Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me, they belong to JRR Tolkien. 

A/N: I realize some will think I’ve taken the quote below from LOTR a bit out of context. Probably...but maybe not. Who knows? A while ago when I wrote my first few fanfics, I wrote Merry with an estranged relationship with his father, so I wrote this story with the “beginning” in mind. On the bright side, Merry and Saradoc do eventually find middle ground in later years.

Warning: This story contains strong angst. I am neither a psychologist nor a professional writer. I write because I’m addicted to it, and I like to write about my two favorite characters: Pippin and Merry. Unfortunately...this is pre-Pippin; sorry Pip. If you have constructive criticism, or words of encouragement, please review.

Absence of Reasoning

“But Merry stood at the foot of the green mound, and he wept, and when the song was ended he arose and cried, “Theoden King, Theoden King! Farewell! As a father you were to me, for a little while. Farewell!” - LOTR/ROTK, JRR Tolkien. (Italics mine)

Chapter One - Secret Hurts

The teenager quietly tiptoed inside the dark void of his secret place. This particular room was his favorite place to hide when he wanted to escape the crowd of other hobbits; to be alone to think things over in his head, or to just be “near” his parents. This room used to belong to his mother and father until their untimely death in a boating accident upon the Brandywine River when he was just twelve years old. His heart still ached for them.

It was quiet and unsettling as he crept around, except for the muffled sound of a small child sniffling. “Merry?” he whispered. The sniffling stopped.

“Merry lad, you must come out,” he tried to coax the boy out of hiding. Then the sniffling started up again. Frodo tried again, “everybody’s worried about you, Merry. Your folks have all your aunties and uncles out looking for you.”

The boy was clearly upset; his breath came in sporadic gasps. “Not my Dad,” he sobbed.

The teen had no reply for those words. He then turned in the direction of the child’s voice. “Come along, Merry, It’s past midnight and your mummy is very worried and scared.”

“She is?”

“Of course she is! Very much so, and she wants you to come back home.”

“But I can’t, Frodo. I’ve run away!” The child started to sob again, “Dad and Mummy were shouting at each other...about me.”

Frodo opened the old, dusty wardrobe that he knew was Merry’s favorite hiding place when they played hide and seek. There sat the little boy with his knees drawn up. Frodo felt a feverish warmth escape from the dark void as he helped the child stand to his feet. He took up the five-year-old into his arms and carried him out into the lit hallway, the small boy crying into his shoulder the whole time. Frodo kissed Merry’s damp curls, stroking his shoulders as he carried his cousin back to his mother. “Shhh,” he said, “That is for your Dad and Mummy to worry about.”

The boy hid his face from the bright lanterns in the hallway and continued to sob. Frodo was gentle and soothing to his young cousin, but inwardly, his blood was boiling at his elder cousin’s disgraceful behavior towards his only child. Frodo felt Saradoc’s behavior to be absolutely repulsive.

Frodo held Merry close as he carried him down the hallway and whispered in his ear, “Do you wish to sleep in my bed tonight?” He could feel the little head nodding. He could feel the dampness on his shirt from Merry’s hot tears. “Shall we go and say goodnight to your Mum first?”

Merry nodded again, weary from crying, asked, “Will my dad be there? Him and Mummy will start yelling again.”

Frodo sighed, “I don’t know, Merry, but I’ll make sure no shouting goes on when you’re there.”

Minutes later the twosome stepped into the kitchen, Frodo still carrying Merry, and Merry sound asleep with his head resting on Frodo’s shoulder. The cares of his crumbling little world had taken its toll on him.

“Merry!” Esmeralda wept anew when she saw her little boy was safe and in the arms of his favorite cousin. She was waiting all alone in the room.

“Where did you find him?” She wiped her eyes with her handkerchief.

The teen was still a bit reluctant to give away his secret place. “Oh,” he replied, “in one of the vacant apartments in the upper level.” Frodo handed Merry over to his frantic mother, and Esmeralda was careful not to wake her sleeping child. Frodo watched as she closed her teary eyes, lovingly combing his curls away from his face with her fingers.

Frodo hesitated to break the moment, but he wanted to keep his word with Merry. “I...I sort of told him he could sleep in my bed tonight--I hope you don’t mind.”

At first, Esmeralda was going to object, but then decided it would be more important for her son to feel safe after all he had been through this evening. “Have you asked Uncle Saradas?”

His eyes dropped to his feet, “No.”

She knew the love her young cousin had for her son and relented, “Very well, Frodo, just this once without permission because I am pressed for decisions right now. If old Uncle Saradas fusses in the morning, then just bring little Merry directly to me, all right?” She balanced her son onto her hip, lightly hugging the older lad with her other arm. “Thank you, Frodo.”

Esmeralda kissed her little boy, “Merry,” she whispered, “wake up.”

The mop of curls slowly stirred. “Hmm.”

“Cousin Frodo is going to let you sleep in his bed tonight--how does that sound?”

“Hmm.”

Esmeralda tenderly kissed his small, rosy cheek, “I love you.”

Eyes still closed, Merry mumbled, “...lumm...too.”

“Mummy will be waiting for you in the morning,” she said, handing the sleeping boy back over to his cousin. Then she told Frodo, “I’ll go and tell the others he’s been found.”