Chapter Seven - Blessed Reunion

Just before nine o’clock, Bilbo and Adelard had the company on Hobbiton road and headed south towards the East Road. After that, they would head west for a bit, then they would stop in Waymeet for elevenses. Thereafter, they would head south a short ways and then back east towards the Tookbank--and hopefully have a late lunch in Whitwell. There would be more winding, narrow lanes around the hills to Tuckborough, and then on to their last stop: Whitwell. It would be on those slender lanes that they’d have to be the most careful.

A long ride it was and very cold, too. The three lads huddled in the back of the cart covered in woolen blankets in addition to their own coats, scarves, and cloaks. When the road was wide enough, Bilbo, who was riding a pony, would ride side-by-side along with the cart talking to Adelard, but when it became too narrow, he’d fall to the back and converse with the boys.

Adelard first tried the lanes around the northern bank, as they were flat and wide; two carts could easily pass by one another. However, as he rounded the northwestern spur of the Tookbank he saw there were deep snowdrifts that had not melted in shade of the Hill. It would be unsafe to try and master them being that there was no way to tell how deep they were, they could easily become trapped. Adelard stopped the cart and backed up a little ways until he was able to turn around, and then he headed for the lanes to the south of the Hills.

To his relief, most of the snow on the south track had melted under the cloudless sky, and so the traveling would not be as treacherous along this slender path as he first thought. However, the Southern lane was perilous in that it was only wide enough for one cart, and situated at the very bottom of the Hill which sloped at certain parts along the way.

Adelard rode slowly as he also kept a wary eye out for the pony rider behind him; walking on a slant was just as hazardous for ponies as it was for carts. He held a tight grip on the reins as he scanned the path ahead for hidden rocks and deep ruts in the road. After nearly an hour, he finally breathed a sigh of relief when he saw the lane open up to the Road on the eastern side of Great Smials. Now more at ease, he called over his shoulder, “It’s just a few more miles now!” He flicked the reins for the ponies to pick up the pace.

Before long, Pippin and Merry were recognizing the familiar landscape of the village Whitwell. Pippin gazed as they passed by a neat row of thatch houses. One was the home of the Saddlers; he had been guest there on many occasions as Mistress Verbena loved to stuff the neighborhood children with her jam preserves. Pippin knew then that he was not far from home. A few more minutes passed when he saw they were riding up the well-known path that led to the tall, grassy embankment that was the home to a special Took family.

When they halted, Pippin wasted no time in sliding out the back of the cart and ran towards the door, yelling at the top of his lungs, “Papa! Momma! I’m home!”

The rest followed at a more leisurely pace with cramped muscles and stiff backs. They were all met at the door by Dahlia the cook.

“Pippin, my dear laddie!” she leaned down and held out her arms. She made a grab for the charging boy, but he wriggled free of her hands saying, “My papa’s not sick anymore, Dahlia! I have to see him!”

“Where’s Auntie?” Merry asked, looking around and not seeing or hearing her anywhere nearby.

“After bein’ cooped up for nearly a week, the lasses convinced her to get out for some fresh air. Yer auntie rode off to Mistress Violet’s house along with the lasses to fetch Pervinca,” she answered. Then she looked at the well-dressed elderly hobbit, “She also sent out a message this morning to Hobbiton, but I s’pose now the messenger will find yer place empty.”

“How’s Paladin?” Adelard voiced the question of all the travelers.

Dahlia scratched her head, “He’s doin’ better. Mr. Paladin’s been very tired and was sleepin’ as ye rode up,” she looked back towards the bedrooms, “but I doubt that he’s sleepin’ now.”

“May we just peek in?” asked Adelard. “Some of us have traveled far to visit him, and if he’s up, we’d like to talk with him a bit.” Then he added, “but I promise we won’t bother him for long.”

The elderly matron took a moment to think about it; she considered herself the guardian of every member of this simple family. “Well...,” she said slowly, trying to make up her mind. “I reck’n it wouldn’t hurt if he’s already awake, but if he’s sleepin’…,” she trailed off.

“Yes, ma’am--we’ll come right back here!” said Adelard. He never crossed ol’ Dahlia.

The group quietly crept back towards the bedrooms and immediately found the room they sought. Inside, they could hear Pippin talking excitedly to the occupant.

“...and we made cookies, and Bilbo even told me a story about Smaug!” Both hobbits looked up at the door as the group entered.

Merry couldn’t take his eyes off of his uncle; he looked pasty and sallow with dark circles under his eyes. The bedroom reeked of bitter herbs and garlic.

