Chapter Thirty

Pippin stood with his ear pressed to his bedroom door. He could hear raised voices just before he heard the door slam. He couldn’t make out the exact words, but he knew right away that one of the two grown male hobbits was angry. Did papa say something to upset Uncle Saradoc--or did Uncle Saradoc say something to upset papa?

His curiosity got the better of him. Silently he turned the handle and eased his door open just a crack. He tried to take in the view of the hallway, but it was too long. It seemed empty. He eyeballed the other side of the hallway through the crack of the door to make certain no one else was lingering about. The hall was empty. Pippin opened the door further and slipped out of his room.

Taking great care so as not to make a sound, he crept up towards his father’s study on his hand and knees. The door was still open a little. Pippin could see his uncle sitting in a chair with his head in his hands. Thinking his uncle’s attention was elsewhere, Pippin stretched his neck to scope the entire study. He could see his father no where inside the room. Papa’s the one who’s upset, he concluded, and started to back away from the door.

“Laddie!”

Pippin flinched to hear his uncle call to him. He thought to make up a story to tell his uncle in order to get away and look for his own father. But something made him stay. He caught sight of Saradoc’s face. He could readily see his uncle had been in tears.

Now that he’d been found out, Pippin got up onto his feet. “I...I was looking for my Papa.”

“Of course you were. Come here, child.”

Pippin hesitated; this hobbit had hurt his best friend for how many years? But he obeyed his elder as his father taught him. He went over and stood in front of Saradoc. “Yes, Uncle?” Pippin took notice how Saradoc’s face looked weary and flushed from his tears.

Saradoc looked up at Pippin standing before him and spoke with a tired voice, “If I ask you a question, lad, I know you will answer me with the truth, will you not?”

Pippin nodded to his uncle.

Saradoc took a handkerchief from the inside pocket of his vest and wiped his nose with it. He deliberated for a moment, then asked, “Does Merry hate me? Does he hate me to the point of never wanting to come home--home to Brandy Hall?”

Saradoc looked at the young child in front of him. He envisioned his own son at that age. He knew only too well that he had hid behind his study for far too long. He remembered Merry at age eight, but could not recall any laughter, or any other intimate moments between him and his son. Even when it was time for his son to learn his letters he hired the same tutor his brother and cousins employed, using the excuse that Merry would learn quicker alongside his cousins. But wasn’t the lad in line for Master of the Hall deserving of better? Breaking away from his reverie, he focused on Pippin’s response.

“....he’s thought a lot about you since then. I don’t believe--”

“I’m terribly sorry, lad,” Saradoc interrupted, “could you start over, please?”

“Yes, sir. I said...Not anymore. Ever since you visited him at Bag End he’s thought a lot about you. Though I am certain he is still angry with you, I don’t believe he hates you. I don‘t think he understands much of anything at the moment--and I have to say, neither do I.”

Saradoc swallowed the lump in his throat. Were things repairable? “He is angry with me?” Pippin nodded. Saradoc was silent for a few seconds, “Have you and Merry discussed his feelings at all?”

“Yes, sir, just last night we did.” Pippin replied.

“And how does Merry feel about coming home?”

Pippin opened his mouth, then thought better and closed it again.

“Do you think there’s any chance at all for me? I mean, do you think he’ll ever allow me inside his heart?”

He never was one to beat around the issue. Pippin got straight to the point, “He might. Then again he might not. Why are you asking me these questions? I could answer them for Merry--but I won’t. Wouldn‘t you want to put these questions to your own son? He’s in his room with Aunt Essie.”

“Your answer does not cheer the heart of this hobbit, laddie. But I thank you for being honest with me.“ Saradoc took in a deep breath, “I will do just as you said, Peregrin, and thank you.”