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auntiemeesh"Extra! Extra! Read all about it. Brandybuck heir has nervous breakdown. Get all the details right here, folks! Extra! Extra! Read all about it."
Pippin grabbed the newspaper the lad was waving about, dropping a penny onto the rapidly dwindling stack of papers. Eyes quickly scanning the headlines, he found the article he wanted and folded the paper back to read the details.
Chapter Six
Merry was standing with his back to the door, one hand on the windowsill, the other, holding the trifle in its blue-glazed earthenware bowl, hovering between the desk and the window, body twisted around to face the door. He’d been frozen in that position since she entered the room, looking much like a rabbit just before the stone hits it between the eyes.
Esme had not yet moved into the room but stood just inside the door, taking in the picture her son presented to her. Finally, she took a careful breath, nodded slightly, and turned. Pulling the door tightly closed behind her, she walked briskly in the direction of Sara’s office. Lips pressed close together, fingers curled tightly into fists, she strode into the study of her husband without knocking.
Sara looked up with a frown at her unannounced entry, took one look at her face, rose and hurried to her side. “What is it, Esme?” he asked, pulling her clenched fists to himself and wrapping them in his large, callused hands. “What’s happened?”
Esme just shook her head, not yet ready to speak. Used to his wife’s ways, Sara waited until she was ready, simply leading her to one of the soft chairs placed near the fire and gently pushing her to sit down. After several minutes she let out a deep sigh and allowed some of the tension to drop away from her body. Looking up at her husband, she smiled slightly to reassure him.
“Do me a favor, love,” she said then, in a soft voice. “Find Merry and bring him here. It is past time we had a talk with that young hobbit. You’ll most likely find him in his study, but he may have fled, in which case you’ll have to track him down.”
“Do you want to tell me what this is all about, first”? Sara asked.
Esme paused a moment before answering. “He came to us a week ago and asked our help. Since then he’s claimed over and over again that he is fine, that there’s nothing wrong, but you and I both know he’s been getting worse in the last few days. It’s time to sit him down and put an end to this.”
Saradoc’s eyes were hooded and a quiver of hesitation ran through his body, but he did not argue with his wife. Instead he nodded, took a moment to make sure she was warm and comfortable, and left to find their son. Esme relaxed into the back and arms of the chair, allowing the last of her tension to flow out. She had learned long ago not to waste her energy fretting before a confrontation. She would need all of her strength to be strong for Merry when he arrived.
When half an hour passed and Sara did not return, she stood and pulled the bell cord hanging in the corner. When a plump young maid knocked on the door and timidly entered the room, Esme smiled and asked the lass to please bring a tray of tea and soup things, and to find Esme’s knitting, which should be in the small parlor.
The lass curtsied and slipped out of the room, and Esme waited. A few minutes later the lass returned with the sewing basket looped over one arm and carrying the tray. Esme thanked her and continued to wait. She settled herself back down in the chair and took up her knitting, working on a soft yellow receiving blanket for Pervinca’s new baby. The blanket grew large, and Esme continued to wait. Nearly three hours had passed when she finally heard footsteps coming down the hall. Only one set of footsteps; Sara was alone, then, and tired, judging from the heaviness of his tread. Moving unhurriedly, she came to the end of her row and carefully put the blanket away, looking up as her husband entered the room. His face was red from the cold and the legs of his breeches were muddy.
“He moves fast, does that son of yours,” Sara said wearily. “By the time I reached his room, he’d already headed out to the stable. He was all the way to Crickhollow before I caught up with him.” He shook his head in dismay. “He was exhausted, upset, and looking every bit as guilty as he ever did as a child.”
Esme poured out tea and handed it to Sara as he continued to talk. “I didn’t ask him what had happened; just brought him home and put him to bed.” He accepted the tea gratefully. “I know you wanted to talk to him, but I thought it best to wait until morning.”
Sara sat in the other chair by the fire, rubbing his face with one cold hand while cradling the tea cup with the other. “I’ve never seen him like this, love. He was like a child who expected a beating.”
