Work Text:
It was unlike Bilbo to leave the great chest unlocked. Carefully, gently, Merry lifted the lid, heart hammering in case his older cousin should emerge from the cellar and catch him snooping. It wasn't that he believed the nonsensical rumours of enchanted treasure – but whatever was in here, Bilbo had to some lengths to keep it secret.
The lid creaked on its hinges. Merry paused, holding his breath. Nothing. The Old Winyards clearly held Bilbo's attention for now.
He eased the chest all the way open, and knelt to look inside.
The musty cake-and-leather smell of old books rose up to greet him. Inside were a number of scrolls and several fat hide-bound volumes, one stamped very finely with golden Elvish runes. Bundled in a corner was an old travelling cloak of indeterminate colour – dark green, perhaps? – and on top of that rested a short sword in a scabbard. Set apart from the other books was the great tome Merry had sometimes seen on his cousin's writing desk, although Bilbo had always taken care to close and fasten the book whenever inquisitive young Hobbits came peering over his shoulder. Merry felt like a curious child again as he lifted the book out, selected a page at random, and began to read...