Queer Breed

"Not that the Brandybucks of Buckland live in the Old Forest; but they're a queer breed, seemingly."

(The Gaffer in a Long Expected Party-The Fellowship of the Ring)

Merry went to the door: "What about supper and a beer in the throat?" he called. Frodo came out drying his hair.

"There's so much water in the air that I'm coming into the kitchen to finish," he said.

(A Conspiracy Unmasked - The Fellowship of the Ring)

Merry had a broad grin on his face when he returned to the kitchen, and he paused near the table to look at his cousin. Frodo was standing with his back to the fire, right in the middle of the room, wearing a pair of brown breeches, though his chest remained bare, and he was vigorously towelling his dripping hair with both hands.

"That Took has thrown half his bath water all over the place, and of course, all over me, and I was almost dry and half dressed," Frodo explained, his voice somewhat muffled, but Merry could hear the smile that he was most probably hiding under that towel. "Merry, you have to teach your cousin some manners ," he added.

"Me?" said Merry "Why are you accusing me of all people? He is your cousin too, in case you don't remember. And you have never been able to teach him anything, manners least of all. And did you really have to remind me that we are kin to that fool of a Took? Just now? Before supper?"

Frodo laughed at that, a fresh and clear sound from his heart. Merry loved Frodo's laugh, especially when it sounded like this, spontaneous and carefree. It was, in Merry's opinion, one of the purest and most beautiful sounds in the world. It was beautiful because Frodo's heart was beautiful, and every time Merry heard that laugh, he couldn't help but think how lucky he was that he knew Frodo, how fortunate he was to be counted as one of Frodo's closest friends.

Merry blinked. Suddenly, he had tears behind his eyes and he didn't like it one bit. This way of thinking was of no use to anyone. If he continued thinking about Frodo and how he was good and loveable and beautiful and…No, Merry was going to end up weeping like a child in no time and he couldn't afford that. He was the leader, the brains of this conspiracy of fools who were going to follow Frodo out to the Wild and the Unknown. He had to remain calm, under control. He was the one in charge here. He took a deep breath and put all his attention to the bread he was slicing and heaping in a small basket. It was of no use to anybody to become all weepy and childish now, just before the Big Revelation. He began repeating to himself that he was the leader, that he was the one in charge in between slices of bread, just in case.

Fatty Bolger came into the kitchen and took the biggest tray with his broad hands:

"I think we can put these on the table near the fire," he explained.

"Good. But don't start eating them in the few paces between this table and that one. We are hungry too, you know," Merry said.

Frodo chuckled and Merry looked up to him again. Frodo's white skin looked golden in the firelight. His hair was still damp, his brown curls looked darker, almost black, and were framing his face and falling over his brow. His cheeks were red, probably because of the heat of the bath, or pure mirth, or from the hearth warmth, or a mixture of it all. His big hazel eyes were bright and cheerful, so innocent and open that Merry felt his heart melting out of love and tenderness. He looked almost like a tween, and Merry loved it.

"Have you finished?" asked Merry, clearing his throat.

Frodo towelled his pointed ears and grinned. "Yes."

"Then start moving and run to get yourself fully clothed before that Bolger eats up all your supper. We are not going to wait for you!"

Frodo rolled his eyes. "Goodness!" he said. He grinned once again, this time a bit mischievously, though it looked somewhat forced, and disappeared in haste through the kitchen door.

Merry rubbed his eyes quickly, now that Fatty was occupied setting the table and no one could see him. He treasured in his heart all the tender moments like this one with Frodo. The tender ones, and the funny ones and the serious ones and of course the sad ones when they had to happen.

Sadness…A feeling that Frodo no doubt knew all too well. Too well for Merry's liking. He had lived through too many farewells in his life. First his parents, then Bilbo…

Merry had been there on that last blow to Frodo's heart, and he had seen.

It had been a terrible day, that one after the Party. Bag End had been crowded since that morning with people that for the most part had nothing to do there, and Merry had had quite a difficult job supervising things and preventing all those people from making a total mess of the burrow, while Frodo went from one demanding hobbit to another with his best manners and his best smile firm in place explaining what present was to whom and why, trying to calm down the exalted ones and thanking everyone for coming. Merry knew all too well that Frodo had slept little or nothing at all the previous night and, consequentially, he might be wanting nothing more than to shoo all that people out and have a bit of quiet time for himself.

