Chapter Seventeen

“Merry, pack up your things now. You will accompany me back to Brandy Hall.”

Merry was shocked when he awoke and saw his father sitting in the chair. Bilbo stood next to Saradoc. Why was Dad here? Was Mum sick? Merry woke up feeling very ill and having a tremendous headache. He closed his eyes to let the room stop spinning.

“At once, Merry,” said his father. “I don’t have all day.”

“Saradoc! The boy is sick and injured,” Bilbo was stunned at Saradoc. “Can you not see that?”

“He looks fine to me, Bilbo,” he replied.

Just the sound of his father’s voice nauseated and angered Merry. He decided that he would tell his father what he had come to terms with. He laid aside his blankets and slowly stood up. His head felt like a twenty-pound weight. He swayed a little, and even gripped his night table as he rose to his feet, but never once reached out to his father--he was past that.

“Merry, you must lie down,” Bilbo ran to Merry’s side.

Merry lost all color in his face as he stood up, “I am not coming with you now--or ever,” Merry said to his father. He felt a huge knot tighten in his stomach. “Too long have I been without a father who cares for or even loves me.” Merry gripped the night table tighter. “Too long have I been a bastard child in my own home--if you want to call it that! Why was I even born? I would surely like to know the answer to that question!” Merry’s eyes filled with tears, but he wasn’t going to let Saradoc have the satisfaction of seeing them.

Saradoc stared at Merry in disbelief. Until now, Saradoc was talented at hiding behind the doors of his study, both fearing--and wanting--the contact and the touch of his own son. Presently, Merry’s cutting words penetrated the great wall surrounding his heart. Saradoc spoke, but out of his own reflections, “What have I done to you?”

“Nothing!” Merry’s voice trembling, “That’s the problem; you’ve never once touched me! Never held me, never kissed me, never patted my head.” Merry felt what little strength he had was draining fast. “Anytime you were at home, you really weren’t there--you were always locked away in your study. I’ve never felt like I meant anything to you.” A tear escaped. Then he added softly, “You didn’t want me then, and I don’t want you now.”

Merry was now holding onto the bed table with both hands, quivering. “What a laughable lot we are,” he said. His strength all spent now. He tried to set himself back onto the bed but missed and fell to the floor.

Bilbo, even though he was getting up in years, stooped down to help Merry into bed.

“Stand aside.” Saradoc walked up to Merry, lifted him up and laid him in his bed. Merry was too exhausted from his injuries and tears to care. Saradoc covered brought the covers over his son and sat down on the edge of the bed. He leaned on his walking stick while in thought, then finally spoke, “Merry,” he started, “...It’s been too long ago, and I don’t know where to begin. I never have.” He continued, “And I still don’t know where to begin....or how. What shall I say after all these years? You are the brightest boy I have ever known--and have I told you this? You are the flower of my meadow and the star in my sky, but do you know this? Countless nights, Merry, have I watched you sleep because I couldn’t bear to see your innocent blue eyes dance upon my own.” Merry’s head was turned in the other direction, away from his father. Saradoc went on. “Over the years, I have kept every drawing, every letter, and every painting you drew for me, and I have treasured each and every one. But have you seen this? No...no on all accounts. I have kept you at a distance, fearing to lose you....and have lost you all the same. I see now what I was too blind to see years ago. You had every right to say what you did.” He added last, “I only ask that you return for the sake of your mother.”

Merry was concerned over Saradoc’s last statement. “Is Mum well?”

“She is fine, son, but I can hear her crying at night. She misses you and worries over you,” he said.

Silence.

Saradoc sighed. He took up his walking stick and limped out of the room. Merry watched his father walk out and never spoke a word.

Merry looked at Bilbo, “What in Middle Earth do you think he was rambling on about?”

Bilbo only sighed and shook his head.

This piqued Merry’s interest even more. “What are you shaking your head about?”

Just then Bilbo saw Paladin peeking in from around the corner. Relieved to be distracted, Bilbo jumped up, “Hullo, Paladin! Come here, dear cousin! Sit, sit!”

Paladin smiled at Merry as he entered the room, “How are you, lad?”

“A little better now,” Merry answered, “though I have a bad headache.” he smiled weakly and added, “Perhaps if I ate something...”

