too long ago, and I don’t know where to begin. I never have.” He continued, “And I still don’t know where to begin....or how. What shall I say after all these years? You are the brightest boy I have ever known--and have I told you this? You are the flower of my meadow and the star in my sky, but do you know this? Countless nights, Merry, have I watched you sleep because I couldn’t bear to see your innocent blue eyes dance upon my own.” Merry’s head was turned in the other direction, away from his father. Saradoc went on. “Over the years, I have kept every drawing, every letter, and every painting you drew for me, and I have treasured each and every one. But have you seen this? No...no on all accounts. I have kept you at a distance, fearing to lose you....and have lost you all the same. I see now what I was too blind to see years ago. You had every right to say what you did.” He added last, “I only ask that you return for the sake of your mother.”

Merry was concerned over Saradoc’s last statement. “Is Mum well?”

“She is fine, son, but I can hear her crying at night. She misses you and worries over you,” he said.

Silence.

Saradoc sighed. He took up his walking stick and limped out of the room. Merry watched his father walk out and never spoke a word.

Merry looked at Bilbo, “What in Middle Earth do you think he was rambling on about?”

Bilbo only sighed and shook his head.

This piqued Merry’s interest even more. “What are you shaking your head about?”

Just then Bilbo saw Paladin peeking in from around the corner. Relieved to be distracted, Bilbo jumped up, “Hullo, Paladin! Come here, dear cousin! Sit, sit!”

Paladin smiled at Merry as he entered the room, “How are you, lad?”

“A little better now,” Merry answered, “though I have a bad headache.” he smiled weakly and added, “Perhaps if I ate something...”

Paladin jested, “Is Bilbo starving you?”

“Goodness, it’s nigh on to lunch!” Bilbo exclaimed as he got up and ran out to prepare lunch for all his guests.

Merry and Paladin were alone. Paladin looked at Merry. He had his sister’s smile, her laugh, and sense of humor. Each time he looked at Merry, he saw Esmeralda. In Paladin’s eyes, Merry was more a Took than a Brandybuck.

“How’s Pippin?” Merry inquired.

“Pippin is doing fine though he has a very large headache himself, right now,” said Palain. “Broken bones mend, Merry, though I can’t say the same for broken hearts, eh? I saw Saradoc a few moments before I stopped in.”

Merry grew confused again, and told his uncle what Saradoc said about fearing to lose him. Paladin shook his head.

“Please don’t do that, Uncle,” Merry pleaded. “Bilbo just did that and now I want to know all about whatever it is you all know that I don’t.” He added, “It will probably not make a difference, but I’d like to know all the same.”

Paladin let out a long breath. “All right. I thought your mother or father had talked to you about this, but I will tell the sad tale. A little over a year before you were born you had an older brother.” Merry raised his eyebrows. “So I am correct--no one has told you, then?” Merry shook his head. Paladin continued. “His name was Saramac. He lived maybe...three or four months. Eglantine and I went to visit not long before he died. A tiny, beautiful little boy much like my own Pippin.” Paladin smiled absently at the memory of his tiny little Pippin. Then it disappeared as he again thought of Saramac. “He was too small, though. He was born too early and never grew. He never quite got the healthy, rosy color that most babies get. Even so, as any father would, your dad showered Saramac with love and gifts. He loved that boy more than life itself. The baby’s death shook Saradoc and it cut him deep.”

Merry listened intently as Paladin spoke; why had neither of his parents told him about an older brother?

“Several months later your mother found she was with child again. This time it was you, Merry. The healers said it was too soon and that you had the same chance at life as your brother, Saramac. It was apparently too much for Saradoc. He took to locking himself in his study, and when you were born, he refused to see you. He was afraid that if he allowed himself to get close to you, he would lose you the same way he did Saramac. Esmeralda didn’t know what to do. I told her to let Saradoc be for the present. I thought he would eventually come round in order to be a suitable father to you, but he never recovered from Saramac’s death and seems to have carried his fears over to you. Of course, it didn’t help to discover that he was finding his comfort in bottles of wine. That is how you started your summer visits. Your mother, auntie, and I wanted you to have a father of some sort--even if it was only for a few weeks out of the year. As you grew older, your father’s separation became more painfully evident to you and so that’s when I persuaded Essie to let you visit more often. I thought I could be the father you so desperately wanted--and needed. Perhaps I erred in my judgment.” Paladin smirked at his plan seemingly gone awry.

Merry reviewed everything that had happened in his life, and the one person that was there at each crucial moment, was Paladin. As he lost each baby tooth, Paladin was there to celebrate. The time he wanted to sleep out under the stars near a campfire, Paladin packed up two sacks and off they went--only a mile down the road, though. And every time those wretched thoughts of being unwanted crawled into his mind, Paladin was there to soothe him. The truth was, to some extent, he felt he wasn’t wanted. Merry had now come to terms with that, and the more Merry thought on it, the more he decided all else was best left behind him. He decided to focus on those who did love him: his mother, his extended Took family, Frodo, and most of all...Paladin. He would forever consider him his dad, his father. Saradoc lost out on all of that, and would never recover it. With the exception of his mother, the memories Merry cherished the most belonged to him and Paladin alone.

Yet Merry’s heart was getting the better of him. If Saradoc wanted any part of his life, Merry decided he would allow him to glimpse at it from a distance, though it wouldn’t likely change anything. And he’d have to prove himself to Merry.

Merry looked at his dear uncle, “Erred? Did I turn out that bad?” Merry had an impish gleam in his eye.

Paladin smiled, “You know better than that!”

Merry grew serious, as he often did these days, “Uncle Paladin...thanks for being my dad...when I had no dad.”

Paladin also grew serious, yet smiled back, “Thank you for being my son...when I had no son--and now I have two.”

Chapter Eighteen

The three elder hobbits sat at the table and drank tea. Lunch was over with and the all the younger hobbits scattered when they were finished. Only Pippin remained--he lagged a bit due to he had only one functioning arm. Paladin was helping him butter the last of his bread. Pippin lifted his mug--this time filled with milk--and drank it to the last drop then wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Noting no women folk at the table he let loose the huge air bubble in his throat--and very loud it was. He giggled at the freedom.

“Pip”, Paladin spoke quietly to his son, “use your napkin, and use your manners.”

Pippin looked around the table at the other company, “’scuse me,” and wiped his mouth once again but used his napkin this time. He climbed down from his stool, still dressed in Frodo’s huge shirt, and started to leave the kitchen.

Paladin had a quick thought. “Pippin,” He called to the boy as he walked towards the hallway. Pippin turned in his father’s direction. “Come here, son.”

Pippin walked over to his father. Paladin swiftly scooped the boy up (careful of his arm) into his arms and wrapped him in a hug. Being that Pippin was accustomed to his father’s open affection, Pippin giggled, returned his father’s hug and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Before leaving the kitchen, Pippin whispered in his father’s ear, “I love you, papa.” Then he ran out--but not before Paladin gave his son a loving swat on the bum.

“Pippin!” Paladin yelled after his son, “Be careful of your arm!”

Once the last child was out of the room, the air became tight around the two fathers.

Paladin was furious at his brother-in-law. He looked straight at Saradoc and let loose his anger. “That is what you have missed all these years! You have missed your son placing his milky lips on your cheek, kiss you, and then tell you he loves you. You’ve missed all of it. You’ve missed teaching your son to belch--yes, of course I taught Pippin that--and Merry, too. You didn’t think boys learned that from their mothers, did you? Yes, the drawings and letters are a part of it, but nothing, Saradoc--nothing, takes the place of all the hugs, kisses, and affection from your own flesh and blood.

“I can’t tell you how many tears your son has shed knowing he will never have what Pippin and I have--and that is what makes me ill the most. All these years you have acted the fool and tossed your son’s love out the window like it was refuse. All he ever wanted from you was to return a simple hug, pat him on the head for a job well done, or hold his hand when he was afraid or had a bad dream. You missed all of that, Saradoc, and you can never go back to reclaim it. He’s not a little boy anymore. He’s growing up, and has never known his father.” Paladin had more to say, but the more he looked at Saradoc, the more annoyed he became. Having unloaded how he felt, Paladin sat back in his chair. “Now what do you intend to do?”

Saradoc wiped his mouth with his napkin, and got up to leave. “Go back to Buckland. He obviously doesn’t need me.”

Paladin was incredulous, “I don’t believe you, Sara! This is exactly what you’ve done for the past sixteen years. Haven’t you had enough? I know Merry has! Yes, he’s not a small child anymore but he’s still a boy who needs his father. And now you intend to run back to your study again? I won’t have this, Sara--I will not stand idly by and watch you destroy your son.”

Saradoc shot back, “What would you have me do! Hmm?” He was certain any relationship with his son was now beyond all recall. “He doesn’t want me. He’s already made that quite clear.”

“Of course he’s going to say those things--he’s protecting his heart from you cutting it into pieces by turning your back on him--again. Fight for him, Saradoc--that’s the only way you’re ever going to get him back. Even then you’ve still lost all those years. They will never return but you can make a start today. Yes--today, Saradoc, you can start over by fighting for him.”

“And how would you suggest I do that? You seem to be full of wisdom today.”

Feeling the pinch between the two, poor Bilbo got up to clear up the dishes. Before adopting Frodo, he imagined he would have nothing to add. Now, after nine years of enjoying the playful company of a young tween, Bilbo himself had much to say, but felt Paladin was doing a fine job without his help.

“Think, Sara.” Paladin leaned in on the table, “Where have you not been these past sixteen years? At your son’s side. He’s still sick, and needs someone to look after him. No matter what he says or does, you must not leave him. Even if he tosses you out on your ear, don’t leave him.” Paladin drew closer to Saradoc for this last bit, “I know children--they will kick and push you to the brink, but do not leave your son--or this will be the very last time you ever see him. Because mark my words--I know Merry as my own child. If you leave him today without so much as lifting a finger to try and win him back, he will utterly reject you as his father.”

Chapter Nineteen

Saradoc walked into Merry’s bedroom. He saw Frodo, the Took lasses and little Pippin sitting around Merry. They were all laughing about a jest someone had just made. No one took notice of him standing there yet.

“It’s your move,” Pervinca told Pippin.

“I know! I’m thinking.”

“How long does it take you to think?”

“Not long,” said Pippin in triumph, as he made a sweeping motion down the board with his rook. His rook took her knight, and...“Checkmate!”

Pervinca looked at the board in surprise, “You can’t do that.”

“What do you mean, I can’t do that?” Pippin laughed, “Of course I can--and I just did!”

“Pervinca,” Frodo smiled, shaking his head, “even I saw his moves several on ahead, and I despise chess. He lured you into that trap.”

The near teen narrowed her eyes at her brother, “Fine. Have your day, Pip, because I can still wrestle you to the ground on my worst day with one hand tied behind my back!”

“Tied behind your back?” Pippin actually considered her offer...

“No you two,” Pearl laughed, “and you, Pippin, I had better not see you wrestling, running, jumping, or any of that for a long time!” Then she noticed her Uncle Saradoc at the door. Everyone followed her gaze.

Silence.

“Uh...hullo, all.” Saradoc nervously addressed the young hobbits. They continued to gawk at him.

“Did you forget something?” Merry spoke to his father as if he were an irritating insect, “I’m sorry--I wish I could see you to the door.”

“No...no,” answered Saradoc, not receiving his son’s insulting hint. “Of course you can’t.” Saradoc felt everyone’s eyes boring into him. He spotted an empty chair in the far corner. His knee still gave him grief over an injury this past summer, but he made it to the chair and sat down.

Pearl nudged her sisters, “I think it’s time to help clean up the kitchen.”

“Oh my, it is,” agreed Pim.

“Wait for me--I must help.” Pervinca took off after her sisters.

Pippin busied himself with picking up the chess pieces. He put them into a neat little box, and set it off to the side, then crawled under the covers to sit with Merry to warm up his legs.

More silence.

Merry glared at his father, “If you didn’t forget anything, why are you here?”

“I came here for you, son. And I will visit until you are well--until it is time to go home.”

“And the time hasn’t passed, yet?” Merry laughed mockingly, “Goodness, your pocket timepiece must be off.” Frodo and Young Pippin felt the air growing tense.