But Bilbo had wanted it this way, and Frodo respected the old hobbit's will, though Merry couldn't make out exactly why because, according to his own personal point of view, Bilbo had been extremely selfish in all this Party thing. But he was not there to do what he thought was best, but what Frodo had wanted him to do, and he had remained in Bag End only to help his cousin. So, he had done as best as he could.

But it had been a really terrible day. And, as for making things even more difficult, the Sackville-Bagginses had appeared at Frodo's door questioning and demanding and my, that Lobelia had been hard to get rid of. Then, Gandalf had appeared out of nowhere, had spoken a few hurried words with Frodo and had left again at once. Wizards! They were an odd kind of people and no mistake.

Merry hadn't had the opportunity to actually listen to the conversation between the two because he was refreshing and tiding himself a bit, but after Gandalf had left, Frodo had looked worried and almost exhausted. Merry had done his best at being cheerful, he had not asked any questions and he had suggested his cousin take a good, relaxing bath. Frodo had done just so, and Merry had busied himself preparing a very belated tea, hoping that the bath, some food and a shared pipe in the parlour would help soothe his cousin's all too stretched nerves. And certainly Frodo would be needing this if he intended to catch some sleep that night, his very first one as the proper new Master of Bag End.

Merry had finished making tea or it was more accurate to say tea-and-supper, as it was composed mostly of left-overs from the Party (so, it had not been an extremely difficult task, but he was not going to confess this fact to anybody) He had disposed it on the kitchen table and had seated himself on the bench opposite Frodo's usual seat, waiting for his cousin and thinking about how many days he would be relieved from his duties at the Hall. He wanted to stay here as much time as possible to help his cousin to get used to this new situation, but it was September and September was Harvest time, and he knew he was needed back home in Buckland. He was pondering this when he heard soft footsteps down the passage and he looked up just when Frodo appeared on the doorstep.

Merry considered his cousin for a minute. Frodo had been fully clothed that night but his dark hair had been wet, like this night at Crickhollow. Merry had noticed then, probably for the first time, that Frodo had the Bagginses´ stoutness and the Tookish fairness, but, he noted to himself with some measure of pride, he had the Brandybucks´ courage, wits and open mind. And he had to add to the list the Bagginses´ stubbornness and the Tookish mischief. Merry was very fond of the latter, and he grinned at the thought. Ah, he could be quite a rascal, this one, when he set his mind on it, and Merry missed their times together at the Hall. Missed them and cherished them. Sometimes he wondered how that rascal had become the gentlehobbit that was looking back at him at that moment as the new Master of Bag End and how the two could be the same person. In that sense, Frodo was an inspiration for his younger cousin.

Merry blinked. Frodo was leaning on the wooden frame of the door, looking at his cousin with his hands in his pockets and a fond, though somewhat absent, smile. Merry noticed that the smile did not reach his eyes, which were thoughtful and grave. But the young Brandybuck chose to ignore that fact as he displayed once again his best cheerful smile and asked:

"Better now?"

Frodo did not move, but answered softly:

"Yes."

"As you can see, my dear cousin, you are not going to miss your tea, or your supper, for that matter. What about sharing all of this with me and then a pipe in the parlour?"

"It is a good idea," Frodo sighed, folding his arms around his own body, almost as if he was embracing himself. It reminded Merry of what must be done to prevent glass or something fragile from breaking. He did not like it a bit.

As Frodo kept silent, Merry got himself busy starting to serve tea, all the while glancing sideways at his cousin with a bit of concern. Merry had supposed (in fact he had almost hoped it) that he was going to see Frodo's eyes reddened or swollen from crying, but they weren't. Frodo's face was calm, and his hazel eyes were clear and focused and looked at Merry with a mixture of warmth and fond tenderness when he said:

"My dear Merry, you always manage to keep everything under control."

"Well, someone has to," said Merry, as a matter of fact.

"Yes, and it's all right. It is only that I worry for you sometimes. Sometimes things happen and all one can do is to live with it. Sometimes, one must not try to control things, but to let them pass by, as the River, you know. You must let it flow. Just remember this, all right?"

Merry did not understand a word of what Frodo had just said but he was not in the mood for discussing those philosophical things, so he only nodded, swallowing a mouthful of bread and cheese.

