The Unlikely Ones
Chapter Twelve: What Is Morally Just
a Lord of the Rings fanfiction
by Van Donovan
joy@crackerboxpalace.com

By noon the following day they had gotten the main hall cleaned out and the dishes washed and dried. Outside the sound of rain falling created an endless litany of noise punctured only by the occasional roar of thunder as it trekked across the laden sky. The smial was cold so they kept the fire blazing in the main hall and both of them kept wandering in there to stand before the fire to warm their fingers. Frodo stood before the fire now as he heard Merry working in the kitchen, probably making tea for the sound of the soft clinking of ceramics against wood. His eyes studied the mantle before him absently, tracing over the large vase there, the wooden box with fancy carved edges, the array of exotic tail feathers of birds and they stopped to linger on a little silver horn resting on a very glossy mahogany stand. Frodo tilted his head at the horn and then rocked his feet forward and took a step nearer the mantle to study it better.
It was tiny and so shiny he could see his own face in it as he peered closer to it. He was drawn to it somehow but he couldn't explain why. There was something familiar about it too, although he couldn't place it. It was a curious little horn and he felt it had a big story that he should know but didn't. "It's the Horn of the Mark," said Merry as he came up from behind him. Frodo stiffened and looked over his shoulder embarrassed. Merry held a tray with a steaming tea pot in his hands and a soft smile on his face. "I got it from the Lady Éowyn when I served in the ranks of Rohan." He set the tray down on the coffee table before the couch and then crossed to where Frodo stood in front of the mantle.
He easily reached over Frodo's head and pulled the horn off its display rack and looked at it. "It's become a tradition of sorts to blow it once a year on the day your father and I and the rest returned from the Quest, but for the rest of the time it sits here and collects dust." He studied it's smooth surface for a few moments and then offered it to Frodo, as if for inspection. Frodo accepted it hesitantly, afraid to touch the silvery surface for fear of trailing oily finger prints on it. "When you were very little, Frodo," Merry said as he went to the tea again, sitting on the couch and pouring two mugs full of the amber liquid, "your father would sometimes bring you and those of your siblings that were around to come to the celebration to hear me play it."
Frodo carried the horn with him back to the couch and sat beside Merry quietly, looking at the horn as the other told him memories he could not remember. "It seems like it should be familiar to me, but I have no recollection of it," he said back. Merry looked at the horn in the lap of his companion then up to his face.
"You must have been five then," he said thoughtfully as he looked the boy over, "because Merry was just an infant and Pippin hadn't yet been born. Your mother had been busy with baby Merry; he was awfully fussy but I did love him, how could I not? They named him after me, bless them," he laughed a little then took a sip of his tea before he continued. "Little Rose was holding your dad's left hand and Elanor had his right and I had you on my knee." He smiled fondly at him. "We all said how blessed your family was to have four healthy babies and one on the way. It was the first time you all came to Buckland as family, and the last, because Goldilocks followed Pippin and Hamfast followed her and soon there was just too many to come. But when you were just a lad you came and you heard. Perhaps you'll be around to hear it this year again."
"I'd like that," Frodo said and he set the horn down on the table to fetch his tea. He wasn't, however, feeling very comfortable as he listened to Merry tell stories about him when he was a baby too young to remember. Their age difference had never really bothered him before when he thought of it in terms of now, but thinking of a time when Merry had bounced him on his knee to keep him from crying made him cringe. "I remember the horn from the stories now," he said as a way to change the subject slightly, "how you used it to call the hobbits to you when you and father and the others retook the Shire after the War."
"Yes, that's why it's blown every year. It's sort of in tribute to that day, I suppose. I find it's a bit pompous, but who am I to refuse a party when its due?" He laughed and drank his tea again. Frodo's eyes looked at the horn as he sipped his and he couldn't help but feel out of place somehow.
"You could have done better to avoid the party last night," he said softly. It was not a sore point for him; he had rather enjoyed the party despite the fears he had associated with it, but the principle of the matter still remain: Merry had been used by Peteshaw.
"Frodo." It was more of a sigh than anything. "I already told you--"
"I know," Frodo set his tea mug down and picked the horn up again. "You have a duty. You are the Master of Buckland. You have responsibilities that I am too young to understand." He took a slow breath and then handed the horn back to him. "But it was you who blew this horn on that day long ago because you believed in something strongly enough to make a change. I don't know what sort of political sway Hornblower has over you but I don't think the hobbit that reformed the Shire would have let him push him into parties he didn't want to have, let alone ones that tried to dishonour the memory of his wife."
