Protecting His Own
by Auntkimby
Nearly oblivious to the tumult caused by 144 hobbits pointing, pushing,
and exclaiming all around him in the wake of Bilbo’s abrupt
disappearance, Merry left his parents and grandda and pushed through
the crowd, looking urgently for Frodo. The nineteen-year-old spotted
his older cousin through the knot of agitated hobbits that surrounded
him, slumped dispiritedly in a chair, and giving no sign that he heard
their shouted questions or was even aware of their presence.
For weeks, Merry had suspected something momentous was to happen at
this Party. Frodo had been curiously reticent in both his letters and
conversation in light of such a joyous occasion as Frodo's Coming of
Age, but none of Merry’s gently prodding questions had elicited a
satisfactory response from his elder cousin. As soon as Bilbo
disappeared, Merry realized with a sinking heart exactly what had
troubled Frodo. Unbeknownst to Frodo or to Bilbo, Merry knew of the
object that had enabled Bilbo to disappear, and what his use of it in
such a dramatic way in view of his family meant. It meant that Bilbo
had indeed left the Shire forever, and Merry was not at all certain
that Frodo could deal with that prospect alone, even though he clearly
had known it would happen.
His worst fears were confirmed when he saw the bleak expression on
Frodo’s face that said clearly, “I cannot believe he actually went
through with it”. It did not matter that Frodo was now of age and that
Merry was not even a tweenager yet. All that mattered was that Frodo
was alone once again, and that he needed someone he loved and trusted
near him to help him.
“Here now, let him be!” Merry called over the hubbub of voices as he
tried to push his way over to his beleaguered cousin. Before he could
get to him, however, Frodo abruptly stood up, called for more wine for
the guests, and slipped out of the pavilion. The other hobbits looked
at each other, threw up their arms in exasperation, and continued to
wonder loudly and at length about those crazy Bagginses. Merry
hesitated briefly and then ran up the path after Frodo, putting a hand
on his arm to restrain him.
“Frodo,” Merry began, but Frodo interrupted him. “I need to be alone
for a little while, Merry-lad,” he said softly, “but…I would like your
company tonight, if you are able to stay.”
Merry nodded. “Of course,” he said quickly. “My parents planned to
return to Tuckborough tomorrow morning with Pippin’s parents for a
visit, but I could remain at Bag End as long as you wish it.”
Frodo nodded. “I’ll see you in an hour or two then,” he said softly, and then disappeared into the darkness.
It was nine o’clock when Merry met Frodo at Bag End and they began the
arduous task of greeting their curious and concerned relatives and
trying to explain what had just happened as briefly as possible. There
was minor yet painful scene with eleven-year-old Pippin, who tearfully
pleaded to stay too as soon as he learned that Merry was staying, and
only promises of a late night treat of treacle tarts with custard and
an extra special gift in the morning finally persuaded him, albeit
reluctantly, to return to the inn with his family. The clock struck
midnight as the cousins ushered the last questioning, querulous
relative out the door. Merry shut the door and leaned against it with a
mighty yawn. “Frodo, why don’t you go and get a few hours’ rest,” Merry
urged. “Tomorrow is going to be even more trying for you, and you’ve
been up since dawn, if not before. I will finish up here.”
Frodo rubbed his temples wearily. “I think I shall do that, Merry-lad,”
he agreed. “Do not admit anyone, even if they should use a
battering-ram in the attempt. However, young hobbit, I expect to hear
your bedroom door close as soon as you make certain all is secure for
the night and bank the fires in the kitchen and sitting room. You need
your rest as well.” He smiled at his young cousin gratefully and headed
to the kitchen to make some tea before going into his bedroom.
Merry completed the tasks Frodo had mentioned and then was sorting the
gifts that Frodo was to give to his relatives the next morning when he
heard the front door open and shut without a knock. Folk in Hobbiton
were so trusting, keeping their doors unlocked. That was certainly not
what Merry was used to in Buckland, and he had planned to lock the door
just before he retired. He hurried out to forestall an intrusion,
wondering who would be audacious enough to come around at this hour,
unlocked door or not. He expected to encounter the irrepressible
Lobelia Sackville-Baggins but instead found her spouse Otho, who had
made his way directly into the study and was unashamedly shuffling
through some papers on Bilbo’s writing desk. Merry cleared his throat
and Otho jumped and spun around guiltily.
“I’m sorry, Master Otho, but I did not hear your knock for admittance,
which would be standard procedure especially given the lateness of the
hour. May I be of assistance?” Merry inquired with cool politeness.
Otho straightened, startled to see Merry there instead of Frodo. “And what may I ask are you doing here, young Master Meriadoc?”
“I am here at the request of Frodo, which you most assuredly are not.
If you wish to speak to him, you will have to come back in the morning
along with the rest of the family, as he does not wish any further
interruptions tonight.”
Otho spread his hands and his lip wrinkled in a sneer. “No need to
bridle so, young hobbit. I’d just like a word with Frodo, to wish him
congratulations on his inheritance.”
“Frodo has had a long and trying day, Master Otho, and if you return in
the morning I am sure he will heartily accept your congratulations. But
for now, he gave express instructions that he was not to be disturbed
further, for any reason.” As Merry spoke, he moved between the desk and
Otho, and the other hobbit’s broad, ugly features darkened.