“Like it or not, I am here for the duration of our stay,” Saradoc ventured, hoping this would set the peace. But that was not to be. Merry had sixteen years of anger pent up inside him.

“Our stay? I don’t know about you, but I’m staying here for quite a long while,” here he nudged Pippin sitting next to him on the bed, “and no, I don’t like your being here. So you may as well leave this instant!”

Frodo cleared his throat, and made to leave them alone. He held out his hand to Pippin, “Let‘s play a game of checkers in the study, Pip.”

Merry growled at his cousin, “Don’t leave on his account, Frodo!”

Frodo purposely turned his back towards Saradoc and spoke softly to Merry, so as only he and Pippin could hear Frodo’s words. “As feeble as it looks, Merry, your father is trying to correct himself and reach out to you. I don’t know.... perhaps humor him for a while, and then make your decision. But right now, I would give almost anything to see my Dad alive. Don’t waste this chance as he’s wasted his.” Frodo patted his friend’s shoulder, got up and walked out.

Merry plopped back onto his pillows. The headache that never really went away was doubling back in force. He rubbed his eyes and face. Saradoc didn’t ‘rub’ away; he was still sitting in the chair. Merry stared up at the ceiling, took a deep breath and sighed. Under the blankets he held onto Pippin’s splinted hand for strength.

“How is mum?”

“She is well. She speaks of you always. She misses you, Merry”

“You told me that already. Tell me something I don’t know. I know she loves and misses me--she’s always told me that.” Merry rubbed his forehead. “I’m certain she cries because she knows by now that I will never return home.” He glowered at Saradoc, “and my absence is not because of her.”

Pippin could feel the hurt pouring from his cousin’s heart. He held Merry’s hand as tight as the pain would allow. It hurt Pippin to see Merry so wretched, but understood things had to be “set” in order to heal properly; he knew that first hand.

Merry was growing agitated, as well as his headache, “You look as if you’re bored silly. You obviously have nothing to say to me, and I to you.” He let out a deep breath, “just...please leave!”

Saradoc got up. Using the chair for support he shuffled closer to the bed.

“That isn’t leaving, father!” Merry raised his voice and immediately regretted it when his headache pounded harder. He rubbed his temples, “Why are you doing this to me? After all these years you think you can just walk into my life as if nothing has happened!” Merry was lashing out in full force, and so did his head. “You silly old fool! Go home! I don’t want you here, don’t you understand?” Merry gripped his head with his hands and made a face.

Saradoc took all the daggers Merry threw at him--he deserved it. He was a terrible father to Merry. Paladin was right; he had taken his anger of Saramac’s death out on Merry all these years. But why his child--he looked at the small child sitting next to Merry in the bed, and wondered how Pippin survived and not Saramac. Pippin was born too soon as well, so how was it that he survived and not Saramac? So many questions and hurt, but no answers. Saradoc paid attention to the moment at hand; was he willing to go the full mile with Merry? Was he ready to take on his paternal responsibilities and guide Merry into adulthood? Lastly, would Merry be willing to allow him this privilege? Saradoc tightened his belt for the long ride. He would endure--for the sake of his surviving son. His younger son. He got up, and scooted his chair even closer.

Merry angrily threw a pillow at the older hobbit, “Get out of here! Get out! Leave me alone!” Between the pain in his head and the anger in his heart, Merry became extremely upset. He held onto his head. “Why don’t you do what you do best and leave me alone? Go home and lock yourself away in your study and never bother me again!” Merry curled up into a ball as a wave of nausea swept over him.

Pippin was getting worried over his cousin’s headache. He hopped out of bed, nearly falling in the process, and ran to find his papa. He’d know what to do.

Saradoc stood up from the chair, he too, was now worried over Merry’s head. He went to the bedside, only to be shoved away by Merry. “Get away from me! Don’t touch me...”, he sobbed. “Don’t touch me!”

Saradoc put his hand on his son’s head. Merry jerked away. “Oh, please...”, he cried, still holding his head, “it hurts...my head hurts.”

Chapter Twenty

Paladin ran into the room with Bilbo, Frodo, and Pippin behind him, “Saradoc, please stand over there.” Paladin indicated to where Bilbo stood and tried to look at Merry’s face. Merry’s hands gripped each side of his head and his eyes were clenched shut. Merry gasped with sobs. Paladin looked at Saradoc, “When did this start?”

“Shortly after I entered the room,” he answered. He stood dejectedly next to Bilbo.

“Merry, open your eyes,“ Paladin instructed. Merry was clearly upset, but between gasps he opened his eyes for Paladin then instantly shut them again. “Someone shut the drapes, please.” Frodo and Pippin fell to the task. “Is that better, Merry?”

Merry still held his head and sobbed, but nodded. Paladin let out a sigh, “It’s probably no more than because you’re upset, lad. You need to try and calm down a bit. Saradoc--can you leave him alone for a little while?”

Saradoc gave a puzzled look to Paladin. Paladin nodded that it was all right. Saradoc turned and limped out of the room with Bilbo following him.

Paladin held Merry and soothed him, “Shhhh. Calm down, son. ” Paladin gently rubbed Merry’s back while he sobbed into his pillow.

Pippin leaned against the bedroom wall watching the scene before him, worry etched on his face.

Paladin saw the lad’s concern. “Merry will be fine, Pippin. He has a terrible, terrible headache right now, and we must try not to upset him further.” Paladin didn’t want to overburden a child with matters of the heart, but Pippin surprised him with his response.

“After all this time, papa, why does Uncle Saradoc want Merry now? Will he take Merry from us?”

Paladin smiled inwardly--Merry was really never 'theirs'. “I don’t know about that, Pip,” he said, “but don’t be afraid; what you, Merry, and I have together, no one, not even Saradoc can ever take that away.” then Paladin leaned closer to Merry, “Did you hear that, Merry? No one!” Paladin wondered to himself--was he able to give up Merry?

Merry quieted down. The room was darker, and that helped, but his head still throbbed.

“Merry, please try to calm down a bit. Tea is almost here and I want you to be able to eat a little bit.” He said further, “You haven’t eaten all day and you need your strength to get better.” Then he stood up to leave, “I’m going to have a word with your father, all right?”

Paladin left Merry in the hands of Frodo and Pippin, and met Saradoc in the sitting room with Bilbo.

Saradoc inquired, “Is Merry all right?”

Paladin said inwardly, you ask only now? What about when he was five years old and had nightmares of you? Or when he was eight--being teased by the other boys because his father would have nothing to do with his son?

Paladin sat down, smoothing his own hair away from his face with his hands. He indicated for Saradoc to sit down as well. “Perhaps I misjudged, Sara. Perhaps this isn’t the best time to try and win Merry over.”

“What are you talking about? Why not?”

Paladin answered calmly, “If you haven’t noticed, your son is very ill right now, and your presence apparently disturbs him greatly. That was my error. I daresay I believe you got his attention, though.” Paladin gave Saradoc a weak smile. “I would suggest limiting your bedroom visits, but I say again, do not leave until I say it’s all right to do so.”

Chapter Twenty One

Pimpernel knocked and opened Merry’s door. He seemed asleep, but she knew that while he had a bad headache he would not be able to do so. “Merry?” She poked her head inside of the doorway.

“Mmm?” Merry didn’t open his eyes.

“I’ve brought you a tray of tea and bread.” Pim carefully laid the tray on the night table and helped Merry into a sitting position, and she fluffed his pillows for him. “Feeling better?”

“A little.”

To Pim, Merry sounded like a little lost child. She smoothed his curls away from his face, “I am so sorry about today.”

“What do you have to be sorry about, Pim?” Merry put the sugar and milk into his tea, “He isn’t your father.”

He nibbled on a piece of bread and sipped his tea.

“I don’t know,” she sighed, “after all these years. How do you feel about all this?”

Merry paused from his nibbling. “I don’t know. Until this afternoon, I thought I knew exactly what my next step would be. With Uncle Paladin’s permission, I was going to stay at Whitwell until Yule. Then I would visit my mother, and then come back to Bag End for a short visit, then go back to Whitwell again in the spring. Uncle Paladin always needs help in the spring.” He looked at Pim, “Now, I’m not quite so sure about what I want.” Merry sipped his tea, lost in thought. “I know what he’s up to--I just don’t know if I want to play along is all.” Merry looked up at his cousin and dear friend, “He’s a complete stranger to me, Pim, yet a part of me wants desperately to know him.”

“And the other?”

Merry sighed, “To just leave me alone and never seek me out ever again. But for my mother, I would have left long ago.”

If Merry had left long ago, where would he be now, and how would he have fared?, Pim thought. She put her arm around her cousin. “I’m glad you didn’t leave. You bring joy into our home and I can’t imagine life without you, Merry. You’re like a brother to me.”

Merry never heard words like that from her, or anyone, before. He blushed and then gave her a kiss on her cheek.

“Well, whatever you decide,” Pim said to Merry, “I hope it makes you smile again.”

Chapter Twenty Two

When Merry awoke, the room was completely dark and knew it must be the early morning hours. When will my head stop pounding?, he thought. He let out a loud sigh. He turned over several times in his attempt to find sleep. Then he saw the door open a crack. It was Paladin. “Merry?”

“I’m awake.”

“I thought I heard you stirring about. I’m with Pippin for the moment until I can get him back to sleep, but I’ll be back in right after.”

“I’ll be all right, Uncle--see to Pippin. He sounds like he’s hurting badly.” Merry could hear his cousin crying in the next room.

“Mistress Bell is mixing something for him to sleep. He’ll be in pain a couple more days, but it will pass. How are you?”

“The same.”

Paladin grinned sadly at his nephew’s response. But there is no elixir in Middle Earth that will take away heartaches. He quietly closed the door.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~.

Pearl was always an early riser; one had to be when living on a farm. She washed up, went out to the kitchen and fumbled around to find the pots and pans. She found the cellars and brought up eggs and bacon, then began cooking breakfast. Pretty soon the rest would be wandering out as the aroma met their noses. When the bread was done, she opened the oven door to take out the bread and nearly dropped it when she turned around. Pearl gasped, “Father--you startled me!”

“I know I must look a fright this morning, Pearl; I’ve only slept a few hours.”

“You don‘t look all that terrible, father, I just didn’t hear you enter the kitchen is all.”

Paladin settled into a chair, “Is tea on yet?”

“Yes, it is.” She placed a cup in front of him.

“Your mother has taught you well, Pearl,” he laughed, “The smell of bacon and bread will drag any male hobbit out of bed at any hour!” Paladin stared at the steam rising from his cup as Pearl poured the tea.

“Father, you should have woke me up to help with Pippin.”

“Why--so we both would look frightful this morning? No. This past night was the heart of rearing children, Pearl.” He quipped, carefully sipping the hot liquid and winced when he burned his tongue anyway. Then more seriously he added, “I feel pity for Saradoc. Many times he had the chance to cradle his son the way I’ve done Pippin, but he chose not to. And now he pays the price.”

Pearl sat down next to her father with her own cup of tea. “What do you think will happen next, father?”

“I must get back to the harvest. I cannot spend another day here, and I cannot leave Merry behind.” Paladin shrugged his shoulders, he spoke as if he saw Merry’s future laid out in his mind. “Merry will probably never return to Brandy Hall except to visit his mother, I fear. I will speak with Saradoc before we leave today. Merry will probably go home with us and stay for a time. After that...,” he trailed off. He sipped his tea again. “I do hope beyond all hope, however, that Merry does go back to Brandy Hall. Not only for my sister’s sake, but so that he and Saradoc can finally....I don’t know...start a course of getting to know each other. This knot took years to tie and will take years to unravel.”

After all that had happened in the last couple days, Pearl was more than ready to go home. “Well, the sooner everyone is up and eats breakfast, the sooner we can leave.”

Note: This is actually the beginning chapter of the second story. As a result, the pace may feel different as well at the undertones but the story is still very much the same as it's a continuation of the first one--minus the scenes that just don‘t push the story. There are still those angsty moments, but there are lighter ones as well--and as always, a little mischief. Thank you to Grey Wonderer and others who have taken the time to not only read, but give me feedback.