He stood up and left Merry there with the horn in one hand and an empty tea cup in the other. He had gotten more upset than he had intended and now he sought solitude. Merry watched the boy go and felt a numbness settle over him. He sat his cup down and looked back to the horn. He tried to conjure up memories of the first time he had ever held it; the first time he had ever blown it. The Scouring of the Shire came back into his mind and he shook his head at the thoughts that tried to return. There was a year and a half of his life that he had learned not to think about. It wasn't that he had tried to forget about it but thinking about it brought back the memories that weren't sugar coated stories. He could tell the interested children about fighting the Witch-king of Angmar with Lady Éowyn and each time it would be a valiant and noble battle and his arm would be fine when he finished the tale.
Because that's what it was: a tale.
There had been nothing glorious the day he had stabbed the Nazgûl in the back of the knee and nearly lost his life. He sometimes still awoke in cold sweats from the memory of it, his right arm numbly throbbing with a dull ache. It was by living off the stories created around the events of That Year that he was able to move on. There was no denying that he had changed a lot during the Quest and a lot of how he had changed weren't issues he wanted to directly address.
Frodo was right though. He had changed a lot between the Scouring of the Shire and now. He hadn't had the warmest of welcoming’s after things had settled down and that led to a lot of his own personal reform. Pippin had faced a similar issue and he was the only one who really knew how deep That Year ran into him, because it ran deeply into Pippin too. They were hobbits and hobbits had a knack for bouncing back from just about anything so when he hadn't bounced back into being the same old playful and young Merry he had left as the people had started questioning him. His height alone made them talk and his changed personality did nothing to endear him to those who saw him only as the future Master of Buckland.
His father had pulled him aside a few years after his return and had told him to settle down and start acting like the Master's heir. He had had a very long heart-to-heart with Pippin that night and they both had decided to try to put the past behind them and live like they were expected to live. It hadn't been easy, but the years had shaped Merry instead of him shaping the years. He had become the respected Master of Buckland and he acted in almost every way he was expected. He had avoided confrontation because he had earned himself a short temper and a drastically different opinion of right and wrong.
So he had bent, and let people walk on him. He had become exactly what people expected of the Master of Buckland: mainly someone who presided over parties. He did sign papers and agree to little mundane things but the office was so nominal it was hardly any work at all. The people did not like to listen to him when he suggested ways of reform, so he had given up. They had scoffed him for not marrying, for not having more parties, for not filling Brandyhall with friends and family. So he had gotten married and had parties and for a time Brandyhall was full of family and friends and people had been happy. He had eventually sunk into the falsehood. He let himself get carried along on his own lies and only now that Frodo had turned him around to face things did he realize how much of himself he had lost to his 'nominal' office.
He stood up with the horn in his hand and nodded as if to confirm some thought he had. He had been a successful Master for over twenty years now, so if he wanted to institute a little reform, or at least a little more control over his subjects, then he was going to do just that. He knew Hornblower's intentions and he wasn't going to let the man walk all over him anymore, political allegiances or not. He walked to the fireplace and set the horn back on the mantle where it sat all year long. He studied it for several moments then pulled away and looked around the hall. With the exception of the crackling fire behind him the room was empty and quiet. He could conjure memories of the place in the past, being packed on any sort of regular day, filled with family and friends both visiting and living here. Now it was just himself and his hired gardener boy Frodo.
He took a soothing breath of air and ran his hands through his hair.
Change was hard. He wasn't looking forward to it, because in order to make himself really work at this he would have to change a lot of things. Some of them were things Frodo might not like. He took up the tea tray back to the kitchen as he thought about the life he had lead up until this day. He ultimately wanted to discuss things with Pippin before he did anything too important but he needed to talk to Frodo again first.

Frodo had gotten the hot water in the tub filled half way and stood back proud to admire it: The tub was too big for him to enjoy completely full and so half full kept the water hotter longer. It still required a lot of pumping to get the tub to even half full and he was tired from the work. He had just finished unbuttoning his shirt when there was a knock on the door. He looked at his tub of steamy water a moment then cocked his head and nodded. "Yes?"
"It's me, Frodo," the voice said, obviously Merry.
"Yes, I didn't expect anyone else. The door is open," he answered almost dryly.
Merry opened the door and stood standing there, looking far too sheepish for a gentlehobbit of sixty-three. He was looking to the side but at last brought his gaze up to focus on Frodo. He rubbed his lips together then spoke, "is it all right if I come in?"
