Chapter Eight - Awakenings

Pippin napped quietly while nestled in the arms of his father. Paladin himself was beginning to nod off, as he had spent the entire night awake at his nephew’s bedside. The longer Merry was unconscious, the more Paladin worried. He let out a deep breath; why wouldn’t he wake up?

Just as his eyes rolled shut for the millionth time, he heard a faint sound...from Merry. Very distant it sounded, but yes--it was Merry. Paladin knew the sound of Merry’s voice as if he were his own child. He scooted to the edge of this chair, trying to see if the lad’s eyes had opened. He lifted Pippin and laid him in the chair and then sat on the bed. “Merry?”

*******

Merry knew he’d made a grave mistake when the ground never came. He opened his eyes and instantly knew he’d fallen in yet another hole. Then he felt himself land hard on the ground; the air rushed out of his lungs, giving a small cry. His last thought was for Pippin. If anyone was out there, if anyone was watching over little hobbits....please...watch over my little brother. Then he knew no more.

As a dark veil enclosed around him, Merry felt himself being borne up. He felt as if he were under water and was floating up towards the surface of the Brandywine river. As he rose higher he saw a bright light on the other side of his eyelids. Just as he broke the surface, Merry took in air into his lungs as if he’d been under water for too long. He opened his eyes.

*******

“Merry,” Paladin tried to soothe the boy as he woke up coughing and sputtering. “Merry, it’s all right. You’re awake now!” He saw Merry shield his eyes with his hands and then got up to quickly close the drapes. At once he was back on the bed as Merry then tried to sit up. Paladin gently held Merry back onto his pillow, “No, son, you must lie back down and rest.”

Merry uncovered his eyes and squinted as the light stabbed his eyes. They were red and glassy in his bewilderment, “Dad?”

That struck Paladin as a bit odd, but it was more important to ease Merry back into the living...so to speak.

Merry began to weep, “Am I dead? I must be dead because you’re dead.”

“I’m not dead, Merry! I’m sitting here talking with you in Cousin Fiodrin’s house.”

“No...” Merry cried, clutching at Paladin’s sleeve, “You died of the Sickness this past winter...and Pippin and I hid Pervinca with the Bunces when she fell sick. I paid your debt and the Overlooker took your timepiece from me...he laughed at me and said I had no father--that you were dead! Pippin and I were going to leave Michel Delving tonight....and then I visited you and Mum at your graves, and I didn’t see the hole...and...and...” Merry stopped his ranting when he saw the puzzled look on his...father’s?...uncle’s?...face. He put his hand to his head, “My head hurts.”

“Papa? Is Merry better?” Pippin had woke up as Merry carried on about his dream.

Paladin reached over to the night table and gave the bowl of water to Pippin, “Here, son, fetch more water and more ice, please.” Then saw the small vial sitting on the stand, “and tell Fio to make some broth, too.”

“Yes, papa.” Pippin left the bedroom to find Fiodrin.

Merry looked pleadingly at Paladin, “Tell me--where am I? Are you my dad, or are you my uncle?”

Paladin brushed a few errant curls away from Merry’s forehead. “You had a horrible fall in an old hole in the fields across from Mr. Thatch’s house.”

Merry grew anxious at the mention of that name. “Oh, Mr. Thatch is not a nice hobbit, dad!”

Paladin softly chuckled, “He’s not, eh?” Then whispered, “I sort of figured that out at our meeting.” He continued, “You’ve been unconscious since late yesterday afternoon. Seems you’ve had quite a dream.”

“But dad--it wasn’t a dream! It was real; I even pinched myself and I never once woke up....‘til now.” Merry took in a deep breath, “I feel strange.”

“Are you feeling ill?” Paladin was reaching for the little pail next to the bed.

“No...Well, yes, but...oh, I feel as if I went somewhere and lived there for a long while. It was me, and then it wasn’t me. I’m not making any sense, am I dad?”

Well, for one, you keep calling me ‘dad', thought Paladin, but correcting the lad was still low on the ladder rungs. He thought that perhaps talking about his dream would bring Merry further into the present. “Tell me about your dream, son.”

Just as Merry began, Pippin returned with a fresh bowl of ice water and clean rags tucked under his arm. “Cousin Millie is making broth for Merry, and I hope she makes a lot because it smelled good.”

Paladin smiled at his son’s bottomless stomach and took the bowl. “Thank you, Pippin.” He dipped the cloths into the bowl and wrung out two of them. One he folded and placed underneath Merry’s head, and the other on top. He put on his best parental smile, “Better?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

Pippin sat down in the chair and listened as his cousin began again to tell of his dream. Merry told from the exact beginning of when he woke up in the hole and saw Pippin looking down from the opening, about working at the mill, Pippin cleaning chimneys, right down to his very last plea in the second hole. Pippin liked the parts where he spoke about them being brothers. He interrupted Merry’s story, “See, papa? I said we were brothers, and we are!”

Paladin said nothing, though he and Pippin exchanged glances when Merry told about ‘Tad’. “Merry...how did you meet this Tad...or Taddy? Do you know him from Brandy Hall, or even Buckland?”

Merry looked at his uncle, “No...I only met him yesterday...I think it was yesterday, at any rate. How do you know him? I only met him once, myself.”

“I don’t know him, Merry, though someone else may.” And that’s all Paladin would say on the matter. Merry’s story couldn’t.... Though he believed in providence, Paladin didn’t know what to make of his nephew’s dream. Was it indeed providence...or was it mere coincidence?