The Unlikely Ones
Chapter Two: It Isn't Easy
a Lord of the Rings fanfiction
by Van Donovan
joy@crackerboxpalace.com
Morning followed and it was after breakfast when Merry made a showing in the kitchen
to eat. All of the younger children were out playing in the sunshine, but Rose sat him down
and fixed him up a meal fit for a king. "Sam's out to work for the day," she explained
gently as she filled his mug full of ale, "but he'll be home in time for dinner. Until then
you're welcome to wander about Hobbiton, stay around here, play with the children or
whatever suits your fancy." She smiled at him, wiped her hands on her apron and went to tend
to Tolman, who was crying in the other room.
Merry ate quietly, enjoying the sunshine and the laughter floating in to him from
the opened windows. He finished eating in peace, getting up when he was done and stretching
as he yawned. He wandered into the main hall to see Rose rocking Tolman and talking to him
softly. Little Bilbo and Daisy were playing with small wooden dolls on the rug in front of
the fire and Goldilocks was reading a book on the plush armchair that used to be Frodo's.
He smiled at the comforting scene and turned down the hallway, opening the large green door
that lead outside and looked about.
It was January and cold out, but the sun was shining and the sky was relatively
cloud free. "Why couldn't you have been shining yesterday?" He muttered to the sun as he
grabbed his now dry coat off one of the many pegs at the door and exited into the brisk
morning air. He walked to the end of the gate and looked down the road. In the distance
he could see some of the other children playing with other neighbors in the dirt and he
sighed. It was homey and comfortable and he was actually feeling good. There was a soft
snipping sound behind him and he looked around. The gardens of Bag End were even larger
and more impressive now that the Gamgee's had lived here in full some twenty-five years.
Frodo had a pair of shiny silver shears out and was contently trimming the verge away down
from Merry.
He smiled, finding only a soft fondness for the boy who had come and comforted him
last night and so he turned from the gate leading out onto the road and carefully picked his
way along the garden rows, watching Frodo work. It seemed the younger hobbit hadn't noticed
him, so intend on his clipping he was, so Merry leaned against the fence, content to watch.
It took less time than Merry had expected for Frodo to realize there were eyes on him and
he stopped clipping and looked around. A surprised look came over his face seeing Merry
standing off to the side watching him and he smiled. "Morning there," he said, waving.
Merry chuckled and pushed off the fence, walking over. "Sam's lucky to have such a
fine gardener for a son," he mused, looking at the perfectly trimmed bushes. It was cold
out and winter was in full swing, but that garden looked green and alive.
"He's so busy these days he doesn't have a lot of time for the gardens," Frodo
explained, resuming clipping. "So I like to help out. He's glad I've such a fondness for
these gardens. Merry and Pippin don't really like them," he glanced to Merry and laughed,
"it's so strange to know my little brother was named after you. He's nothing like you."
"Oh?" Merry chuckled. Little Merry always seemed to be getting into trouble and
misbehaving, which seemed like him more than he cared to admit. "Well, he's only what,
fifteen?"
"Seventeen now, actually." Frodo grinned sheepishly. "Pip's fifteen."
"Seventeen? My word." Merry blinked and shook his head. "It's been too long since
I've visited you all. Still, seventeen is fairly young: once he's sixty-something like his
namesake, he'll mellow out, you see if he doesn't." Merry chuckled.
Frodo looked at him for a long moment and then nodded: "I don't think he'll ever
be quite like you, Merry, he's just not got it in him." Merry shook his head and glanced to
the sky.
"You'd be surprised, Frodo my lad, the depths that someone can go to when they're in
the proper situation. I'm sure I'd be quite a different person if I hadn't gone on that
Adventure with your father when I was younger."
"I know you're right, but it's unlikely we'll ever be faced with such a situation."
He clipped along the hedge and then glanced up to Merry's face and chuckled. "You know I've
always admired you, right?"
Merry laughed, flattered. "Well, I always thought I was your favourite uncle."
Frodo looked at him, then burst into laughter. "You are, you are."
"Come now, let me help you with this verge," he said and looked around, "surely you
have another set of shears about?" Frodo looked at him oddly, as if both surprised Merry
would offer to garden with him and a bit skeptical.
"Yeah, I've got another set. You wanna help?" He didn't seemed to believe it, so
Merry laughed and nodded.
"Yes, yes go get them."
So Frodo ran off to get the extra set of shears and the two of them spent the better
part of the day gardening together and talking.
By dinner he was tired and a little sore and quite hungry. He told stories by the
fire after the children ate and talked to Sam about his day of work and then say by the fire
with his pipe and smoked with Sam and Frodo well into the night. And thus the days passed,
one week into the next, with him helping Frodo in the gardens and becoming fonder of the boy
and the plants and the children getting enraptured by his tales all over again, and even
helping out with the cooking and cleaning when he was permitted.
February came and with it more sunshine and more rain and one particularly sunny day
he and Frodo were sitting under a large tree above Bag End, drinking lemonade and jesting
on a break from gardening. They had just had a hard laugh over a particularly funny joke
and had barely sobered when Frodo, still smiling brightly, said, "Oh Merry, I do so enjoy
having you about to talk to. Its been two weeks now since you came though and I dread
everyday you'll say you're leaving."
