2. They're Just Stars
"Why can't I go to the party?"
"Because it's for grown-ups, Merry-love, and you only turned six two months ago, that's why" said Mamma. She was already in her best dress, her hair sleeked back and tied into a bun, dotted with flowers. She smelled very nice and I wanted to cling to her all night, but she handed me to you. "Thanks for watching over Merry tonight, Frodo."
"It's all right, Esmeralda," you smiled, hoisting me up your shoulders. I giggled and held on to your hair, my heels kicking at your chest until you gently rapped at them. "I'm not much of a party roarer myself."
"Aye, that you're not. But still, giving up a chance to take part in the boat party, that's pretty big for a lad of nineteen. When I was your age…," said Daddy.
"Saradoc, dear, I don't think Frodo is interested in how you spent your pre-tween years," said Mamma gently. She looked up at me. "See you in the morning, Merry-love. Sleep well, dear one, and sweet dreams."
Daddy winked at me and held out a hand for Mamma, nodding slightly at you.
"Don't dance too close to the edge, Mamma!" I shouted after them. "You can't swim, remember? You might dro…."
"Merry!" hissed Daddy. Mamma too had whirled around and stared, not at me, but at you.
"Don't worry, Merry," I heard you speak calmly, but with a strange quiver in your voice. "There are far too many good hobbit swimmers on the barge who would save your Mamma."
Daddy and Mamma stared at you strangely. I wished I could see your face. But your hand, holding one of my ankles near your collarbone, had gone very cold.
"Well, good night, boys," said Daddy finally, and Mamma smiled at us and took his hand. We waved and they waved back, then you turned back to our quarters.
We played with my toys until supper time then went to the nearly deserted dining hall, only very sparsely filled by the small number of hobbits who, for various reasons, did not participate in the boat party. We had dinner side by side, at our very own long table, at least for that night.
"Why don't you like parties, Frodo?" I asked while you cut the meat on my plate.
"What makes you think so, Merry?" you asked. "I enjoy parties."
"But whenever Mamma and Daddy have to go to a grown-up party, they ask you to take care of me, and you never say no."
"I'm not a grown-up either, Merry. I'm only 19. Eat your peas."
"But cousin Marigold goes to grown-up parties. Her mamma and daddy take her. And she's only 17."
You smiled. "You're right," you said. "The truth is, I don't really like parties."
"Why?" I asked, stunned. "Don't you like to eat?"
You laughed. "What kind of question is that, o wise Meriadoc? Of course I like to eat. I'm eating now, aren't I? Oh, now you've done it! Here, let me wipe that."
"Don't you like to dance?"
"Oh, I love to dance. But not as much as I like other things. Use your fork, Merry, not your fingers…. Oh, well…."
"What other things?"
"A long walk. Reading books. Looking at stars."
"You like looking at stars? Why?"
"Because they're beautiful."
"They're just stars!"
You chuckled but said nothing more. You took the plates and cups to the kitchen while I finished my pear, then you put me back on your shoulders, and, giddy and thrilled by the heights, I squealed and pretended I could fly all the way to my room.
"Let's get you into the tub now, Merry," you said later in the nursery, after laying my towel and nightshirt to warm by the fire. "A quick bath, then a tale, and then it's bed for you."
"You sound like Mamma," I whined. "Can't we play a little longer? Let's do the dwarf wrestle. Or hide-the-kitten."
"It's late Merry, it's time you got to bed," you said firmly, helping me undress and rolling my clothes into a bundle that you threw to the basket in the corner. "In you go now."
I sighed as you eased me into the tub. It was nice once I was in the water, but the thought of going straight to bed miffed me. I splashed at you when you came to scrub me, but you only laughed and pinched me gently on the nose.
"It must be nice to be you!" I exclaimed sullenly. "You don't have any mother and father!"
Your hand, washing my back, was stilled, but you said nothing.
"You can play anytime, sleep anytime, go anywhere…"
"But it's lonely, Merry."
I was stunned and I looked at you. There was a deep hollowness in your eyes, a chilling dark emptiness. Sadness.
"Why lonely? There are a lot of people here."
You smiled, but it was a tired, not-altogether-sweet smile. "Sometimes one can get lonely in the crowd too. Especially if the crowd doesn't understand him."
