This story takes place well into Merry's tweens, and touches on the subject of death and dying.  This is a "short" story--considering my last one!  MD was(is) my one and only monster story.  My stories normally average ten chapters (more or less).

Disclaimer: These beloved hobbit characters belong to JRR Tolkien. I only write as a hobby, and I am certainly not a medical professional, so the medical practice and advice my healer gives is only conducive to the story.

For a little insight, Merry is 26, Pippin is 18, and Frodo is 40.... Enjoy...

Master of Comforts

Chapter One - Ashes to Ashes

Saradoc stood at the foot of the grave pit gazing into its depths, and holding a fistful of earth. His face wore no expression as his thoughts meandered back to the days of his childhood and youth. Deep inside the pit lay a wooden box about the size of a grown hobbit. Several feet behind him stood his wife, Esmeralda, all bundled up, and next to her was their own son, Merry, wearing his wool winter overcoat--hands in the pockets and collar up to ward off the frigid air. It was early December and the air was crisp and cold. Saradoc felt the first few drops of freezing rain falling upon his head. He pulled up the hood from his cloak and then dropped the earth onto the box below. He turned and walked away. The gloom of the weather befitted the gloom in his heart. It was on Friday that Old Rory had passed in his sleep. Saradoc hadn’t remembered feeling so alone in his life, even as his wife and son walked at his side following the burial wagon back towards Brandy Hall.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Back inside the warm Hall, Saradoc pulled off his cloak and handed it to a waiting servant. Barely pausing, he walked on towards his office followed by Merry. Merry was just a couple feet behind his father but that was just enough time and space for Saradoc to enter his study and then shut the door hard behind him. Some years ago, Merry would have seen this act as his father not wanting anything to do with him, but these days he was undaunted. Merry drew back only enough to avoid the door hitting his nose, but then he recovered and turned the door handle, entering the office right behind his father.

Saradoc stood at the window looking out at the landscape of the Brandywine River and further out to the distant fields of the Marish beyond it. “Merry, I will no longer be giving you abstract lessons in the manner of being Master of the Hall.” He turned, looking at his son sadly, “It seems I am now the incumbent and you are the prospective with your own responsibilities. You will be expected to perform your own tasks from your own office.” He turned to gaze out of the window once more.

Merry blinked in slight surprise but remained where he was. “I am not here for more lessons, Dad--or to request my own office.”

Saradoc fully turned to his son. “Then why are you here?”

“Just....because.” Merry began to unbutton his coat. “Must I have a specific reason? If so, the reason should be obvious to you--it is to me.”

Saradoc cast his eyes to the ground, “Merry, I don’t want to seem ungrateful--”

“Then don’t!” Merry interrupted. “Don’t say what I know you’re about to say.”

“How do you know what I’m about to say?”

Merry draped his coat neatly over the back of the sofa and sat down, “After living here on and off for the past few years, I’ve learned a few things. More notably I’ve learned what you’re going to say, and when.”

Saradoc turned back towards the view in the window and sighed, “Then let me stagger you.” He walked away from the window and sat on the sofa next to Merry. “I will tell you what I am feeling right now, right this minute. I feel quite sad and alone.” He folded his twitching hands together, “I don’t know what to say to anyone--apart from that, I feel nothing. And that is what frightens me, Merry. That’s why I am here.” He rubbed his forehead in frustration, “At least I had the comfort of a flask when your....brother died.”

Merry watched as his father’s eyes welled with tears. “You may not have the comfort of a flask now....but you have me.”

Saradoc wiped his eyes and sat for a minute gazing at his nearly grown son. He leaned over towards Merry and embraced him, “Yes...” he said, considering in thought the enormity of forgiveness from his own son. “I have you. And I intend to never let go.”

Merry smiled sadly. He remembered too well his own chaotic childhood and never having this sort of closeness with his dad. His forgiveness was truly sincere, but it was still difficult to forget at times. “Let’s get out of the office here and take tea in the dining room with Mum. She’s feeling lonely, too.” Merry handed his father a handkerchief.

Saradoc accepted it and wiped his eyes, “I’m being selfish again, aren’t I?” He sniffed, looking about the dusty shelves of the bookshelves. “I suppose this is the last place I should allow myself to be.”

Merry nodded in agreement, “Your whole family needs you, Dad.”

Saradoc patted his son’s hands, getting up from the sofa. Together, both hobbits ambled out to the dining room.

Chapter Two - Memories and Memoirs

Saradoc was stunned at the enormous crowd of family members having tea in the dining room. Old Rory was a well liked hobbit and had friends in every corner of the Shire. It heartened him that they all found time to bid farewell to one of the Hall’s best Masters.

The warm welcome and handshakes from the guests milling about equally astounded Saradoc as he made his way through the room. It was Merry who answered the guests with warm replies as he continued to guide his father towards the dining table. A servant held out Saradoc’s chair for him to sit at the table laden with an assortment of biscuits and cakes. There were trays at either end of the long table that held tea urns along with milk and honey.

Before Saradoc sat down, he bid the guests a warm welcome, “Good afternoon, everyone.” Those were all the words his tongue could find to say.

“Good afternoon,” came the guests reply. He looked about the long table at all the familiar faces he knew and loved. At his left was his lovely wife, Esmeralda. Her brown tresses now mingled with silver, as were his own. Upon his right was his son, Merry, and going down further he saw his brother Merimac and nephew Berilac. Next were Cousin Marmadas and his family, and cousin Seredic and his brood. Coming back up the other side was his brother-in-law, Paladin, representing himself and an aging Thain, and with him his wife, Eglantine, their son and two of their daughters. Sitting between Esmeralda and Pearl was cousin Frodo. It was mostly a quiet affair with quiet conversation. Mostly it was the elders recalling joyous or loving moments with Old Rory, and the stories were treasured by all.