“I do look terrible, don’t I?” Paladin smiled weakly. His arm was wrapped around the little hobbit lying on the bed snuggled up at his side. Pippin was all smiles as his arm held a firm grasp around his father‘s waist.

“That won’t last long,” Adelard smiled at his friend, “you’ll be up and about sooner than you know it.” He was better than young Merry at hiding the shock of seeing his normally robust friend appear so frail.

“Yes,” Paladin replied, “but not too soon, I think. I don’t believe I could manage running after this high-spirited lad quite yet.” He gave Pippin a tender squeeze. He noticed his nephew‘s gaze. Even now, Paladin sought to comfort his boys and take their minds off of worry. “Merry lad, could you help your old uncle a bit with sitting up?”

Merry was at Paladin’s side in an instant, while Frodo and Pippin took the other side. Together the young hobbits aided Paladin with fluffing and arranging his pillows so he could better see his visitors. Paladin took Merry’s hand and then pulled him into a warm embrace. “I missed you, too, lad.”

When Paladin finally released him, Merry came away with eyes full of tears and a puffy red nose. He wiped them away and then hurried out of the room. Frodo went after him.

“I have that effect on certain hobbits,” Paladin said wryly, though inwardly he truly worried over his nephew.

“He’s taken your illness quite hard these past few days,” said Bilbo, gently taking the younger hobbit’s hand into his own.

“And I thank you, dear cousin--for caring for my lads this week.”

Adelard raised his brows, “Your lad-s?”

Paladin sighed (more from the growing fatigue). “Yes--my lad-s!” he grinned. “I remember what we talked about a few months ago, but I’ve decided that as long as he’s under my roof, he’s my lad.” Pippin smiled at Adelard’s bemusement; he and his father had talked about Merry many times. Paladin continued, “My sister and Saradoc are letting him spend the winter here, and when the time comes, he will go back to Brandy Hall.” Then he added with a smile, “Then hopefully to return again in the summer for his regular summer holiday.”

Adelard chuckled and shook his head; he knew he was powerless when it came to the will of his tenacious friend. He bent over to kiss his forehead, “I’m only glad that you’re still here with us, my friend. Now go to sleep.”

Paladin was getting drowsy again; he tried fighting the urge to shut his eyes. “I am greatly blessed to have the most wonderful cousins. I know you both have traveled very far only to watch me yawn.” And that he did. Then looking down at his side and saw Pippin was already fast asleep with his ear pressed against his ribs. Pippin had fallen asleep listening to the soothing heartbeat of his own father as he nestled in the crook of his arm. Adelard saw a blanket draped over the back of a chair and covered Pippin in it, tucking him in around his father.

Bilbo noticed the heavy weariness descending upon Paladin. “I won’t keep you from your slumber; I shall return again tomorrow. I will be visiting some old friends at Great Smials for the next few days.” He stood at the foot of the bed and gave Paladin’s leg a couple pats. “Sleep well, lad.”

After his friends left the room, Paladin relaxed and closed his eyes, allowing the silence to envelope him. Just as he was on the verge of dreams, a slight noise woke him. He opened his eyes to discover Merry watching him from the doorway. “Come here,” he beckoned his nephew towards the bed.

Merry slowly padded over to the bed and at his uncle’s invitation, he did as Pippin and lay on the bed next to Paladin, in the crook of the other arm. Merry wanted to always remember this moment; he nuzzled his nose, and then his cheek against the crisp linen nightshirt, feeling the warmth of his uncle’s skin underneath it touch his own. He placed his hand atop Paladin’s chest, feeling it rise and fall against his palm with every breath.

Then he watched his cousin deep in slumber on the other side of his uncle. “He didn’t sleep the whole night--nor on the way here. He was so eager to see you.”

“Pippin? I see that,” answered Paladin. “Usually he never sits still long enough to take a nap.”

“I’m sorry for running out of the room as I did,” said Merry apologetically. “I was being terribly selfish again.”

“Oh? How so?”

“I knew that I’d be miserable and empty if you.... and it frightened me. I never want you to be sick ever again.”

“Son, I have no control over how I leave this world. I may be ill, or I may die of old age.”

Merry smiled at his uncle’s endearment, and he never tired of hearing it. He became peaceful as he listened to Paladin’s heartbeat in his ear; it was like the song of a lullaby to him. He spoke softly, “Then if you must, let it be of old age.” He felt his uncle kiss his head. “I love you, Uncle Paladin,” he whispered.

“I love you, too.” Paladin smiled peacefully as both of his lads slept under each arm. He closed his eyes, letting restful dreams take him away.

~~The End~~