I did not understand either. But you poured a dipper of warm water over my head and I spluttered. You laughed and I was glad the distant, pained look had gone from your eyes. It was suddenly more important, that laughter that echoed in your eyes, more important than sleeping an hour later, or having a game of dwarf wrestle on the floor.
You pulled me out of the bath and dried me with a warm towel and helped me put on my nightshirt. Then you gave me a pony ride to my bed and tucked me in to it, before settling down beside me with one hand around my shoulder. It was tale time.
"Look," you said in a low voice, pointing at my window. "Stars. Can you see them?"
"Yes."
"Every night they rise in the east, and at dawn they set in the west. They move. They see everything…"
"But it's dark, how can they…?"
"They have their own light, don't they? They can see in the dark. And what do you think they see?"
My cheek brushed against your shirt as I shook my head.
"Everything. They see little hobbits and their cousins in their beds. They see the barges in the Brandywine, all bedecked in candles and flowers, full of dancing and singing hobbits…."
"And eating hobbits." I giggled.
"And eating hobbits. They see the trees sleeping in the woods. They see the empty East road and travelers camping by the roadside, making fire and singing and yes, eating; their ponies, or even horses, tied to a tree, sleeping on their feet and mumbling in horse dreams. The stars see them all. Further, and further they go, and they see the gleaming gates of the dwarves' caverns on the Lonely Mountain, and they see the dwarves busy with their forge, making lovely toys and beautiful trinkets. They see goblins, who are always afraid of the sun and come out mostly at night, prowling in the woods. They see Beorn flitting behind bushes, a great, terrible bear…."
My eyes were closed but your voice painted images in my mind, vividly, in stark details and colors. They were a little scary, these images, and I sought your hand, and you squeezed mine on top of the blanket.
"The stars see the dark creek flowing in Mirkwood. They see the path trailing in the darkness, with spiders whispering between the trees, ready to spring at any likely victim…."
"Oh!" I gasped, and felt your hand gently stroking my head, soothing me.
"The stars watched the Elves as they were merrymaking in woods. They are brilliantly beautiful, their voices piercingly sweet. They are singing and dancing and laughing…."
I opened my eyes and looked up at you. You were gazing out the window. Your eyes were ablaze with a cold white fire, your face shone fiercely, and there was something in your voice that quivered restlessly: a hunger, a longing, deep, poignant and unrestrained.
I understood.
You wanted to go away. You wanted to see. Just like the stars saw. You wanted to see beyond Buckland, beyond the Shire. And it terrified me. I whimpered softly and you were suddenly brought back to the here and now, beside me once more, fussing over me.
"Oh, I'm sorry, Mer," you said, smiling down at me, your face half hidden in the shadows while the other half was gilded by the light from the fire. "Not a good story, is it? Well, best change it then, before you fall asleep with a nightmare ready to wake you up in the night."
You frowned. "Let's make a nice dream, would you like that?" you said, and I nodded enthusiastically. "What made you laugh today? Do you remember?"
"Swing."
"Oh, yes. You laughed so hard on the swing today. What good things did you eat today?"
"Chicken. And corn. And pie. And…" You patiently listened as I listed nearly all the food I had that day.
"What did we do today?"
"We rode on Daffodil."
"Yes."
"You fished."
"Lovely fish, weren't they? Not to mention tasty," you smiled. "What else did we do?"
"We made little boats."
"Yes. We made little boats and sailed them in the Brandywine," you muttered softly. The white light began to kindle again in your eyes, brighter, hungrier. "Where do you think those boats are now? Where are they going?"
"Frodo!" I wailed. You were jolted back from that eerie place you seemed to have visited in your mind, and you stared at me. "Don't go," I pleaded, close to tears.
"I'm not going anywhere, Merry," you said, your brows knitted in concern. You held me close as I began to sob in fear. "Don't cry, love. I'm here."
I curled up into your arms and buried my tears in your shirt. You were here. But for how much longer?
You rocked me tenderly, softly crooning an old lullaby and making gentle shushing sound. I did not want to fall asleep, afraid that you would leave me to run with the stars and little toy boats floating downriver. But it felt warm, cozy, secure, in your embrace. The music from the party boats floated in and dulled my fear, and reluctantly I succumbed to sleep untroubled.