Chapter 45. Another Sip in the Cup

Merry came early to the study, only to find Berilac already seated at the Master's desk.

'Have you started sleeping here, then?' he asked.

'There's a thought,' Berilac answered, unruffled. 'Think of how much time I'd save.' He looked down at the desk and back to the Master of Buckland. 'I have your schedule for the day.' He'd wondered how much longer his cousin would put up with being managed, and figured the wondering was coming to an end as Merry put his hands flat upon the desk, staring at his steward in exasperation.

'And what is it to be, this day?' the Master asked with deceptive mildness.

'Merimas has ponies saddled; the two of you will ride out to the fields south of the Hall to check on crop readiness.'

'That ought to fill the morning nicely,' Merry said evenly. 'And then?'

'I do believe your wife had a picnic planned, by the little waterfall, perhaps,' Berilac answered.

'A nice long walk, and a nap too, I warrant,' Mery murmured. Berilac waited. As he'd expected, the storm broke. 'Just what is going on here?' Merry said, his frustration boiling over at last. 'There's serious work to be done, and...' he stopped suddenly, blinking.

'Doderas,' Berilac snapped, and the lad sprang from his chair in the corner where he was playing at Kings with Elberic, to grasp the Master's arm, guiding him to the chair next to the desk, easing him down. At a glance from the steward, Elberic left the room to find the healer.

'Merry?' Berilac said softly, helpless to rise from the desk to go to his cousin himself. 'Merry? Are you all right?'

The Master shook off Doderas' supporting hands and snapped, 'I'm fine. I just...' he took a deep breath. 'I'm a little tired, is all.'

'You've been tired a lot, lately,' Berilac said quietly. He looked to the lad. 'Doderas, bring us a pot of tea.' The lad nodded and left the study.

Merry tried to make a joke of it. 'Are you trying to work me out of a job? Every time I see you lately, you're behind my desk.'

'Perhaps I'm just practicing for when I'll be regent for your son,' Berilac answered. Merry regarded him in astonishment. 'Close your mouth before you start catching flies,' the steward continued. 'You had a dizzy spell just now, don't try to deny it.'

He held his cousin's gaze until the other nodded slightly. Encouraged, Berilac continued, 'You've been working yourself to death the past months, Merry, and I've never seen such a hobbit for worrying...'

'There's been enough to worry about,' Merry answered.

'...except perhaps the Mistress, but with her it's understandable, you give her so much to worry about,' Berilac said as if Merry had not spoken. 'All the worry in Middle-earth will not add a bite to the plate or a sip to the cup, you know. You have got to give over some of the responsibility to others. The Hall is not about to fall down around our ears should you take your eyes off it for one second.'

He gazed deep into Merry's eyes, willing him to listen as he had when Berilac was the "older, wiser cousin", back in the old days when two years was an eternity, and time stretched before them in endless promise. 'I should have been as wise as Pippin and trained a substitute steward, but I figured my luck to be better than his...' Berilac snorted at himself. 'When I got hurt you started doing my job as well as your own, and it cannot go on this way, Merry.' He tried to smile, to soften his words. 'Are you trying to make me feel useless?' he said, but his cousin did not smile in return.

Berliac decided to try another tack, though hobbits were more accustomed to jesting around a difficult topic than plain speaking. 'Merry,' he said softly, 'you know what you are up against. Your father died young, as did his brother... my father,' he added, almost as an afterthought.

'I know,' Merry said unexpectedly. 'It gets thrown in my face often enough. Grandmother had a bad heart, and she passed it on to her sons. And now everyone expects me to fall over dead, right? I can almost taste the worry in the air.' He made a sharp slicing gesture. 'I don't have time for this nonsense, there's too much that needs to be done.'

'You're afraid of it too,' Berilac said slowly as realization grew. 'You're working against time... aren't you?'

Merry tried to shake his head, to deny his cousin's words, but suddenly his shoulders slumped.

'Won't you let us help you?' Berilac asked softly.

'Merry shot him an ironic glance. 'You're one to talk,' he said. 'Seems to me you've got the same worry.'

Berilac shook his head. 'I don't carry the cares of Buckland on my shoulders the way you do, cousin,' he said. 'You work harder than any hobbit I know, except perhaps the Thain, and even he quits by teatime ... and his father lived past his hundredth year, for what that's worth. Merry...' his voice trailed off and he held out his hand pleadingly.

Merry shook his head, rising abruptly from his chair. 'I'm fine,' he repeated stubbornly. 'Merimas is waiting with the ponies, you say? I'll go over our findings with you later; we can map out the order of harvest and let the workers know which fields we'll need them in first.' With a firm nod he left the study.

Elberic returned with the healer only to find the Master already gone. The steward waved them both to chairs. 'Have some tea,' he said. It was time for a long talk with the healer. 'Be a shame for it to go to waste.'