Chapter Six- More of Merry’s Mind

Disclaimer: see previous chapters

Merry hovered over his favorite older cousin with much determination. This was his fault. He was going to help fix it. Frodo weakly complained of thirst and Merry frantically ran to get a glass of water. In his haste, he broke the glass and spilled all the water.

"Mr. Meriadoc, Mr. Frodo’s ill and Mr. Bilbo went back to Rivendell. You may run along home now. My Gaffer and I can manage things just fine by ourselves, begging your pardon. Now clean that up and I’ll get Mr. Frodo something to drink," said Sam, as he saw the mess.

Merry’s cheeks burned in shame. He never did anything right. Maybe he should leave, and yet he could not. Perhaps he could help his cousin; however, he might just be in the way.

Perhaps he was getting too tense. He was starting to get a headache. He decided to take a nap and worry about his lack of helpfulness later. He collapsed into bed, pulling the covers tightly over himself and reveling in the warmth.

Meanwhile, Sam was rushing about trying to do fifty things at once. Frodo had a high fever, but at least he was at this point sleeping peacefully. Sam’s mother brought over a hearty supper of beef stew with carrots and potatoes in it. There was cool milk, rolls with butter, and even fried mushrooms. She also brought a light chicken broth in case Frodo felt like eating later.

Sam called to Merry, but when he did not come, Sam assumed he must have gone home. Frodo’s faithful gardener-turned-healer sighed. Upon reflection, he had been rather harsh. After dinner, he went to Merry’s room to see if it needed to be cleaned. He was shocked at what he saw. Merry was in bed, fully clothed and drenched in a cold sweat. Right as Sam came in, he woke up coughing.