Chapter Eighteen

The three elder hobbits sat at the table and drank tea. Lunch was over with and the all the younger hobbits scattered when they were finished. Only Pippin remained--he lagged a bit due to he had only one functioning arm. Paladin was helping him butter the last of his bread. Pippin lifted his mug--this time filled with milk--and drank it to the last drop then wiped his mouth with his sleeve. Noting no women folk at the table he let loose the huge air bubble in his throat--and very loud it was. He giggled at the freedom.

“Pip”, Paladin spoke quietly to his son, “use your napkin, and use your manners.”

Pippin looked around the table at the other company, “’scuse me,” and wiped his mouth once again but used his napkin this time. He climbed down from his stool, still dressed in Frodo’s huge shirt, and started to leave the kitchen.

Paladin had a quick thought. “Pippin,” He called to the boy as he walked towards the hallway. Pippin turned in his father’s direction. “Come here, son.”

Pippin walked over to his father. Paladin swiftly scooped the boy up (careful of his arm) into his arms and wrapped him in a hug. Being that Pippin was accustomed to his father’s open affection, Pippin giggled, returned his father’s hug and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Before leaving the kitchen, Pippin whispered in his father’s ear, “I love you, papa.” Then he ran out--but not before Paladin gave his son a loving swat on the bum.

“Pippin!” Paladin yelled after his son, “Be careful of your arm!”

Once the last child was out of the room, the air became tight around the two fathers.

Paladin was furious at his brother-in-law. He looked straight at Saradoc and let loose his anger. “That is what you have missed all these years! You have missed your son placing his milky lips on your cheek, kiss you, and then tell you he loves you. You’ve missed all of it. You’ve missed teaching your son to belch--yes, of course I taught Pippin that--and Merry, too. You didn’t think boys learned that from their mothers, did you? Yes, the drawings and letters are a part of it, but nothing, Saradoc--nothing, takes the place of all the hugs, kisses, and affection from your own flesh and blood.

“I can’t tell you how many tears your son has shed knowing he will never have what Pippin and I have--and that is what makes me ill the most. All these years you have acted the fool and tossed your son’s love out the window like it was refuse. All he ever wanted from you was to return a simple hug, pat him on the head for a job well done, or hold his hand when he was afraid or had a bad dream. You missed all of that, Saradoc, and you can never go back to reclaim it. He’s not a little boy anymore. He’s growing up, and has never known his father.” Paladin had more to say, but the more he looked at Saradoc, the more annoyed he became. Having unloaded how he felt, Paladin sat back in his chair. “Now what do you intend to do?”

Saradoc wiped his mouth with his napkin, and got up to leave. “Go back to Buckland. He obviously doesn’t need me.”

Paladin was incredulous, “I don’t believe you, Sara! This is exactly what you’ve done for the past sixteen years. Haven’t you had enough? I know Merry has! Yes, he’s not a small child anymore but he’s still a boy who needs his father. And now you intend to run back to your study again? I won’t have this, Sara--I will not stand idly by and watch you destroy your son.”

Saradoc shot back, “What would you have me do! Hmm?” He was certain any relationship with his son was now beyond all recall. “He doesn’t want me. He’s already made that quite clear.”

“Of course he’s going to say those things--he’s protecting his heart from you cutting it into pieces by turning your back on him--again. Fight for him, Saradoc--that’s the only way you’re ever going to get him back. Even then you’ve still lost all those years. They will never return but you can make a start today. Yes--today, Saradoc, you can start over by fighting for him.”

“And how would you suggest I do that? You seem to be full of wisdom today.”

Feeling the pinch between the two, poor Bilbo got up to clear up the dishes. Before adopting Frodo, he imagined he would have nothing to add. Now, after nine years of enjoying the playful company of a young tween, Bilbo himself had much to say, but felt Paladin was doing a fine job without his help.

“Think, Sara.” Paladin leaned in on the table, “Where have you not been these past sixteen years? At your son’s side. He’s still sick, and needs someone to look after him. No matter what he says or does, you must not leave him. Even if he tosses you out on your ear, don’t leave him.” Paladin drew closer to Saradoc for this last bit, “I know children--they will kick and push you to the brink, but do not leave your son--or this will be the very last time you ever see him. Because mark my words--I know Merry as my own child. If you leave him today without so much as lifting a finger to try and win him back, he will utterly reject you as his father.”