After a respectable amount of time had passed, the junior hobbits excused themselves one by one, each to their own activities. Merry and Frodo, joined by their Took cousins walked the garden path adjacent to the Brandywine, seeking shelter from the cold breeze inside one of the semi-enclosed verandas.

The benches inside provided more than enough seating room yet Pippin continued to pace around. As the rest of the group found seats (very cold seats!) they began to catch up on news of one another.

“This is a turnabout, Merry,” Pimpernel said, taking in the sights around her. “For once, we are visiting you at your home--while you’re here!” Chuckles from Merry and the group. Then she said further, “This is quite pleasant. How are you faring these days in the Hall?”

It had been a while since he last compared ‘before and after’ thoughts in his head. “As well as can be, I suppose,” he replied. He thought more on his cousin’s remark and added, “I’ve found that while I’m not perfect, neither is my dad.” Then he grinned, “and guilt can be a wonderful thing!” They all laughed.

“You’ll never change, Merry Brandybuck,” Pervinca laughed. “You’ve always been a little on the naughty side.”

Merry laughed, “And you’ve always been right behind Pippin and I!”

“I’m not naughty! I’m just slightly....willful at times.” Pippin smirked, gazing out of the open window.

“You needn’t mimic the neighbors here, Pip,” said Pimpernel. She watched as Pippin continued to walk from one window to the next, sit down, then get up and start the cycle all over again. “Pippin, why won’t you sit down?” Her nose was turning red from the cold; her hands still clung to each other inside her muff.

Pippin had his hands in his pockets, watching the lazy Brandywine drift on by. “I’m not bothering anyone, am I?” He covered his mouth as he coughed.

“No--well, yes. Your pacing around inside here is bothering me. Are you feeling well?”

Pippin did feel a bit out of sorts but disliked this sort of attention. He bored his green eyes into his elder sister’s as he submitted to her wishes.

Frodo, puffing on his pipe, watched the young hobbit take a seat next to Pervinca. “Your sister only cares for you, Pip.” Pippin didn’t reply at all.

“He’s been ill recently,” offered Merry. “How long have you been up from your bed, Pip?”

“It’s only been three days,” Pimpernel answered, her frosty breath wafted from her lips. “He’s been dreadfully ill off and on since the harvest. Father was going to ask Cousin Addie to watch over him while we were gone, but Addie came down with a cold himself. Father decided to let Pippin come along after he begged and pleaded with mother, but it seems to have worn him out.”

“I am not worn out!” Pippin sat on the bench with his head in his hands.

Frodo smiled as he blew out frosty smoke, “Seems rather spirited to me.”

Pippin sighed, “I just hated being cooped up in bed for so long, and I really....” He trailed off.

Pervinca asked, “You really what?” But Pippin would say nothing further.

Frodo put his empty pipe into his coat pocket and rubbed his hands together, “Let’s say we head back to a warm fire and hot tea, eh?” Agreements came from all around.

Chapter Three - Too Much Too Soon

It was late in the evening as most of the overnight guests were in bed for an early start back home the next morning. Frodo decided to stay and visit with Merry a couple more days before heading back to Bag End. It was near midnight as both Frodo and Merry sat in the common room in front of the fireplace warming their toes, smoking pipes, and chatting.

“So he’s giving you an office all your own?” Frodo spoke softly, exhaling pipe smoke into the dimly lit room. The main light came from the fireplace itself.

Merry was puffing on his own pipe and answered, “That’s what he told me earlier in his study.”

Frodo turned to his friend, “Did he say what you would be doing with an office all your own?”

Merry shook his head, “No, he didn’t say. He did say, though, that I’d have responsibilities of my own. What they are I have yet to discover.”

There was a long silence. Merry looked over to see if his friend had fallen asleep. Instead, Frodo sat very still as if concentrating on something. Merry asked, “What are you doing?”

Frodo was still as a stone, “Didn’t you hear something?”

Merry shook his head, “What did you hear?”

“Shhh, listen!”

Merry listened carefully as the fire crackled and hissed. They were the only two people in the common room, and no one else could be heard in the entrance hall. Nothing but dead silence could be heard. Merry looked at Frodo and shook his head again--then he almost missed it. The sound blended well with the hissing of the burning wood. Someone was asleep nearby, breathing soft and deep. The sound was now very distinct. “Yes,” said Merry, “I can hear it now.”

They both got up to investigate. Together they made their way towards the back part of the room where there was little light. Frodo saw the figure first. Above an overstuffed chair, with his finger to his lips, Frodo pointed downward with his other hand. Merry crept over to view a slight, dark form curled up into ball atop the soft cushion, peacefully sleeping. It was Pippin.

Merry put his hands on his hips. In a hoarse whisper he said, “Uncle Paladin made him go to bed early! How did he get in here without us seeing him?”

Pippin stirred from his sleep and coughed, “Hullo.”

“That cough doesn’t sound good, Pip.” Frodo leaned over and felt his forehead then looked at Merry. “Warm. He should be in his bed up in his room. I’ll go and wake Paladin.”