Chapter Twenty Three

Merry walked down the hallway towards his room at Whitwell assisted by his Uncle Paladin. It was slow going, as he placed his hand against the wall for support. Halfway down the hall his head swam as another wave of nausea hit him. His headache was brought back in force from the jostling ride back to Whitwell.

Saradoc Brandybuck, after a long discourse with Paladin Took, traveled back to Brandy Hall--alone. Paladin convinced his brother-in-law that Whitwell was the most practical place for Merry to be, as it was a much shorter ride to Tuckborough than to Buckland. Saradoc expressed that he was still very much interested in reconciling with his son, and would visit Whitwell in a few weeks; enough time for Merry to digest all that had happened and to see his future more clearly.

Merry tried so hard to hold in his nausea...to wait. He was cursing himself for eating a heavy breakfast before leaving Bag End. Merry didn’t quite make it to the basin in his room. His breakfast was now splattered all over the floor in front of him and down his shirt. He felt the strong arms of his uncle lift him up off his feet and carry him the rest of the way down hall to his room.

Paladin quickly found that Merry wasn’t quite the little lad he used to be--and neither was he! He was laboring a little as he made it to the end of the long hallway. “Pearl!” Paladin called after his eldest daughter, “Come here, lass, and open the door.” Then he called over his shoulder, “Take heed for the mess!”

“Yes, Father,” Pearl winced, “I...see it.” She caught up with her father and opened the door. She let the door swing wide open and then she went to the bed to turn down the blankets.

She checked the water pitcher on his bureau. “I’m going to fetch fresh water,” she said as she left the room.

Paladin carefully set Merry on the bed and helped him take his shirt off, “Are you feeling any better, Merry?”

Merry’s stomach still felt queasy. He closed his eyes, “ask me that again later.” He held out his arms as his uncle took off the soiled shirt he‘d borrowed from Frodo.

Paladin reached inside Merry’s wardrobe for a clean nightshirt. “I will do that.” He gazed at his nephew reclining on the bed. “Well at least your color is returning,” he answered, slipping the clean garment over Merry’s head. Paladin then held onto Merry’s arm as he stood up, “For a moment out there you were as white as your pillow cover!”

Merry unfastened his breeches and let them drop as the bottom of his nightshirt fell to his knees. He sat back down on the bed and let his uncle take his legs out. Merry felt absolutely no strength for the task. He lay back onto the pillows and brought the covers over himself. “I feel so worn out.“

Paladin tucked in the blankets, “I’ll make certain no one disturbs you for a while, but I will check in on you after supper.”

“Thank you,” Merry whispered; his eyelids were getting heavy.

After his uncle left Merry alone in his room, he immediately felt the peace and tranquility calm his head and stomach. As sleep stole him away, he could hear a still, small voice echoing in his head, “...You are the flower of my meadow and the star in my sky, but do you know this? ...”

Chapter Twenty Four

When Merry woke up, he was lying on his stomach. He lay for a while in that position until the fog lifted from his brain. The morning was sunny and fair--he could tell by the way the little specks of dust floated in the bright rays between the drapes. He watched the little specks float for a while then felt his stomach growl and decided see about breakfast. He heard a knock on his door and raised himself to his elbows. “Come in,” he said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

The door creaked open. A small figure with honey brown curls peeked around the edge, “Are you awake, Merry?”

“Yes,” Merry stretched his cramped muscles as he answered. “What time is it? And what’s for breakfast?”

“It’s almost ten o’clock,” said Pippin. “You missed breakfast and Dahlia’s just now preparing for elevenses.” He sat down on the edge of Merry’s bed. “I know she will give me something for you to eat. She’s looked in on you twice already.”

“That was nice of her,” Merry remarked. His stomach growled again--this time even Pippin heard it and they both laughed. “I’m hungry!”

Pippin smiled, “Surely that’s a good sign! Do you still have your headache?”

Merry nodded, “Only a little though. Much like it was before I left Bag End.”

Pippin nodded and stood up, “I’ll be back before long with a tray.”

After Pippin left the room, Merry got up and tiptoed over to the window and threw open the drapes. He immediately regretted it. The bright sunlight coming through the sheers instantly stabbed his eyes and he quickly covered them with his hands. Ow!, he thought, that was real clever!

He next went over to his wardrobe, pulled out a clean pair of trousers and pulled them on but stayed in his nightshirt. He decided to wash his face and brush his teeth before getting fully dressed.

Just as he was finishing up, Pippin came back in and looked about the room, “You’d better get back in bed before Mrs. Longbottom sees you.”

Merry spit out the rinse. “The healer? Why should I have to get back in bed? You’re the one with a broken wrist.”

“And you’re the one with a broken head,” Pippin answered.

Pervinca walked in behind her brother carrying the tray laden with food, “She’s here to look at the both of you. Papa just returned from getting her in Tuckborough.” She carefully set the tray on a small table then chewed on her fingernail as she surveyed only two chairs. “Pippin, go and get a chair from your room,” she instructed, then proceeded to set about adjusting the table in front of the window.

“What are you doing?” Merry curiously watched as his cousin pushed and pulled the table.

“We’re going to have a picnic indoors!”

“But I thought you and Pippin already had breakfast.”

“We did,” answered Pervinca.

Just then Pippin returned dragging his own chair, “but we didn’t want you to be lonely eating all by yourself, so we decided to join you.”

Merry laughed, “You mean you both thought this would be your chance to get in an extra breakfast!”

Pervinca and Pippin both looked at Merry in make believe shock. Pervinca turned to her brother, “Pippin, did you think of any such thing?”

“Why, no!” Pippin played along, “My sweet sister and I only thought to accompany our dear, beloved cousin in partaking of refreshment.”

It cheered Merry enormously to know that his two cousins cared enough to sit with him through breakfast--even if it was an extra breakfast for them. Remembering his manners he smiled as he bowed--looking quite comical still wearing his nightshirt and trousers. He then stepped up behind Pervinca like a young gentle-hobbit and held her chair.

In turn, Pervinca curtsied to her “suitor” wearing her green dress and apron, then sat down as Merry slid the chair underneath her.

Pippin watched the scene before him then acted surprised as Merry withdrew to his own seat. He jested, “What about me?”

“What about you?” Merry said as he grinned. He was already sitting in his seat and put his attention to eating his eggs.

“I see how you are, Merry!” Pippin laughed, “Next time maybe I’ll bat my eyes and wear a huge green bow in my hair--No, wait! Someone’s already done that to me!” Pippin gave a look to his sister who nearly choked as she swallowed her food.

“Pim made me do it! She said that if I didn’t, she’d do something horrible to me!”

Pippin grinned, “That’s all right; I already did something horrible to her!”

Merry burst out laughing when he remembered the mustache Pippin drew on Pim’s lip. “You should’ve seen her, Pip! She was furious at you!”

Pippin was pouring more water into his mug, “I know! That’s why I bolted!”

On and on the nonsensical chatter went. Three hobbit children, enjoying breakfast by the window in the autumn sunshine...and each other‘s company.

Chapter Twenty Five

“Where’s Momma?” Pippin had wondered out to the kitchen to join in lunch as Merry rested indoors today. Such was the advice of the healer. He--or rather him and one of his sisters would take Merry in another tray of lighter foods.

“The Post arrived with letters, and well....you know mother!” Pearl craned her neck round to see through the window. “That poor Messenger,” she shook her head. “His ears must be worn down to nubs by now!”

Pippin was about to ask for help with the tray when Merry entered the kitchen and sat down. “Auntie is out there still? I wonder what’s so interesting to hold her audience for so long.”

“You’re supposed to be in bed, Merry,” Pearl chided her young cousin.

“I’m feeling a little better. Can’t I sit out here for lunch?” Merry looked so forlorn even Pearl couldn’t deny him.

Just then Eglantine opened the kitchen door holding a bundle of letters. She set the entire pile on the little table to the right as she came in except for one, slipping it into her apron pocket.

Pearl caught her mother placing one of the envelopes in her pocket, but said nothing. It was obviously a clandestine move by her mother.

“Merry lad!” Eglantine sat in the chair next to her nephew, “What in the Shire are you doing out of bed in just your nightshirt? Go and fetch your night-coat before you catch a chill, or you shan’t have any lunch.” Merry had traipsed about the house without a night-coat before, but there was a reason why she sent him to his room.

“Yes, ma’am.” Merry got up and left the kitchen.

After he left, Eglantine took out the envelope she hid in her pocket and laid it in front of her daughters. Pearl picked up the small envelope, took out the parchment and began to read,

“Dear Paladin, I wish to visit with my son, Merry. I shall arrive shortly before supper tonight. I trust this will not inconvenience you.

Regards,

Saradoc Brandybuck"

Pearl looked up at her mother and passed the letter to Pimpernel, “Do you think Merry will want to see his father so soon?”

Eglantine shrugged, “He has not spoken to me at all about his father so I don’t know how he feels. I rather hoped he had done so with his uncle, or at the very least with one of his cousins.” She looked at her brood.

Pearl shook her head, “He has not spoken to me.” Then she nudged her sister sitting beside her, “You, Pervinca?” The younger girl shook her head.

Unable to take her eyes from the script, Pim also shook her head. She replied, “No, he hasn‘t spoken to me since Bag End, but it shouldn’t take much of a guess as to which person he has.” They all looked at Pippin.

Pippin shrank in his chair. He and Merry did have conversations, but Merry made him promise not to tell. “Don’t look at me,” he protested, “Merry went to sleep right after breakfast.”

Pim finally looked up from the letter, “I only hope Merry is ready for all of this.”

“Ready or not,” Eglantine answered, “Saradoc Brandybuck will be our guest for supper this evening.”

Chapter Twenty Six

It was after lunch when Eglantine finally met with her nephew. Merry sat in his bed and fidgeted. He knew something was about to happen--never before had his aunt asked to speak with him alone. He watched intently as Eglantine sat down across from him. In her hand was an envelope with a broken seal. Merry recognized it as the seal of his father.

“Read this,” was all Eglantine said as she handed Merry the envelope.

Merry opened the envelope and took out the small folded parchment and read it. After a moment he spoke, “Do you know if he intends to take me away?”

“I don’t know, sweetie--I only know what you know," she answered.

Merry curled up into a ball under his blankets with a far away expression on his face. Eglantine wanted to comfort him somehow yet felt it would only complicate the matters in his young head.

Merry wanted to be alone to sort out his feelings. “I have a headache, Auntie, and I’m not feeling quite well at the moment. May I please be alone?”

She smoothed the hair away from his face, “I will have your uncle look in on you when he arrives, all right?” Eglantine wasn‘t fooled for a moment; she knew Merry's ailment was more than a mere headache. She rubbed his shoulder as she stood up, “It will all work out, child.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Paladin arrived home early that day and was met by his wife at the door. Pearl and Pim had been sent to tell him about the letter and the forthcoming visit by Saradoc that evening. He was deeply concerned over how his nephew was coping with the pending reunion--especially since he‘d already told Merry his father wasn‘t coming to claim him for another three weeks. First, he decided to meet with his wife to discuss Took hospitality.

Eglantine followed Paladin into his study and was taken by surprised as he swept the door shut behind them and held her close to kiss her. After a *long* moment he drew breath and said, “I’ve been waiting all day for that.”

She wrapped her arms around him and gazed into his green eyes, “Paladin Took! After twenty-eight years, you haven’t changed a bit.”

As he held her he whispered in her ear, “You won’t let me. You’re still as beautiful as the day we met.”

As in any marriage with children, the sweetest of moments didn’t last long. Paladin sighed, “How is Merry doing?”

“Not very well, I’m afraid.” Eglantine settled in a chair next to her husband, “When I broke the news to him a few hours ago all he did was complain of a headache.” Then she handed him the envelope, now looking a little worn from the overuse.

Paladin took a moment to read the script. “I can’t believe him,” Paladin said, shaking his head. “He said he’d wait a few weeks before he came after Merry. We talked about it before I left.”

“Then I wonder what happened to change his mind.”

“That’s what I would care to know.” Paladin studied on this, then he looked at his soul mate. The only person he knew he could confide his deepest secrets to, and not have it announced all over the Shire. “Tina...I don’t know why, but...” then he trailed off and began again, “no, I do know why, but I don’t know how to fight the reasoning behind it.”