"I wanted to thank you for staying here today," said Frodo, seriously now. "This burrow has been total chaos and you have made things easier for me with your presence."

Merry grinned through another mouthful of food.

"That's why I stayed, cousin."

"I know."

Merry did not say it, but they both knew that he had stayed for another reason. Bilbo was gone, gone for good. Frodo had suddenly on his shoulders all the responsibilities of being the new Master in addition to the suffocating weight of his own loneliness. It was true that Frodo was the eldest and since yesterday, he was legally in full adulthood, but Merry thought that it did not matter whether one was an adult or no where a loss was concerned. Losing someone was always a dreadful experience and sometimes it was hard for some people to get along with it. So Merry had stayed as a reminder to Frodo that, although last night had changed all his life as he knew it, there still were some things unchanged, that his friends and the people who loved him were still the same, that Bilbo might have abandoned him but the rest of the world was still there for him. At least, Merry was. And he knew that he was important to Frodo.

Merry had never experienced a loss or an abandonment as Frodo had and he had to admit to himself that Frodo was getting along all too well with this. Admirably well. Merry himself would have been crushed and broken into pieces and on the contrary Frodo…he was the same Frodo as ever.

In truth, after Bilbo's disappearance, Merry had seen his cousin raising his glass to Bilbo's health silently and then slipping quietly out of the Party. At first Merry had thought that he was going to find Bilbo and to put an end to the entire joke, but when he saw that Bilbo never came back, then he understood.

After that, Merry had been Frodo's shadow, observing him in search of any sign of sadness or grieving, but he had seen none. Last night, Frodo had said goodbye to his guests, his face as calm as ever, then Merry had stayed at Bag End (something that was not planned but Frodo had accepted it without a word) and this morning Frodo had woken him up laughing at him and calling him "sleepyhead" . Never once, along all this interminable day, had Merry seen Frodo sad or worried. Tired, yes, indeed it was natural and expected after going to bed so late yesterday and after all the things that had happened today.

But now he did not look tired but…not sad. He looked thoughtful again. Merry cleared his throat and said:

"Frodo…" His cousin blinked absently at him. Merry gestured to the teacup. "It is getting cold."

"Oh…Indeed,." Frodo shook himself a bit and walked the few paces to the kitchen to sit down on his usual chair. He took a sip of the cup and sighed. "Mmm…it feels good. Have you put honey in it?"

"Yes, you great glutton," said Merry and they both grinned to each other.

"I was thinking," said Merry, taking a biscuit and biting it, "about staying here with you for a few days. If you don't mind, of course. I do not want to be a nuisance."

"You are never a nuisance to me, Merry-lad," said Frodo very seriously.

Merry only nodded, noting with some satisfaction that his cousin had not lost his appetite, for he was reaching up for a biscuit, too, and eating it eagerly when he asked:

"How many days can you stay?"

"As many days as I am needed here."

Frodo smiled fondly:

"Merry, I assure you that I am perfectly able to live by myself and take care of things. I have been months preparing myself for this moment."

"I know, but…" Merry trailed off and looked at his cousin with his grey eyes open in amazement. "Months?"

Frodo nodded with his mouth full.

"You mean that Bilbo was preparing this for months and you knew it?"

"Yes."

"And you have never said a word to me!" cried Merry, surprised and a little hurt.

"Buckland was keeping you so busy…And on the other hand, Bilbo made me promise that I would keep the secret…though I must confess that I never took the entire business seriously. I was hoping till the very last moment that he would change his mind and stay, that it was all nothing more than a joke, and we would be laughing together the morning after." Frodo rested his chin in one hand. "I think that probably I was hoping this because I did not want him to go in the first place."

"And I understand, Frodo," said Merry, nodding enthusiastically. "Nobody likes being alone."

"It is not a matter of loneliness, Merry. I know I am not alone…"

"Of course not!" said Merry vehemently.

Frodo looked down to his cup and toyed with his spoon in the tea.

"I am going to miss him, Merry," he said, so softly that Merry didn't know what to say in return. He heard Frodo sniff and he saw his chin trembling and he swallowed, not knowing what to do either.