Standing, Esme brought a small table over to the hearth. Moving quickly but easily, she ladled soup into two bowls and set them on the table, along with a covered basket of still-warm bread.
“Thank you for bringing him home, Sara,” she said softly. She had very much wanted to have this conversation with their son tonight, but it would wait. Sara was right, there would be no point in trying to have a rational discussion with Merry when he was overtired and defensive. Still, it would be a difficult conversation and she wanted it to be over.
They ate in silence; a warm, companionable silence that spoke of their years of living and working together. When they had finished and Esme would have gotten up, Sara stopped her with a look and a touch on her arm. He quickly tidied up their meal, setting everything on the tray and placing the tray outside the door.
“Come, love,” he said then, wrapping her tightly in his arms a moment, “in the morning we’ll talk with our son, but let us go to bed now. My body aches to be done with this day.”
“Is that all it aches for, then?” Esme asked, relishing the warmth and strength of his body wrapped around hers and suddenly yearning for more. At his surprised laugh, she grinned slyly and stepped away, leading him down the hall to their room and closing the door firmly behind them.
Merry was surprised at how cold and damp the little house at Crickhollow was. For some reason he’d felt sure it would be waiting for him, expecting him. Instead it was dark and empty. In spite of the unwelcoming feel, he wanted to go straight in and collapse on his bed, maybe sleep for a day or two, but first Hanna needed to be stabled and brushed. She hadn’t been happy about being dragged out into the cold evening and he felt sorry for her. Dumping his pack on the steps, he led her around back to the little barn where they kept a cow, a goat, their ponies and a few chickens. He was reaching for the curry comb when he heard the quick clip-clop of hooves in the lane. His heart froze for one very long instant and then he forced himself to breathe again.
They were gone. They were all gone, and none of them would ever trouble the Shire again. Merry knew this, but the sound of hoof beats in the dark still caused him fright sometimes, when he least expected it. He flinched when a sudden light shone on him.
“Merry-lad, are you all right?”
The complexly layered tones of concern, exasperation and relief in his father’s voice eased one set of fears but triggered another and Merry remained tense, waiting for harsh words about his behavior.
Sara swung down from his pony and walked over to his son, laying one hand on Merry’s shoulder in unspoken reassurance. “You’re too tired to talk tonight, anyone could see that. Come on, son, let’s get you home.”
Merry wanted to argue that he was home, but it was too hard, and besides, the cottage didn’t feel like home tonight. Tonight it felt dark and unwelcoming, as though it resented his presence. In resignation, he reached for Hanna’s saddle, only to realize that he’d never taken it off her, earlier. Leading the pony out of the stable, he wearily pulled himself up into the saddle and followed his father back into the dark.
He awoke, gasping, staring into the dark, unsure of where he was. The nightmares pressed down on him and he couldn’t tell if they were events that had already happened or things that were yet to come. Shivering, he rubbed at the ache in his arm. Gradually his eyes adjusted to the dim light leaking from a partially shuttered lamp sitting on the hearth and he recognized the trappings of his childhood. He didn’t remember arriving back at the Hall or walking to his room, but he must have done both.
He lay awake for a long time, staring into the faintly glowing embers of the banked fire. The dreams would not go away, he knew, until he fought them off, defeated the old demon of Shadow and pain that haunted him. It had been almost easy last year, he thought. Why was it so much harder this time? Why was he unable to take control of the dreams the way he had learned to do? Finally, his eyelids grew too heavy to remain open and he fell back into sleep, back into dreams of darkness and despair.
Pippin grabbed the newspaper the lad was waving about, dropping a penny onto the rapidly dwindling stack of papers. Eyes quickly scanning the headlines, he found the article he wanted and folded the paper back to read the details.
Chapter Six
Merry was standing with his back to the door, one hand on the windowsill, the other, holding the trifle in its blue-glazed earthenware bowl, hovering between the desk and the window, body twisted around to face the door. He’d been frozen in that position since she entered the room, looking much like a rabbit just before the stone hits it between the eyes.
