Merry was far from himself at the moment, his usual gentleness overwhelmed by a wave of jealousy and a sense of abandonment. He leapt up and stood looming over Frodo’s cross-legged figure. The young hobbit pointed his forefinger and wagged it at Frodo angrily, continuing blurting out his blind defense of his family.

“You’re the one who always comes late to lunch or dinner. You’re too busy taking pity on yourself and hiding in the library! Don’t blame us if you eat so slowly and can’t finish your meal on time.”

Frodo stared at Merry in dismay, gaping at his younger cousin. He fought the sudden tears, which threatened to break forth and forced himself instead to sit motionless on the grass that seemed to crumple beneath his weight. Merry stood before him, looking strong and confident, his face flushed with health and vigor. He was the image of a lad who lacked for nothing – nutrition, education, attention and love – the clear opposite of Frodo, a contrast of a strong and obvious kind.

Actually, the last thing that anyone should worry about regarding the orphaned boy was that he should lack for food. This he had, but Frodo was a perfect example of somebody struggling to grow up by himself otherwise. As a child, he had desperately tried to attach himself to an uncle or aunt, seeking to find a parental figure to fill the void in his life. Yet apart from ensuring that Frodo had his meals, although he was always late for them, those relatives were never by his side during critical times in his young life.

Frodo learned everything by himself, with the aid of the vague memories of those precious moments when his protective father and loving mother were still breathing. From the small things like buttoning his shirt to the more important lessons of knowing wrong from right, Frodo fended for himself. He had even discovered the merits of smoking pipeweed for himself.

Only one other individual seemed to care - Bilbo Baggins, Frodo’s cousin on his father’s side. Oftentimes Frodo would cling wordlessly to Bilbo, and the elderly hobbit would wisely see Frodo’s grief for himself and say, “I know this is really hard for you, lad.” It was that simple. Bilbo never said, “Don’t cry,” or “Everything will be all right.” He knew such advice for the useless thing it was, and he understood that things might slowly get better but would never mend entirely.

Unfortunately the old hobbit did not live nearby, but in Hobbiton. Their meetings were scarce and in the end, Bilbo could only support Frodo by providing things the boy needed.

And there was also Meriadoc Brandybuck, Frodo’s cousin and the son of the Master of Brandy Hall, the very proper dwelling where Frodo resided. Merry was not an arrogant young lad, nor was he a spoiled brat. Moreover, Merry was the only one besides Bilbo who managed to see beyond Frodo’s exterior and into the depths of the lad’s crestfallen heart.

For that very reason, Frodo trusted Merry with all his heart and decided to show him Bilbo’s letter. At first, Frodo had been positive that Merry would understand how happy he was, and that he would be supportive of his expression of his feelings.

Yet Frodo was wrong. He had misjudged the closeness of his relationship with his cousin and the possible reaction Merry’s Brandybuck stubbornness was likely to prompt.

Frodo realized that Merry was not finished with his rant. Clutching Bilbo’s letter so tightly that his knuckles grew white, Frodo could only swallow Merry’s next accusation.

“And what’s wrong with sharing a bedroom? The boys you share with are your own cousins and relatives. I think it’s good to have a shared bedroom for us all. We won’t grow to be individualistic and selfish that way.” Merry’s eyes flickered cynically as he spoke the next harsh sentence.

“How can you be so ungrateful?”

Frodo felt as if he were struck in the heart. NO! He wasn’t ungrateful! He wanted to shout his defense desperately, but no sound emerged from his lips. Instead, he felt his eyes swim with unshed tears. However, he was determined not to cry and he knew one thing for sure. He was NOT ungrateful.

Frodo was still sitting and holding the letter insensibly as Merry suddenly bent over, grasped the page in the center, and tore it from his grasp.

The sound of paper ripping registered in Frodo’s mind and it was too late when he realized what had happened. Bilbo’s letter was little more than shreds of parchment crumpled in his hands, and Merry now held most of it.

“Merry, the letter!” Frodo rose to confront Merry, but his cousin had turned around and fled for home. Frodo was left shaking from the shock of the verbal assault and anguished by the state of the letter, the only thing that had been able to shine light through the clouds over Frodo’s life.

Frodo sank back to the ground with Merry’s words still ringing cruelly in his ears.

Ungrateful. You are so ungrateful.

And what of the words Merry had not spoken aloud?

Orphan. What do you expect? You’re lucky enough to have walls around you and roof above you when you are asleep!

And Frodo rose painfully slowly. No one would ever call him an ungrateful person again. He wasn’t like that. For almost nine years Frodo had stayed – no – the Brandybucks ALLOWED him to stay in their home. During those years he had been fed, clothed, and educated. Although Frodo hardly received any more than that, it occurred to him now that Uncle Saradoc could always decide to just abandon him. They were family, true, but Saradoc was in no way responsible for Frodo’s upbringing.

Staggering, Frodo headed back to the Hall, something inside him hopelessly trying to stitch up the holes and cracks in his heart. No more gloom or sorrow. Frodo would not allow himself to grieve over the bleakness of his life, lest he be considered ungrateful.

TBC