Merry helped Pippin up to his room and into his bed, tucking the covers around him as he knew his uncle used to do for him when he was young and visited Whitwell often. “How did you sneak into the room without us seeing or hearing you?”

“I didn’t mean to sneak. I just didn’t want to upset you and Frodo is all.” Pippin held his pillow to his face as he coughed up more congestion. Pippin’s face was pale in the dim light. “I wish this would stop.”

Merry sat down on the bed next his best friend, “I wish it would stop, too. You look so miserable, Pippin.”

It seemed to Pippin his throat tickled whenever he took a breath. “I feel miserable, too, Merry.” Then he added, “You know, back in the veranda, I was going to say something and then stopped.”

Merry recalled his cousin’s remark, “I remember.”

Pippin held his pillow close in case another bout of coughing started up. “I wanted to say...I really miss you, and I really wanted to see you. That’s why I made all the fuss to come to Rory’s burial.”

Merry smiled sadly. His last visit to Great Smials had been in August. The time between his visits were getting longer and longer. “I miss you, too, Pip. I miss your whole family.” He smiled, “But you know you are always welcome here at Brandy Hall.”

“I know, but it’s not the same as when you visit us. It’s like we’re a family--except Pearl’s married and gone now.” Pippin put his pillow to his face as another coughing fit shook him.

Paladin rushed into the room trailed by Frodo and at once put his hand to his son’s face and brow. He sighed, “Ah, Pippin.”

Pippin looked sorrowful at Paladin, “I’m sorry, father.”

Paladin sank down in a chair, “What have you to be sorry about? It’s my fault for allowing you to come along.”

Merry got up from his side of the bed, “I’ll run and fetch the healer.”

In a little while, Pippin was resting comfortably after drinking an elixir the healer made for him. She made enough for the next couple of days and gave instructions on how to administer it. She further explained that peace and quiet, and more bed rest was all Pippin really needed. Merry thanked Mistress Salinda for her help and saw her back to her own quarters.

“I knew I let him get up too soon,” said Paladin; he was weary. He sat dejectedly in his chair as Pippin slept across the room. “I should’ve expected this.”

Frodo felt for his older cousin, “Pippin’s not a small child anymore, Paladin, so it’s difficult to keep him in bed at his age. I should know--I gave my dear Uncle Saradas some trying times just like this when I was his age.”

“But the timing for this couldn’t be more wrong,” Paladin shook his head. He had a far away look on his face. “I left Ferumbras in the care of a hired attendant,” he said. “He’s becoming feeble in his old age, so I must return to mind him and his affairs. He only seems to trust me though he realized that I had to come to Rory’s burial.”

Frodo watched as Paladin began to nod off. He knew Paladin had done much traveling in the past couple days, and had yet to travel back home to Great Smials. Frodo figured he himself could always catch up on his sleep with a nap later. “Why don’t you go on to bed? Pippin looks much better and he’s breathing easier now. I’ll sit up with him--you need your own rest before you become ill yourself.”

Paladin hadn’t thought of it from that angle, “Yes, I suppose I shall. Thank you, Frodo lad.”

Frodo smiled; he hadn’t been called ‘Frodo lad’ since Bilbo left. It felt sort of nice...even if he was forty years old.

Chapter Four - The Comfort Zone

Merry had barely finished escorting his Aunt Eglantine to the dining hall for a hot cup of tea when he was summoned to the Master’s office. They both had stood outside in the cold waving farewell to her family as they drove off back towards Tuckborough in the West Farthing. Eglantine was staying behind to look after Pippin until he was well, and then they would take the coach back home.

Knowing where his father would be, Merry excused himself from his aunt and immediately went to his study. On the way there he wondered about what he was being called for. Saradoc had told him just the day before that he would receive no more lessons. Merry stood in front of the door and smoothed out his shirtsleeves and vest before he knocked and walked in.

“You called for me, Dad?”

Saradoc sat on the sofa near the bookshelves. “Yes, I did. Come here and sit down, please.” He laid aside the book he was reading as Merry took the seat next to him.

“Merry, as I said yesterday, your lessons in the study of being Master are over. Today begins your first full day as my shadow, if you will.” He watched his son’s face for the effect of his words, but there was none. Merry’s eyes were still fixed upon him in a serious manner. “Your first duty is to see to the comfort of your aunt and cousins.”

A slight grin played on the corners of Merry’s mouth, “You’re jesting.”

Saradoc gazed in return the same seriousness, “I am serious, son.”

Merry replied, “But that’s absurd! I had always intended on seeing to their comforts.”

“Of course, you did,” answered Saradoc. “However, now those duties are in a different light. Before, it wasn’t an obligation--now it is. It will be one of your duties as my assistant to see to a visitor’s comforts.”

Merry happily sighed, “Then this shall be the easiest of tasks.”

“This time,” Saradoc cautioned. “Indeed, that is why I enjoyed giving you your first task. Try seeing to the whims of hobbits you don’t necessarily care for.”

“That’s happened to you?”

“Not often, but it’s happened once or twice--and it’s not enjoyable in the least. So what do plan for your charges?”

“I don’t know yet,” Merry shrugged. “I really haven’t put a lot of thought into it other than seeing that none of them are left alone for long.”

