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auntiemeeshYay! I actually got some writing done. This poor little story of mine has been sadly neglected lately. I spent all afternoon working on this and only got about three pages done. Oh well, that's better than nothing I suppose. As a reminder for those of you who have a hard time keeping a story fresh in your mind when it's only updated once every other month, Merry is facing the anniversary of his wounding by the Witch King, and Pippin has been called home to the Great Smials due to his father's illness. In the last chapter, Merry took a bath and a nap. You can find parts one through four, exciting as they sound, here.
Part Five
Great Smials, March 11, 1423
Dear Merry,
I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to write again. I’ve had hardly a moment to myself in days. Da is doing much better. He is, at this moment, sitting up and eating his first solid meal in over two weeks. Mum and Pearl are fussing over him like a child. He fusses and fumes, but I know he is enjoying all the attention. He’s a sly old fox. I’ll have to work hard to convince him to take his duties back once he’s well enough, I fear; he’s having far too much fun lying about in bed, being waited on hand and foot.
I hate seeing Mum so tired and dispirited, Merry. She knows Da is doing much better, but she had so hoped he wouldn’t get sick again in the first place. She fears this is going to happen every winter now. Pearl has been an enormous help to her, though, and it makes Mum smile to see the children running about the place, laughing and squealing with those sweet little baby voices of theirs. Vinca came home as well, right at the beginning, but she is so close to her time that the healer sent her away. So instead she lurks by her door every day, waiting for the post lad to bring our notes round to her. Pearl and I have both been trying to send her at least a few words of reassurance each day, as otherwise she gets in a panic and comes rushing over, despite the healer’s warnings.
I’m sorry, Merry. I should be writing a breezy little letter full of good cheer and happy tidings, to bolster you. Instead, all I seem able to do is share my own worries. Well, as long as I’m sharing my worries, I might as well share those that concern you.
Do not retreat to Crickhollow, Merry. I know the temptation is strong, I feel it myself. It would not serve any purpose, however, other than to tell your parents you don’t trust them. I know it is difficult to share this with them. You would rather spare them such pain and I do understand that, but they find it more painful that you choose to hide your difficulties from them. Mum showed me a few letters Aunt Esme has sent her over the past several years. She is far more aware of what you go through than she has let on.
I cannot be there to help you, Merry, much as I wish I could be. Please, please let Aunt Esme and Uncle Sara help you, instead. They deserve t… Here there was an inky blotch that Merry could not make out. The letter continued below.
No, I am not rewriting this letter a fifth time over. It will just have to stand like this, flawed. I no longer remember what I was trying to say, Merry, except that I worry about you. Take care of yourself. More importantly, let your mum and dad take care of you. It’s what they’ve been wanting to do since the day we came back.
Your loving, if exhausted, cousin,
Peregrin Took
Poor Pippin, Merry thought as he carefully folded the letter and tucked it away in his desk. The lad hated writing letters and it didn’t much surprise him that Pippin hadn’t wanted to rewrite the entire thing once again when he was so close to being done. Pulling out a fresh, crisp sheet of stationery, he began a letter of his own.
Brandy Hall, March 13, 1423
My own dear, silly Pippin,
You worry too much, Pip. I told you in my last letter that I wouldn’t go to Crickhollow and I meant it. Mum and Dad have been wonderful. Dad keeps me busy enough that I have very little time to think about anything other than lambing and Mum feeds me seventeen times a day. I tease you not. Every time I see her she has a cup of tea or a biscuit in her hand, just in case I’m in need of sustenance. Just now she came into my study to make sure I wasn’t hungry. We just finished dinner, but she brought in a full tray! She does make the best rosemary chicken I’ve ever had, Pip. I may have just a nibble or two in a moment. She also sent along a generous helping of her famous trifle. She’s been making all of her specialties this week. I suspect she’s trying to trick me into eating, and it’s working. I think I’ve gained half a stone since I moved in. By the time you return, you’ll have to roll me back to Crickhollow because I’ll be too round to walk.
It’s been raining all day but it looks as though it may turn to snow tonight. There are three ewes who could give birth at any time and I know Dad’s worried they’ll go tonight. Be eternally glad, Peregrin Took, that the Tooks don’t go in for sheep. Ponies are ten times easier to deal with, if you ask me. Sheep are such silly beasts, you know, without a drop of sense between them.
Mum was very pleased to receive the letter from Auntie Tinie. She’s been so worried about Uncle Pad and it really set her mind at rest to know that he is doing so much better. She is planning to arrange a visit as soon as things calm down enough, here. And by that, of course, she means as soon as she feels it’s safe to let me out of her sight for more than an hour or two at a time, although she would never put it that way herself.
I know you worry, Pippin, but you needn’t. I’m doing quite well and I think this may be the easiest anniversary yet. Take good care of the Tooklands so that you may hand them back to your father in tiptop shape, however reluctant he may be to receive them, and come home when you can.
