fic: Work in progress
Oct. 21st, 2005 01:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
auntiemeeshGotta love Fridays and Mondays. I get nearly three hours break in the middle of the day, and what better time could there be to work on fic?
That being said, here is part two of Work in Progress (that's a sucky title and I may change it at some point, if something else strikes me).
The next few days were busy ones for Merry. He was trying to learn the pedigree of all the breeding ewes and rams in the Brandybuck sheep herds; as well as looking at the information recorded in the books, he spent a lot of time at the barns and in the fields, learning the characteristics that each sheep had been bred for, and what characteristics, paired together, should create desirable lambs.
It was important work, as a fair percentage of the Brandybuck income came from those herds. It also suited Merry, at the moment, because it kept him very busy, with very little time to think or worry about anything other than sheep.
He sent a reassuring letter off to the Smials, letting Pippin know his plans and commiserating with his cousin about Paladin’s condition, and then, as planned, he packed a small bag and moved up to Brandy Hall, settling into his old rooms with very little fuss.
“Now, Merry, you must tell us what to expect,” Esmeralda said casually that evening, as she passed a bowl of sautéed mushrooms to her husband. They had decided to take their supper in the Master’s private dining room that night rather than join the large gathering in the hall.
Merry, caught unprepared in the act of reaching for the bread, faltered just slightly, pulling his hand back towards himself before recovering his aplomb.
“I can’t really say, for certain,” he answered, once again reaching for the bread. “Last year it was very mild, a few bad dreams, a chill in my hand and arm which made me slightly clumsy. I’m hoping it’s no worse than that this year, possibly even better. The year before, however, was truly difficult. I think I frightened Pippin rather badly, although he denies it. That was the first spring after Frodo left us, of course, and all of our anniversaries were difficult that year.” He fell silent then and turned his eyes to the west for a moment, as he often did when he thought of the cousin who had left them all behind.
“All right, then what do we do to help you, whether it’s mild or…worse?” Saradoc asked several minutes later, after Merry had given himself a slight shake and returned his attention to the food piled in front of him.
Merry smiled at his father’s practicality. “Make sure I eat,” he replied wryly. “I tend to stop eating when the dreams get too bad. Make me rest if I push myself too hard. Mainly, it just helps to have loved ones by my side, to remind me that all isn’t dark and hopeless.”
“Well, we’ll always be here for you, you do know that, don’t you Merry?” Esme’s voice trembled just slightly and Merry cursed inwardly at having upset his mother.
“Of course I do, Mum,” he answered forcefully. “I couldn’t have asked for better parents than you and Dad.” Looking down at his plate, he found that his appetite had fled. Setting his jaw stubbornly, he began eating methodically, determined not to start his parents worrying any more than they already were. After a few minutes it grew easier and he was able to turn the conversation to lighter matters.
Later that evening, he sat at the desk in his small study, writing a letter to Pippin.
March 10, 1423
Dear Pip,
I spoke with my parents this evening, over supper. I’m afraid I didn’t do mum’s stuffed artichokes as much justice as they deserved, but the discussion rather put me off my food. And that came right after telling them that loss of appetite is one of the main symptoms they should look for. I nearly laughed, except that then I would have had to explain, and I couldn’t bear to see mum starting to worry over nothing. I did manage to eat enough to not rouse their suspicion, but it was difficult, and it’s still sitting like lead in my stomach.
Part of me just wants to run back to Crickhollow and fight it out there, alone, with no one to see and worry or misunderstand. I won’t, so you can stop fearing on that account. And don’t pretend you weren’t already planning a way to come home and shake some sense into me without abandoning your duties there. I know you too well. I will be well-behaved and stay here, with loved ones around me, ready to support me night and day, with whatever I need. I told them how to prepare the athelas that Aragorn sent us, and that it should only be used if things are starting to look desperate, as it’s so rare and hard to replace. I’m hoping it won’t come to that, of course, and it really shouldn’t, but if things should get bad, it will be too late for me to tell them.
I must keep this short as I have an early morning tomorrow. Dad’s sending me down to Rushy to see how things are going with the flood repairs. He’s not convinced yet, but I really think we’re going to have to build a dike along that section of the Brandywine within the next few years.
I digress. How is Uncle Pad doing? Is he breathing easier yet? I know this must be difficult for Auntie Tina and your sisters, as well. Please give them all my love.
Your perfectly unafflicted cousin,
Merry
That being said, here is part two of Work in Progress (that's a sucky title and I may change it at some point, if something else strikes me).
The next few days were busy ones for Merry. He was trying to learn the pedigree of all the breeding ewes and rams in the Brandybuck sheep herds; as well as looking at the information recorded in the books, he spent a lot of time at the barns and in the fields, learning the characteristics that each sheep had been bred for, and what characteristics, paired together, should create desirable lambs.
