Chapter 10

Frodo woke first. Though his friends may find it difficult to believe, he could rise early when he wanted to and today, the last day of his hike, he wanted to be the first one up. He had many objectives to fulfill today and no time to waste.

He started a fire with the last of the wood, just enough to make some tea and nothing more. Frodo always brought tea to enjoy on his last morning out and he had taken care to bring enough for his friends. He poured half a water skin into a pot and set the tea leaves into the water. He rinsed out the cups and washed the rest of the cookery, then sat back to reflect on the trip while he waited for the water to boil.

Despite his initial concerns and certain recent events of mishap, the trek had been pleasant indeed. His cousins had proved more capable than he would have expected, though in the future, it would be wise not to leave Merry and Pippin alone for too long. If he could get the trek to Eastfarthing planned without any hitches, he thought it would be best to have Sam keep an eye on Pippin while he and Merry did the hunting and whatnot.

Now, if only something could be worked out between Merry and Sam. Frodo knew better than to hope that Sam’s teasing the night before meant anything had changed. If anything, it could very easily be worse that it was before. Once Sam was allowed some time to think about it, he would likely come up with even more reasons not to be Merry’s friend. Frodo could just hear it now. “But Mr. Frodo, even when he doesn’t mean to start trouble, he does.”

His cousin and gardener needed to mend the rift between them once and for all, and for their own sakes, they needed to do it soon. They couldn’t keep ignoring the issues and pushing them aside to be dealt with later, all the while acting as though everything was normal. Of course, the problem there was that acting normal had become normal.

Merry was clearly ready and willing to make an effort, but there were a few crucial facts that, by chance or purpose, he was continually overlooking. If Merry wasn’t made aware of what he was doing, he would never get very far in his attempts. It hardly helped that so many years had passed since this all first started, but now that Frodo could look back on it, he could see that the rift had been widening even before The Incident, and no one had helped the situation by sweeping that ill-thought prank under the rug. Over the years, more and more complications had piled onto that one initial problem, and it was quite a tangle now indeed. Yet Frodo could not cut through that tangle for them. Merry and Sam would have to work it out on their own, and it needed to start with Merry.

Fortunately, it was Merry who woke next.

“Pippin, you’re drooling on me,” Merry murmured suddenly. He stirred an instant later and was soon crawling out of his sleeping roll. He frowned down at his shirtsleeve, where a large damp spot could be seen. Then he shrugged unconcernedly and stretched his limbs.

“Good morning, Merry,” Frodo greeted before his friend could turn and spot him.

Merry jumped slightly and whirled around. “It must be nearly night time again,” he quipped with a smile, “if you’re up and about. Have all the stars fallen from the heavens?”

“No, the pigs flew up and ate them,” Frodo answered and was rewarded with a laugh. “Have some tea, Merry dear, and sit with me for a while. We need to talk.”

“I know. I’m sorry about the wasps and the fight. It won’t happen again,” Merry promised as he settled down next to Frodo and spooned out a cup of tea for them both. He added honey to taste and handed Frodo a cup.

“That’s good to hear,” Frodo replied and took note of Merry’s stiff and careful movements. He removed the handkerchiefs briefly to inspect the stings on Merry’s arms and leg. They were still an angry shade of red and roughly the size of his shirt buttons. Merry was also a shade or two paler than normal, but Frodo could see no other signs of possible illness. “How are you feeling?” he asked when he was finished with his inspection.

“Foolish,” Merry said honestly. “I must stop acting so rashly.”

“That’s good to hear as well,” Frodo said. “Which leads me to what I want to speak with you about.”

“You didn’t want to talk about the wasps?”

“No, I want to talk about Sam.”

Merry paused in mid-sip, the tea sweet and warm against his lips. He swallowed cautiously and lowered his cup to stare at its contents. He wiped at his lips with his shirtsleeve, drawing out the moment when he would have to respond, knowing that Frodo was carefully scrutinizing his every move. “What about Sam?” he asked at length. This conversation could easily go many different directions depending on what Frodo had heard from his gardener.

“Sam told me you talked yesterday morning, about wanting to be friends again,” Frodo started, studying his friend closely. “What are your intentions Merry?”

“What do you mean?” Merry asked, baffled.

“Just what I asked,” Frodo said and took a sip of his tea. “It’s been quite a long time since the two of you were last friends. Why the sudden change in heart?”

“It’s not a change,” Merry frowned and stared into the fire. “I never wanted for us to stop being friends. It just sort of happened.”

“It did not just happen, Merry,” Frodo said, his voice soft with empathy and hard with admonition. “You know that better than anyone else.”

“But it did just happen,” Merry said. “I came to visit one day and all of a sudden I was ‘Master Merry’ and he wouldn’t spend time with me anymore, unless I was asking after the garden.”

“So you’re blaming this on him?”

“Of course not!” Merry exclaimed, shocked that Frodo would get such an impression. First Pippin and now Frodo; why did he keep having this same conversation? He let out an aggravated sigh and tried again. “I know it’s all my fault.”