Esme had not yet moved into the room but stood just inside the door, taking in the picture her son presented to her. Finally, she took a careful breath, nodded slightly, and turned. Pulling the door tightly closed behind her, she walked briskly in the direction of Sara’s office. Lips pressed close together, fingers curled tightly into fists, she strode into the study of her husband without knocking.
Sara looked up with a frown at her unannounced entry, took one look at her face, rose and hurried to her side. “What is it, Esme?” he asked, pulling her clenched fists to himself and wrapping them in his large, callused hands. “What’s happened?”
Esme just shook her head, not yet ready to speak. Used to his wife’s ways, Sara waited until she was ready, simply leading her to one of the soft chairs placed near the fire and gently pushing her to sit down. After several minutes she let out a deep sigh and allowed some of the tension to drop away from her body. Looking up at her husband, she smiled slightly to reassure him.
“Do me a favor, love,” she said then, in a soft voice. “Find Merry and bring him here. It is past time we had a talk with that young hobbit. You’ll most likely find him in his study, but he may have fled, in which case you’ll have to track him down.”
“Do you want to tell me what this is all about, first”? Sara asked.
Esme paused a moment before answering. “He came to us a week ago and asked our help. Since then he’s claimed over and over again that he is fine, that there’s nothing wrong, but you and I both know he’s been getting worse in the last few days. It’s time to sit him down and put an end to this.”
Saradoc’s eyes were hooded and a quiver of hesitation ran through his body, but he did not argue with his wife. Instead he nodded, took a moment to make sure she was warm and comfortable, and left to find their son. Esme relaxed into the back and arms of the chair, allowing the last of her tension to flow out. She had learned long ago not to waste her energy fretting before a confrontation. She would need all of her strength to be strong for Merry when he arrived.
When half an hour passed and Sara did not return, she stood and pulled the bell cord hanging in the corner. When a plump young maid knocked on the door and timidly entered the room, Esme smiled and asked the lass to please bring a tray of tea and soup things, and to find Esme’s knitting, which should be in the small parlor.
The lass curtsied and slipped out of the room, and Esme waited. A few minutes later the lass returned with the sewing basket looped over one arm and carrying the tray. Esme thanked her and continued to wait. She settled herself back down in the chair and took up her knitting, working on a soft yellow receiving blanket for Pervinca’s new baby. The blanket grew large, and Esme continued to wait. Nearly three hours had passed when she finally heard footsteps coming down the hall. Only one set of footsteps; Sara was alone, then, and tired, judging from the heaviness of his tread. Moving unhurriedly, she came to the end of her row and carefully put the blanket away, looking up as her husband entered the room. His face was red from the cold and the legs of his breeches were muddy.
“He moves fast, does that son of yours,” Sara said wearily. “By the time I reached his room, he’d already headed out to the stable. He was all the way to Crickhollow before I caught up with him.” He shook his head in dismay. “He was exhausted, upset, and looking every bit as guilty as he ever did as a child.”
Esme poured out tea and handed it to Sara as he continued to talk. “I didn’t ask him what had happened; just brought him home and put him to bed.” He accepted the tea gratefully. “I know you wanted to talk to him, but I thought it best to wait until morning.”
Sara sat in the other chair by the fire, rubbing his face with one cold hand while cradling the tea cup with the other. “I’ve never seen him like this, love. He was like a child who expected a beating.”
Standing, Esme brought a small table over to the hearth. Moving quickly but easily, she ladled soup into two bowls and set them on the table, along with a covered basket of still-warm bread.
“Thank you for bringing him home, Sara,” she said softly. She had very much wanted to have this conversation with their son tonight, but it would wait. Sara was right, there would be no point in trying to have a rational discussion with Merry when he was overtired and defensive. Still, it would be a difficult conversation and she wanted it to be over.
They ate in silence; a warm, companionable silence that spoke of their years of living and working together. When they had finished and Esme would have gotten up, Sara stopped her with a look and a touch on her arm. He quickly tidied up their meal, setting everything on the tray and placing the tray outside the door.
