Chapter Two - Thanks for Staying

Saradoc was pleasantly surprised when he awoke at down and found snow covering the ground outside. The snowfall seemed harmless enough the evening before; a nice touch for the Yuletide. This morning, however, it was a bit disconcerting. He worried if the pony would be able to undertake some of the narrow country lanes in this weather.

As the snowflakes fell upon his upturned face, memories of a 2 Yule long ago came to his mind. It was when he and his best friend's sister were married thirty years ago. These days, it was his life-long mate who was his best friend; through laughter and tears, sickness and health, they made it through to now. He would do anything for his beloved wife, and today was no exception. He saddled up his pony, slid his foot into the stirrup and swung himself up into the saddle. He was traveling all the way to Haysend today to meet a tradesman whom he hired to fashion the most beautiful gift for his lovely wife. The letter he received yesterday evening said the Man from Bree would be dealing near the gate today, and his gift would be there waiting for him. Even if the snow piled above his head, Saradoc vowed he would make it there.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Esmeralda was making great progress with the monogram, as her husband seemed to be out and about this morning. It was yellow lettering upon a dark blue cloth. When the applique was finished, she would sew it onto the smoking jacket she'd made for her husband. Esmeralda smiled to herself. All these years I've objected about his pipe smoking. He'll be so surprised! True, ever since she found she was expecting her first son, Saramac, the smell of pipeweed or pipe smoke would turn her stomach upside down. Perhaps it was within the past few years, when everyone was able to relax and not be so on edge that she herself was able to sit back and rediscover how much she liked the smell of pipeweed. She had many fond memories of her own father, who often carried the smell of pipeweed in his clothes, and so she decided that she would give back that joy of pipe smoking to Saradoc on their anniversary.

"Mum?"

Esmeralda looked up from her sewing at the sound of her son's voice. Merry was well aware of her gift, so she didn't bother to shield it from his view.

"Have you seen Dad?"

"No, sweetie, I haven't. He was gone from the bed this morning when I woke up, and he wasn't at breakfast." She took a moment to think. "Have you looked for him in his study?"

"No, I suppose I will look there shortly." He sat in his father's chair near his mother, watching her sew.

Esmeralda watched him out of the corner of her eye. It wasn't like yesterday when he was shamelessly staring at her face, but it was more like he was in thought. "What's on your mind, love?"

"You....and Dad."

Esmeralda's curiosity was piqued. "What about us?"

"Do you love each other?" He saw his mother put down the needle and cloth. "I mean, do you love him? I want to know if you stayed with him during the bad years because there was little else you could do, or did you stay because you loved him?"

She was taken aback by the sudden, and very personal question. "I don't know if I'm prepared to answer such a serious and private question." She looked at her twenty-six-year-old son; to her, he may as well have been six. The expression on his face reminded her of when he was a little boy. Then the memories of that time in his--and her life, hit her mind with a vengeance, and she once again felt the heartache of the little boy--now a handsome young-hobbit--looking for an answer to his question.

Merry got up and kissed her cheek, "You don't have to answer, Mum; it was only a thought."

Esmeralda laid aside her sewing and took Merry by the hand over to the sofa and sat him down next to her. "It's a very personal question, Merry, but one that deserves answering, or at least a semblance of one." She took in a deep breath. "Son, everyone goes through a period, or sometimes more, in their marriage that tries them. It tries them as a person, and it tries the very fabric of the marriage. I can't remember how many times I told myself I should leave your father and take you with me, but...." She shook her head, "my heart wouldn't let me. What sort of person would I be to him--or to anyone else--if at the first sign of trouble I turned around and ran? I knew if I did it then, then I'd be inclined to do it for the rest of my life. And what sort of life would that be for you? So I convinced myself to stay; mostly because I desperately wanted him and you to find one another. I knew it was the drink that was clouding his judgment, and it took me a couple years to wean him of it." Merry smiled at the figure of speech. "That's how he got so inebriated while visiting your uncle that one time; he hadn't had a drink in years. I was so angry with him for that, too. He nearly ruined in one night everything we had worked so hard to overcome." She paused in her thoughts, "I think I'll always be a bit angry at him for what he put you through, Merry, though you may have forgiven him. But to answer your question of whether I love him or not," She looked directly into his blue eyes, "then the answer is yes, I do. In the end, I've come to know him and understand him almost as much as myself; I know our friendship and marriage is much stronger now, and can weather pretty much anything."

Merry was silent for a moment. Finally he spoke, "I think you said what's been growing in my own heart of late. I've come to know and understand my dad more than I've come to love him, though I do love him, but not as much as I would if he'd been my father when I was a lad. I fear that will always lie between us. I still get a little angry when some of my fondest childhood memories are with my uncle instead of my own father. I shall always have two fathers now."

Esmeralda's heart went out to Merry. She reached over and smoothed back her son's curls with her fingers. Merry wrapped his arms around his mother. "Thank you, Mum. Thanks for staying."