“Yes it is,” Frodo agreed gently and took another sip of his tea as he searched for the best place to start. He shifted his position to face Merry more directly and continued just as gently, “I remember the very first time you met Sam. You were just about to turn eight, he was ten, and it was your first visit to Bag End since I moved there. I pointed him out to you in the garden, and I said, ‘There’s little Sammy, the gardener’s son,’ and you said, ‘That’s him?’… like he was competition.”

Frodo paused and waited for this to sink in, for if Merry did not understand that point, he would not understand anything else Frodo was about to say either. He didn’t have to wait long. Merry’s shoulders sunk ever so slightly and his eyes filled with resignation. His nod was nearly imperceptible, but Frodo noted it and continued.

“I don’t doubt that you were truly his friend then, and I don’t doubt that you’ve sincerely missed his friendship all these years. I’ve seen how hard it’s been for both of you. I’m happy that you’re willing to make this effort, but there are some things you must first understand about Sam. And about yourself.”

Merry waited solemnly. Any advice he could get at this point was welcome and there was no one better to offer advice than Frodo. He knew Sam better than all of them. Of course, he also knew Merry better than all of them, even Pippin, and Merry had the distinct feeling that whatever Frodo was about to say would not be easy for him to hear.

“I love you, Merry. You are my dearest of friends,” Frodo started. “You’re funny, smart, enthusiastic, incorrigible, resolute, caring, imaginative and protective. You’re also incredibly inconsiderate.”

The backs of Merry’s ears and neck started tingling hotly with the sudden criticism, but he gamely kept quiet and waited for whatever else may come.

Frodo nodded encouragingly and softened his tone yet again. “You get away with your jokes and pranks because all of your relatives are used to them, and indeed have come to expect no less of you. They know that’s just how you are and that you mean no harm by them. So they forgive you immediately, or at least by the next day, and always before you even have to think about how what you did affected them.

“But not everyone is like our family. Sam isn’t like them. Sam is a very respectable hobbit, both in how he treats others and how others regard him. He’s just barely come of age, but he’s long been held in high regard by near everyone in Hobbiton and Bywater, and that’s because he’s earned it. It was never just given to him, like it is to us. I’m not saying he doesn’t have a sense of humor, because he does, and it’s sharper than most give him credit for. But he is never inconsiderate with his humor. He treats everyone with dignity, even when they prove themselves undeserving of such treatment.

“Another thing you must understand is that Sam is not naturally trusting of others, especially those from other parts of the Shire. However, once he decides that someone is worthy of his trust, he will put all faith in him without question, and with that faith comes the expectation for respect, both that he will give it without fail and that it will be received in kind. If that trust should be broken, he would hardly see reason to extend that faith again, and you, my dear Merry, you broke that trust amazingly well. If he’s cautious around you, it’s for good reason. Starting that fire was hardly the last prank you ever played on him, even if it was the last mean-spirited one.

“Why then should he trust you? What have you done to earn his faith in you? Sam owes you nothing, least of all his friendship, just because you now have decided that you want things back the way they were. Why would Sam wish for that to happen, if it means the chance of even more pranks and jokes at his expense?

“I know the reason you gave for what you did that Harvest night, but he was not the only one ignoring you that visit. I wasn’t spending much time with you either as you may recall. You could have just as easily pulled some pranks on me, yet it was Sam you picked. And we both know why.

“So I ask you again. What are your intentions? Because if you don’t know, you won’t get very far with Sam. And if your intentions are for the wrong reasons, he will know it in a heartbeat and he will keep you at the distance you belong.”

Merry hung his head. Over all the years, during all the lectures and admonitions from his parents and the scowling disapproval of his various relations, no words had stung him as harshly as those. He felt like a fool for not making those connections sooner. On top of what Pippin had suggested yesterday, Merry was beginning to see that this problem was much more complicated than he ever suspected, and he was becoming discouraged that it would ever be remedied.

“So it’s hopeless?” Merry asked, forlorn. “There has to be something I can do.”

“There is,” Frodo said and reached over to squeeze Merry’s knee supportively. “Just be his friend, but on his terms. Be honest, hide nothing and expect nothing in return. Accept his silence as his answer. Don’t insult him by assuming he’s here to help you. He is not a simple servant; he is a master in his trade and if he would set himself a decent wage, I would let him do so in a heartbeat. I am not his employer; rather he does me the honor of tending my gardens every day that he wakes up, when he could just as easily work for everyone in Hobbiton and Bywater that would have him. And if you think no one’s tried to steal his service from me, you’d be wrong.”

“But what if I do that and still it isn’t enough?” Merry asked worriedly.

Frodo considered this carefully. He looked over at Sam, whose sandy curls were all that could be seen of him in his sleeping roll. How could he describe Sam – sensible, even-tempered, bashful Sam – to Merry, who had spent most of his life with a friend who was as equally impulsive, reckless and outgoing as he was?