Saradoc leaned forward in thought, “Dividing your time like that without a plan can be treacherous. Do you mind if I make a few suggestions?” Merry shook his head, listening intently. “Your cousin, Peregrin, and your Auntie should be your priority. Peregrin is ill and his mother is looking after him. He will require at least one more visit by the healer before he departs Brandy Hall. You will see to it. I don’t want him leaving Brandy Hall and then fall sick during the trip home because Mistress Salinda wasn’t called for, understood?” Merry nodded. “Your Aunt, though very capable of watching over her own son, will require frequent spells of relief. Arrange teatime for her with your Mum or with one of the other ladies in the Hall. Frodo will be the most challenge. He is quite the gentle-hobbit, and old enough to see to his own wants and desires, and I daresay he is still familiar enough with the Hall and it’s residents from when he lived here as a youth. Yet he is here specifically to visit you, and you must inform him that some of your time will be spent seeing to others as well.”

“Frodo will understand.”

“He may,” Saradoc replied, “but you must give him an explanation as to why you will be occupied elsewhere at times. You owe him that as his host.” He smiled as he saw his son’s expression. Merry had absorbed all that was said and looked as if he were about to explode. “Do you have all of that in your head?” Saradoc knew his son was taking all of this very seriously.

Merry sighed heavily this time, “Yes, I think so.”

“Well, you may want to write some of my suggestions down on paper--in your own office.”

Merry looked up suddenly, “My office? Where is it?”

“Why, its in your apartment, lad.”

Merry was dumbfounded, “My--my own apartment?” He held out his hand and took the key his father handed to him.

“You’re nearly a grown hobbit now, Merry,” his father explained. “It’s time you moved out of your parent’s quarters and learn to become your own master. When you feel ready, you may remove your belongings to your own rooms.”

Merry swallowed hard, “I don’t know what to say.”

His father patted him on the back and laughed, “Now that’s a switch!”

Chapter Five - It’s Mine

Once again, Merry found himself knocking on a door. It was his Pippin’s room, and his Aunt greeted him this time.

“Hullo, Aunt Tina,” he began, “I wanted to see if you needed anything, and to inquire about Pippin.”

“Oh, well, thank you Merry. Such a sweet lad you are!” Eglantine opened the door wider for her nephew to enter. “Pippin is sleeping at the moment but he’s not any worse. And as for myself, I’m not needing anything, save a nice cup of tea if you please.”

Merry smiled, “Very well, I will see to it. I would inform you also that I’ve made arrangements for Mistress Salinda, one of Brandy Hall’s healers, to visit with Pippin later today.”

Eglantine gazed at her nephew with wonder, “How splendid, Merry! Thank you.”

Merry still felt his aunt’s eyes upon him, “Is there something else, Aunt Tina?”

“No. Well...yes,” she answered, leaning against the doorpost folding her arms across her bosom. “I have vivid memories of you as a very frightened little boy visiting us at Whitwell. And the few scrapes that you got into while growing up made me unsure as to how you would turn out when you grew up--especially with the problems between you and your father.” Her smile broadened, “A few years ago I stopped doubting. You are a very fine young hobbit, Merry.”

Merry’s heart swelled with pride. That was the first time anyone, besides his dad, had noticed he was now grown up and was apparently also well thought of as a young adult. He stood tall and stepped forward, embracing the woman who had been like a second mother to him all his life, “Thank you, Auntie.”

Eglantine returned his hug, “Get you going now, lad. My tea must be boiling.” She said, wiping a moist eye.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Merry rapped on yet another door. He waited a few moments before deciding no one was about inside. He turned and was several feet away from the door when it creaked open.

“Hullo, Merry--come in.” Frodo answered the door looking tired.

“I didn’t think anyone was inside,” Merry accepted the invitation and found a nice soft chair nearby, plopped himself into it and then propped his feet on the stool in front of it. Merry sighed with relief, “Oh...my feet.”

“I was just napping,” Frodo grinned at the weariness of his host. “Tired? You look as if you need one, too.”

Merry threw him a look, “I’ve been on my feet all morning. Don’t you see them throbbing?”

Frodo sat in the chair opposite his cousin, “So, tell me our plans for the day.”

“Well, my plans,” said Merry, “began with seeing to Pippin and my Aunt. You know she stayed behind to look after him until he is hale and strong enough to travel back home?” Frodo nodded. “I had to find Mistress Salinda away in the North Tunnel because she was giving ministrations to a little girl there. Then I ran back to the East Tunnel to inform Auntie that the healer would be visiting later on.” Then he looked at Frodo, “Now I’m in the West Tunnel seeking an old friend to tell him he has to share my time with all these wonderful folks!”

Frodo laughed, “You came all that way just to tell me that?”

Merry sighed dramatically, “Yes--and to see if you would accompany me to view my new apartment.” He held aloft a silver skeleton key.

Frodo was shocked. “You have your own apartment?”

“Yes,” Answered Merry, “and my own office therein.”

“I’m floored, cousin! Let’s go and see it.”

They were like two young boys on a scavenger hunt. Merry knew his apartment wouldn’t be too far away from his parents, though distant enough to make him feel independent. Merry kept muttering under his breath, “Number five, number five....where is number five?”

Frodo called from the further end of the hallway, “It’s over here!”

Merry came and surveyed the door with the number “5” written on it. He scratched his head, “Doesn‘t the number five come after number four?”

“It depends on if you like the number four or not,” Frodo quipped. “Well...being three doors away from your parents isn’t all that bad.” Frodo snickered at his cousin’s plight.

Merry gave him a look as he inserted the key and turned it. He twisted the door handle and opened the door wide. Grabbing a lit candle from the hallway Merry led the way inside. It was fairly empty with the exception of the bed in the bedroom, one couch in the parlor, and off in an anteroom--supposing it to be his office, there was a large desk made of walnut.

