Chapter Seven - It’s My Fault

Merry and Frodo, with sleeves rolled up past their elbows, were hauling buckets of water to the wash room along with the three servants they could gather in such short time. Merry stopped just short of the door, put his buckets down and leaned against the wall.

“It’s only a few more steps, Merry,” Frodo offered.

“I’m not resting, Frodo. I’m thinking.” Merry sighed, “Frodo--this is all my fault.”

It was the sadness in his cousin’s eyes that got his Frodo’s attention. He put down his buckets as well. “You mean Pippin? How is his being sick your fault?”

Merry closed his eyes tight, remembering his conversation with Saradoc, “My father instructed me this morning to look in on my aunt every so often to see if she would need some time for herself--you know.”

“And?”

“I was so busy wanting to see my new quarters that I forgot. I failed in my duties, Frodo, and it’s only my first day. My Dad and I both thought this task would be so simple.” He looked at his cousin with pitiful eyes, “It didn’t take long for me to foul this all up.”

“Don’t say that,” Frodo answered. “Pippin was already sick for not resting as he should have back in Great Smials--long before his trip here. Even Paladin admitted he should have stayed back at home.”

“He only came because he wanted to see me,” Merry said mournfully.

Frodo knew Merry was being hard on himself. Merry had always taken his tasks seriously, and was obviously trying to impress his father at the same time. At length Frodo spoke, “If you--or his mother, were sitting right there with him the entire time, regardless if you gave him a blanket or not, his fever was already climbing, Mer. The blankets only made it happen a bit faster.”

“But I still feel responsible. They were my responsibility.”

“That may be so,” replied Frodo, “and you may feel responsible. But my dear hobbit, please don’t beat yourself over it.” He put his hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Just learn from it.” Merry still looked at Frodo, unsure of his words. “He’ll be fine!” Frodo patted Merry’s shoulder.

Merry bent down to pick up the heavy buckets. “I can’t help but think about Pippin and the Goldworthy girl.”

“Speaking of the Goldworthy child,” Frodo opened the door before picking up his second bucket, “I think I might go along with Merimas after we’re finished giving Pippin his bath and visit with her.”

Later, after some fighting, a bit of thrashing, and yes...yelling, Pippin was finally done with his tepid bath. It took all three lads to get him into the tub and keep him there, and it might have taken more if he weren’t so weak. Once they had the teen settled in back in bed and resting comfortably, Merry, Frodo, and Merimas all stood together in a semi-circle deciding what they were going to do to get themselves into dry clothes.

Merimas smoothed his wet hair behind his head with his fingers, “My room isn’t far from here. Why don’t you lads come along and change into some of my clothes?”

“No, thank you, Merimas,” answered Merry. “I want to sit here with Pippin until Aunt Tina returns from the dining hall. I believe Frodo wanted to go with you to the Goldworthys anyway. He knows the mother.”

Now Merimas, the healer surfaced, “But your clothes are wet! You must change soon before you catch a chill yourself.”

“I’ll be all right.”

Merimas let out a sigh knowing his friend would be obstinate in this, and he did have to get back to help Salinda with little Salvia. “If I get a chance, I will look in on you later.”

“Thank you, Merimas for seeing to Pippin--and thank you, too, Frodo.”

****************

Merry almost didn’t hear his aunt enter the room. He’d almost fallen asleep as Pippin did after he had calmed down. Though the teen had calmed down mostly due to Mistress Salinda’s elixir from the night before. He slept comfortably as Merry watched over him, deep in his own thoughts. An hour ago, Merimas returned from the Goldworthy’s apartments; little Salvia had died. Frodo stayed behind to give what little comfort he could to the girl’s mother.

Eglantine tiptoed past her nephew and lightly tousled his curls as she passed him by. “Your hair is damp.”

“It will dry.”

She paused before sitting down and rubbed Merry’s arm. “Your clothes are still damp as well. You should go and change into dry clothes.”

“I will.”

“Merry...”

Even if he were fifty years old, Merry still wouldn’t dare disobey that tone of voice from his aunt--except now. “I cannot leave yet, Auntie.”

“And when will ‘yet’ arrive?”

“When I know that Pippin will be all right.”

“I admire your love and loyalty, Merry, but Pippin will be fine enough while you go and change into dry clothes. You can always come back.” Merry didn’t stir. She looked at the clock on the wall. “It’s half past seven; have you eaten supper?” Merry said nothing. She continued, “Merry, your cousin Merimas stopped to talk to me as I was returning here. We spoke for a while and he told me about the little girl. I’m very sorry.”

Merry continued to gaze at his sleeping cousin, “Frodo knows Mistress Silvia from when they were children. He’s staying with the Goldworthys to help out.”

“That’s very kind of Frodo,” his aunt replied. Eglantine got up and went to the wardrobe, took out one of the blankets Pippin had grabbed earlier and put it over her nephew, saying, “You may as well be warm if you’re going to be stubborn about it.”

“Thank you, Auntie.”

Eglantine could tell he was miserable, but what could she do other than sit with him? Frodo was with the Goldworthy family, Paladin was back at Great Smials, and Pippin was ill. Who else was there that he trusted enough to pour his heart out to? He obviously wasn’t going to talk to her about it. She knew her nephew well; right now he was holding it all in. She’d seen him do it before...a long time ago as a little boy. She sat down in her chair on the other side of the bed watching over her two charges.