“You seem to know Frodo's mind quite well. What’s he done with my cousin then?” Otho demanded.
Merry raised his eyebrows. “I do not understand your meaning.”
“Old Bilbo vanishes from his party, and Frodo inherits Bag End and all that’s in it.”
“You grasped those two facts quite well,” Merry replied pleasantly. Otho flushed, even though Merry had not spoken insolently.
“Cousin Bilbo vanishes unexpectedly after announcing that Frodo comes
into his inheritance, and then Frodo hides up here and will not talk to
anyone about it or even see any of his kin. It just seems a bit too
convenient, that’s all, and I want to know what he’s up to.”
“Frodo is not hiding. He spoke to several concerned family members that
came to the door at a more reasonable time this evening. Frodo was as
distressed by Bilbo’s disappearance as the rest of us, Master Otho,”
Merry replied truthfully, “so you needn’t think he is…”
Otho stepped forward and jabbed one finger painfully into Merry’s
chest. Something flickered in Merry’s hazel eyes but he did not respond
to the physical affront.
“I know you’re looking out for your kin, young Master Meriadoc.
However, I think it’s mighty peculiar that my elderly cousin is missing
and Frodo has locked himself up here in Bag End. It could be that
there’s more to this disappearance than a fancy party trick, and
Frodo’s right to inherit could be called into question.”
Merry stared into Otho’s beady eyes and wondered how it was possible
that he and Bilbo were first cousins; no two hobbits could more
dissimilar.
“Well?” Otho barked. “Will you let me see Frodo or not?”
“I will not let you disturb him, Master Otho, now or ever, and
especially not to allow you to cast aspersions or doubts as to Frodo’s
integrity, his love for Bilbo, or his legal right to his inheritance.”
Otho’s nose was an inch from Merry’s. “And how do you expect to do
that, young master? You cannot guard the door all of the time. And you
are a mere child of nineteen - I should not even be having this
conversation with you, nor should you be speaking to me in such a
fashion. I am certain I am not the only hobbit who is wondering about
this very thing.”
Merry returned the gaze unflinchingly. “It is true, Master Otho, that I
am only nineteen, and it is also true that I cannot guard Frodo’s door
all of the time. However, I can make certain that you will not do
anything to hurt Frodo, and without resorting to the physical force you
were hoping to provoke.”
Merry turned his back to Otho for a moment and then sat down at the
desk, crossing one foot over the other and folding his arms with an
almost negligent air.
“I know you have recently expanded the sales and distribution of your
ale and pipeweed to regions outside the Shire and have realized quite a
dramatic increase in profits. I also know that without the coopers and
riverboat pilots of Buckland, you would have neither barrels for nor
transportation for your products to these new buyers.” Merry tilted his
head to one side. “In the event those services should be discontinued,
your aforementioned profits would suffer a serious decline. And, too,
many of your previous clients that you have turned your back on for
larger profits elsewhere have now found new sources for their wares and
would no longer trust you as their supplier should you approach them in
future to try to make up your losses closer to home.”
Otho’s face was a dangerous shade of purple.
“You have also been slow in paying some of your bills to those same
coopers and riverboat pilots, and my father has graciously made up some
of the shortfall as it affects the financial well-being of these
hobbits and their families.” Merry smiled mirthlessly at Otho. “My
father could call in some of those debts, if need be. So you not only
would lose your barrels and your boats, but you would be called upon to
pay us for services rendered.”
Otho could barely speak. “What right do you have to make such threats
and speak on behalf of your father? I have signed agreements with your
father, who is the Master, and not you!”
“That is true, I am not yet the Master. However, my father not only
trusts and values my judgment as his son and heir, but as you and
Mistress Lobelia are fond of pointing out, Frodo is half Brandybuck and
lived with my family for several years. Therefore, I am certain that
once I informed him of your intention to maliciously slander and harass
Frodo, whom we both love dearly, then your signed agreements, which, I
am fully aware contain a clause stating that the debts can be called in
at the discretion of the Master, will be so many mathoms and you may
find your much cherished purse considerably lightened. I know you have
been slow in honouring those debts that burden ‘the little folk’, but
you would have no such recourse in honouring your debt to the Master.
In light of those possibilities, you might find yourself unable to buy
so much as a half pint at the Ivy Bush by this time next month, should
you choose to pursue your line of inquiry.”
Otho sank into a chair, his ruddy face now pale and beaded with sweat.
Merry paused. “I may be a child in your eyes, Master Otho, but not one
without some ability to protect my own, even though Frodo would likely
be mortified if he knew I was speaking thus on his behalf. The choice
is yours then, sir.”
Otho stared at him for a long moment, his chest heaving, and Merry
wondered for a moment if he would have a heart attack on the spot. Then
Otho turned and stomped out the door, slamming it behind him.
Frodo appeared in the doorway to the study in his dressing gown. “Merry, I heard the door slam. Was someone here?”
Merry smiled at him. “It was no one of consequence, Frodo. Do not
worry- I took care of it. I hear the kettle whistling; I’ll fix us a
cup of tea and perhaps a few crumpets, and we can both retire for what
remains of this night.”
He put a hand on Frodo’s shoulder and they walked to the kitchen together.
