Chapter Twenty Nine

It was after supper in Paladin’s study that the two adult hobbits met. Paladin sat down in the chair across from Saradoc, who was puffing away as he lit his pipe. The warmth from the hearth set a comfortable tone to the room as Paladin settled himself in for a long and difficult conversation.

Saradoc exhaled a long tendril of smoke, “So, Paladin, how goes the harvest?”

Puffing on his own pipe, Paladin answered, “It goes well. Most of the crops have been sold, or are being sold at the market. I just sent two wagonloads of grapes and a third laden with various other crops your way towards Buckland.”

“Wonderful! I can already taste the excellent wine,” said Saradoc. “I’ve brought some of my best stock for you to taste.”

At this Paladin raised his eyebrows. “You have?” He didn’t let on that he knew of his brother-in-law’s excessive imbibing as Merry grew up. Esmeralda alone convinced him to quit, though Paladin could only guess at how.

Saradoc got up and laid down his pipe, “Half a moment!” Then disappeared out of the room. He soon returned with a small wooden box that easily opened with a latch. Packed within a bit of straw lay two bottles filled with a dark liquid and sealed with a cork.

Paladin went over to his desk and found two small glasses inside a drawer. He was only going to bring one, but then was curious to see if Saradoc would nail himself to the proverbial wall. He took them over to Saradoc who filled one glass half full. “I made a promise to my dearest that I wouldn’t drink. Not even to make a toast.”

Paladin was impressed. “Then I won’t--”

“Paladin, please.” Saradoc implored, “Please make a toast to the child we both love. I truly want the last days of his childhood to be happy ones.”

Paladin hesitated, but he lifted his glass, “To Merry.”

Paladin closed his eyes as he swallowed the wine. “Fine wine indeed,” he said, giving a satisfactory nod. “How old was this bottle?”

Saradoc looked at the bottle closer, “Let’s see“, he turned the bottle until he could read the description, “I believe this bottle was laid down from your very first harvest!”

“Let me see that!” Paladin took the bottle and read the label. “1374...indeed it was.” Paladin looked incredulous at his brother-in-law. “You’ve kept it all this time? Why?”

“To celebrate our most splendid retirements later in life,” Saradoc replied. “There are more bottles, but I’ve decided to open this one to celebrate something else.”

“And what occasion would that be, may I ask?”

“The occasion of a new beginning with my son!” said Saradoc, corking the bottle.

Paladin could hardly believe his ears, “a new beginning?”

“Yes! And I am willing to do whatever it takes to earn my child’s trust once more--to make a fresh start.” Saradoc watched Paladin’s expression. “I thought you would be happy...if not for me, then at least for Merry.”

Paladin’s legs grew weak and sat down in his chair. “I am.”

Saradoc sat down as well. He searched Paladin’s face for anything resembling approval. “But your face betrays you.” He let out a deep breath, “I should have been better prepared for this.”

Paladin looked at Saradoc, “Prepared for what?”

“For, um....how should I say this?” Saradoc tried to choose his words carefully and spoke earnestly, “I was prepared for Merry to be attached to you. You have been the one at his side all these years--I was not. But I was not prepared for was you, Paladin, to be attached...so deeply...to my own son.”

“And should I not have been?” The fire was growing warm inside Paladin, and it wasn’t emanating from the fireplace. “You are saying it was all right for me to wipe the blood from his scraped knees, or to let him cry his heart out on my shoulder, but I wasn’t allowed to love him!”

“No, Paladin, that isn’t what I meant at all. You’ve taken it all wrong!” Saradoc tried to calm him, “I meant--”

“I know what you meant!” Paladin got up from his chair and stormed out of the study, then out of the smial, slamming the door shut behind him.