Frodo tilted his head sensing that a change had come over Merry. His interest was piqued so he nodded. "Of course." Saying so he shrugged his shoulders and pulled his shirt off as Merry entered and shut the bathroom door behind him. He sighed a moment then added, "I didn't mean to snap at you back there, Merry."
"I know lad, it's all right. Sometimes you need to be batted around before you get some sense knocked into you," Merry replied coolly. Frodo raised an eyebrow at him. "I thought about what you said," he answered as he walked into the room more. He sat on the changing stool there beside the tub with a sigh. Frodo watched him, waiting for him to continue. "You've been telling me I need to change since you got here," he said as his eyes looked at the water pump across the room and fixed absently, "but change is scary, and I didn't want to admit that I'd been in the wrong for so long." His eyes lifted to meet Frodo's.
"Merry," Frodo murmured and crossed the room to where he sat. He pulled Merry to him, cradling his head against his breast.
"You may not like some of the changes I feel I must make, Frodo my dear," Merry said after a moment and pulled his head back to look up at him. Frodo looked back at him with curious eyes but said nothing so Merry sighed and continued, averting his eyes to look to the right because he could not look at him and say what he had to. "We must tell your parents about us, Frodo, or at least your father. I love you," and he looked up at him to prove he did, "but I cannot live this lie."
Frodo, to his credit, did not loose his temper. "You know they will not approve."
"I don't know Frodo. I can't see how Sam would approve but I also don't see how he could deny you something that brings you such happiness." He sighed as Frodo rested his hands on his shoulders softly. "It would be better if we told him then if he found out on his own, at any rate. We knew this was an obstacle we had to overcome."
"Yes." Frodo felt numb but not angry. It was like he was dreaming and would soon awaken. Except the dream was his life here in Buckland and the awakening would come with his father when he was informed about his affairs with Merry. "When do you plan to tell him then?"
"What do you think, Frodo? Have you any suggestions?"
"I would suggest not telling him, but I know that is wishful thinking."
"And dangerous. I have those tickets for the Green Thumb Brigade in April and I'd like to take you to that if possible. Perhaps shortly after though, which would put you back in Hobbiton for spring planting."
"Yes," Frodo murmured and then pulled back away from Merry with a nod. "April then, that seems somehow appropriate." He shivered because putting an end date on how long they had to spend together put a serious damper on the arrival of the gardening convention. If it never came it would be too soon.
Merry stood up and gathered Frodo into his arms after seeing him shiver. "I will still love you, even if I cannot be with you."
"Will we ever be able to see each other again?" Frodo whispered.
"We can see each other now," he answered softly and his hand trailed up Frodo's bare back to tangle in his hair. Merry pulled Frodo closer and rested his chin in his curls. "Things will work out, somehow. I'm sure they must."
"I'm scared, Merry," Frodo breathed and buried his face against Merry's collar.
"Don't think on it now Frodo, just think about me. Think about these warm arms around you and this hot bath beside us and how comfortable you are with me holding you," Merry reassured.
"And your lips on mine?" Frodo asked at last, lifting his head to look at Merry from underneath long lashed eyes.
"Yes," Merry breathed, holding back the 'always' reply he longed to give. His hand curled from behind Frodo's head to cup his cheek and brushed his lips over Frodo's. Frodo merged into him, melting into his embrace and the safety and security of Merry's arms.

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Dear readers: Thanks so much for putting up with my tardiness in getting this chapter out. I apologize for the shortness of it and the sheer lack of 'sex' the story has had of late. Frankly, I'm writing it for the story and not the sex, as the sex scenes have relevance to the plot and I just couldn't figure to work one in right now. It's the second time I tried to write this 'bathroom sex scene' (first was very glazed over in chp. 9) and it's failed again. Use your imaginations. I revamped a lot of parts to this story due to reader response. Merry really wasn't acting as he should've and he needed a change, or at least the start of a change, so thank you to those who pointed this out. Yay flaws! ^_^ Fun to fix them.

Also, although I know many people hate stories that "skip" in time, the next chapter is likely to skip several months to the Green Thumb Brigade. I have many plans in my head for this story, but I need to advance the timeline quickly to play them. So, bear with me! ^_^ Thanks again, I'm flattered all of you people enjoy this twisted mentality of mine! (um, and just FYI for any of you really twisted folk that read the LJ Sockpuppets community, yes I am Frodo Gardner on there XD et j'adore toi Merry!)