Love to all your family,
Merry
Merry’s hand shook as he set the quill down, and he breathed a sigh of relief that he’d been able to write the entire letter without blotching it. It had been a very long day and he was exhausted. Exhausted from trying to pretend to everyone around him that he was fine. Despite his fine words to Pippin, he felt anything but well. The nightmares had started in earnest the night before and his hand and arm had been growing colder all day. The miserable weather wasn’t helping, either. When he most needed warmth and sun, the sky had turned a sullen grey and proceeded to spill forth with the most awful mix of rain and sleet known to hobbit. It was disgusting.
Scowling, he looked at the tray of food sitting on one edge of his desk. He hadn’t lied to Pippin about the amount of food his mother was trying to feed him, and he appreciated it, truly he did, but he just couldn’t bring himself to eat any of it. He’d managed to eat a pretty close approximation of a full meal a short while ago, and that food was still sitting angrily in his stomach, promising him a restless night. Poking at the chicken, he wondered what to do with it. His mother would look so hurt if he returned the food to the kitchen. Maybe he should just dump it all out the window, he thought with a strained smile. The gardeners would look at it askance in the morning, but word was unlikely to get back to his mother about it.
Shaking his head at his own foolishness, Merry opened the window, shuddering at the wet, cold air that blew into the room, and picked up the dish of chicken from the tray. Taking one final look at it and determining that no, he couldn’t possibly eat it, he resolutely tossed it out the window. Reaching around, he set the now empty plate back on the tray and was just grabbing the bowl with the trifle when he heard the latch of the study door click open.
“Merry-mine? How are you doing in here? Can I…”
Merry froze, one hand on the tray, one hand resting on the window sill, and wished fervently that he could simply disappear from this entirely ridiculous situation.
tbc
Part Five
Great Smials, March 11, 1423
Dear Merry,
I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to write again. I’ve had hardly a moment to myself in days. Da is doing much better. He is, at this moment, sitting up and eating his first solid meal in over two weeks. Mum and Pearl are fussing over him like a child. He fusses and fumes, but I know he is enjoying all the attention. He’s a sly old fox. I’ll have to work hard to convince him to take his duties back once he’s well enough, I fear; he’s having far too much fun lying about in bed, being waited on hand and foot.
I hate seeing Mum so tired and dispirited, Merry. She knows Da is doing much better, but she had so hoped he wouldn’t get sick again in the first place. She fears this is going to happen every winter now. Pearl has been an enormous help to her, though, and it makes Mum smile to see the children running about the place, laughing and squealing with those sweet little baby voices of theirs. Vinca came home as well, right at the beginning, but she is so close to her time that the healer sent her away. So instead she lurks by her door every day, waiting for the post lad to bring our notes round to her. Pearl and I have both been trying to send her at least a few words of reassurance each day, as otherwise she gets in a panic and comes rushing over, despite the healer’s warnings.
I’m sorry, Merry. I should be writing a breezy little letter full of good cheer and happy tidings, to bolster you. Instead, all I seem able to do is share my own worries. Well, as long as I’m sharing my worries, I might as well share those that concern you.
Do not retreat to Crickhollow, Merry. I know the temptation is strong, I feel it myself. It would not serve any purpose, however, other than to tell your parents you don’t trust them. I know it is difficult to share this with them. You would rather spare them such pain and I do understand that, but they find it more painful that you choose to hide your difficulties from them. Mum showed me a few letters Aunt Esme has sent her over the past several years. She is far more aware of what you go through than she has let on.
I cannot be there to help you, Merry, much as I wish I could be. Please, please let Aunt Esme and Uncle Sara help you, instead. They deserve t… Here there was an inky blotch that Merry could not make out. The letter continued below.
No, I am not rewriting this letter a fifth time over. It will just have to stand like this, flawed. I no longer remember what I was trying to say, Merry, except that I worry about you. Take care of yourself. More importantly, let your mum and dad take care of you. It’s what they’ve been wanting to do since the day we came back.
Your loving, if exhausted, cousin,
Peregrin Took
Poor Pippin, Merry thought as he carefully folded the letter and tucked it away in his desk. The lad hated writing letters and it didn’t much surprise him that Pippin hadn’t wanted to rewrite the entire thing once again when he was so close to being done. Pulling out a fresh, crisp sheet of stationery, he began a letter of his own.
Brandy Hall, March 13, 1423
My own dear, silly Pippin,
You worry too much, Pip. I told you in my last letter that I wouldn’t go to Crickhollow and I meant it. Mum and Dad have been wonderful. Dad keeps me busy enough that I have very little time to think about anything other than lambing and Mum feeds me seventeen times a day. I tease you not. Every time I see her she has a cup of tea or a biscuit in her hand, just in case I’m in need of sustenance. Just now she came into my study to make sure I wasn’t hungry. We just finished dinner, but she brought in a full tray! She does make the best rosemary chicken I’ve ever had, Pip. I may have just a nibble or two in a moment. She also sent along a generous helping of her famous trifle. She’s been making all of her specialties this week. I suspect she’s trying to trick me into eating, and it’s working. I think I’ve gained half a stone since I moved in. By the time you return, you’ll have to roll me back to Crickhollow because I’ll be too round to walk.