Eglantine saw the strange look on her husband’s face. “What are you talking about?”

“Now that we have Merry under our roof,” he explained, “I...I don’t know if I can give him up so easily.”

Eglantine was incredulous, “Can’t give him up? Paladin, you must!” She feared this would happen someday. It wasn’t a matter of if--it was only a matter of when. “I love him, too, but we can never be his parents. Regardless of how his father has treated him over the years, Merry still belongs to his father--and to your sister. He belongs to Buckland!”

Paladin winced at his wife’s verbal lashing, “I knew you would say that.”

“Well of course I’d say that. What else did you expect me to say?”

“I don’t know--perhaps having a little more understanding would’ve been nice.”

Eglantine calmed down a little and spoke more rationally, “Paladin, what kind of parents would we be if we allowed Sara and Essie to forever keep our Pippin? It would start the biggest feud in Shire history, I’ll say!” She took his hand in hers, “I would be lying, love, if I said I never imagined Merry living happily under our roof. But it just can’t be.”

Paladin now felt embarrassed for his selfishness. She was right; it would tear his sister to pieces if he tried to keep Merry. And yes--he would fight to the death over one of his children. “I’m sorry I brought it up.”

She breathed a bit easier, “No more talk of not wanting to give up Merry--all right?” Eglantine then thought to quickly change the subject. She took the conversation to other matters of significance. “I suppose Sara can sleep in Merry’s room,” Eglantine said, “and Merry can move in with Pippin for the duration of his father’s visit.”

“What about the guest room?”

“He can’t sleep in the guestroom.  I have boxes of mathoms stored in there that are cluttering it up.”

“We can always ‘un-clutter’ it,” he replied.

Eglantine wasn‘t so sure it could be ‘uncluttered' in one day, “It wouldn’t hurt two young lads to share a room for a day or two.”

Paladin stood up to leave. He wanted to look in on Merry--the very boy who nearly started a feud. “Very well,” he replied. “Do whatever you see fit, I’m going to look in on him.”

Eglantine quietly watched her husband leave the room. She thought to herself, Somehow, I get the feeling this won’t be the end of this conversation!

Chapter Twenty Seven

Merry could not find a comfortable position in his attempt to rest. He was more anxious than he cared to think about concerning his father’s visit later that day. His felt a chill creep into his bones. He took up his quilt and sauntered over to the fireplace. It was warm here. He wrapped the quilt around himself as he sat down to watch the dancing flames.

His let his mind wander as his eyelids grew heavy. He lay down on his side, using his arm as a pillow. He could hear the small voice again. “...I still don’t know where to begin....or how. What shall I say after all these years? You are the brightest boy I have ever known--and have I told you this?...” Merry continued watching the flames. Mesmerized by the fire as he recalled the words of his father. “...Countless nights, Merry, have I watched you sleep because I couldn’t bear to see your innocent blue eyes dance upon my own.”

Merry fell asleep in front of the hearth listening to the small voice over and over.

Paladin knocked on his nephew’s door. His curiosity was getting the better of him. He wanted to know just how Merry was taking the news of his father’s arrival. He opened the door. The room was slightly dark inside as the drapes were closed. Once he stepped through the threshold he could feel the warmth emanating from the flames in the fireplace. The covers were laid aside on the bed, but no one was in it.

Then he had an idea to check further inside. He walked around the other side of the bed and saw the lump on the floor near the fire. Paladin quickly went to Merry and woke him.

Merry stirred ever so slightly in his sleep then opened his eyes, “Uncle? I got cold, so I took a little nap next to the fire.”

Paladin felt his nephew's forehead, “That wasn’t a good idea, Merry. What were you trying to do--roast yourself? You’re rather warm now. How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling exceptionally well today,” Merry perked up somewhat in spite of his drowsiness.

Paladin held Merry under his arms to help him stand, “Are you well enough for your father to visit?” Paladin asked.

“I don't know. Auntie told me about it early this afternoon.”

Paladin helped Merry to lay down on the bed, then tucked the blankets around him. “So...”, he ventured, “have you been thinking about going back home to Brandy Hall?”

“I have thought about it,” Merry answered. “But I’ve decided I don’t want to go home. Can’t I live here for a while--please? Please don't make me go home--not just yet.”“Merry,” Paladin sat down on the bed, “You are welcome to stay here for as long as you wish.” Then he thought about Eglantine‘s words, “...and as long as your mother allows me to keep you. I’d not be truthful with you if I said I was happy at the prospect of you going home.” His eyes filled with tears as he felt Merry take his hand and embrace it.

Chapter Twenty Eight

“He’s here!” Pervinca yelled. She was in the kitchen passing in front of the little window when she saw her uncle--and aunt step up to the door, “Aunt Essie is here, too!" Pervinca was debating if she should haul the box of discarded items from the guest room out to the burn pile as the guests walked in, or if she should hide it in the wash room until later when it could be sent out discreetly. She opted for the latter and just in the nick of time. The bell rang as she made haste to shut the wash room door and pull the scarf off of her head. She patted the dust off of her apron and smoothed out the wrinkles of her dress. She let out a deep breath and opened the door.

“Uncle Saradoc! Aunt Essie!” The girl smiled and curtsied, “What a pleasant surprise!”

Saradoc eyed his young, dramatic niece, “You did get our letter, didn‘t you?”

“Yes, Uncle, but we didn’t know we’d have the pleasure of seeing Aunt Essie as well,” she replied.

By this time, the rest of the family, minus Pearl and Merry, were in the kitchen greeting the guests.

“Ah, well, I do apologize for the change in plans. Essie dearly misses her son, and also wishes to see him.”

Pippin feigned innocence as he replied, “Is he not your son as well?” Out of the mouths of babes!

The room went silent. Thinking quickly, Paladin spied Pearl’s knitting bag on a chair nearby. He grabbed it and thrust it into his son’s hands, “Pippin, go take this to Pearl! She’ll be needing it.”

Pippin took the bag, but hesitated, “But Papa, she’s--”

Paladin gave his young son a gentle shove down the hallway, “now, Pippin.”

Paladin stepped forward and sheepishly offered his hand to Saradoc, “That's my Pippin!”

Saradoc took Paladin’s hand and shook it, “He speaks the truth, Paladin. I wasn’t minding my words.”

Paladin gave Saradoc a firm pat on the shoulder and led him away from the rest of the family, now chattering away and exchanging hugs. “It’s good to see you, Sara, but tell me--why have you come so soon to claim Merry?”

Saradoc awkwardly looked about him, “Actually, I haven’t come to claim him--yet. I’ve come to visit him just as the letter stated.” Then he added, “You said I got his attention at Bag End.” Saradoc looked at his friend, “I want more than my son’s attention, Paladin.”

Outwardly, Paladin smiled and congratulated his sister’s husband on his decision. Inwardly, though, his earlier conversation with his wife came to mind once again and Paladin felt his heart become troubled.

“Well, before you visit him, you must know that he hasn’t been feeling well. He fell asleep in front of the fireplace and nearly succeeded in cooking himself. He says he still has a headache though I thought it would’ve been gone by now.”

Saradoc thought for a moment then looked at Paladin, “From his fall at Bag End?”

Paladin nodded, “So it would seem, but I think it’s more from things on his mind. He’s just a lad, yet he’s making very grown up decisions about his life right now. We should be glad that a headache is all he has.”

By this time, Eglantine and Esmeralda were listening in on the conversation. Esmeralda grew worried, “Where is Merry?”

Eglantine took hold of Esmeralda’s arm to lead her down the hallway, “Come, Essie, I’ll take you to him.”

When Merry saw his mother walk into his room he shouted and opened his arms out to her. Pearl was sitting on the chair next to the bed, perplexed as to why Pippin had brought in her knitting bag.

Esmeralda sat down on the bed and cried, holding her son in her arms wanting never to let go. Her tears fell freely down her cheeks as she whispered in his ear, “My dearest Merry! You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

Eglantine shepherded her brood outside the bedroom so that Esmeralda and Merry could have a private moment.

Merry was also in tears, “I’m so sorry, Mum.”

Esmeralda hugged her baby tight for a long while. She took out her handkerchief and wiped his tears away, “Gracious me, child, what in the Shire do you have to be sorry for?”

Merry sat back onto his pillows wiping his eyes with his hand, “Well, I’ve went and got myself into this fix, and I don’t know how to get myself out now.”

Esmeralda stroked Merry’s damp curls away from his face. “Hush! You didn’t get yourself into any sort of “fix”--your father got himself there.“ Then she smiled, “I’ve finally been able to drag him out of his study. I stole away the key and forced him to take a look at his family--and most importantly his son.” She saw his cheeks were still rosy from sleeping in front of the warm fire. She offered him a mug of water, “I want you to drink up now. It will cool you.” She watched as Merry sat up and sipped out of the mug.

Merry lay back on his pillows to relax and wiped his mouth, “I’m glad you’re here, Mum.”

Chapter Twenty Nine

It was after supper in Paladin’s study that the two adult hobbits met. Paladin sat down in the chair across from Saradoc, who was puffing away as he lit his pipe. The warmth from the hearth set a comfortable tone to the room as Paladin settled himself in for a long and difficult conversation.

Saradoc exhaled a long tendril of smoke, “So, Paladin, how goes the harvest?”

Puffing on his own pipe, Paladin answered, “It goes well. Most of the crops have been sold, or are being sold at the market. I just sent two wagonloads of grapes and a third laden with various other crops your way towards Buckland.”

“Wonderful! I can already taste the excellent wine,” said Saradoc. “I’ve brought some of my best stock for you to taste.”

At this Paladin raised his eyebrows. “You have?” He didn’t let on that he knew of his brother-in-law’s excessive imbibing as Merry grew up. Esmeralda alone convinced him to quit, though Paladin could only guess at how.

Saradoc got up and laid down his pipe, “Half a moment!” Then disappeared out of the room. He soon returned with a small wooden box that easily opened with a latch. Packed within a bit of straw lay two bottles filled with a dark liquid and sealed with a cork.

Paladin went over to his desk and found two small glasses inside a drawer. He was only going to bring one, but then was curious to see if Saradoc would nail himself to the proverbial wall. He took them over to Saradoc who filled one glass half full. “I made a promise to my dearest that I wouldn’t drink. Not even to make a toast.”

Paladin was impressed. “Then I won’t--”

“Paladin, please.” Saradoc implored, “Please make a toast to the child we both love. I truly want the last days of his childhood to be happy ones.”

Paladin hesitated, but he lifted his glass, “To Merry.”

Paladin closed his eyes as he swallowed the wine. “Fine wine indeed,” he said, giving a satisfactory nod. “How old was this bottle?”

Saradoc looked at the bottle closer, “Let’s see“, he turned the bottle until he could read the description, “I believe this bottle was laid down from your very first harvest!”

“Let me see that!” Paladin took the bottle and read the label. “1374...indeed it was.” Paladin looked incredulous at his brother-in-law. “You’ve kept it all this time? Why?”

“To celebrate our most splendid retirements later in life,” Saradoc replied. “There are more bottles, but I’ve decided to open this one to celebrate something else.”

“And what occasion would that be, may I ask?”

“The occasion of a new beginning with my son!” said Saradoc, corking the bottle.

Paladin could hardly believe his ears, “a new beginning?”

“Yes! And I am willing to do whatever it takes to earn my child’s trust once more--to make a fresh start.” Saradoc watched Paladin’s expression. “I thought you would be happy...if not for me, then at least for Merry.”

Paladin’s legs grew weak and sat down in his chair. “I am.”

Saradoc sat down as well. He searched Paladin’s face for anything resembling approval. “But your face betrays you.” He let out a deep breath, “I should have been better prepared for this.”

Paladin looked at Saradoc, “Prepared for what?”

“For, um....how should I say this?” Saradoc tried to choose his words carefully and spoke earnestly, “I was prepared for Merry to be attached to you. You have been the one at his side all these years--I was not. But I was not prepared for was you, Paladin, to be attached...so deeply...to my own son.”

