Night it can fall
But the day must come
All darkness gives way
to merriment
We shall drink in the darkness
Because we know we will drink in the light
Shadow can come
But we Hobbits go on
Eating and shining like the sun.
I have heard that song many times, usually when evening fades and Odo has dragged me off to the pub. He only does that when he is in a very good mood, so I haven�t been to the pub often. Still, every time I have allowed myself to be forced to the Green Dragon (where I sit alone), the moment the sun has ceased shining through the windows, up go the glasses and high rise the voices and The Song of the Sun comes forth. Usually it is sung in horrible tones; I have not yet met a Hobbit who can truly keep in tune when full of our ale. In spite of that, the song is full of spirit and their bellows speaking those words always warmed my heart. I knew there was something in the song, though I do not think I really understood it until now. Now I have experienced it and that has curiously made the song all the more clear to me.
I know now that I have family. That is my shining sun. I wish I could be happier about it, but the truth is that, as we say, �Even the sun is covered by clouds.� My sun came with clouds and large, dark ones at that. Today I finally managed the courage to talk to Odo and oh, what I have learned!
It was a rare moment of peace that permitted me to get close enough to my Uncle to be alone with him. I am often alone, but Odo is forever surrounded by friends, sons, daughters and relatives of all kinds, some even so far distant even they can�t figure out their family trees and for us, that is awfully distant. It just so happens that today was Millie�s coming of age party. Finally thirty-three, the whole house was in an uproar with visitors and family relatives and friends from all over the Shire. There were so many that I could not stand it and escaped away to the Oak Forest for a while. I might have enjoyed the festivities if it were not for the fact that everyone there kept eyeing me and wandering away when I drew near. So I left and I know I was not missed. When time had passed and I could no longer stand my rumbling stomach (I had missed lunch and dinner and wanted to miss supper, but we poor Hobbits were not built for such long waits between meals), I crept back quietly to the house.
Everyone was still there, but they were all inside and I could hear laughing and singing and I knew fresh ale had been opened. I had almost opened our door, when I smelled the unmistakable scent of Longbottom Leaf. Turning my head, I saw Odo sitting far to the right of the door, his head in his hands. He was mumbling, but I could not tell what he was saying. I had never seen him like this before and I knew something was wrong. I moved once more to open the door, intending to let him be, but then it struck me that this was probably the one opportunity I had to ask about the visitor that had come over a week ago.
Ever since the Big Man had gone, Odo had shouted at anyone who mentioned him and very quickly we all learned to keep quiet. No one talked to me about the Big Man and Odo avoided meeting my eyes all that week. I had determined early on to bring it up, but no time had been right and I must confess I was afraid of what Odo might do if I spoke about it again. Now, my chance had come. Pulling my pipe out of my pocket, I walked over to where Odo was sitting and flopped down beside him. He turned and seemed to gaze right through me.
�Can I have some Leaf?�
He turned his face away, but his hand that held his Leaf packet he shoved in my direction. Taking some of it, I stuffed it in my pipe and lit it slowly. We both sat there for a long time in silence, smoke rings filling our sight. It was Odo who spoke first.
�I know I haven�t been a father to you, Pady. I�ll be the first to say that I meant it to be that way. But I still hope you feel I�ve done you some good. I�ve done what I could to take care of you, in my own way.�
Odo never talked like this. I was taken aback. I managed a little stammer.
�You have done good by me, Uncle.�
He grunted and drew deeply on his pipe. There were more moments of silence. When it had become unbearable, my heart beating like wildfire and my mouth as dry as dust, I forced myself to ask what I had dreaded to utter this entire week.
�Uncle, what do you know about my kin?� Before Odo could shout that I was an irresponsible, good-for-nothing tween, I continued. �I know you know something about them. I�m not thick. I�ve heard you saying something about a black history and I want to know. It�s time I did. If anything that stranger said is true, you have to tell me.�
I was preparing myself for the onslaught of yelling and had even begun to flinch, when I realized Odo had not hollered; he simply sighed.
�I�ve never wanted this day to come.� He kept his eyes faced away from me. �When they found you by the river, I didn�t even want to take you in because I knew I�d have to speak about it. It was best forgotten. But family secrets have a way of spilling out. �The cupboard�s never empty,� as we say.
�Truth is, Pady, you never should have existed. You should have died long ago� or at least never been born. I don�t know how you were, but you were and there�s nothing I can do about that.�
My eyes were riveted on my Uncle�s head, still turned away, looking out at the fields. One more sigh and then Odo was off and the tale spilled out.