It’s been raining all day but it looks as though it may turn to snow tonight. There are three ewes who could give birth at any time and I know Dad’s worried they’ll go tonight. Be eternally glad, Peregrin Took, that the Tooks don’t go in for sheep. Ponies are ten times easier to deal with, if you ask me. Sheep are such silly beasts, you know, without a drop of sense between them.
Mum was very pleased to receive the letter from Auntie Tinie. She’s been so worried about Uncle Pad and it really set her mind at rest to know that he is doing so much better. She is planning to arrange a visit as soon as things calm down enough, here. And by that, of course, she means as soon as she feels it’s safe to let me out of her sight for more than an hour or two at a time, although she would never put it that way herself.
I know you worry, Pippin, but you needn’t. I’m doing quite well and I think this may be the easiest anniversary yet. Take good care of the Tooklands so that you may hand them back to your father in tiptop shape, however reluctant he may be to receive them, and come home when you can.
Love to all your family,
Merry
Merry’s hand shook as he set the quill down, and he breathed a sigh of relief that he’d been able to write the entire letter without blotching it. It had been a very long day and he was exhausted. Exhausted from trying to pretend to everyone around him that he was fine. Despite his fine words to Pippin, he felt anything but well. The nightmares had started in earnest the night before and his hand and arm had been growing colder all day. The miserable weather wasn’t helping, either. When he most needed warmth and sun, the sky had turned a sullen grey and proceeded to spill forth with the most awful mix of rain and sleet known to hobbit. It was disgusting.
Scowling, he looked at the tray of food sitting on one edge of his desk. He hadn’t lied to Pippin about the amount of food his mother was trying to feed him, and he appreciated it, truly he did, but he just couldn’t bring himself to eat any of it. He’d managed to eat a pretty close approximation of a full meal a short while ago, and that food was still sitting angrily in his stomach, promising him a restless night. Poking at the chicken, he wondered what to do with it. His mother would look so hurt if he returned the food to the kitchen. Maybe he should just dump it all out the window, he thought with a strained smile. The gardeners would look at it askance in the morning, but word was unlikely to get back to his mother about it.
Shaking his head at his own foolishness, Merry opened the window, shuddering at the wet, cold air that blew into the room, and picked up the dish of chicken from the tray. Taking one final look at it and determining that no, he couldn’t possibly eat it, he resolutely tossed it out the window. Reaching around, he set the now empty plate back on the tray and was just grabbing the bowl with the trifle when he heard the latch of the study door click open.
“Merry-mine? How are you doing in here? Can I…”
Merry froze, one hand on the tray, one hand resting on the window sill, and wished fervently that he could simply disappear from this entirely ridiculous situation.
tbc
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no subject
Date: 2006-01-09 06:03 pm (UTC)I love the tone of these letters, and the little details of daily life, and the worries that creep out between the lines.
And Esmeralda is not going to be happy at him dumping his food out the window like a picky faunt.
Okay. Now. *bats eyes* More please.
no subject
Date: 2006-01-10 06:24 am (UTC)You sound more like
no subject
Date: 2006-01-09 06:34 pm (UTC)I love the letters in between Merry and Pippin --they're so full of concern and worry and sounds so real.
I'm looking forward for more since this is a pretty good cliff-hanger... =) (as was the chapter with "your hand is growing colder" as observed by the ever astute and worried Esmeralda...i kinda expected a follow-up on that to tell you the truth... but i guess we'll see what happens with that soon...
And...hope you don't mind my friend-ing you on LJ. :) yes, i also thought that reviwing ten thousand times for "Courage" would have me find you by now on LJ, right? ;)
no subject
Date: 2006-01-10 06:33 am (UTC)And I never mind when people friend me. :)
no subject
Date: 2006-01-10 12:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-10 06:35 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-10 02:44 am (UTC)I love the realistic touches you put in the details.
And your depiction of the characters sounds very right to me, as always :)))
no subject
Date: 2006-01-10 06:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-10 01:03 pm (UTC)Now here's a bit of big sisterly trivia for: despite the fact that both The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings were required reading for all siblings once Eldest Brother first read them, we NEVER named a single lamb after any LOTR character. OOOPs! That's not quite true. The last year that we lived in Ohio and raised 4-H lambs, one of my ewes had a set of twins that I named Galadriel and Gilbert (?). Galdriel was the most beautiful infant lamb I'd ever seen. They were born rather late in the season, however, and her twin, Gilbert, grew (or rather didn't grow) into the puniest market lamb I ever took to the fair. He was still so small at the time of the fair that I let little 4-year-old, 30 pound, you show him in Pee Wee showmanship. He might have been the perfect hobbit lamb as shown by the perfect fairy child!