“And should I not have been?” The fire was growing warm inside Paladin, and it wasn’t emanating from the fireplace. “You are saying it was all right for me to wipe the blood from his scraped knees, or to let him cry his heart out on my shoulder, but I wasn’t allowed to love him!”

“No, Paladin, that isn’t what I meant at all. You’ve taken it all wrong!” Saradoc tried to calm him, “I meant--”

“I know what you meant!” Paladin got up from his chair and stormed out of the study, then out of the smial, slamming the door shut behind him.

Chapter Thirty

Pippin stood with his ear pressed to his bedroom door. He could hear raised voices just before he heard the door slam. He couldn’t make out the exact words, but he knew right away that one of the two grown male hobbits was angry. Did papa say something to upset Uncle Saradoc--or did Uncle Saradoc say something to upset papa?

His curiosity got the better of him. Silently he turned the handle and eased his door open just a crack. He tried to take in the view of the hallway, but it was too long. It seemed empty. He eyeballed the other side of the hallway through the crack of the door to make certain no one else was lingering about. The hall was empty. Pippin opened the door further and slipped out of his room.

Taking great care so as not to make a sound, he crept up towards his father’s study on his hand and knees. The door was still open a little. Pippin could see his uncle sitting in a chair with his head in his hands. Thinking his uncle’s attention was elsewhere, Pippin stretched his neck to scope the entire study. He could see his father no where inside the room. Papa’s the one who’s upset, he concluded, and started to back away from the door.

“Laddie!”

Pippin flinched to hear his uncle call to him. He thought to make up a story to tell his uncle in order to get away and look for his own father. But something made him stay. He caught sight of Saradoc’s face. He could readily see his uncle had been in tears.

Now that he’d been found out, Pippin got up onto his feet. “I...I was looking for my Papa.”

“Of course you were. Come here, child.”

Pippin hesitated; this hobbit had hurt his best friend for how many years? But he obeyed his elder as his father taught him. He went over and stood in front of Saradoc. “Yes, Uncle?” Pippin took notice how Saradoc’s face looked weary and flushed from his tears.

Saradoc looked up at Pippin standing before him and spoke with a tired voice, “If I ask you a question, lad, I know you will answer me with the truth, will you not?”

Pippin nodded to his uncle.

Saradoc took a handkerchief from the inside pocket of his vest and wiped his nose with it. He deliberated for a moment, then asked, “Does Merry hate me? Does he hate me to the point of never wanting to come home--home to Brandy Hall?”

Saradoc looked at the young child in front of him. He envisioned his own son at that age. He knew only too well that he had hid behind his study for far too long. He remembered Merry at age eight, but could not recall any laughter, or any other intimate moments between him and his son. Even when it was time for his son to learn his letters he hired the same tutor his brother and cousins employed, using the excuse that Merry would learn quicker alongside his cousins. But wasn’t the lad in line for Master of the Hall deserving of better? Breaking away from his reverie, he focused on Pippin’s response.

“....he’s thought a lot about you since then. I don’t believe--”

“I’m terribly sorry, lad,” Saradoc interrupted, “could you start over, please?”

“Yes, sir. I said...Not anymore. Ever since you visited him at Bag End he’s thought a lot about you. Though I am certain he is still angry with you, I don’t believe he hates you. I don‘t think he understands much of anything at the moment--and I have to say, neither do I.”

Saradoc swallowed the lump in his throat. Were things repairable? “He is angry with me?” Pippin nodded. Saradoc was silent for a few seconds, “Have you and Merry discussed his feelings at all?”

“Yes, sir, just last night we did.” Pippin replied.

“And how does Merry feel about coming home?”

Pippin opened his mouth, then thought better and closed it again.

“Do you think there’s any chance at all for me? I mean, do you think he’ll ever allow me inside his heart?”

He never was one to beat around the issue. Pippin got straight to the point, “He might. Then again he might not. Why are you asking me these questions? I could answer them for Merry--but I won’t. Wouldn‘t you want to put these questions to your own son? He’s in his room with Aunt Essie.”

“Your answer does not cheer the heart of this hobbit, laddie. But I thank you for being honest with me.“ Saradoc took in a deep breath, “I will do just as you said, Peregrin, and thank you.”

Chapter Thirty One

Esmeralda sat and watched her precious son sleep. She did this as often as she could since he was born. Soon enough life would turn him into an adult hobbit, and then....his wife would be the one to sit and watch him sleep.

Merry looked so peaceful as the flickering light from the fire danced upon his face. His eyes were closed and his countenance serene. She was content to just sit and watch him breath.

After several minutes Esmeralda heard a soft knock upon the door and saw it open up a little as the lamp light from the hallway poured inside the dimly lit bedroom. She recognized the face that appeared around the door as her husband’s. “Sara,” she whispered, “what is it that you want?”

Saradoc took his eyes from his sleeping son to his wife, “I only wanted to talk--to Merry.” He closed the door behind him.

“Well, Dear, as you can see he’s fast asleep. Go on to bed.” Her whisper barely left her lips when she felt his hands on her shoulders, gently massaging them. Esmeralda reached her hand up and touched his.

Saradoc bent down to whisper in Esmeralda’s ear, “Then may I speak with you?”

Merry stirred in his sleep. He shifted position, turning over to face his parents.

“Shhhh, Sara! We must go elsewhere and talk or we’ll wake up Merry.”

“I’m already awake.” Merry’s eyes were open, though his voice was heavy with sleep.

“I’m sorry, Merry. It’s my fault--I should have been more careful.” It was Saradoc who replied. “Shall I come back another time?”

Merry shrugged his shoulders. This surprised Saradoc. He ventured, “Then may I stay?”

Merry shrugged again, “Don’t matter.”

“Don’t pester the lad, Sara.” Esmeralda leaned over to feel her son’s forehead. “Does your head still hurt?”

Merry paused, “I don’t think so.” He blinked wearily in thought, “No, I don‘t feel anything.”

There was an uncomfortable silence that followed. Saradoc felt he had to say something. “I know you’re angry with me, and...I guess I’m angry with myself, too. I’ve vented a lot of anger over the years and without realizing it, I aimed it towards you. You took the brunt of it, Merry. I can never forgive myself.”

Merry did not respond right away.

Esmeralda said nothing. She held her breath as her two beloved hobbits squared off.

Merry sighed, “I don’t know if I even feel angry anymore. I don’t know what I feel right now.” His fixed his blue eyes on the little pillow that lay on a chair next to the fireplace. It had been sitting right where he left it before leaving for Frodo’s party.

In his own mind, Saradoc was elated; this was the first real conversation that he and his son had had since Merry was a wee lad. He almost didn’t want to break the spell.

Saradoc watched as Merry curled up in his bed looking spent. He thought his son was actually sleeping until he took his hand and brushed his longish hair away from his eyes. He felt Merry stiffen under his touch. Saradoc didn‘t want to ruining the chance of more talks with his son, “Well I am guessing a weighty conversation is not what you want at the moment. I will wait until you are feeling better and hopefully then we may continue it?” Saradoc watched Merry for a response.Merry said in his thoughts, but do I really want him to? He felt himself take a deep breath and release it. I suppose I’ve been wanting this...I may as well push forward. Before he knew it, he found himself nodding his head.

Why doesn’t he just go away?,

Chapter Thirty Two

Paladin felt every jostling the pony rendered underneath him. Yet the sound of the rhythmic pace calmed the fury in his head. The cloud of unreasoning was lifting in his thoughts as Paladin began the painful process of...letting Merry go. His head reasoned, You’ve gone and got yourself into this mess. You should never have taken that child under your roof. Then his heart would call out, Where would the boy be if I hadn’t? Running wild in the Shire woods no doubt, or falling into the wrong crowd with that Sandyman’s son. He shuddered, No, I couldn’t let that happen with my sister’s flesh and blood. Do I regret all the love and kindness I’ve given over to Merry? Paladin hesitated not one second, No. Never once have I regretted it. Then the one burning question he desperately wanted to know: Why is it you hesitate to let go?

Soon Paladin saw he was approaching Tuckborough, one of the larger towns in the Tookland. In the distance he could make out the lanterns that lit the entrance to the Oak Leaf Inn. He recognized the painted oak leaf sign that hung under the eaves of the thatch roof. His gaze traveled to the shadow of a large oak tree that stood nearby on the far side of the inn.

Paladin knew his cousin Adelard frequented the tavern, as did a certain brother-in-law, Gilbold Boffin, more commonly known as Gillie. It wasn’t drink Paladin sought at the tavern--he wanted someone to talk to. Someone to help him reason with himself--and Addie, his own best friend and cousin, was just the one to seek out. However, if Gillie was there--his loose-tongued brother-in-law, then Paladin could count on being the talk of Tuckborough for weeks to come.

Paladin rode up to the inn and dismounted, tying Fergie up to the hitching post. When he opened the tavern door he immediately felt the warmth of a multiple of friendships deep in discussion pour out. He knew most of the regulars, but there were a few patrons that he guessed were probably transients staying in the Inn. He scanned the tables to find his cousin.

“Ho there, Mr. Paladin!” Paladin turned his head toward the voice, and saw that it was old Orry Grubb. Paladin greeted his elder with a nod. “Good evening, Mr. Orry! Nice to see you’re still up and about in Tuckborough.”

“Aye, laddie, I am!” The hobbit laughed and raised his mug in a salute, “And what brings ye to the Oak Leaf?”

Paladin had to nearly shout in the old hobbit‘s ears to hear his own voice above the din. “I’m looking for Addie--have you seen him?”

Orry pointed with his mug to a large round table nearest to the kitchen. “Over there, lad!”

Paladin smiled to himself as he imagined his own graying hair; I guess when I’m Orry’s age, every male hobbit will seem a lad to me as well! He made his way around and in between other tables and found Adelard laughing and jesting with his friends over a few mugs of ale.

“Paladin!” Adelard got up and took his cousin into a friendly, albeit drunken, hug. “I’m so glad you’re here!”

“Why?”

Adelard paused, momentarily baffled, then shouted, “I don’t know why! I’m just glad is all!” Everyone round the table laughed.

“Sit! Sit!” Adelard grabbed an unused chair from the next table and gave it to Paladin. Then he shouted over the room, “Hollin! An ale for my cousin!”

Paladin reached inside his coat for his pipe, then he remembered he left it back in study. Adelard intuitively knew his friend. “Half a moment!” He said, then patted down his vest pockets. “Ah! Here it is!” He pulled out a small traveling pipe he used when he couldn’t find his usual one.

Paladin nodded his thanks as his cousin tossed him a pouch of leaf. “Fill up, now! I’ve got all night.” He laughed. “No Miss’es to go home to!”

Paladin’s heart went out to his cousin. His wife had died after giving birth to their youngest son, Everard, and hadn‘t married again since. Adelard had dutifully raised his brood single-handedly, although with a bit of help from Eglantine when it came to the lasses.

Hollin came over to their table and slid the mug of ale down towards Paladin--not spilling an ounce of it‘s contents. Paladin first took a sip of ale to wet his dry throat then asked, “When are you coming over for supper?” He didn’t want to get too deep right away--especially with all the prying ears still present.

Before Adelard could answer him, Gillie walked up to the table, “Hullo, good friends and neighbors!” Paladin looked up and saw the cheery face of his older sister’s husband. Then noticing his younger brother-on-law, Gillie added, “And hullo to you, too, Paladin!” Not waiting for an invitation, Gilllie found a chair and swung it backwards up to the table to straddle it, leaning forward on the back of it.

Paladin ignored his loud brother-in-law and took his attention back to Adelard, waiting for an answer to his question.

Adelard laughed, “I promise you next week--Trewsday! Honest this time!”

Paladin smirked, “You said that last week!”

“Yes, well, I happen to know you’ve got your young Buckland visitor there these days.” He noticed the smile leave Paladin’s face. “Did I say something wrong?”

Paladin sighed and cleared his throat. “No.” He took another sip from his mug.

Adelard eyed around the table, “Let’s take a walk and get some fresh air.”

Chapter Thirty Three

Adelard and Paladin walked the outskirts of the town looking for a secluded area so they could speak freely. While they searched, they idly talked of everyday Shire happenings.