“There is a plant in the garden that is very difficult to tend, and only a few specially-skilled gardeners even attempt to grow it. You have to be patient with it, spend countless hours with it. You have to tend to it as it requires to be tended, not as you wish to. Its soil must never be allowed to dry out, nor to become too moist. This plant can only get a certain amount of sun or the leaves will turn black and fall off. But if you don’t give it enough sun, the whole of it will wilt and it will never thrive.

“You could easily make the mistake of thinking it pointless to tend it so, when it gives you nothing in return for your efforts but barren stems for eleven months out of the year. But if you keep at it, if you’re patient and do what it requires of you, it blooms so magnificently, so brilliantly, it takes your breath away and you can’t look anywhere else. It makes all that effort and sweat worth it, a thousand fold, and after that, you will happily tend it tirelessly for the next eleven months, just to see it bloom again.

“Be the friend to Sam that he would be to you, and I think you’ll be surprised with the results. Of course, the key word in that piece of advice is patience.”

“I’m patient,” Merry said and was rewarded with a dubious look from Frodo. “I know, I know. I’m competitive.”

Frodo smiled and chuckled softly. “Yes you are. And while I wouldn’t have you any other way, not everything is a competition. You must learn to swallow your pride, Meriadoc.”

He went back to sipping on his tea and Merry followed suit. They sat and watched the last of the fire embers die, only marginally aware of the heat that was already building from the still-rising sun. The scent of earth and wildflowers were all about them, and except for the occasional shifting of their sleeping companions, they nearly forgot that anything else existed but for their small tucked-away corner of the world.

They eventually reached the bottom of their cups and Frodo gathered them for washing. “Why don’t you talk to Sam again this morning,” Frodo suggested.

“I’ve talked to him the last two mornings and got nowhere,” Merry said. “It won’t be any different this morning.”

“I think you’re better prepared this time. Besides, third time pays for all,” Frodo pointed out. “Talk to him. Listen to your heart and hold nothing back. He deserves that.”

On the other side of the fire pit, Sam and Pippin began to stir. Frodo spooned out two more cups of tea and added honey. He handed them up as each hobbit came to sit around the ashes, yawning as they struggled to regain full consciousness.

“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” Frodo asked.

Pippin nodded meekly and sat close to Merry. He leaned on his older cousin slightly, resting his head on Merry’s shoulder. Merry turned and placed a kiss in Pippin’s curls, and that was the only apology needed between them.

Sam rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stretched long. He would never say anything, but he would be grateful when he had his own bed to sleep in once again. He sipped on his tea and looked about the camp, taking in the flowers and shrubs in the pale rays of morning light.

“And I hope you slept well, Sam,” Merry ventured.

“Aye, I did, thank you, Mr. Merry,” Sam responded formally. “And you, sir?”

“Quite well,” Merry answered. “Or at least I would have, if not for a certain younger cousin, who shall remain nameless, crowding me out of my own sleeping roll for the third night in a row.”

Sam nodded and took another drink of his tea. He cast his gaze down at the fire pit and frowned. “We need more wood,” he mumbled. “I’ll get some. What would you like for breakfast, Mr. Frodo?”

Merry sighed softly and gave Frodo a look that said, ‘See? I told you.’

Frodo returned it with a look of his own, ‘Patience.’ Out loud, Frodo said, “Let Pippin and me worry about breakfast, Sam. See if you can’t find any more of those juniper berries, and take Merry with you to get the wood.”

Merry and Sam shot each other a surprised look, then quickly looked away. “Yes sir,” Sam said and started to rise, the panic in Merry’s chest rising with him. Merry was not ready for this.

But Frodo was. “Finish your tea first, Sam, and wake up a bit more,” he said with a kind laugh. “We can do without food for awhile yet.”

“We can?” Pippin asked, a pout forming instantly. “But I’m hungry.”

Frodo and Merry said nothing. Merry was too immersed in scrambling for ways to approach Sam again and he was only marginally paying attention to Pippin. Frodo however discreetly raised an eyebrow at Sam, who nodded gamely. “Now, Master Pippin, tea’s a fine treat afore first breakfast, you know.”

“It is?” Pippin said, unconvinced. “I wish my treat were a little more solid. I dreamt of chocolate-covered strawberries last night, and caramel apples. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had caramel apples? But I suppose I could wait for first breakfast,” he finished with a sigh and leaned further into Merry.

Frodo gave Sam an impressed look. That conversation would have lasted much longer with either him or Merry, and it would have only ending once they gave into Pippin’s pleading green eyes and quivering lower lip. Only Sam wasn’t paying Frodo any heed either. The gardener was suddenly immersed in thoughts of his own, and he wore a reflective and studious expression Frodo knew only too well. Comprehension suddenly dawned, and Frodo hid his smirk with difficulty. ‘Very clever, Sam. Very clever indeed.’
 
 
 

To be continued…