Frodo looked around and sniffed in the stale air, “A tad barren, don’t you think?”

“It’s barren, but it’s mine,” Merry smiled, dropping onto his very own sofa. A plume of dust rose up and filled his nostrils. He coughed, waving his hands about to disperse the dust, “ It appears I have lots of cleaning to do.”

“Now that I’ve seen your extremely humble abode, shall we go look in on Pippin?”

“Yes! Let’s do--I should like to tell him about apartment number 5.”

The two hobbits were strolling at an easy pace towards Pippin’s room with a brief stop in the kitchen larder, being they had missed lunch while they were hunting for Merry’s new quarters. Here Merry explained to his cousin all of his newly appointed duties.

As they passed various doors, Frodo was remembering many of his kin who lived in Brandy Hall. However, because he had been away for so long, there were some folks he wasn’t quite familiar with. “So, tell me, who is the little girl that I hear is ill?”

“Salvia Goldworthy. She’s the great-great-granddaughter of Salvia Bolger.”

“Oh,” Frodo nodded. “Is her mother Silvia Bracegirdle?”

Merry looked up, “Yes. How did you know?”

Frodo smiled in recognition, “Many rainy afternoons we played checkers in the children’s room of the North Tunnel where my parents lived. Then I do know her--well, I mean, the girl’s mother. Which Goldworthy did she marry?”

“His name is Orrin,” Merry replied. “His family’s from Standelf. I am sorry that you now know their daughter is quite ill.”

“How ill is she?”

Merry looked back down at his feet, “Bad.”

After a moment of walking in silence Frodo spoke up, “Then when you’re conducting your duties with your Aunt and Pippin, I shall look in on Silvia and her daughter.”

Chapter Six - A Turn for the Worse

Merry was not one to intrude, but he had knocked twice and still no one came to the door. He quietly twisted the door handle and entered. He was startled when his aunt came hurriedly into the parlor a bit winded. “Oh, Merry, I’m so glad it’s you! Please come in--I’m in need of your help!”

Merry and Frodo trailed her into Pippin’s bedroom where the teen was still sleeping. Something was wrong with Pippin; his aunt was frantic. Merry saw that Pippin lay on his bed twisted and wrapped in a thick quilt.

Eglantine held her hands out in frustration towards her son, “He’s burning up with fever and I can’t unwrap him! Can you help me for a bit, Merry?” Then she noticed Frodo and thanked them both for dropping by.

“Of course, but I shall send for Mistress Salinda.” Merry was unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling up his sleeves.

“No, Merry, I’ve heard she’s tending to a very sick little child, but is there another, or does Mistress Salinda have an apprentice perhaps?”

“I daresay she does--I will send for Merimas at once.” Merry left to give instructions to fetch his cousin Merimas who was with Salinda at the Goldworthy’s apartments. A few minutes later he returned to find his aunt wringing a cloth in cool water and setting it on Pippin’s brow. Frodo was trying unsuccessfully to unravel the quilt from Pippin. Merry joined in the effort by untangling his cousin at the other end by his feet.

After a few pulls and tugs Pippin woke up, “Stop.” His voice was weak and weary, “They’re mine--,” he tugged back feebly.

“Pippin, you are far too warm,” Eglantine told her son.

“No, I’m cold.” Pippin was too tired to fight for his blankets, so he curled up into a tight ball to keep warm.

Frodo and Eglantine settled in two chairs already in the room. Merry took a wooden chair for himself from in the parlor and set it on the other side of the bed.

Eglantine swept the hair away from her forehead, “I had to leave for a small spell--I thought it was only a few minutes but I ended up talking to Essie about the sick lass. When I had returned, he I found him all bundled up under a pile of blankets--and in yet another quilt. He must have got up and grabbed every blanket in the wardrobe while I was out.”

Merry didn’t say anything, but inwardly he winced. He was instructed by his father to look in on his aunt frequently for just that reason.

Pippin coughed a few times. If he could curl tighter for more warmth, he’d certainly try. “I’m freezing! Why can’t I have my blankets? My feet feel like ice.”

Eglantine got up and put her hand to his face and forehead, then shook her head. “You’re still very warm, son. I’ll let you have one blanket and no more.”

A knock on the door was followed by a haggard looking young hobbit. “Hullo! Is anybody--” Then he saw the small crowd in Pippin’s bedroom. “Hullo Merry...Frodo,” He nodded to Eglantine, “and hullo, Mistress Eglantine.” Indicating to Pippin in the bed, “I take it this is the young hobbit that needs seeing to?”

“Yes, he’s been warm most of the day,” explained Eglantine, “until I left a little while ago, then it seems his fever rose--after he buried himself in thick blankets. Now he complains of feeling terribly cold even though he is very hot to the touch. He coughs every now then, too.”

Merimas put his leather bag down then sat on the bed, “Is he coughing up anything?”

“Yes,” answered Eglantine.

Merimas put his ear to Pippin’s chest, “Breathe for me, Pip.”

“I am breathing.”

Merimas sat up and chuckled, “No, I mean breathe deeply several times.”

“Oh.” Pippin did as he was asked when Merimas put his ear back down, and then went into a coughing fit.

Merimas reached under Pippin’s blanket and felt his stomach, then felt his forehead. “Are you hungry, Pip? I could fry an egg on you.” Merimas put forth his best bedside manner.

“But I’m not hungry.”