Merry looked to Frodo and shook his head. "I admit I've not felt as free and
relaxed as I have here in many years, and yet I have an important job back in Buckland and
many people waiting for my return. I don't yet know when I should return, but I cannot stay
forever." He looked to Frodo, who seemed both sad and happy at once and added, "You, of
course, will have to come and visit me whenever your father can spare you. I should be the
envy of all my neighbors if my gardens could look half as nice as yours."
Frodo fought down the heat rising to his cheeks by taking a large gulp of his
lemonade. "I should like that," he said plainly, "it has been years since I went to
Buckland." His eyes met Merry's and there was laughter in them. Merry shook his head,
amused and leaned back looking at the sky.
"Aah, Frodo my lad, you ease my heart. It's strange, because I've known you all of
your life and never have we bonded so well as now." He shook his head, as if it was
something neat and special he had discovered.
Frodo pulled his knees up and rested his head on them as he glanced to Merry and
just smiled softly, as if he knew something Merry didn't. "You've never needed me so much
as now, dear Merry."
Merry sighed and looked over to Frodo with an expression that betrayed his age.
"You're right, of course. I just never thought you'd be the one to help me through."
Frodo looked away from him but not at the clouds. His eyes seemed distant, looking
over the hilltop to the sleepy Shire below. "Do you suppose you'll ever find love again?"
He knew it wasn't the gentlest of questions to ask a man who had been widowed only a month,
but Merry took it surprisingly well.
"No, I don't reckon I will," he said softly and sighed. Frodo opened his mouth to
ask why but Merry answered before the question could come out. "I'm old, Frodo. I'm not
the young hobbit that did all those things in Gondor thirty years ago. It might happen that
I find a hobbit lass who I take fancy to and if it happens so be it, and bless Estella's
soul if it does, but I'm not going to go looking."
Frodo's brows went up in an almost pained expression. "You're not old, Merry," he
said, and it was partially the truth: Merry was older than Rose but he was still younger
than Sam, and Sam was still in his sixties. He ignored the nagging in his head that Rose
had borne thirteen children in her life and Merry was still older yet than she. "And at any
rate, that seems sad. You're always so lonely. You need someone to take care of you."
Merry laughed, setting his empty lemonade glass aside and sprawling out on the hill.
"I can take care of myself, you know." He looked over at Frodo and smiled at the boy's hurt
expression. "But I appreciate your concern." Frodo sighed and smiled back and then set his
glass down and laid down besides Merry and they watched the clouds drift by in silence for
a long while.
An hour passed and Merry's breathing slowed gently as he dozed in the warmth of the
sunshine. Frodo rolled onto his side, propping his head with his right hand to watch Merry
sleep. He looked peaceful resting on the hilltop with the sun glittering on the grey in his
hair and the comfort of sleep smoothing out the creases of age on his face. Frodo sighed
as he took in the form of the sleeping hobbit. Merry drew to him and he relished every
moment he could spend in the older hobbits presence, but it was never enough for him to just
spend time with him. He sat up quietly, leaning over Merry, careful not to cast a shadow
over his face. He could pretend that they were lovers at times like these, and that Merry
had simply fallen asleep with his head in his lap and rolled off.
Frodo smiled softly at his thoughts and reached out a hand to gently brush it
though the peppered curls on Merry's brow. "You shouldn't have to be alone," he murmured
and sighed, then got to his feet, gathering the glasses and took the lemonade back inside.
The next day Merry announced he would be taking his leave in a week. He spent all
day with Sam discussing politics and things that did not interest Frodo very much, so he
went back atop Bag End to the knoll there and sat alone, wondering why the world worked the
way it did and if he'd ever get over himself. He didn't realize he'd fallen asleep until
he felt someone covering him with a blanket. His eyes opened and he realized morning had
passed to noon and Merry was sitting beside him, not wearing his normal coat. The coat was
draped over him and he was overcome with how it smelled sweet like Merry.
Frodo flushed and sat up, a little startled. "You're awake," Merry said with a
wry grin. "I didn't mean to bore you so, talking about things only a Mayor would care about
like that, but it was an interesting conversation." Frodo smiled faintly, pulling the warm
jacket about him tighter.
"It's alright," he said softly, his eyes looking at the grass beyond. "I didn't
mean to fall asleep," he added then glanced to Merry. "You're really going in a week then,
are you?" He sighed and wondered if it was his own words the day before that had made Merry
decided to pick a departure date.
Merry played with his suspenders and nodded. "Yeah, I figured I should get back.
It's been a month since . . ." He sighed and shook his head. "Anyway, they need me there."
He looked to Frodo concern in his eyes. "You'll be all right if I go?"
Frodo blinked looking back, embarrassed Merry should ask such a thing. "Of course I
will be. It's you I'm worried about."
"And its you -I'm- worried about," he said in a stern voice that made Frodo wince.
"I know how fond you've become of me these past few weeks," he said, his tone softening. "I
don't want you falling apart the day I leave."