Paladin jested, “Is Bilbo starving you?”

“Goodness, it’s nigh on to lunch!” Bilbo exclaimed as he got up and ran out to prepare lunch for all his guests.

Merry and Paladin were alone. Paladin looked at Merry. He had his sister’s smile, her laugh, and sense of humor. Each time he looked at Merry, he saw Esmeralda. In Paladin’s eyes, Merry was more a Took than a Brandybuck.

“How’s Pippin?” Merry inquired.

“Pippin is doing fine though he has a very large headache himself, right now,” said Palain. “Broken bones mend, Merry, though I can’t say the same for broken hearts, eh? I saw Saradoc a few moments before I stopped in.”

Merry grew confused again, and told his uncle what Saradoc said about fearing to lose him. Paladin shook his head.

“Please don’t do that, Uncle,” Merry pleaded. “Bilbo just did that and now I want to know all about whatever it is you all know that I don’t.” He added, “It will probably not make a difference, but I’d like to know all the same.”

Paladin let out a long breath. “All right. I thought your mother or father had talked to you about this, but I will tell the sad tale. A little over a year before you were born you had an older brother.” Merry raised his eyebrows. “So I am correct--no one has told you, then?” Merry shook his head. Paladin continued. “His name was Saramac. He lived maybe...three or four months. Eglantine and I went to visit not long before he died. A tiny, beautiful little boy much like my own Pippin.” Paladin smiled absently at the memory of his tiny little Pippin. Then it disappeared as he again thought of Saramac. “He was too small, though. He was born too early and never grew. He never quite got the healthy, rosy color that most babies get. Even so, as any father would, your dad showered Saramac with love and gifts. He loved that boy more than life itself. The baby’s death shook Saradoc and it cut him deep.”

Merry listened intently as Paladin spoke; why had neither of his parents told him about an older brother?

“Several months later your mother found she was with child again. This time it was you, Merry. The healers said it was too soon and that you had the same chance at life as your brother, Saramac. It was apparently too much for Saradoc. He took to locking himself in his study, and when you were born, he refused to see you. He was afraid that if he allowed himself to get close to you, he would lose you the same way he did Saramac. Esmeralda didn’t know what to do. I told her to let Saradoc be for the present. I thought he would eventually come round in order to be a suitable father to you, but he never recovered from Saramac’s death and seems to have carried his fears over to you. Of course, it didn’t help to discover that he was finding his comfort in bottles of wine. That is how you started your summer visits. Your mother, auntie, and I wanted you to have a father of some sort--even if it was only for a few weeks out of the year. As you grew older, your father’s separation became more painfully evident to you and so that’s when I persuaded Essie to let you visit more often. I thought I could be the father you so desperately wanted--and needed. Perhaps I erred in my judgment.” Paladin smirked at his plan seemingly gone awry.

Merry reviewed everything that had happened in his life, and the one person that was there at each crucial moment, was Paladin. As he lost each baby tooth, Paladin was there to celebrate. The time he wanted to sleep out under the stars near a campfire, Paladin packed up two sacks and off they went--only a mile down the road, though. And every time those wretched thoughts of being unwanted crawled into his mind, Paladin was there to soothe him. The truth was, to some extent, he felt he wasn’t wanted. Merry had now come to terms with that, and the more Merry thought on it, the more he decided all else was best left behind him. He decided to focus on those who did love him: his mother, his extended Took family, Frodo, and most of all...Paladin. He would forever consider him his dad, his father. Saradoc lost out on all of that, and would never recover it. With the exception of his mother, the memories Merry cherished the most belonged to him and Paladin alone.

Yet Merry’s heart was getting the better of him. If Saradoc wanted any part of his life, Merry decided he would allow him to glimpse at it from a distance, though it wouldn’t likely change anything. And he’d have to prove himself to Merry.

Merry looked at his dear uncle, “Erred? Did I turn out that bad?” Merry had an impish gleam in his eye.

Paladin smiled, “You know better than that!”

Merry grew serious, as he often did these days, “Uncle Paladin...thanks for being my dad...when I had no dad.”

Paladin also grew serious, yet smiled back, “Thank you for being my son...when I had no son--and now I have two.”