“All right, jesting over,” said Merimas. “I shall need to listen to your chest again, so you need to be quiet so I can concentrate, all right?” After what seemed a few minutes, Merimas turned to Eglantine. “How long has he had this cough?”

Eglantine went into dissertation of Pippin’s recent illnesses. “He acquired the cough this last time he was sick--oh, it was last week. He begged to come to Rory’s burial, but after we arrived in Buckland we realized we erred. He should have stayed home to rest more.”

Merimas made a face, “Well, I tend to agree with you on that, but I don’t think his cough is what’s causing his illness, but I think it’s his illness that is aggravating it. We will need to bring down his fever and then continue the ministrations Mistress Salinda began last night.” He turned to Merry and Frodo, “We will need to use the wash room in this tunnel, and to have a towel and blanket ready.” Merry and Frodo left to find help in filling the washtub with water.

“Is it that serious?” Eglantine began to be worried.

Merimas chose his words carefully so as not to upset her more. “He’s not in any danger yet, and I want to make sure it stays that way.” Then he said, “When everything is ready, I would like for you to go to the dining hall and eat something. It won’t do him any good if his mother isn’t strong enough to sit with him thereafter.” And it won’t do you any good to hear him screaming from the cold feeling of the water, he thought more to himself.

She let out a long sigh, “But the last time I left him he took a turn for the worse.”

“Mistress Eglantine--”

“Please, call me Tina.”

“Very well--Mistress Tina, I know I’m only an apprentice, but I’ve been an apprentice for nearly ten years. Trust me, you need your strength as well as he needs his, and I will see to Pippin’s health for now...and you must see to yours.”

Chapter Seven - It’s My Fault

Merry and Frodo, with sleeves rolled up past their elbows, were hauling buckets of water to the wash room along with the three servants they could gather in such short time. Merry stopped just short of the door, put his buckets down and leaned against the wall.

“It’s only a few more steps, Merry,” Frodo offered.

“I’m not resting, Frodo. I’m thinking.” Merry sighed, “Frodo--this is all my fault.”

It was the sadness in his cousin’s eyes that got his Frodo’s attention. He put down his buckets as well. “You mean Pippin? How is his being sick your fault?”

Merry closed his eyes tight, remembering his conversation with Saradoc, “My father instructed me this morning to look in on my aunt every so often to see if she would need some time for herself--you know.”

“And?”

“I was so busy wanting to see my new quarters that I forgot. I failed in my duties, Frodo, and it’s only my first day. My Dad and I both thought this task would be so simple.” He looked at his cousin with pitiful eyes, “It didn’t take long for me to foul this all up.”

“Don’t say that,” Frodo answered. “Pippin was already sick for not resting as he should have back in Great Smials--long before his trip here. Even Paladin admitted he should have stayed back at home.”

“He only came because he wanted to see me,” Merry said mournfully.

Frodo knew Merry was being hard on himself. Merry had always taken his tasks seriously, and was obviously trying to impress his father at the same time. At length Frodo spoke, “If you--or his mother, were sitting right there with him the entire time, regardless if you gave him a blanket or not, his fever was already climbing, Mer. The blankets only made it happen a bit faster.”

“But I still feel responsible. They were my responsibility.”

“That may be so,” replied Frodo, “and you may feel responsible. But my dear hobbit, please don’t beat yourself over it.” He put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Just learn from it.” Merry still looked at Frodo, unsure of his words. “He’ll be fine!” Frodo patted Merry’s shoulder.

Merry bent down to pick up the heavy buckets. “I can’t help but think about Pippin and the Goldworthy girl.”

“Speaking of the Goldworthy child,” Frodo opened the door before picking up his second bucket, “I think I might go along with Merimas after we’re finished giving Pippin his bath and visit with her.”

Later, after some fighting, a bit of thrashing, and yes...yelling, Pippin was finally done with his tepid bath. It took all three lads to get him into the tub and keep him there, and it might have taken more if he weren’t so weak. Once they had the teen settled in back in bed and resting comfortably, Merry, Frodo, and Merimas all stood together in a semi-circle deciding what they were going to do to get themselves into dry clothes.

Merimas smoothed his wet hair behind his head with his fingers, “My room isn’t far from here. Why don’t you lads come along and change into some of my clothes?”

“No, thank you, Merimas,” answered Merry. “I want to sit here with Pippin until Aunt Tina returns from the dining hall. I believe Frodo wanted to go with you to the Goldworthys anyway. He knows the mother.”

Now Merimas, the healer surfaced, “But your clothes are wet! You must change soon before you catch a chill yourself.”

“I’ll be all right.”

Merimas let out a sigh knowing his friend would be obstinate in this, and he did have to get back to help Salinda with little Salvia. “If I get a chance, I will look in on you later.”

“Thank you, Merimas for seeing to Pippin--and thank you, too, Frodo.”

****************

Merry almost didn’t hear his aunt enter the room. He’d almost fallen asleep as Pippin did after he had calmed down. Though the teen had calmed down mostly due to Mistress Salinda’s elixir from the night before. He slept comfortably as Merry watched over him, deep in his own thoughts. An hour ago, Merimas returned from the Goldworthy’s apartments; little Salvia had died. Frodo stayed behind to give what little comfort he could to the girl’s mother.

Eglantine tiptoed past her nephew and lightly tousled his curls as she passed him by. “Your hair is damp.”

“It will dry.”

She paused before sitting down and rubbed Merry’s arm. “Your clothes are still damp as well. You should go and change into dry clothes.”

“I will.”

“Merry...”