Frodo bit back the retort that was poised on his tongue: that it had been far longer
than weeks he had been 'fond' of him, for that would do neither of them any good. Merry was
noble and fair and a knight and forty years Frodo's senior. He was just a foolish hobbit
with a foolish crush on one of his dad's friends. It was all quite ridiculous when you
really thought about it, and saying anything to him would be disastrous.
Still, it hurt.
"Frodo?" Merry's voice had changed. It was soft and full of sudden concern.
He hadn't realized it, but he'd started crying. There was no heaving shoulders or
gasping breath, just large tears spilling from his eyes and streaking down his cheeks. Now
that he realized it his breath shuddered. "Oh Merry." He whimpered and despite his better
judgment he crawled the few feet from where he sat to where Merry sat and embraced him.
Merry blinked but held him back, his hands resting on Frodo's back as the young hobbit held
to him like the world would collapse about them if he let go, and he sobbed.
"Frodo, dear Frodo," Merry murmured, stroking his back, "I'm not leaving forever,
you know, and you can come visit me when you like, as I said." He stroked Frodo's hair
softly and sighed as it only elicited another sob from the other. "Oh don't cry dear Frodo."
To which Frodo's hands flattened on Merry's chest, releasing the clumps of shirt he had
grabbed. So long as he could cry he could remain here in Merry's strong embrace. Merry
need never know how just his very scent, that of rich soil and grass and the wind, made him
heady with desire. If he could last a week more, then Merry would be gone and he could try
and start to forget. But for this moment, right now, he would abandon the fears and hopes
he had and just be.
"I'm sorry," he said softly, his voice unmarred by the crying he'd done. "The last
thing you need is me crying to you." He muttered against Merry's shoulder. Merry chuckled
softly, putting his arms around him instead of rubbing his back. Frodo curled his head to
the side and nuzzled the collar bone there, too small to properly reach Merry's neck.
"You're not like other boys, are you Frodo?" Merry said softly, stroking Frodo's
hair. Frodo knew it was just a gentle way to sooth him, but he pretended it was something
more. He didn't answer Merry's question. "Most boys would be off chasing lasses and trying
to ride ponies or get into mischief, and yet you prefer to til the weeds and amble about
with an old man."
"You're not old," Frodo mumbled again against Merry's shoulder, "and those things
don't interest me. Gardening does. And you do."
"I know," he simply said, and that was why he had commented that he was not like
normal boys to begin with. "It's just strange to me, that's all." Frodo smiled and lifted
his head a little so his mouth wasn't so obscured and muffled.
"You're not like normal adults, are you?" he chuckled. "Spending your days with a
tweenaged boy, playing in the dirt." Merry laughed and it made his chest rumble and Frodo
whimpered softly with the feeling of it.
"You'll do all right in life," Merry said softly, "maybe turn out like your father,
with a brood of children, the best garden in all of the Shire, a lovely wife and maybe even
end up mayor." He chuckled gently. Frodo shook his head, repulsed by the idea.
"That's nothing like what I'd want." He stated and it was forceful enough that Merry
realized he'd touched a nerve. There was a moment of silence between them, and then the
older hobbit spoke.
"What do you want, Frodo?"
"You." He said without thinking, and lifted his head to pull out of that warm
embrace. Merry looked at him as though he were waiting for the rest of a sentence that
wasn't going to come.
"Me?" He finally said with a blink. Frodo shook his head sadly and smiled, for the
cat was out of the bag and he had just thrown caution to the wind.
"Yes. Just you; beside me every waking morning; holding me at night before I go to
bed; saying sweet things as we garden or eat or ride into town. That's what I want." He
blinked staring at the grass, feeling numbness creep over him as his own words sank in. He
thought of saying how stupid he knew it was, how hopeless and childish, but he couldn't
bring himself to say those things, because deep down, he didn't believe them.
Merry was dumbfounded and Frodo looked to him finally, enjoying the bewildered look on
his face despite himself. Likewise, the depth of Frodo's eyes as they looked up at him made
it clear to Merry that Frodo was not joking. Still, he had no idea how to answer. His
hands dropped from Frodo's back, and that was a wordless enough exchange for Frodo to know
he was not wanted in his arms anymore. If he was lucky Merry would be disgusted and hate
him and he would be able easier to get over him. "That's silly, Frodo," he said numbly.
Frodo pushed away and got to his feet, shivering as Merry's coat fell off him and lay
as a crumbled form on the ground. "Yes, very silly," he said and looked down at Merry. In
that moment he wanted to say he hated Merry, and the rest of the world. It wasn't Merry's
fault for any of this, it was himself, but it would be easier to blame him. Easier to blame
the rest of the world for making him so miserable.
"Frodo, I'm your uncle." Merry said in protest, just completely flabbergasted by
the change of events. Frodo clenched his fists and looked down at him.
"You're like an uncle," he retorted, looking at him hard, then his expression
softened, "but you're not." He sighed and despite the birds singing and the sun shining he
felt very cold and black. "Just forget I said anything." He stated and then turned and
walked down the hill, vanishing out of sight. Merry sat there on the hilltop feeling more
bewildered than he had ever felt in his entire life.