“Come, love,” he said then, wrapping her tightly in his arms a moment, “in the morning we’ll talk with our son, but let us go to bed now. My body aches to be done with this day.”
“Is that all it aches for, then?” Esme asked, relishing the warmth and strength of his body wrapped around hers and suddenly yearning for more. At his surprised laugh, she grinned slyly and stepped away, leading him down the hall to their room and closing the door firmly behind them.
Merry was surprised at how cold and damp the little house at Crickhollow was. For some reason he’d felt sure it would be waiting for him, expecting him. Instead it was dark and empty. In spite of the unwelcoming feel, he wanted to go straight in and collapse on his bed, maybe sleep for a day or two, but first Hanna needed to be stabled and brushed. She hadn’t been happy about being dragged out into the cold evening and he felt sorry for her. Dumping his pack on the steps, he led her around back to the little barn where they kept a cow, a goat, their ponies and a few chickens. He was reaching for the curry comb when he heard the quick clip-clop of hooves in the lane. His heart froze for one very long instant and then he forced himself to breathe again.
They were gone. They were all gone, and none of them would ever trouble the Shire again. Merry knew this, but the sound of hoof beats in the dark still caused him fright sometimes, when he least expected it. He flinched when a sudden light shone on him.
“Merry-lad, are you all right?”
The complexly layered tones of concern, exasperation and relief in his father’s voice eased one set of fears but triggered another and Merry remained tense, waiting for harsh words about his behavior.
Sara swung down from his pony and walked over to his son, laying one hand on Merry’s shoulder in unspoken reassurance. “You’re too tired to talk tonight, anyone could see that. Come on, son, let’s get you home.”
Merry wanted to argue that he was home, but it was too hard, and besides, the cottage didn’t feel like home tonight. Tonight it felt dark and unwelcoming, as though it resented his presence. In resignation, he reached for Hanna’s saddle, only to realize that he’d never taken it off her, earlier. Leading the pony out of the stable, he wearily pulled himself up into the saddle and followed his father back into the dark.
He awoke, gasping, staring into the dark, unsure of where he was. The nightmares pressed down on him and he couldn’t tell if they were events that had already happened or things that were yet to come. Shivering, he rubbed at the ache in his arm. Gradually his eyes adjusted to the dim light leaking from a partially shuttered lamp sitting on the hearth and he recognized the trappings of his childhood. He didn’t remember arriving back at the Hall or walking to his room, but he must have done both.
He lay awake for a long time, staring into the faintly glowing embers of the banked fire. The dreams would not go away, he knew, until he fought them off, defeated the old demon of Shadow and pain that haunted him. It had been almost easy last year, he thought. Why was it so much harder this time? Why was he unable to take control of the dreams the way he had learned to do? Finally, his eyelids grew too heavy to remain open and he fell back into sleep, back into dreams of darkness and despair.
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no subject
Date: 2006-01-16 04:32 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-16 05:28 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-16 05:42 am (UTC)Poor gentlehobbit...
no subject
Date: 2006-01-16 08:21 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-16 07:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-16 08:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-16 12:22 pm (UTC)I am so pleased with your patient and concerned Sara and Esme. I hope they are able to dig the trouble out and help their son. Otherwise, they well may have to send for Pippin.
no subject
Date: 2006-01-16 04:05 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-18 12:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-18 03:53 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-19 08:27 am (UTC)everything in here is just perfect: from the brilliant "fic introduction" (it made me giggle :)))), to the characterization (I am not so often happy about "fanon hobbit parents", but in my opinion here you portrayed very plausible, realistic and likeable Saradoc and Esmeralda), and atmosphere (dark, empty and unwelcoming Crickhollow!...)
I hope you update soon! *grins*
no subject
Date: 2006-01-19 03:21 pm (UTC)I'm working on the next chapter tonight, so hopefully I can get it up before too long. :)
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Date: 2006-01-19 02:11 pm (UTC)I also really liked your intro to this post, with the "extra" edition.
no subject
Date: 2006-01-19 03:23 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-22 10:42 am (UTC)