Paladin puffed on the loaned pipe as he shuffled along the path with his cousin, “Yes, Pimpernel will become a tween this coming year. Addie, they’re growing up so fast.”

“I can see that.” Adelard agreed. “It seems like only yesterday we were hoping beyond hope that your baby boy would survive his first week and then his first month...and now how old is he--nine?”

“Not quite,” Paladin smiled, “he’s a very precocious eight-year-old!”

Adelard grinned at his friend. “I daresay that if your lad weren’t so hard on Tina, you’d find an excuse to have another four children!” Both hobbits laughed at the notion.

“You’re probably right--someone has to keep up with The Old Took!”

“Ah! Over there!” Adelard nodded in the direction of the blacksmith’s tool shed. Paladin could barely make out the dark the silhouette of a large rock and a small barrel next to the shed.

The two friends sat down, grunting with their weary bones’ displeasure. “All right, Paladin,” Adelard let out a sigh, “out with it!”

Paladin rested his head back against the shed. “The question is....where do I start?”

“Try the beginning.”

Before starting, Paladin made Adelard promise not to tell a soul, but he was only going through the motions. He knew he could trust Adelard. When he was finished, he saw Adelard’s brow wrinkled in concern.

“I don’t know why I continue to feel hostile towards Sara. Maybe I do, but do you suppose I'm just being...jealous?”

Adelard looked at his cousin, “You do have yourself in a fine pickle, Paladin. I could have told you this would happen, but do I blame you? No. I must say that what you did was beyond the call of any father. Yet when you opened your heart to Merry you unwarily opened it to the pain of letting him go.” He reached over and patted Paladin’s hand, seeing his tears glistening in the moonlight. “And I know you feel this pain deeply.”

“I just don’t want to see Merry hurt again,” Paladin wiped the tears away.

“I know that, Paladin, but the lad will be fine. He needs to find his way to his own father. If you don’t let him you’ll only be seen as standing in his way.” Adelard’s expression became far away, “Before Niola died, she lay in my arms. I cried and told her I didn’t want her go. I was being selfish, Paladin. She was suffering and in pain, and all I could think about was how I could keep her from leaving this world.” Adelard reached over again to Paladin’s hand and whispered, “let him go!”

Paladin wiped his eyes again with his handkerchief. “I never imagined it would be this difficult.”

“It wouldn’t be difficult if you didn’t love the lad. Difficult you say? Yes, and what a road Sara will have to tread!” Adelard shook his head. “I never for one moment thought he--”

“Thought what?”

Both Paladin and Adelard jumped to their feet, peering into the darkness to find....Gillie standing nearby. 

Adelard was quicker than his younger cousin was. He none too gently shoved Gillie up against the side of the tool shed and was nearly sorry he did so. Gillie was extremely drunk. “What have you heard?“ Adelard watched as Gillie slumped into a heap on the stone.

“I heard enough!” Gillie staggered to his feet eyeing the barrel he just sat on, “The two of you slinking off into the dark so you could keep the barrel of ale all to yourselves!” Both hobbits winced at Gillie’s breath.

Paladin wasn’t convinced, “What else have you heard?”

“I heard enough!” Gillie was angry in his drunken haze, “I heard you (he pointed his finger onto Paladin’s chest) say that you didn’t know Sara’s road would be difficult! Then I heard you say--” But Gillie never finished his sentence; as he turned toward Adelard, he fell unconscious into his arms.

Adelard laid the drunken hobbit on the ground, “Well, perhaps we have nothing to worry about!”

Paladin helped his cousin with Gillie, “No, but I know my sister, Opal, and he will have something to worry about when she sees him like this!”

Chapter Thirty Four

“Come on, Fergie! Get me home safe, and I’ll feed you all the barley you want in the morning!” Paladin looked above him at the treetops. He could see the twilight moon flickering through the leaves overhead. It was the only light he had to guide him and Fergie in the growing darkness besides the lantern his cousin gave him. He had forgotten to bring these small, but necessary items with him in his angry haste earlier. Paladin politely declined Adelard’s offer of a bed for the night; he now sensed an urgency to get home as quick as possible. He needed to speak with Saradoc...and then with Merry.

Fergie had traveled this trail on many occasions, so Paladin felt confident his pony would get him home, however, Fergie had never traveled this path after nightfall.

His thoughts went ahead of him to when he’d arrive at home. What sort of greeting would he receive from his wife--or his sister? With every jostle towards home, Paladin could feel his heart sink into the same horizon with the moon.

It wasn’t long after that Paladin was rewarded with the welcoming sight of home, and he quickly noted light was still showing through certain windows. As he dismounted and put Fergie up in the barn he tried to summon up all the courage in his bones to face his sister and Saradoc. He threw a blanket over the pony’s back and petted her muzzle, “Thanks, Fergie.” He fed her an apple for her efforts.

He barely had the kitchen door shut when he heard a familiar voice. “Paladin Took!”

If he didn’t know better, he would have swore it was his mother calling him. He hadn’t heard his name called like that since....well, since he was a tween! It made him stop in his tracks.

“Tina! I can’t stay--I must talk with Sara.”

Eglantine glowered at her husband, “Where have you been? We‘ve been worried sick over you!”

Paladin, held her face in his hands, “Tina--I really must speak with Sara...now! Then you and I can sit and talk all you want.” Their eyes locked, “Please?” Eglantine saw the earnest pleading in his eyes that made her nod in assent.

“Thank you!” He said, and kissed her before hastening off to find his brother-in-law.

The first place he looked for Saradoc was the last place he saw him--in the study. Paladin almost didn’t see Saradoc sitting in a far corner until he spotted a plume of smoke rings float up towards the ceiling.

Paladin entered inside the room yet Saradoc seemingly took no notice of him. As he drew nearer Saradoc blew another smoke ring and tossed a small, balled up wad of paper into the circlet. “I’ve fouled thinss up terribly, haven’t I?”

Paladin noted Saradoc's speech was slurred. He took another chair from nearby and placed it alongside his friend, “Yes, Sara, you have.” He saw Saradoc look at him, trying to focus. Then he said further, “and so have I.” Paladin eyed the empty wine bottle that lay on the floor next to Saradoc’s chair and knew he‘d been drinking. His heart went out to Saradoc and his sister. So much hurt and pain.

“My son is sisssteen years old, Paladin--and today was the firsss time I’ve had a real converss....converss....conversshun......with him," Saradoc cackled. “Wha’ do you think of that?”

“Sara...,” Paladin tried to calm him. “Sara, I was wrong to run out on you earlier. I apologize.”

“Apologissse--for what? I’m a fool--my own son will attesss to that.”

“Merry doesn’t think you’re a--” Paladin stopped short. Why am I lying? Merry does think he’s a fool.

“You sseee!” Saradoc stood up and waved an accusatory finger at his friend. “Even you think I’m a fool.”

“I don’t--” Paladin stopped himself again. He snagged the waving finger that Saradoc was flying under his nose. “All right!” He nearly shouted, “So I think you’re behaving like a fool, and so does Merry! But it didn’t have to be that way! You did it to yourself!”

Saradoc was silent. “Then there’ss no sstartin’ over, is there?”

Paladin sat down in the chair across from the inebriated hobbit with his head in his hands, trying to calm the angry thoughts racing through his mind. “There is a ‘starting over‘, Sara, but it will be a hard road--for you, for me, and for Merry. And Merry doesn’t deserve this--this...insecurity.”

Saradoc sat back down in his chair. He almost seemed to sober up right before Paladin. Saradoc stared at the intricate designs in the rug as he tried to sort out his own thoughts. Finally, after a few minutes, he spoke up, “I know thiss will be a ‘hard road’ as you ssay--for all of us...and yet I mean to follow it all the dayss of my life if I have to. If Merry tossses me out on my ear, then sso be it. He will tosss me out on my ear everyday becausse I intend to knock on his door everyday--hoping that ssomeday he will let me insside. And if he never does, then that iss my juss reward.” He wiped tears from his eyes. “And right now, all I know, Paladin, iss that I need help...I need a friend. I know I’ve been as good a friend to you as I’ve been a father to Merry, but if....” Saradoc’s voice became broken as the tears surfaced. “if you...can forgive...”

Paladin imagined he saw the part of Saradoc he knew before Merry was born. He reached his arms around the hobbit and embraced him. “I forgive you, old friend. Welcome back!” Paladin held his friend until he stopped crying.

“I’m still a fool, aren’t I?”

Paladin sensed Saradoc was in no condition to talk about anything serious, let alone his son. “Sara, let us talk more in the morning, all right?”

“But don’t forget you’re dealing with a fool!” Saradoc sniffed as he stood up. “Everyone knows you can’t deal with a fool! There‘s no fool like an old fool, and I ccertainly am a...a...I'm one of them!”

“Sara, let me help you to your room.”

Saradoc was still going on and on about fools when Paladin led him into the guestroom. “Shhhh, Sara! It’s past midnight! You’ll wake up Essie and the children!”

Saradoc put his finger to his mouth, imitating Paladin, “Shhhh!”

Once Paladin had swung open the door, Saradoc staggered forward into the darkness of the room. Paladin watched helplessly as his brother-in-law pitched forward, sending a crashing noise down the hallway.

Paladin carefully inched forward to find Saradoc lying on the floor cackling about what a fool he was for tripping. “Sara! I’m so sorry! We must have left a few things out when we cleaned up earlier.” Paladin was kicking himself for once again not bringing a lantern with him, though he couldn’t very well hold both a lamp and Saradoc simultaneously.

He helped Saradoc onto the bed and covered him with a blanket. Paladin noticed his sister wasn’t in bed. No sooner had Paladin put the blanket over Saradoc that he began snoring.

Note: I know I’m using the word “fool” a lot. It was part of the clean up, and yet part of Saradoc‘s awakening. Sorry to those who were offended by it.  Thanks to everyone for hanging in there--we're coming near the end. :-)

Chapter Thirty Five

Paladin left Saradoc to sleep off his wine and then went to Merry’s room. He remembered seeing light inside this particular window as he rode up the lane earlier. .

He saw the source of the light was the fire in the hearth along with a candle sitting on the table by the window. As he quietly closed the door behind him he recognized the voice of his sister, Essie, humming a lullaby from the chair where she sat--apparently half asleep herself. Nearby on the bed lay a slumbering Merry covered with his favorite quilt. Paladin observed how at peace he looked. Gone were the dark circles under his eyes and color had come back into his face.

Not wanting to break the enchanting spell that bound mother and son, Paladin crept to the wardrobe and pulled out a smaller blanket and spread it over his sister.

Esmeralda startled and opened her eyes. “Paladin!” She whispered, “Where have you been? We’ve all been worried about you!”

“I would tell you, but I promised a certain lady that I’d tell her first,” he whispered back, crouching down next to her chair. “How’s Merry doing?”

This question brought a smile to Esmeralda’s lips, which Paladin interpreted as good news. “He’s doing much better. His headache gone.” Esmeralda smiled at her brother, “Thank you, Paladin.”

Paladin was puzzled, “For what?”

“All the love you and your family have given to my son over the years....I wouldn’t know where to begin to repay you.”

“There was never any payment required.” Paladin was hurt that his sister would think he would ever ask for something in return for simply being a father.

“I know that, and that’s what makes it so hard to ask what I‘m about to ask,” she said.

“You want me to step back and let Sara get to know Merry--is that it?”

“No--not to step back,” she answered, “That would tear Merry to pieces. If you would...I’d like for you to encourage Merry to allow Sara into his life. He listens to you, Paladin. Hopefully one day Merry will be as close to Sara as he is to you right now.”

Paladin thought on this for a moment. The pain of letting go...

Esmeralda thought she saw a twinge of grief in her brother’s eyes. She thought for sure that she had broken his heart with her words.

Paladin looked at his dearest sister, “I love Merry as I do my own son, and because I love him, I will do as you ask. Every boy needs to know his own father.” He added, “but may I ask for one thing?”

“What is that?”

“That Merry be allowed to continue his visits here.”

A hint of a smile appeared on Esmeralda‘s lips, “Only on one condition.”

Paladin wondered at his sister‘s request. “What would that be?”

“That Pippin is allowed to do the same.” She smiled, “He’s old enough to spend time away from his mother and father, is he not?”

