Chapter Nine - Not Afraid Anymore

“Good morning, everyone.” Saradoc took his seat at the head of the dining table. He, like everyone at the table was quite solemn after the news of Salvia Goldworthy. The servants brought out breakfast to the dining hall and began serving the family members and guests. “How are you feeling this morning, Master Peregrin?”

“Much better, Uncle, thank you. Merry, Frodo, and Merimas took very good care of me.” Pippin recalled the whispering conversation he and Merry had earlier. Even though he spoke sincerely, Pippin hoped his compliment would take Merry up a notch in the sight of Uncle Saradoc.

“Ever since your fever broke this morning you’ve been chattering up a storm,” Eglantine remarked, and was truly delighted he was already feeling much better. “You ought to give more attention to your plate here in front of you,” she said as she piled more eggs onto his plate. “You need to put more meat on your bones!”

Saradoc glanced around the table, thinking that perhaps his son decided to sit elsewhere this morning. That in and of itself would have been odd, as Merry and his cousins were inseparable, yet Saradoc couldn’t see him anywhere. “Has anyone seen Merry?” He watched as just about everyone shake their heads, or heard them answer “no.”

“I did early this morning,” Pippin said, chewing around his bread. “He seemed a bit out of sorts.” Merry’s absence was beginning to worry Pippin as well. He sent a questioning look over at Frodo who returned it with one of his own.

“Thank you, Peregrin.” Saradoc took his napkin, wiped his mouth and got up saying to his wife, Esmeralda, “I think I know where to look for him.”

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

Merry first heard the latch turning, and then heavy footsteps entering his apartment after the door creaked open. He knew the shuffle of the gait; he quickly wiped his eyes and face with his shirttail and then stood up to his feet. Merry observed the silhouette of his father slowly making his way into the empty bedroom of his new quarters.

“I thought I might find you here.” Saradoc was now fully visible in the dim candlelight. He stood in front of his son and held out his hand, lifting the lad’s chin. “You’ve been weeping.”

Merry’s gaze dropped, “I...I wanted to be alone.”

Saradoc spoke softly, “Merry...everyone in the Hall is saddened by Salvia’s death. Why are you more so?”

Merry shrugged, “I should have been there.”

This remark took Saradoc by surprise, “Been there--why? The child’s illness was a private affair with her family. She was already surrounded by those who loved her.” He put his hand on his son’s shoulder, “What more could you have done?”

Merry sat down on the bed before he spoke. “When I heard that she died,” he said, “all I could think of was Pippin. What if he died, too? I became frightened at that possibility.” Then Merry went into his activities and failures of the previous day. “It would be all my fault, Dad. And...I would never be able to forgive myself if that happened.” Merry wiped his face as more tears streaked down his cheeks.

Saradoc sat down next to his son. “Your Auntie and Peregrin are your responsibility while they are visiting, yes,” he began, “but would it be your fault if Peregrin perished in his illness? No.” He looked at Merry, “Did you fail in your duties?” He shrugged. “That remains to be seen. Are you a failure?” Saradoc took his son’s chin in his hand again and looked into his eyes for effect, “Absolutely not.”  He reached out and took Merry in his arms, letting him cry.

After a few minutes of holding his son he continued, “Merry, you are a young hobbit lad right now. The duties I give you are only preparations for greater responsibility as you grow older--and when I see you’re able to accept them.” He loosed Merry and smiled grimly, “You’re not like the other lads here in the Hall, Merry. You are destined for greater things, and more will be demanded of you.” He wiped away a tear on his son’s cheek. “You have already made me proud. You put aside your own desires and sat up during the night with your cousin and watched over him. That is a clear indicator of your growing up.” He reached in his vest pocket for his handkerchief and gave it to Merry.

After cleaning his face, Merry leaned into his father’s arms and allowed him to hold him again. “That’s when I finally understood, Dad. All those times Pippin was terribly sick in bed...I always thought somehow that he would get well and then we’d be back to running about Tuckborough or Hobbiton--and he always did. Though sometimes it took a while. But the truth came to me very hard last night when Merimas told me Salvia had died. Then I remembered there were many times when Pippin was little, he was just as sick as little Salvia...and Salvia was only four years old.” Merry’s eyes welled up again. “I felt so foolish, Dad. I don’t ever want Pippin to die. If he did, then I would, too. He’s my best friend.”

“I know how much Peregrin means to you, son. He’s truly lucky to have a friend such as you.” Saradoc held Merry as he thought of his own private hell. After a silent minute he continued, “It’s always sad when a child dies, Merry. Your own brother was much younger than Salvia--he was a mere infant. Death knows no age, gender, or kind. I learned that the hard way.” He grew solemn as old memories resurfaced. “The worst thing about losing a child is the inner fear of the child’s memory fading with time--and with a new child.”

Merry remembered the distance of his father was when he was a child. He ventured, “Do you remember him?”

“I remember his face as clear as if he were living this morning,” Saradoc answered sadly. “I think that’s what drove me to the brink. I was frightened that no one would remember him, and I was determined to.”

“I thought you said you were afraid to love me?”

“That is true. Afraid of loving you in fear of not remembering him was driving me mad.”

Merry let go of his dad to clean his face again. “I don’t think you’re frightened of loving me anymore, are you?”

Once again, Saradoc was besieged with memories. But these memories were full of regrets in not being a father to his surviving son during his early years. He gazed into Merry’s deep blue eyes, “No. I’m not afraid anymore. In fact, I can’t imagine my life without you, Merry. I love you more than life itself.”

Merry leaned upon his father’s shoulder, and Saradoc took him into his arms again.

“Dad?”

“Hmm?”

“Tell me about my brother.”

~The End~