Disclaimer: These beloved hobbit characters belong to JRR Tolkien. I only write as a hobby, and I am certainly not a medical professional, so the medical practice and advice my healer gives is only conducive to the story.

For a little insight, Merry is 26, Pippin is 18, and Frodo is 40.... Enjoy...

Master of Comforts

Chapter One - Ashes to Ashes

Saradoc stood at the foot of the grave pit gazing into its depths, and holding a fistful of earth. His face wore no expression as his thoughts meandered back to the days of his childhood and youth. Deep inside the pit lay a wooden box about the size of a grown hobbit. Several feet behind him stood his wife, Esmeralda, all bundled up, and next to her was their own son, Merry, wearing his wool winter overcoat--hands in the pockets and collar up to ward off the frigid air. It was early December and the air was crisp and cold. Saradoc felt the first few drops of freezing rain falling upon his head. He pulled up the hood from his cloak and then dropped the earth onto the box below. He turned and walked away. The gloom of the weather befitted the gloom in his heart. It was on Friday that Old Rory had passed in his sleep. Saradoc hadn’t remembered feeling so alone in his life, even as his wife and son walked at his side following the burial wagon back towards Brandy Hall.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Back inside the warm Hall, Saradoc pulled off his cloak and handed it to a waiting servant. Barely pausing, he walked on towards his office followed by Merry. Merry was just a couple feet behind his father but that was just enough time and space for Saradoc to enter his study and then shut the door hard behind him. Some years ago, Merry would have seen this act as his father not wanting anything to do with him, but these days he was undaunted. Merry drew back only enough to avoid the door hitting his nose, but then he recovered and turned the door handle, entering the office right behind his father.

Saradoc stood at the window looking out at the landscape of the Brandywine River and further out to the distant fields of the Marish beyond it. “Merry, I will no longer be giving you abstract lessons in the manner of being Master of the Hall.” He turned, looking at his son sadly, “It seems I am now the incumbent and you are the prospective with your own responsibilities. You will be expected to perform your own tasks from your own office.” He turned to gaze out of the window once more.

Merry blinked in slight surprise but remained where he was. “I am not here for more lessons, Dad--or to request my own office.”

Saradoc fully turned to his son. “Then why are you here?”

“Just....because.” Merry began to unbutton his coat. “Must I have a specific reason? If so, the reason should be obvious to you--it is to me.”

Saradoc cast his eyes to the ground, “Merry, I don’t want to seem ungrateful--”

“Then don’t!” Merry interrupted. “Don’t say what I know you’re about to say.”

“How do you know what I’m about to say?”

Merry draped his coat neatly over the back of the sofa and sat down, “After living here on and off for the past few years, I’ve learned a few things. More notably I’ve learned what you’re going to say, and when.”

Saradoc turned back towards the view in the window and sighed, “Then let me stagger you.” He walked away from the window and sat on the sofa next to Merry. “I will tell you what I am feeling right now, right this minute. I feel quite sad and alone.” He folded his twitching hands together, “I don’t know what to say to anyone--apart from that, I feel nothing. And that is what frightens me, Merry. That’s why I am here.” He rubbed his forehead in frustration, “At least I had the comfort of a flask when your....brother died.”

Merry watched as his father’s eyes welled with tears. “You may not have the comfort of a flask now....but you have me.”

Saradoc wiped his eyes and sat for a minute gazing at his nearly grown son. He leaned over towards Merry and embraced him, “Yes...” he said, considering in thought the enormity of forgiveness from his own son. “I have you. And I intend to never let go.”

Merry smiled sadly. He remembered too well his own chaotic childhood and never having this sort of closeness with his dad. His forgiveness was truly sincere, but it was still difficult to forget at times. “Let’s get out of the office here and take tea in the dining room with Mum. She’s feeling lonely, too.” Merry handed his father a handkerchief.

Saradoc accepted it and wiped his eyes, “I’m being selfish again, aren’t I?” He sniffed, looking about the dusty shelves of the bookshelves. “I suppose this is the last place I should allow myself to be.”

Merry nodded in agreement, “Your whole family needs you, Dad.”

Saradoc patted his son’s hands, getting up from the sofa. Together, both hobbits ambled out to the dining room.