“Essie, you don’t know what you ask!” Paladin grinned, “Pippin would be only too happy to get away from his ever-meddlesome parent. We seem to interfere with his schemes and antics. You must always keep in mind that he’s a bright lad who knows his way around adults--and can be a bit of a challenge at times.”

“I know that,” she smiled. “That’s what makes Pippin so lovable. He’s as irrepressible as his father was when he was a lad.” She took on a conspiratorial expression, “I seem to remember when I was a lass, there was a certain young lad who gave our father plenty of grief with his behavior!” They both laughed quietly.

Paladin stood up with a bit of difficulty, feeling the cartilage creek inside his knees. “Oy, it’s when I get up like this that I remember I’m not a young lad anymore!” He took the blanket that had covered his younger sister before their conversation, and put it over her shoulders once more, and kissed her forehead. “Go to sleep.” Then whispered in her ear, “You’ll need it to deal with Sara in the morning!”

Chapter Thirty Six

The colorful autumn leaves no longer clung to their tree limbs. Instead, they littered the ground everywhere and scattered with the gusting wind. Eglantine looked out her kitchen window and gazed at the leaves turning colors. She was sad that summer was over; it was her favorite season. Summer was the time of year when children were able to go outside and enjoy themselves under the warm sunshine. Feeling the soft green turf under their feet as they ran laughing and playing to their heart’s content. She only saw autumn as the in-between part to what usually ended up being a harsh winter. Someone, somewhere in the Shire would not survive to see the next spring...that was the way of winter.

Eglantine shook her gloomy thoughts from her mind and saw again the cool, sunny autumn morn. Working next to her in the kitchen were her daughters and her sister-in-law, Essie. Though for Eglantine, Esmeralda was more than a mere sister-in-law. She considered her more like a sister. Eglantine felt free to claim her as such since all she had while growing up were brothers. Her thoughts were interrupted as clinking dishes and clattering pots announced that breakfast was ready to be served. She patted her youngest daughter’s shoulder, “Go and tell the others breakfast is ready.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Pervinca put down the platter of flat-cakes she was holding and wiped her hands on her apron. She was eager to taste the sumptuous breakfast she had just helped to cook. Hopefully everyone would notice how fluffy they were this morning.

As she entered the hallway she was nearly knocked down by two very hungry young hobbits. “Out of my way,” said the smaller one.

“Pippin!” Eglantine scolded her son, “Mind your manners!”

Merry, at least, offered an apology, “I’m sorry Pervinca--it’s just that I’m starving this morning!”

Eglantine smiled at her nephew, “Well, I’m happy to see you’re up and feeling better, Merry.”

Today was the first day in a long time that he didn’t have a headache--not even a tiny bit. His stomach was more than ready for solid food.

“Thank you, Auntie. My stomach is happy, too.” He and Pippin started to help themselves to breakfast.

“Merry, you must mind your manners as well," Esmeralda chided her own son. "Wait for everyone else to sit down.”

Eglantine looked down into the hallway, speaking to her children, “What is keeping your father from the breakfast table?”

“He’s talking,” Pippin answered. “I’m hungry, momma. Can’t we go ahead and start?”

Eglantine didn’t consider it good manners to begin a meal without the head of the family at the table, but what else was she to do? Right now there was a table full of hungry children and guests to feed and it was equally discourteous to keep them waiting. “Very well, everyone go ahead and start breakfast,” she said, and went off in search of Paladin.

She found her husband exactly where she thought he’d be. She also heard another voice in response to his.  They spoke in a low volume as if the dialogue was for their ears alone. She knew in her heart the subject was Merry, and decided it was best not to disturb them. They would come to breakfast whenever their discussion was finished.

“I think you ought to ask him yourself.” Paladin was trying to convince Saradoc to speak to Merry about when he intended to return to Brandy Hall.

“He won’t want to talk to me,” Saradoc covered his eyes with one hand--a residual effect from the night before. Hs stomach was sour and his head throbbed. He sighed at his discomfort, “Now I have an idea of what Merry’s been going through this past week.”

“Would you rather I spoke to him?” Paladin made an offer, he half hoped Saradoc would take it.

“No!” Saradoc answered nervously, “No...I’ll speak to him. That is, as soon as I can speak and not feel as if my head will burst!” Then he said, “Would you consider being present? I have a suspicion he will feel safer with you nearby, and....so will I.”

It wasn’t until after lunch when Saradoc was able to think about food and not feel too nauseated. He washed his face and padded out to the to the kitchen to pour himself a cup of tea.

“Well look who’s gracing our presence!” Eglantine smirked. She and Pearl sat at the table slicing mushrooms in preparation for preserving. “We’re getting ready to cook our mushroom harvest for our winter food stores--care for any mushroom stew with bits of meat?” Then a sly grin came to her face, “or would you simply prefer eggs and sausage with lots of gravy?”

Saradoc held his stomach and sighed. He was reconsidering if he should have stayed in his room. Obviously, his sister-in-law was having a laugh at his expense. He deserved it. “No, thank you,” he answered.

“Sit down, Sara,” Eglantine laughed. “I’ve got a pot of tea boiling just for you.”

“Thank you, Tina.” Saradoc accepted the cup of tea Eglantine poured and set in front of him. “Have you seen my wife?”

Eglantine nodded towards the door, “Yes, she’s outside with the children snapping beans and shelling peas for preserving. Though I suppose my Pippin is eating more beans than he’s snapping.”

She leaned in closer. “Go on,” she whispered. “It’s safer with the children around! She’s not apt to think your head a green bean and snap it off!” She smiled, watching Saradoc grimace when she emphasized the word ‘snap’. “Just be extra nice to her today.”

“Thank you.....I think.” He mumbled the last part.

Chapter Thirty Seven

Saradoc opened the door and was instantly met by the gust of a cool breeze....and light stabbing his post-hangover eyes. He shaded them with one hand, quickly shutting the door behind him with the other when he heard Eglantine shriek something about cork stoppers blowing off the table and having to wash them again. A slight hint of a grin could be seen on his face.

The afternoon remained clear, but a blast of cool air sent a chill through Saradoc that reminded him that appearances can be deceiving. He wished he’d brought his cloak but decided the warmth of the sun should warm him up soon enough. He would weather the lower temperatures. He rolled down his shirtsleeves and pulled up his shirt collar against his neck.

He found his wife and the children doing just as Eglantine said, but she forgot to mention the smiles and laughter. Something stirred in his heart. Saradoc felt he wanted to preserve this moment in his mind forever. He stood rooted for a few minutes and surveyed the ring of chairs where his wife, his son Merry, two of his nieces and his nephew sat wrapped in their own cloaks and blankets, all enjoying the afternoon sun.

He thrust his hands deep into his pockets as another chilly breeze swept by his bare hands. He could barely make out the hint of a tale that his nephew was recounting. The wind would blow snatches of the high-pitched voice and scatter the words before they reached his own ears. He watched as the boy became animated with his hands and expression on his face. The rest of the children paused in their snapping--being enchanted by the charm of a charmer. One niece put a hand to her mouth before erupting in laughter, as did the rest of the group, signaling the end of the story. Saradoc was a little sad that it had ended. Watching this little group for the last few minutes brought joy to his weary bones.

At last he approached the ring of chairs. There were three baskets that sat on the ground in the center of the ring. One of these was set up for the discarded ends from the peas and bean shoots; the other two were set up to keep the peas and beans separate.

His wife looked up and squinted in the sunlight, “Hullo, Sara.”

Saradoc heard the restrained admonishment in her voice. “Hullo, love,” he said as he bent down and kissed her.

One of the girls chuckled, “It’s going to take a little more than that, Uncle Sara, if you want to make up!”

“Pimpernel Took!” Pervinca chided her older sister.

The old Saradoc would have shrunk away and buried himself in his work inside his study. The new Saradoc--which was actually the Saradoc before his firstborn had died--emerged strong. He smirked, jesting back with his niece, “And how would such a sweet maiden know about that?”

Pim blushed, but quickly recovered. She could take it as well as dish it out. “Well, not much in that area I’m afraid, but all I know is that if my husband tipped a bottle--and without so much as inviting me--he’d have some mighty paying up to do!” This brought a chorus of laughter from all around--even Esmeralda smiled--except Merry. Pim poiinted to an empty chair her father occupied before heading back out to the fields, “Why don’t you sit with us for a while?” She took the blanket lying on the seat and tossed it to her uncle.

Saradoc quickly pulled out one of his hands from his pockets and caught the blanket mid-air. Applause from the young hobbits--again, with the exception of one whom made it seem as if his hands were a bean-mill. Merry ignored the stares from all around, focusing on the task at hand. He then tossed the results of his handiwork into the separate waiting baskets. Saradoc watched his son’s hands work feverishly; all to in aid to avoid a dialogue with his father. Saradoc knew that humor was the prevailing sentiment today and decided to use it to break the ice. He wrapped the extra blanket around his shoulders and sat down in the chair. “Must I work that fast? I don’t believe I can keep up with that one!”

“Then you’re sacked!” Pim teased with a wry grin. She loved her dearest cousin and wanted to see an amicable end to this silence.

“Goodness, then how in the Shire will I provide for my family? My nineteen-year-old niece has just given me the boot!”

After an uneasy moment Pippin piped up. “I know!” He said, “I will hire you to shovel the cow and pony dung in the barn for me!”

Saradoc could see Merry turning his head in the other direction hiding his smile, and all the while still working the beans sitting in his lap. The ice was melting...some. “Why thank you, Master Pippin! Does this employment include feeding the chickens and milking the cows?”

“Why yes it does!” Pippin added matter-of-factly, “and it also includes making my bed and cleaning my room everyday.”

The laughter died down and silence followed once again. Nervous tension threatened to fill the air. It was Pervinca who broke it this time. “Are you returning to Buckland tomorrow, Uncle?”

“I had planned on it,“ he answered, looking at Esmeralda, “but plans can always be changed.”

Esmeralda sighed, “Well...I would like to stay on another day or two. Would that be possible?”

“Then it is done--if Paladin and Tina are able to put up with us for two additional days.”

“Good,” Said Pervinca, “Aunt Essie, I would love it if you would help us with our jam preserves! All I can imagine these days is the taste of your blackberry jam on my tongue!”

“Mmmmmm!” From all the children, though Merry was still quiet. He was still busy with the beans, but at the same time he seemed to be running out of steam.

Silence followed yet again, and then Merry finally spoke, “My mum makes the best blackberry jam in all of Buckland.”

Saradoc was delighted--yet was careful with his own response, “That she does!” A twinkle shone in his eyes, “Spread over a hot biscuit with a pat of butter!”

Pervinca’s stomach growled, “Please don‘t! Speaking of food like that--and just before teatime!”

The banter continued back and forth between Saradoc and the children, except for Merry--his little statement would be all he’d say to the group--or to his father this afternoon.

Chapter Thirty Eight

Later that evening in Paladin‘s little smial, everyone had a job in the preserving process: naturally, it was Eglantine, Esmeralda, Pearl, and Pim who prepped and cooked the beans, peas, and jars. With a bit of wax and cork stoppers, Pervinca sealed the jars, Merry poured extra hot wax over the stoppers, and using a small sturdy stick, Pippin would write into the wax the date it was prepared. It was up to Paladin and Saradoc to carry the cases of cooled preserves to the cellar.

Merry would occasionally help his uncle and father when his tasks allowed it, yet because he was still recuperating some, he would quickly grow tired. On one such trip, he nearly dropped the box of preserves he was carrying. Saradoc, who had just piled his box on top of others, caught the box as it slipped from Merry’s grip and helped him ease it to the cellar floor.

Saradoc sat down next to Merry on the floor. “Are you all right?”

Merry grew tense, but nodded. For a moment neither spoke. After a while Saradoc could bear the silence no longer and started to get up. A sharp pain shot through his knee he had injured over the summer and he fell back down. Merry wondered at this, but said nothing.

Just then Paladin walked in carrying a box of newly cooled jars. “All right, you two slackers! Get up and give me your money’s worth!”

Saradoc joked in return, “Help me get up first, you taskmaster!” He reached up as Paladin took his hand and made to stand up, but grimaced at the pain and fell back again.

