Chapter Nineteen

Saradoc walked into Merry’s bedroom. He saw Frodo, the Took lasses and little Pippin sitting around Merry. They were all laughing about a jest someone had just made. No one took notice of him standing there yet.

“It’s your move,” Pervinca told Pippin.

“I know! I’m thinking.”

“How long does it take you to think?”

“Not long,” said Pippin in triumph, as he made a sweeping motion down the board with his rook. His rook took her knight, and...“Checkmate!”

Pervinca looked at the board in surprise, “You can’t do that.”

“What do you mean, I can’t do that?” Pippin laughed, “Of course I can--and I just did!”

“Pervinca,” Frodo smiled, shaking his head, “even I saw his moves several on ahead, and I despise chess. He lured you into that trap.”

The near teen narrowed her eyes at her brother, “Fine. Have your day, Pip, because I can still wrestle you to the ground on my worst day with one hand tied behind my back!”

“Tied behind your back?” Pippin actually considered her offer...

“No you two,” Pearl laughed, “and you, Pippin, I had better not see you wrestling, running, jumping, or any of that for a long time!” Then she noticed her Uncle Saradoc at the door. Everyone followed her gaze.

Silence.

“Uh...hullo, all.” Saradoc nervously addressed the young hobbits. They continued to gawk at him.

“Did you forget something?” Merry spoke to his father as if he were an irritating insect, “I’m sorry--I wish I could see you to the door.”

“No...no,” answered Saradoc, not receiving his son’s insulting hint. “Of course you can’t.” Saradoc felt everyone’s eyes boring into him. He spotted an empty chair in the far corner. His knee still gave him grief over an injury this past summer, but he made it to the chair and sat down.

Pearl nudged her sisters, “I think it’s time to help clean up the kitchen.”

“Oh my, it is,” agreed Pim.

“Wait for me--I must help.” Pervinca took off after her sisters.

Pippin busied himself with picking up the chess pieces. He put them into a neat little box, and set it off to the side, then crawled under the covers to sit with Merry to warm up his legs.

More silence.

Merry glared at his father, “If you didn’t forget anything, why are you here?”

“I came here for you, son. And I will visit until you are well--until it is time to go home.”

“And the time hasn’t passed, yet?” Merry laughed mockingly, “Goodness, your pocket timepiece must be off.” Frodo and Young Pippin felt the air growing tense.

“Like it or not, I am here for the duration of our stay,” Saradoc ventured, hoping this would set the peace. But that was not to be. Merry had sixteen years of anger pent up inside him.

“Our stay? I don’t know about you, but I’m staying here for quite a long while,” here he nudged Pippin sitting next to him on the bed, “and no, I don’t like your being here. So you may as well leave this instant!”

Frodo cleared his throat, and made to leave them alone. He held out his hand to Pippin, “Let‘s play a game of checkers in the study, Pip.”

Merry growled at his cousin, “Don’t leave on his account, Frodo!”

Frodo purposely turned his back towards Saradoc and spoke softly to Merry, so as only he and Pippin could hear Frodo’s words. “As feeble as it looks, Merry, your father is trying to correct himself and reach out to you. I don’t know.... perhaps humor him for a while, and then make your decision. But right now, I would give almost anything to see my Dad alive. Don’t waste this chance as he’s wasted his.” Frodo patted his friend’s shoulder, got up and walked out.

Merry plopped back onto his pillows. The headache that never really went away was doubling back in force. He rubbed his eyes and face. Saradoc didn’t ‘rub’ away; he was still sitting in the chair. Merry stared up at the ceiling, took a deep breath and sighed. Under the blankets he held onto Pippin’s splinted hand for strength.

“How is mum?”

“She is well. She speaks of you always. She misses you, Merry”

“You told me that already. Tell me something I don’t know. I know she loves and misses me--she’s always told me that.” Merry rubbed his forehead. “I’m certain she cries because she knows by now that I will never return home.” He glowered at Saradoc, “and my absence is not because of her.”

Pippin could feel the hurt pouring from his cousin’s heart. He held Merry’s hand as tight as the pain would allow. It hurt Pippin to see Merry so wretched, but understood things had to be “set” in order to heal properly; he knew that first hand.

Merry was growing agitated, as well as his headache, “You look as if you’re bored silly. You obviously have nothing to say to me, and I to you.” He let out a deep breath, “just...please leave!”

Saradoc got up. Using the chair for support he shuffled closer to the bed.

“That isn’t leaving, father!” Merry raised his voice and immediately regretted it when his headache pounded harder. He rubbed his temples, “Why are you doing this to me? After all these years you think you can just walk into my life as if nothing has happened!” Merry was lashing out in full force, and so did his head. “You silly old fool! Go home! I don’t want you here, don’t you understand?” Merry gripped his head with his hands and made a face.

Saradoc took all the daggers Merry threw at him--he deserved it. He was a terrible father to Merry. Paladin was right; he had taken his anger of Saramac’s death out on Merry all these years. But why his child--he looked at the small child sitting next to Merry in the bed, and wondered how Pippin survived and not Saramac. Pippin was born too soon as well, so how was it that he survived and not Saramac? So many questions and hurt, but no answers. Saradoc paid attention to the moment at hand; was he willing to go the full mile with Merry? Was he ready to take on his paternal responsibilities and guide Merry into adulthood? Lastly, would Merry be willing to allow him this privilege? Saradoc tightened his belt for the long ride. He would endure--for the sake of his surviving son. His younger son. He got up, and scooted his chair even closer.

Merry angrily threw a pillow at the older hobbit, “Get out of here! Get out! Leave me alone!” Between the pain in his head and the anger in his heart, Merry became extremely upset. He held onto his head. “Why don’t you do what you do best and leave me alone? Go home and lock yourself away in your study and never bother me again!” Merry curled up into a ball as a wave of nausea swept over him.

Pippin was getting worried over his cousin’s headache. He hopped out of bed, nearly falling in the process, and ran to find his papa. He’d know what to do.

Saradoc stood up from the chair, he too, was now worried over Merry’s head. He went to the bedside, only to be shoved away by Merry. “Get away from me! Don’t touch me...”, he sobbed. “Don’t touch me!”

Saradoc put his hand on his son’s head. Merry jerked away. “Oh, please...”, he cried, still holding his head, “it hurts...my head hurts.”