It was important work, as a fair percentage of the Brandybuck income came from those herds. It also suited Merry, at the moment, because it kept him very busy, with very little time to think or worry about anything other than sheep.
He sent a reassuring letter off to the Smials, letting Pippin know his plans and commiserating with his cousin about Paladin’s condition, and then, as planned, he packed a small bag and moved up to Brandy Hall, settling into his old rooms with very little fuss.
“Now, Merry, you must tell us what to expect,” Esmeralda said casually that evening, as she passed a bowl of sautéed mushrooms to her husband. They had decided to take their supper in the Master’s private dining room that night rather than join the large gathering in the hall.
Merry, caught unprepared in the act of reaching for the bread, faltered just slightly, pulling his hand back towards himself before recovering his aplomb.
“I can’t really say, for certain,” he answered, once again reaching for the bread. “Last year it was very mild, a few bad dreams, a chill in my hand and arm which made me slightly clumsy. I’m hoping it’s no worse than that this year, possibly even better. The year before, however, was truly difficult. I think I frightened Pippin rather badly, although he denies it. That was the first spring after Frodo left us, of course, and all of our anniversaries were difficult that year.” He fell silent then and turned his eyes to the west for a moment, as he often did when he thought of the cousin who had left them all behind.
“All right, then what do we do to help you, whether it’s mild or…worse?” Saradoc asked several minutes later, after Merry had given himself a slight shake and returned his attention to the food piled in front of him.
Merry smiled at his father’s practicality. “Make sure I eat,” he replied wryly. “I tend to stop eating when the dreams get too bad. Make me rest if I push myself too hard. Mainly, it just helps to have loved ones by my side, to remind me that all isn’t dark and hopeless.”
“Well, we’ll always be here for you, you do know that, don’t you Merry?” Esme’s voice trembled just slightly and Merry cursed inwardly at having upset his mother.
“Of course I do, Mum,” he answered forcefully. “I couldn’t have asked for better parents than you and Dad.” Looking down at his plate, he found that his appetite had fled. Setting his jaw stubbornly, he began eating methodically, determined not to start his parents worrying any more than they already were. After a few minutes it grew easier and he was able to turn the conversation to lighter matters.
Later that evening, he sat at the desk in his small study, writing a letter to Pippin.
March 10, 1423
Dear Pip,
I spoke with my parents this evening, over supper. I’m afraid I didn’t do mum’s stuffed artichokes as much justice as they deserved, but the discussion rather put me off my food. And that came right after telling them that loss of appetite is one of the main symptoms they should look for. I nearly laughed, except that then I would have had to explain, and I couldn’t bear to see mum starting to worry over nothing. I did manage to eat enough to not rouse their suspicion, but it was difficult, and it’s still sitting like lead in my stomach.
Part of me just wants to run back to Crickhollow and fight it out there, alone, with no one to see and worry or misunderstand. I won’t, so you can stop fearing on that account. And don’t pretend you weren’t already planning a way to come home and shake some sense into me without abandoning your duties there. I know you too well. I will be well-behaved and stay here, with loved ones around me, ready to support me night and day, with whatever I need. I told them how to prepare the athelas that Aragorn sent us, and that it should only be used if things are starting to look desperate, as it’s so rare and hard to replace. I’m hoping it won’t come to that, of course, and it really shouldn’t, but if things should get bad, it will be too late for me to tell them.
I must keep this short as I have an early morning tomorrow. Dad’s sending me down to Rushy to see how things are going with the flood repairs. He’s not convinced yet, but I really think we’re going to have to build a dike along that section of the Brandywine within the next few years.
I digress. How is Uncle Pad doing? Is he breathing easier yet? I know this must be difficult for Auntie Tina and your sisters, as well. Please give them all my love.
Your perfectly unafflicted cousin,
Merry
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no subject
Date: 2005-10-21 10:40 am (UTC)Merry's letter is so full of love and emotions and I think he is a little scared of what is to come, not only for his parents' worry but for the things he must battle. I wonder if it will come early because Pip isn't there yet? That him being alone with his parents will affect how it goes since he worries over them worrying over him? :D
no subject
Date: 2005-10-21 06:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-21 11:03 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-21 06:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-21 11:12 am (UTC)I love the way Merry is throwing himself into the work; it's just the way he *would* try to get his mind off things, and his letter to Pippin was so sad, yet practical.
As to the title, I have used that same "sucky" title many times in the past, LOL. Something will come to you, I'm sure.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-21 06:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-22 07:31 am (UTC)I can just see the scene at the dinner table, and Merry's burying himself in work sounds so very characteristic.
Am wondering, now, if it will be a bad year or a mild one? And what makes the difference?
no subject
Date: 2005-10-22 08:12 am (UTC)I'm glad I was able to provide a treat at the start of a busy day! :D
no subject
Date: 2005-10-22 10:02 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-10-24 09:49 am (UTC)