Paladin noticed the swelling in Saradoc’s knee. “Sara, what happened to your knee?”

“Nothing--just help me get up.”

“I will not! Look at it!” Paladin recalled Saradoc at Bag End, “Were you not using a walking stick back a week ago?”

“Well, if you must know, I had a minor scrape is all. Now help me up.” Saradoc held forth his hand.

Paladin shook his head, “You‘re going to hurt yourself again!“ He gripped Saradoc’s hand and supported his upper arm for better leverage, then lifted. Portly Saradoc weighed just a tad more than Paladin and once more fell back onto the cellar floor.

“Merry, would you be willing to help an old ass?” Paladin asked. Merry said nothing, but stood himself up and took his father’s other arm.

Paladin looked at his nephew. “On my count--one, two, three!” Both he and Merry tugged at Saradoc’s arms until he was able to stand.

“Ahh!” Saradoc winced as he put his weight on his leg.

“Sara, why are you putting yourself through this?” Paladin watched as his brother-in-law limped towards the door.

“I’m fine, Paladin. I am going to sit for a minute, but I don’t want Esmeralda to see me like this.” Saradoc peered around the doorway ensuring no one was within earshot.

“You don’t think Essie’s going to notice you limping right past her? Give her more credit than that!”

“I just don’t want her to worry after me,” Replied Saradoc, “She won’t notice a thing; she’s enjoying the company of all the lasses here.”

Paladin and Merry observed as Saradoc limped up to the threshold of the kitchen. He then straightened up and then walked out towards the main hallway. Paladin and Merry exchanged amazed looks. Neither of them could detect a limp.

“Sara--you should go and sit down before you injure your knee further!” Paladin snorted a laugh as he heard his sister’s voice scolding her husband.

Even Merry smirked a little, “Nothing gets by Mum.”

“I think maybe he’s trying too hard--do you think?” Paladin looked at Merry.

Merry looked down and shrugged, “I don’t know. Perhaps he shouldn’t be trying at all.”

“I wonder at that, too, Merry--and perhaps he shouldn’t be let off the hook so easily. But this I do know: he does love you.”

“If he truly loved me, this impasse wouldn‘t exist.”

“True,” Paladin answered. “But people do change--including old, worn out hobbits! Someday when you and Pippin are all grown up, I am willing to wager that both of you will make grievous errors against others or against your own children, and then ask pardon for it. Making mistakes doesn’t stop just because you’re out of your tweens.” Paladin patted Merry’s shoulder as he made to leave. “Just think about it, all right?”

Chapter Thirty Nine

It was dark in Merry’s room and well past midnight, yet it wasn’t much more than an hour ago that most everyone had retired to their beds. The evening was full of hard labor with cooking mushrooms, beans, peas and the glass jars in preserving for the winter food stores. Afterwards, the clean up process took them through to the midnight hour. Eglantine was quite pleased with the progress made that day, and rewarded everyone’s effort with a large batch of sugar cookies.

Presently, Merry lay awake in his bed. He was exhausted and felt he would have no problem falling asleep right away. Easier said than done. He tried twisting this way or turning that way, but to no avail. His legs and arms ached, but Merry was still grateful it wasn‘t his head that was aching. He lay on his back, arms behind his head with eyes staring up at the ceiling. He felt he had been doing more and more of this lately.

He was thinking about his father as his uncle had suggested earlier, when he heard the door handle turn. Unsure of who else would be up this late--or this early, he brought his arms down and lay as still as a stone; pretending to be asleep.

Whoever it was brought a candle with them. Merry guessed at this because his eyelids grew bright. He heard the person shuffle with a limp as they stepped over to grab a chair. My father!, he thought. Merry opened one eye to a slit and stole a peek. He watched his father struggle with the chair. Then he closed his eye again when he saw Saradoc reach out to.....Merry felt him bring the blankets up to his chin and tuck in the rest of the covers around him. He heard his father settle into the chair with a heavy sigh.

“Why are you here?” Merry spoke in a low voice.

Saradoc jumped when he heard Merry’s voice, “I’m sorry, Merry--I didn’t mean to wake you.” He felt his heart thumping inside his chest, “I only wanted to sit and watch over you a while. I’ll leave if you want.”

Merry still wasn‘t so sure he wanted his father present, “Well...I’m not used to having anyone watch me sleep. I'd feel your eyeballs all over me.”

“I understand.” Saradoc got up from the chair.

Merry watched as his father again make a face when he put his weight on his leg. “How did you injure your knee? You seemed fine when I left home in Wedmath.”

Saradoc turned red at the ears. “I, um....I....” He stammered. At a strange look from Merry, Saradoc came out with it. “Very well--I fell out of your little cart.”

Merry looked incredulous at his father. “You mean my little wagon? You fell out of my little wagon? How did you manage this?”

Saradoc became very sheepish, “When I found out that you were gone for good, I would sit in my study while memories of you filled my head. The memory of the last time you rode your wagon kept playing in my mind. I could again see you and Merimas dragging it up the hillside and then jump inside as it rolled back down towards the stables. I could hear you squealing with laughter as if you were a ten-year-old again.” Saradoc smiled.

Merry let a quiet moment pass. “I haven’t rode down the hill in my wagon since I was twelve. You used to watch me?”

“Through the window,” Saradoc replied. “Very few things in this world bring me more pleasure than to hear you laugh, Merry. Your laughter reminds me of the Brandywine in spring let loose after an icy winter. It’s the sound of a young bird as he spreads out his wings for the first time.”

Merry never knew this. A part of him was angry with Saradoc for not sharing this part of his life with him. The other part was amused that his father would go to such lengths in order to touch the memory of his son with a wild ride down a hillside.

Saradoc watched the conflict upon his child’s face and at once understood the stress he was under. “Merry, please...don’t fret over coming home right away. I can see you need time away still. Come home when you’re ready, but whatever you do, please stop by every now and then to see your mother. You don’t even have to speak to me, but please visit your mum.”

“Then I can stay with Uncle Paladin?”

Saradoc smiled to see Merry suddenly appear more relaxed, “Of course. That is an excellent choice. And I happen to know that your auntie and Paladin are the only ones in Middle Earth that love you as much as your Mum and I do.”.

“Tell me one thing,” Merry cringed a little. “Please tell me you rode the little wagon after nightfall and not during the daylight where all of our relations could see you.”

Saradoc was now only too pleased to tell his tale to his son. “Well, to tell you the truth--I wasn’t alone! It was Cousin Marmadas and myself along with a couple mugs of brew inside us that took us up the hill. It was a grand flight down the hill I’ll tell you! But when we reached the bottom--all I can say is I fared better than Marmadas!” Saradoc laughed and looked over to Merry, but lo and behold the boy had fallen asleep. A hint of a smile was on his lips.

Once again, Saradoc tucked his son in bed, kissed his forehead, and quietly limped out the door.

Chapter Forty

One week later, Merry sat under a large Birch not far from the Barn. He was deep in thought as he watched the fluffy white clouds sail by. A chilly breeze swept past him and so he wrapped his cloak tighter around himself to keep warm. The colorful leaves were more plentiful than they had been the week before. Merry was lost in his thoughts when someone strolled up.

"Hullo, Merry! Cloud gazing again?”

Merry looked up at the figure the voice belonged to and shaded his eyes to see better, but it wasn’t necessary. He recognized the voice of this hobbit and instantly knew who it was.

“Hullo, Uncle!” Merry saw he was holding two mugs with steam rising from each.

“Care for some tea?” Paladin leaned down to hand a mug to his nephew.

“Thank you!” Merry took the mug in his cold hands and sipped the hot liquid, nearly burning his lip in the process.

“Careful!” Paladin cautioned him. Keeping an eye on the contents in his own mug, Paladin cautiously sat down next to the teenager. “How do you like being an official member of this family?” It wasn’t totally official; Merry would always be a Brandybuck, and would return to his own family in the spring. Of course he’d visit at Yule.

“I rather like it.“ Merry actions spoke louder than his words as he leaned onto his uncle and lay his head upon his shoulder. “I wish you were my father all the time.”

Paladin smiled, “That’s a nice wish, Merry.” Paladin found himself cloud-gazing as well. “I must admit there have been times I’ve dreamed you were my son.” Merry looked at his uncle. Paladin continued, “but we both know that’s all it is--a dream.” He smiled, “I can’t tell you how many times I’ve told others that I have five children!”

“But I am your son.” Merry interjected, wanting to believe it all himself. “For all intents and purposes, you are my father--not my uncle.”

Paladin put his arm around his nephew and brought him closer. “I love you, Merry, as if you were my own flesh and blood. But we both know there is change in the air.”

“Why must it change like this? Why couldn’t he have stayed in his study without complicating things?”

“Now Merry!” Paladin squeezed him in a tighter hug, “You do have a father, and he wants you back as soon as you are able. He loves you, Merry--and don’t forget your mother. Why, not a month ago I had a certain sixteen-year-old crying on my shoulder that he wanted his father to love him and take an interest in him. Do you remember who that was?”

“No.”

Paladin laughed, “Yes you do!”

“I said all of that because I didn’t know it would all come true.”

“Well...I suppose it has,” said Paladin. “Isn’t that a good thing, though?”

It took Merry a few seconds to decide, “I’m not sure--and I don’t think I ever will be.”

“Perhaps, but isn’t your Brandybuck inquisitiveness coming out? Don’t you want to know for sure--beyond all doubt that you have honestly made an effort to get to know the hobbit that sired you?”

“I dare to say that that is all he’s done so far.”

Paladin nudged his nephew, “be reasonable, Merry!”

“I am being reasonable! I’m reasoning that after I make an effort to get to know him he’s going to trot back into his study and forget all about me again.”

“Didn’t he tell you the story of how he hurt his knee before he left?”

“Yes--and what an embarrassment.”

Paladin chuckled, “Embarrassment? I will tell you that when he told me that story I almost split my gut laughing!” Merry eyed his uncle. “Merry, I was so happy to hear that tale! I knew then that the grumpy-old Saradoc that you’ve suffered through your whole life was gone--never to return! That’s the Sara I grew up with--that’s the Sara that was my best friend as a young lad.” Merry’s eyes went wide. “You didn’t know that, did you?”

Merry shook his head. “You and my father were...best friends?”

Paladin nodded. “Well--yes, after Addie he was. But I can tell you he was completely mad! When we were older, doing things like riding down a hillside half-smashed in a wagon was normal for him!” Paladin smiled at the memories. “Between your father, cousin Addie, and myself, we went tramping everywhere in the Shire.” Then Paladin grew serious. “Please promise me one thing, Merry.”

“What is that?”

“That you will make an effort. An effort in allowing him to get to know you. At least try to, please? For you old uncle’s sake?”

Merry paused for a moment and sighed. “I will...for you.”

Paladin hugged Merry closer, “That’s all I ask. You won’t regret it.”

Merry enjoyed the comfort of his uncle’s shoulder. “That remains to be seen, but I will give him a try as you say.”

The two hobbits, young and--not so young, sat in comfortable silence for a long while. Merry basked in the warmth of his dear uncle before going back inside the smial. Merry savored these last few moments; it all seemed so sad to him. He looked up at his uncle, “I will always love you as my father. And there’s nothing you can say to stop me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

~~The End!~~

EPILOGUE: Just wanted to thank all those who stayed with the story and stuck it out to the end! That is an accomplishment!

What I wrote was basically a dark story, and a very dark period in Merry’s life. The reason why I wrote the second story was so that there would be time for Merry and Saradoc to reconcile and begin building some sort of relationship before he goes off with Frodo on his mission...quest...thing! Yet I still maintain that in The Two Towers it was Merry who made a big deal of Theoden being ‘like a father’. And in Fellowship of the Ring, Conspiracy Unmasked, Merry talks about someone alerting ‘the Master of the Hall’ about the intrusion of the Black Riders. Why didn’t he just say ‘my father’? I know it’s all speculation on JRRT’s part (bless him for leaving gaping holes in his fiction!), but those are some of the reasons why I wrote Merry’s life as I did.

The next story isn’t quite so dark, but it shows the relationship that Merry and Saradoc have built at that point.

Thanks again!

Pippinfan