Even if he were fifty years old, Merry still wouldn’t dare disobey that tone of voice from his aunt--except now. “I cannot leave yet, Auntie.”

“And when will ‘yet’ arrive?”

“When I know that Pippin will be all right.”

“I admire your love and loyalty, Merry, but Pippin will be fine enough while you go and change into dry clothes. You can always come back.” Merry didn’t stir. She looked at the clock on the wall. “It’s half past seven; have you eaten supper?” Merry said nothing. She continued, “Merry, your cousin Merimas stopped to talk to me as I was returning here. We spoke for a while and he told me about the little girl. I’m very sorry.”

Merry continued to gaze at his sleeping cousin, “Frodo knows Mistress Silvia from when they were children. He’s staying with the Goldworthys to help out.”

“That’s very kind of Frodo,” his aunt replied. Eglantine got up and went to the wardrobe, took out one of the blankets Pippin had grabbed earlier and put it over her nephew, saying, “You may as well be warm if you’re going to be stubborn about it.”

“Thank you, Auntie.”

Eglantine could tell he was miserable, but what could she do other than sit with him? Frodo was with the Goldworthy family, Paladin was back at Great Smials, and Pippin was ill. Who else was there that he trusted enough to pour his heart out to? He obviously wasn’t going to talk to her about it. She knew her nephew well; right now he was holding it all in. She’d seen him do it before...a long time ago as a little boy. She sat down in her chair on the other side of the bed watching over her two charges.

Chapter Eight - Between Friends

Merry’s eyes snapped open. Something woke him--perhaps a noise? He knew he couldn’t have been sleeping for too long. He rubbed his eyes; they were just as tired and heavy as before he fell asleep. He looked over to where his aunt was sitting. Only a single candle lighted the room, but he could see she sat in her own chair asleep with a blanket covering her. Her knitting bag sat on the floor next to her feet.

“Merry!” A hoarse whisper came from the direction of the bed. Merry knew Pippin’s whisper.

In two heartbeats Merry quietly rose to his feet and was beside his cousin, “What is it? Are you feeling any better?” He felt Pippin’s forehead.

“I’m thirsty,” Pippin rubbed his throat with his hand.

“Half a moment,” Merry whispered back, then leaned over towards the bedside table where the pitcher of water sat. He filled the empty glass almost to the brim and then held it to Pippin’s lips as he drank nearly the whole glass. “More?”

Pippin shook his head as he wiped his mouth with his sleeve, “Why are you here?”

“What do you mean?”

Pippin answered, “I thought you had important responsibilities to tend to.”

Events of the past day ran through Merry’s mind. He replied, “You are my important responsibility.” He lay on the bed next to Pippin so they could hear each other’s whispers better. He didn’t want to wake his aunt unnecessarily. “How did you know that I had responsibilities to attend to?”

“I heard you and Frodo talking about it.” Then realizing he gave himself away at feigning sleep again he quickly added, “It was the night I got awfully sick.”

Merry’s eyes narrowed and he smirked at his best friend’s constant cunning, “You mean you were eavesdropping again--weren’t you?”

Pippin felt too weak to dance around the issue, “Yes. I’m sorry, Merry. I can’t help myself sometimes! Everyone talks as if I don’t understand--but I do, Merry. I‘ve always understood things.”

“Well, then I’m sorry, too.”

Pippin’s brow crinkled. “Why?”

“First, I shall do better at including you in mine and Frodo’s conversations. But the night before last, your dad sent you to bed early, so I didn’t know to include you then anyway. Did that make sense?”

“Perfect sense, Mer. I shall try to avoid eavesdropping on your conversations--as long as I’m included.” He smiled, “But you said first; what’s the second?”

Merry’s smile went away. He let out a deep breath, “I failed in my duties today, Pip.”

Pippin saw the earnestness his friend’s face. He put his arm around Merry, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. Was it bad?”

Merry nodded, “I failed you....and my dad.”

Pippin blinked in surprise at his cousin’s words. “You’re my best friend, Merry,” Pippin shook his head, “you could never fail me.”

“But I did, Pippin, and you nearly died because if it.” Merry fought back his tears, “Some best friend I turned out to be.” He looked on his cousin with sorrowful eyes, “I didn’t look in on you and Auntie like I was supposed to, so she left for a bit and that’s when your fever climbed. If I were here sitting with you like I was supposed to, none of that would have happened. And then little Salvia was just as sick....but she...she...” Merry was losing the battle with his tears.

Pippin watched the terrible anguish pouring from Merry’s heart, “What happened?”

Merry swallowed the rising lump in his throat, “She died.”

“That’s terrible,” Pippin was sorrowful, then added, “but sad as it is, her death wasn’t your fault. No more your fault than my being sick was. You can’t stop death, Merry, and my illness you couldn’t control any more than my mother could. I hate to admit it, but I should have listened to my father and stayed home.”

But it was my responsibility to be here, and I wasn’t, Merry thought. He placed his hand on Pippin’s forehead again, “You’re still a bit warm and here I am talking your head off.” He got up and tucked the covers around Pippin and said softly, “Go to sleep.”

“All right, but did you hear what I said?”

“Yes, I heard,” Merry replied. “Go to sleep. I need to go out for a bit.”

“Merry?”

“What?”

“Thanks.”

Chapter Nine - Not Afraid Anymore

“Good morning, everyone.” Saradoc took his seat at the head of the dining table. He, like everyone at the table was quite solemn after the news of Salvia Goldworthy. The servants brought out breakfast to the dining hall and began serving the family members and guests. “How are you feeling this morning, Master Peregrin?”