Frodo being the eldest, Merry was used to having him there when he needed counsel or care or protection. Frodo had a strange sort of instinct and he sensed when Merry was in need of a hug and a serious talk or in need of a joke and a smack over his head. Frodo always seemed to know what to do, he had been a kind of older brother, almost an adult but not quite, someone who was always there for him and who knew how to keep a respectful distance, too. Merry was used to being on the receiving end of his cousin's affection, to being looked after and so he was not prepared for this. He had never seen Frodo cry, meaning actually break down and weep. Frodo was always the strong and reserved one. And now that Merry saw him so close to tears, he really did not know what to do about it. He was sure that if Frodo cried, he was going to cry with him and the two of them were going to end up reduced to a pool of tears on the kitchen floor and Sam or the Gaffer would have to mop them up come morning. The idea seemed to him somewhat preposterous and if that really happened he was more likely going to die of shame. He paused to wonder whether such a death was actually possible for a young hobbit like him.

While he was lost in such dilemma, Frodo, though distressed as he was, seemed, suddenly and fortunately, to become very much aware that he still was the eldest and that he was not alone, for he cleared his throat, took his cup with both trembling hands and sipped his tea, all the while blinking several times without looking directly at the youth seated in front of him. As for Merry, he was feeling as uncomfortable with himself as one could feel and was considering whether fleeing or directly weeping himself could be some suitable options, not quite deciding what to do in the end, if the former or the last or both. He was painfully aware that all this doubts were displaying themselves on his face and he felt so miserable that he was unable to do something about it.

When Frodo finally lowered his cup and put it softly on the table, he was calm again, his hands were steady, his face serene and kind, and, though his eyes were liquid and crystal-like with wetness, his smile was honest and bright as he looked at Merry and said:

"I have been thinking about cleaning up tomorrow." He spoke lightly and Merry felt grateful for it. "I have seen that the place has become a total mess, with all those hobbits digging holes here and there and running up and down the burrow. We could tidy it a bit and make it look like Bag End again."

"You can count on that," said Merry, smiling cheerfully.

Frodo smiled too, his usual smile this time, and he leaned a bit on his chair:

"Well," he said. "I really would like sharing that pipe, Merry, but I am afraid that I am too sleepy. Do you mind terribly if we have it tomorrow?"

"Of course not," said Merry, rubbing his eyes himself without noticing it.

"Then, let us clear up this a bit and go to bed as soon as possible, Merry-lad."

Frodo pushed back his chair, got up and began taking cups and dishes to the sink. Merry tried to hide a yawn as he helped his cousin, piling the rest of the things for Frodo to gather in a corner of the table. He did not quite manage it; Frodo saw him and on his next turn to the table, he reached out with one hand to mess Merry´s golden curls with a chuckle, saying something about sleepy little bairns.

Merry made a face, offended. He hated it when people, and especially Frodo, treated him like a child. He was a tween, a grown-up tween at that. He was almost as tall and stout as Frodo, for instance, and his back was as broad as his father's. He detested being cooed at and pinched and having his hair tousled. Although…today was different. Today there was one particular childish habit that he would not mind keeping. So, he said without thinking and without preamble (and with a very childish voice, by the way though he would not admit it to himself. Never):

"Frodo, can I sleep with you tonight?"

"Excuse me?"

Frodo looked down at him, looking confused as if he thought his hearing was deceiving him.

"Sleep…in your bed…with you…tonight," explained Merry, as if talking with a slow-witted fellow, and then added with a cheeky smile: "Can I?"

Frodo still looked confused:

"Why, Merry? Were you afraid last night? Did you miss your nice little bed in the Hall? I did not know you were still afraid of the dark. I thought it was an old story."

Merry waved his hand. Why did Frodo have to remember that little weakness of his past right now of all times? And he was not going to blush, was he? Not blushing! Not at all!

"Of course not. I am a big lad now, you know," and if his cheeks were warm, it was not a blush, it was…well, warmth, nothing more. He focused in Frodo's eyes as a way to forget his shameful traitorous reddened cheeks. "It is only that it is your first night as the new Master and I wanted to remind you that you are not alone. You don't have to feel lonely, Frodo. I am here."

"Merry, my dear lad, don't worry about that. I shall be very well reminded of that fact come tomorrow morning when I see my pantries empty themselves as if magically after first breakfast."

Merry frowned but he insisted:

"But I don't want you to sleep alone in that enormous bed."

