Disclaimer: These beloved hobbit characters belong to JRR Tolkien--even the few I created in this story--they're hobbits, too, and who else invented hobbits? I only write as a hobby; and I am certainly not a medical professional, so the medical practice and advice my "healer" gives is only conducive to the story. (Eat two chocolate chip cookies and call me in the morning is always my personal advice!)

For a little insight, Merry is 26, Pippin is 18, and Frodo is 40.... I don't write slash, but please feel free to sit down, relax and just enjoy a nice story....

Enjoy...

Master of Comforts

Chapter One - Ashes to Ashes

Saradoc stood at the foot of the grave pit gazing into its depths, and holding a fistful of earth. His face wore no expression as his thoughts meandered back to the days of his childhood and youth. Deep inside lay a wooden box about the size of a grown hobbit. Several feet away stood his wife, Esmeralda, all bundled up, and next to her was their own son, Merry, wearing his wool winter overcoat; hands in the pockets and collar up to ward off the frigid air. It was early December and the air was crisp and cold. Saradoc felt the first few drops of freezing rain falling upon his head, so he pulled up the hood from his cloak and then dropping the earth onto the box below, turned and walked away. The gloom of the weather befitted the gloom in his heart. It was on Friday that Old Rory had passed in his sleep. Saradoc hadn't remembered feeling so alone in his life, even as his wife and son walked at his side following the burial wagon back towards Brandy Hall.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Back inside the warm Hall, Saradoc pulled off his cloak and handed it to a waiting servant, barely pausing, and walked on towards his office followed by Merry. Merry was just a couple feet behind his father, but that was just enough time and space for Saradoc to enter his study and then shut the door hard behind him. Some years ago, Merry would have seen this act as his father not wanting anything to do with him, but these days he was undaunted. He barely hesitated enough to avoid the door hitting his nose, but then he recovered and turned the door handle, entering the office right behind his father.

Saradoc stood at the window looking out at the view of the Brandywine River and further out to the distant fields of the Marish beyond it. "Merry, I will no longer be giving you abstract lessons in the manner of being Master of the Hall." He turned, looking at his son sadly, "It seems I am now the incumbent, and you are the prospective with your own responsibilities and expected to perform your tasks from your own office." He turned to gaze out of the window once more.

Merry blinked in slight surprise, but remained where he was. "I am not here for more lessons, Dad--or to request my own office."

Saradoc fully turned to his son. "Then why are you here?"

"Just....because." Merry began to unbutton his coat. "Must I have a specific reason? If so, the reason is obvious to me."

Saradoc cast his eyes to the ground, "Merry, I don't want to seem ungrateful--"

"Then don't!" Merry interrupted. "Don't say what I know you're about to say."

"How do you know what I'm about to say?"

Merry draped his coat neatly over the back of the couch and sat down, "After living here on and off for the past few years, I've learned a few things; more notably what you're going to say and when."

Saradoc sighed and turned back towards the view in the window. "Then let me stagger you." He walked away from the window and sat on the couch next to Merry. "I will tell you what I am feeling now. I feel quite sad and alone right now, and I don't know what to say to anyone--apart from that, I feel nothing, and that is what frightens me. That's why I am here." He rubbed his forehead in frustration, "At least I had the comfort of a flask when your....brother died."

Merry watched as his father's eyes welled with tears. "You may not have the comfort of a flask now....but you have me."

Saradoc wiped his eyes and leaned over towards his son and embraced him. "Yes..." He said, considering in thought the enormity of forgiveness from his own son. "I have you. And I intend to never let go."

Merry smiled sadly; he remembered too well his own chaotic childhood and never having this sort of closeness with his dad. His forgiveness was truly sincere, but it was still difficult to forget at times. "Let's get out of the office, here, and take tea in the dining room with Mum. She's feeling lonely, too."

"I'm being selfish again, aren't I?" Said Saradoc. He looked about the dusty shelves of his office. "I suppose this is the last place I should allow myself to be."

Merry nodded, "Your whole family needs you, Dad."

Saradoc patted his son's hands, getting up from the couch. Both hobbits ambled out to the dining room.