“Much better, Uncle, thank you. Merry, Frodo, and Merimas took very good care of me.” Pippin recalled the whispering conversation he and Merry had earlier. Even though he spoke sincerely, Pippin hoped his compliment would take Merry up a notch in the sight of Uncle Saradoc.

“Ever since your fever broke this morning you’ve been chattering up a storm,” Eglantine remarked, and was truly delighted he was already feeling much better. “You ought to give more attention to your plate here in front of you,” she said as she piled more eggs onto his plate. “You need to put more meat on your bones!”

Saradoc glanced around the table, thinking that perhaps his son decided to sit elsewhere this morning. That in and of itself would have been odd, as Merry and his cousins were inseparable, yet Saradoc couldn’t see him anywhere. “Has anyone seen Merry?” He watched as just about everyone shake their heads, or heard them answer “no.”

“I did early this morning,” Pippin said, chewing around his bread. “He seemed a bit out of sorts.” Merry’s absence was beginning to worry Pippin as well. He sent a questioning look over at Frodo who returned it with one of his own.

“Thank you, Peregrin.” Saradoc took his napkin, wiped his mouth and got up saying to his wife, Esmeralda, “I think I know where to look for him.”

*******************

Merry first heard the latch turning, and then heavy footsteps entering his apartment after the door creaked open. He knew the shuffle of the gait; he quickly wiped his eyes and face with his shirttail and then stood up to his feet. Merry observed the silhouette of his father slowly making his way into the empty bedroom of his new quarters.

“I thought I might find you here.” Saradoc was now fully visible in the dim candlelight. He stood in front of his son and held out his hand, lifting the lad’s chin. “You’ve been weeping.”

Merry’s gaze dropped, “I...I wanted to be alone.”

Saradoc spoke softly, “Merry...everyone in the Hall is saddened by Salvia’s death. Why are you more so?”

Merry shrugged, “I should have been there.”

This remark took Saradoc by surprise, “Been there--why? The child’s illness was a private affair with her family. She was already surrounded by those who loved her.” He put his hand on his son’s shoulder, “What more could you have done?”

Merry sat down on the bed before he spoke. “When I heard that she died,” he said, “all I could think of was Pippin. What if he died, too? I became frightened at that possibility.” Then Merry went into his activities and failures of the previous day. “It would be all my fault, Dad. And...I would never be able to forgive myself if that happened.” Merry wiped his face as more tears streaked down his cheeks.

Saradoc sat down next to his son. “Your Auntie and Peregrin are your responsibility while they are visiting, yes,” he began, “but would it be your fault if Peregrin perished in his illness? No.” He looked at Merry, “Did you fail in your duties?” He shrugged. “That remains to be seen. Are you a failure?” Saradoc took his son’s chin in his hand again and looked into his eyes for effect, “Absolutely not.”  He reached out and took Merry in his arms, letting him cry.

After a few minutes of holding his son he continued, “Merry, you are a young hobbit lad right now. The duties I give you are only preparations for greater responsibility as you grow older--and when I see you’re able to accept them.” He loosed Merry and smiled grimly, “You’re not like the other lads here in the Hall, Merry. You are destined for greater things, and more will be demanded of you.” He wiped away a tear on his son’s cheek. “You have already made me proud. You put aside your own desires and sat up during the night with your cousin and watched over him. That is a clear indicator of your growing up.” He reached in his vest pocket for his handkerchief and gave it to Merry.

After cleaning his face, Merry leaned into his father’s arms and allowed him to hold him again. “That’s when I finally understood, Dad. All those times Pippin was terribly sick in bed...I always thought somehow that he would get well and then we’d be back to running about Tuckborough or Hobbiton--and he always did. Though sometimes it took a while. But the truth came to me very hard last night when Merimas told me Salvia had died. Then I remembered there were many times when Pippin was little, he was just as sick as little Salvia...and Salvia was only four years old.” Merry’s eyes welled up again. “I felt so foolish, Dad. I don’t ever want Pippin to die. If he did, then I would, too. He’s my best friend.”

“I know how much Peregrin means to you, son. He’s truly lucky to have a friend such as you.” Saradoc held Merry as he thought of his own private hell. After a silent minute he continued, “It’s always sad when a child dies, Merry. Your own brother was much younger than Salvia--he was a mere infant. Death knows no age, gender, or kind. I learned that the hard way.” He grew solemn as old memories resurfaced. “The worst thing about losing a child is the inner fear of the child’s memory fading with time--and with a new child.”

Merry remembered the distance of his father was when he was a child. He ventured, “Do you remember him?”

“I remember his face as clear as if he were living this morning,” Saradoc answered sadly. “I think that’s what drove me to the brink. I was frightened that no one would remember him, and I was determined to.”

“I thought you said you were afraid to love me?”

“That is true. Afraid of loving you in fear of not remembering him was driving me mad.”

Merry let go of his dad to clean his face again. “I don’t think you’re frightened of loving me anymore, are you?”

Once again, Saradoc was besieged with memories. But these memories were full of regrets in not being a father to his surviving son during his early years. He gazed into Merry’s deep blue eyes, “No. I’m not afraid anymore. In fact, I can’t imagine my life without you, Merry. I love you more than life itself.”

Merry leaned upon his father’s shoulder, and Saradoc took him into his arms again.

“Dad?”

“Hmm?”

“Tell me about my brother.”

~The End~