"I sleep alone each and every night. In fact, I am used to it, so this night I won't feel any different. Although, if you sleep with me, seeing as you are almost as tall as I am and much stronger," Merry blushed this time, but it was out of pride, so it didn't matter, "my poor bones will be landing on the floor within the first hour. And I feel too old for that kind of exercise, already. Besides, as you said, I am the new Master, and I find it most unsuitable for the Master to be thrown off his own bed by a young hobbit."

"I do not move that much at night!" said Merry, indignantly.

"Oh, yes, you do. Last time we went out camping I woke up with a hole in my back and I could not understand why until I turned and saw those big feet of yours digging their way there."

"Pippin tosses more than I do and you never complained before."

"I know," Frodo looked down sternly at Merry. "I have said no, Merry."

Merry puffed:

"Oh, all right. It is only… well, talking about Bilbo… You know, I did not know him as well as I know you, but I do know you and I can't think about you leaving as he has just done. I…I could not live with it as well as you do. That was why I needed to feel you. That's all."

Frodo looked Merry in the eyes and the youngster looked back at him with big, honest and somewhat fearful grey eyes. Frodo seemed to look into Merry´s mind for some seconds and then, without saying a word nor making a sound, he reached out, put his arm over Merry´s shoulders and held him tight, while his other hand pressed Merry´s head tenderly to his chest.

"I am not going anywhere, my dear," he said softly.

"Never?" whispered Merry, clutching to his cousin's body with both hands as if he would never let him go, and breathing in deeply his scent. Frodo smelled of soap and lavender, of grownup, of protection; he smelled of maturity and home and Merry found it comforting somehow.

"Never, Merry."

"I am afraid. You are so much like Bilbo…"

Frodo bent and then Merry felt a feather-like kiss on his hair. Merry closed his eyes, leaning into the embrace, like a child, feeling his cousin's strong body and listening to his heartbeat, just there under his cheek and under the soft fabric of Frodo's waistcoat.

"But I am not Bilbo. So, don't worry anymore, all right?" Frodo waited for a second, but as Merry did not move, he laughed, "Oh, all right, you nit. You can sleep in my bed tonight. But please, let us go to bed before I fall asleep on my feet." Merry grinned, looking up at his cousin, but Frodo frowned, "And speaking about feet, please, remember to keep yours as far off my back as possible."

He was serious, but his voice was amused and there was a smile in his eyes. Merry snorted. Even if he had to suffer Frodo's jokes for the rest of his life, he would sleep with him no matter what and feel him near him. And…he did not miss the Hall. Not one bit. Because here he felt like home.

The next day dawned on them with Merry sleeping noisily, arms and legs stretched eagle-like all over the bed, while Frodo was curled up in a ball in a small corner, just on the very edge. All that day Merry had to endure his cousin's complaints about "young hobbits who are afraid of the dark" and "who do not respect an old hobbit's sleep". And each time Frodo had to bend down to retrieve something from the floor, he flung his arms comically to his back and feigned pain, while Merry rolled his eyes. But they ended up laughing about it together, late that night, while sharing that pipe in the newly tidied parlour.

And now they were here, having supper at Crickhollow. Frodo was talking and laughing, holding the empty basket of Farmer Maggot´s mushrooms to his body like a treasure, poking at Pippin´s hair for no reason and accusing Fatty of having three helpings of mushrooms ("his" mushrooms, he insisted), and, as forceful as his efforts at being merry were, it was Frodo, and it was just like him to feel miserable about something and yet try to comfort the rest of the world. Merry found his very forceful and awkward efforts lovely and endearing at the same time. Suddenly, Frodo looked up at Merry and his smile disappeared when he asked, seeming a bit concerned:

"Why are you looking at me like that? Everything all right, Merry-lad?"

Pippin nearly choked on his beer of pure mirth when he heard the name, and smirked and started singing in a low voice "Merry-lad" in different tones. Merry chose to ignore him. He remembered his conspiracy, how they had been months preparing things and waiting for this very moment. No, Frodo was not going to slip out into thin air. He was not going into this journey alone. And, what was equally important, he was not going to leave Merry behind. Merry would not let him.

The young Brandybuck looked sideways at Pippin, who looked back at him meaningfully, then grinned broadly at Frodo, and answered through a mouthful of mushrooms:

"Everything is under control, cousin."

And he winked.

END

Author's note: I would like to thank Daffodil Bolger for her inspiration, support and encouragement but I just have no words to thank her. So, this little piece is dedicated to her, with all my thanks and devotion for her work.